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THE SWEEP of Olympus started with Connor Stoll saying he really wanted to check out the fountain in the square they'd passed on their way to the palace.
He didn't mention it, but of course, Anya knew it was because of the gold.
The campers just shrugged and followed him down the winding paths, returning to the main square.
"Is it real gold?" Travis asked, apparently having the same concerns as his brother.
"I dunno. Let's test it out," Connor answered. "You bite into gold to see if it's legit, right?" He furrowed his brows, staring at the fountain hungrily. His thief tendencies from his godly father ensured Connor wouldn't walk away from such a golden opportunity. Anya could practically see Connor's fingers, twitching by his side eagerly.
The gold glittered like sand, running down the sides of the silver like its own oasis, shimmering at the campers as if it was saying, 'Come and steal me.'
"I don't think that applies to liquid gold," someone from the Athena cabin pointed out. "And it probably is. Gods wouldn't want fake gold running in their holy fountains. They'd want only the best."
Connor shrugged. "If you say so. Anyone got a baggie?" He glanced avidly, turning his stare around the large group. "Anyone?" No one raised their hand. Connor sighed. "Fine. Everyone, take your shoes off."
He started to pull off his own boot when Anya asked, "Uh, don't you think the gods'll notice if we take some gold from their fountain?" Which she thought was a very fair point. Who knew what they might do if some demigods who overstayed their welcome during a war also took advantage of this chance being up on Olympus and stole some of their godly riches, right under their noses. Probably not anything good, knowing the gods and how they usually react to things a lot smaller than this.
Connor grinned. "Pfft. Like they'd care if we took a teensy bit of their fortune. I mean, they're gods. They could have anything they want. We're just borrowing a little of their riches. That's all." He held his shoe under the golden waves rippling down the fountain. The gold rolled down his arms like thick water and trickled into the shoe, bubbling to the brim.
"Hades yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Travis exclaimed, and copied his brother. A few others joined in, eager to get free gold, but most of them stayed put, uneasy.
Seven campers were clutching their shoes to their chests, happy at the gold that was sloshing around inside their footwear.
"Guys, don't you think we've stayed out long enough? Percy could be done. He might need us now," someone from the Hephaestus cabin said.
The other campers nodded, agreeing.
"We should head back," Michael Yew voiced. He was among those who had filled their shoes with gold. "Let's go."
The campers with the stolen liquid gold stumbled behind more slowly than the others, having more weight to drag with them, but they all steadily returned to the palace, hovering outside the grande doors.
"I'll go check on them," Anya told everyone else. She peeked inside, tugging the doors open just a bit.
"SORRY doesn't cut it!" Hermes roared.
She retracted herself from the doors and slowly closed them again. "Yeah, it's not really a good time," she informed everyone else, rejoining them at the overlook of New York. "We— hey, what's wrong?" She noticed a few campers from the Apollo cabin were very interested in taking turns watching New York below them with several pairs of binoculars in hand. They looked kind of confused? Dismayed?
"Listen," Michael told Anya, and she shuffled to the front, next to him. Yew was squinting through a binocular, appearing bemused. Despite being confused, Anya hastened to listen, wanting to figure out what was going on that had all the campers looking as if they watch their best friend kill their cat— and then turn into their grandma.
She listened. Then it hit her— there was nothing to listen to; that was the problem. New York was eerily quiet. The streets were always honking and angry drivers would never hesitate to show their road rage. Dogs would howl and bark all around from the streets and homes, at all hours. Shouts and overlapping voices would blend into the other sounds. It was always so loud. But now, it was noiseless. Just as if everyone had disappeared off the face of the city.
"Something's not right," Anya voiced after a minute of silence. "Give me the binoculars," she demanded.
Michael obliged after another minute of oblivion, and she peered down at the city.
Anya gasped. "Oh my gods— what is this?" At first, it looked like a massacre, and then she corrected herself— it wasn't a massacre. Even though bodies lay on the floor, it seemed more like they were asleep than dead. Cabbies were curled up in their seats. Pedestrians were lying on the pavement, curled up in a deep nap. Dogs slept next to their owners.
"The whole city's gone quiet," one of her half siblings observed, taking the binoculars once Anya was finished.
"I don't like this," she mumbled. "It's definitely not a good sign." Something told her this had to do with Kronos. No, she knew this had to do with Kronos. And whatever the Titan intended to do by putting the whole city of mortals to sleep— it was serious.
"Yeah, we need to get the news to Percy," chimed in an Aphrodite camper.
Everybody nodded and climbed the steps to the palatial doors that Anya pushed open. The rest of them poured into the chamber like a stampede. "You need to see this," Connor told Percy, who glanced at Annabeth and they hurried outside.
"I don't. . . hear anything," Annabeth said.
"What did they do?" Percy's voice was tight and angry. "What did they do to my city?" He pushed Michael Yew aside and grabbed the binoculars.
"Are they dead?" Silena asked in astonishment.
Percy shook his head. "Not dead. Morpheus has put the entire island of Manhattan to sleep. The invasion has started."
