Last Child of the Sea

Aliens and Norse Gods Just Don't Clean Their Mess-Ups

The camp was a mess. Burnt and fallen trees, littered  the ground. Dryads and satyrs wailing their loss. Naiads sobbed, joining in the chorus. Legacies looked desperate, grieving, wild. Demigods grimmer than ever before as they carried on tasks, bringing wounded to the over-worked healers. 

A demigod hero, with a more powerful presence than the others, marched through camp. His green eyes shone determinedly in the dark, glowing fiercely. "They'll be back soon," Percy Jackson warned. He was in full battle armour, Riptide or Anaklusmos, gleaming in his hand. "They're coming in shifts," Malcolm Pace panted, grey eyes visible beneath his helmet. "Testing our defences."

"Yeah, and they'll want to tear each and everyone of them down," Clarisse, daughter of Ares growled.

"We need border patrol on the Fleece," Percy pointed to the shimmering cloud of golden wool hanging from the tree with Riptide. "Not just Peleus. Unfortunately, we can't move it yet. We can't even move camp. What about the Romans?"

Damien White removed his helmet. His blond hair stuck out in odd places, but nobody laughed. "Some made it- not all of them did." He said quiet and sombre for once.

Everyone was silent. "And the ones already here?" Percy asked.

"We're putting up tents and foraging for extra supplies, I don't think it's a good time to ask the nymphs and satyrs for help," Will Solace, son of Apollo appeared behind them They turned to face him. Torches were burning in the distance. It wasn't too dark, but the electricity was cut. 

Will rubbed his head. His healer's scrubs were bloodstained. He looked weary and ready to drop. "Take a rest, Will," someone suggested.

Will shook his head. "I can't, there's too many injured, this keeps getting worse."

"There's more," Jake Mason warned them. "We're low on weapons- Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold ones. I've checked with the Romans. It's the same."

Percy cursed in Ancient Greek. For a time now, Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, had been helping smuggle Roman demigods and Legacies, even their fauns, out of Camp Jupiter and New Rome. But it was getting harder and harder for them to stay alive.

Nico had recently passed out from too much Shadow Travel. He needed rest.

Everything was much worse now. Even after the defeat of the Triumvirate, no one had ever gotten any rest. Monsters had been attacking them, somehow managing to get past New Rome's borders, and Camp Jupiter. The city had survived. The camp was almost certainly destroyed.

Camp Half-Blood was next. With no alternative, New Rome's praetors, Frank and Reyna reached out to Percy and Chiron for help. Lupa and her wolves were scouting for new demigods and legacies, tracking ones that seemed to be lost, and trying to find a safe place for them to get to New York. Shadow Travelling could only get them so far. 

Percy came up to two more familiar faces. "Travis, Connor," he greeted. "How's everything?"

They took of their helmets. "Pretty bad, Perce," Connor admitted, rubbing his soot-streaked face. 

Travis nodded. "Everything's going to Hades in a handbasket, but it's getting worse."

Someone snorted. "Worse?"

"The mortal world," Travis said grimly. He handed Percy a rolled-up newspaper. Percy untied the knot and unfurled it. 

"It's everywhere," Travis admitted. "The mortals are becoming suspicious. What happened in New York-"

"I know what happened in New York," Percy found himself gritting his teeth as he clutched the newspaper tighter. The picture showed a group of guys in spandex, armour and everything else, fighting a bunch of freakish-looking monsters- aliens, he reminded himself- in the sky. One guy had an arrow nocked in a bow and pointing at something. Another was a red-haired woman readying a gun, another was a guy in blue spandex and a metal shield with a star in the middle and stripes around the edges. One guy was dressed in red and gold metal armour like a floating robot, and there was this dude that was big, green and roared a lot.