Wildfires, Heroes of Olympus ₂

009, he need nardwuar bruh

CHAPTER          NINE
PERSEUS JACKSON

₊࿐࿔✸⋆｡° ⚘༉ . ⊹

Percy slept like a Medusa victim—which is to say, like a rock.

He hadn't crashed in a safe, comfortable bed since... well, he couldn't even remember. Despite his insane day and the million thoughts spinning through his head, his body took over and said: You will sleep now.

He had dreams, of course. He always had dreams, but they passed like blurred images from the window of a train. He saw a curly-haired faun in ragged clothes running to catch up with him.

"I don't have any spare change," Percy called.

"What?" the faun said. "No, Percy. It's me, Grover! Stay put!"

"Who?" he wondered.

"Not funny, Seaweed Brain!" came a new voice. This one was a girl his age with dark skin and braids, faux-blonde braided into them. "We're on our way to find you. Tyson is close—at least we think he's the closest. We're trying to get a lock on your position."

"What?" Percy called, but the faun and the girl disappeared in the fog.

Then Sylvie was running along beside him, reaching out her hand. It was second nature for Percy to hold it, but his hand just passed through hers. "Thank the gods!" she called. "For months and months we couldn't see you! Are you alright?"

Percy remembered what Juno had said—for months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake. The goddess had intentionally kept him hidden, but why?

"Are you real?" he asked Sylvie.

It was the only thing he hoped for right now. Percy wanted so much to believe Sylvie was real—here with him—that he felt like Hannibal the elephant was standing on his chest. But her face began to dissolve.

A little childishly, Percy began crying.

Sylvie called, "Stay put! It'll be easier for Tyson to find you! Stay where you are! And please don't forget me. Please."

Then she was gone. The images accelerated. He saw a huge ship in a dry dock, workers scrambling to finish the hull, a guy with a blowtorch welding a bronze dragon figurehead to the prow, and Sylvie joking around with him as he did so. Percy saw the war god stalking toward him in the surf, a sword in his hands.

The scene shifted. Percy stood on the Field of Mars, looking up at the Berkely Hills. Golden grass rippled, and a face appeared in the landscape—a sleeping woman, her features formed from shadows and folds in the terrain. Her eyes remained closed, but her voice spoke in Percy's mind:

So this is the demigod who destroyed my son Kronos. You don't look like much, Percy Jackson, but you're valuable to me. Come north. Meet Alcyoneus. Juno can play her little games with Greeks and Romans, but in the end, you will be my pawn. You will be the keys to the gods' defeat.

Percy's vision turned dark. He stood in the theater-sized version of the camp's headquarters—a principia with walls of ice and freezing mist hanging in the air. The floor was littered with skeletons in Roman armor and Imperial gold weapons encrusted with frost. In the back of the room sat an enormous shadowy figure. His skin glinted of gold and silver, as if he were an automaton like Reyna's dogs. Behind him stood a collection of ruined emblems, tattered banners, and a large golden eagle on a staff of iron.