The Altered Seven

Prophesied Love

They set down in the Atlantic Sea a few days after the dragon attack. Leo and Annabeth had been working on a smokescreen that could mask the ship's shine and their scent, but so far hadn't gotten very far.

Jason had regained consciousness a few hours after the dragon attack. His chest was scarred with a blast mark from the lightning. Killian apologized for throwing him in the way, but Jason waved him off. He said that he needed to grow stronger if he wanted to catch up to the rest of them. That led to Lilly lecturing him, saying that he didn't need to live up to their heroics, but Jason didn't seem convinced.

They'd only been attacked one more time by a group of harpies but Piper had easily taken care of them. Now she wore a blue feather in her hair as a symbol of her victory.

The first night on the sea, Aelin had horrible nightmares. She stood in a vast gloomy space like an underground parking garage. Rows of stone pillars marched off in every direction, holding up the ceiling about twenty feet above. Freestanding braziers cast a dim red glow over the floor.

Aelin couldn't see very far in the shadows, but hanging from the ceiling were pulley systems, sandbags, and rows of dark theater lights. Piled around the chamber, wooden crates were labeled PROPS, WEAPONS, and COSTUMES. One read: ASSORTED ROCKET LAUNCHERS.

Aelin heard machinery creaking in the darkness, huge gears turning, and water rushing through pipes.

Then she saw the giant...or at least Aelin guessed that he was a giant.

He was about twelve feet tall—a respectable height for a Cyclops, but only half as tall as other giants Aelin had heard about. He also looked more human than a typical giant, without the dragonlike legs of his larger kin. Nevertheless, his long purple hair was braided in a ponytail of dreadlocks, woven with gold and silver coins, which struck Percy as a giantish hairstyle. He had a ten-foot spear strapped to his back—a giantish weapon.

He wore the largest black turtleneck Aelin had ever seen, black pants, and black leather shoes with points so long and curly, they might have been jester slippers. He paced back and forth in front of a raised platform, examining a bronze jar about the size of her uncle Killian.

"No, no, no," the giant muttered to himself. "Where's the splash? Where's the value?" He yelled into the darkness, "Otis!"

Aelin heard something shuffling in the distance. Another giant appeared out of the gloom. He wore exactly the same black outfit, right down to the curly shoes. The only difference between the two giants was that the second one's hair was green rather than purple.

The first giant cursed. "Otis, why do you do this to me every day? I told you I was wearing the black turtleneck today. You could wear anything but the black turtleneck!"

Otis blinked as if he'd just woken up. "I thought you were wearing the yellow toga today."

"That was yesterday! When you showed up in the yellow toga!"

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Ephie."

His brother snarled. They had to be twins, because their faces were identically ugly.

"And don't call me Ephie," Ephie demanded. "Call me Ephialtes. That's my name. Or you can use my stage name: The BIG F!"

Otis grimaced. "I'm still not sure about that stage name."

"Nonsense! It's perfect. Now, how are the preparations coming along?"

"Fine." Otis didn't sound very enthusiastic. "The man-eating tigers, the spinning blades...But I still think a few ballerinas would be nice."

"No ballerinas!" Ephialtes snapped. "And this thing." He waved at the bronze jar in disgust. "What does it do? It's not exciting."

"But that's the whole point of the show. He dies unless the others rescue him. And if they arrive on schedule—"