Forgotten memories

Fire-bringer

We spotted the white flag long before the envoys reached us—maybe half a mile away, fluttering like a sheet of surrender in the breeze. Except, of course, it wasn't. The thing was massive, easily the size of a football field, and it wasn't carried by a human. No, this banner was hoisted by a ten-metre-tall giant with skin the color of glacial ice and hair like frosted steel.

"A Hyperborean," Thalia muttered, her voice low but heavy with meaning. "Giants of the north. That... that's not good. They're usually peaceful. The fact that they've sided with Kronos..."

"You've met them?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but the knot forming in my gut said otherwise.

She nodded, her mouth twisting into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Mmm. There's a colony up in Alberta. Let's just say..." She gave a small snort. "You do not want to get into a snowball fight with those guys."

As the giant drew closer, the details sharpened—icy muscles rippling under pale skin, a heavy leather belt dangling with what looked disturbingly like massive stuffed animals, the kind you'd win at a carnival if you sold your soul to the claw machine. Charming.

Trailing behind him were three figures—human-sized. One was a demigod clad in armor, helmet gleaming; another, a tall man in a black tuxedo; and last, an empousa demon with hair like a living torch and a dress as black as midnight. Her arm was hooked through Tuxedo Guy's, like they were heading to a Broadway premiere... if you ignored the fangs and the way her burning hair hissed in the cold air.

They strolled toward the Heckscher Playground like they owned the place. The swings and courts sat eerily empty, the only sound the gentle trickle of the fountain on Umpire Rock. Even that seemed nervous.

I leaned toward Grover. "The tux dude. He's the Titan?"

Grover nodded, though his expression screamed anything but confidence. "He looks like a magician," he muttered under his breath. "I hate magicians. They always have... rabbits."

Percy gave him a long look. "You're scared of bunnies?"

Grover's nostrils flared. "Blah-hah-hah! They're bullies, okay? Always stealing celery from innocent, defenseless satyrs!"

Thalia coughed into her fist, badly hiding a laugh.

"What?" Grover demanded.

Percy shook his head. "We'll, uh... work on your bunny phobia later. Right now—heads up. Here they come."

The man in the tuxedo finally stepped forward. He was taller than your average human—easily over two meters—with slick black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. His eyes hid behind dark round glasses, but the real kicker was his face: pale skin marked with thin, angry scratches, as if he'd gone a few rounds with the world's angriest hamster.

"Percy Jackson," the man said in a voice so smooth it could've been silk. "What an honor."

The empousa at his side hissed, baring her fangs at me like she recognized my face—and, honestly, she probably did. I'd turned two of her sisters into gold dust last summer.

"My dear," the man in the tux said lightly, turning to her with a smile that made my skin crawl. "Why don't you get comfortable over there, hm?"

She unhooked her arm and glided toward a bench, still shooting daggers—or maybe fire—at us.

That's when I noticed the armored demigod standing behind Tux Guy. At first glance, the helmet had thrown me off, but now? Oh, I knew him. Ethan Nakamura. My old backstabbing buddy. His nose looked like someone had flattened it with a war hammer, probably courtesy of our little scuffle on the Williamsburg Bridge. That... actually made me feel better.