"Percy."

A deep, gravelly voice—one that Percy'd hoped he wouldn't have to hear for the rest of the evening. And maybe even the rest of his life. Now all my dreams are shattered.

Percy huffed, then spun around on the dirt pathway—maybe the only nonpaved road on Olympus, tucked away on the south side behind Hades' palace. "What a time to show up. Aren't you supposed to be giving the demigods a celebratory speech in the throne room right now or something?"

Percy didn't know how the god had caught up to him; he'd been hiking away from his problems for a few hours now. The sun was peeking out from the horizon, threatening to disappear fully. Surrounded by the peaceful scenery of the hike, Percy didn't feel the need to return back to the social gathering.

Until now.

"Is that how you speak to your father?" the god, who looked a lot like Percy, countered. "I taught you better than this."

"I doubt so. Especially after you disowned me for . . . my behavior and my lack of drive, was it?"

Poseidon winced. "Listen, Percy, I wasn't in the right mind back then . . ."

"Oh, so you're saying this is a normal occurrence whenever you get angry?" Percy couldn't even look at his pathetic father anymore. "I don't think I see a future with a father who can't even treat me as human."

"Now you're twisting my words . . ."

"Enough. You abandoned me at the time I most needed you—and you expect me to walk right back to you? I have other things to do than listen to nonsense." Percy smirked, but he couldn't cover up the sorrow in his eyes. "And my former father did teach me one thing: never to talk to strangers. So I guess this is goodbye, Olympian-that-I-barely-know."

As Percy turned to leave, he didn't see the flash of rage in Poseidon's eyes. No one talked to an Olympian like that. Not even Amphitrite, at her most furious moments—usually after she found him cheating—did she let loose on the god.

If the god wanted to kill Percy on the spot, no one would stop him. But as he took a step forward, his injured knee buckled, reminding him of his promise with a certain goddess.

"Percy," Poseidon said, placing a hand on the demigod's shoulder before he could escape. "I understand that you're angry—and for good reason. But look at the effort I'm putting in to rekindle our relationship. I was wrong, and you can walk away—but can't you give your old man one last chance?"

Percy stopped. A myriad of emotions barreled through his mind. Annabeth had used this strategy on him many times—and by now, he was immune to it . . .

"Let's go," Percy said with a sigh.

Rather, he should've been immune to Poseidon's words. But as happiness burst through the lenses of the god's eyes, Percy couldn't help but laugh at his own foolishness. When it came to pleasing people, he always lost. One of these days, I'm going to die because of this.

Once Percy gave his permission, Poseidon snapped his fingers—and suddenly, the boy found himself outside of Atlantis.

Such a cheat-key, Percy thought as he stumbled backward, not expecting the lightness in his msucles.

Like every day, there were guards on patrol. Outside the gates today, however, were the guards that Percy'd pummeled last time he was here. Their armor was scuffed and dented, and their expressions were sullen. When they saw the son of the sea, they growled and pointed their weapons at him.

"What are you two doing?" Poseidon barked in anger. "How dare you threaten him while I'm watching?"

The guards gulped in fear—it seemed as though they'd just seen their king. "Lord Poseidon!" the senior one greeted, waving wildly for his compatriots to drop to their knees. "We were surprised when we saw the traitor—"

"Bah! Who is calling the future king of Atlantis a traitor? Bring them to execution at once!"

"Er . . . you did," the guard pointed out. "We memorized his face after he broke into the palace—on your orders."

Poseidon looked at Percy, who just rolled his eyes. "Never mind that!" the god said, trying to save face. "The past is the past. From now on, you will treat my son with respect. Is that clear?"

The mermen nodded in confirmation, but Percy found them staring bitterly at him. "We greet the Prince of Atlantis," they said with reluctance.

"Now, give your weapons to him," Poseidon ordered.

"Pardon? But how are we supposed to guard the gate with nothing?"

"These idiots . . ." the god muttered, shaking his head in disdain. "Who trained them?" But even he had to admit they had a point—mostly because he was the one who trained them. He moved his hand to the side, and the water seemed to part for something invisible—which Poseidon proceeded to reach into. He fumbled around a bit, cursing as he did, but a beautiful silver trident lay in his hands when everything returned to normal.

The guards gasped in awe, and Percy looked at the weapon appreciatively. Jewels glittered in the sides of each prong, while the body looked delicate enough to break—but Percy had the feeling that even Kronos' scythe wouldn't be able to scratch it. Even a retired archer would revere such craftsmanship.

"I had my uncles craft it during the good old days," Poseidon said proudly. "The only thing that comes close to is this." He snapped his fingers, and the god's weapon of power appeared in his other hand.

"So . . . you're a dual wielder?" Percy found that a bit strange.

"Of course not!" But Poseidon was sweating. For the past millennia, he had been a dual-wielder—just Percy hadn't seen it. I got this made for the offspring of mine that shows me the makings of a future Olympian. Though, you've already passed that." He handed the weapon to Percy.

"Isn't that the other weapon that Your Highness trains wit—" one of the guards began.

"Silence!" Poseidon roared, trying to cover his anxiousness. "Can't you see with your measly eye sockets that something important is happening? If you weren't my people, I would've exterminated you on the spot!"

The guards cowered back; with Poseidon's laid-back attitude, it was hard to remember the last time he'd screamed like that—especially since the mermen were just doing their job. But this situation was special. 

The Olympian had looked back to Percy, hoping that his son hadn't caught on. Fortunately, though, Percy was the most oblivious person in the world; as he studied the silver trident in his hand, his surroundings seemed to blur. The weapon felt right in his hands—exactly like Riptide did. "What's its name?"

"That's for the owner to choose." 

It took a second for Percy to realize that was him. "Ah. Right. I'll call it . . . Asími." Percy grinned. "How's that?"

Silver? Poseidon and the guards thought in unison, equally horrified at the tasteless name. The trident was a divine weapon—it deserved better.

"Maybe you should think it over," Poseidon tried. "Good names take a bit of time to create."

"Like Afosíoso," the lead guard added, referring to his lord's signature weapon. "It's great enough that I pray to it every morning . . ."

Now that's a bit much, Poseidon thought in irritation. The thought of his weapon garnering more fame than the god himself did not make him happy.

"Is Asími not to your liking?" Percy asked with an undertone of coldness, and everyone present—even Poseidon—had to suppress a chill. 

"It's a great name!" Poseidon exclaimed, taking Percy by the shoulders and leading him away before the guards could make his son angrier. "Why don't we test your weapon out?"

"Against sea monsters?" Percy asked flatly. "They'd just crush me with water."

Without letting his embarrassment over his mistake show, Poseidon ruffled his boy's hair. As his hands touched Percy's scalp, they glowed blue for a moment, then went back to their normal, tanned shade. But Percy felt changed; the chains around his heart seemed to liquify, then vanish.

"What did you do to me?" His eyes sparkled with a powerful brightness. He suddenly could detect every presence within a mile radius—from the seabed to the water's surface. He felt like Superman. 

"I merely gave back your rightful powers," Poseidon said matter-of-factly. "How does it feel?"

" . . . Amazing." Percy waved his hand, and the water followed his move. Better than amazing. He felt like he could beat a Titan underwater—which shouldn't be right. Maybe it'd just been too long since he'd had his powers.

Poseidon laughed as if he could read his son's mind. "It's always been said that as time goes by, my offspring grow stronger. My domain desires young vessels as it grows older—and your body might've taken advantage of that. Water always wants to spread its influence. Perhaps this punishment was a blessing in disguise."

"I wouldn't call it that." His glare was half-hearted, though; how could he be mad when he felt great? "If you ever do something like you-know-what ever again—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a huge rumbling sent Percy and the guards sprawling to the floor (Poseidon was fine; it would take more than that to disturb an Olympian). The ground cracked, and bubbles and water swirled together as they rose toward the surface. Fish darted into the kelp, and even sharks made themselves sparse. It was not a normal event.

"My Lord!" the guards quickly recovered, pulled out their weapons, and surrounded Poseidon in a protective circle. They were now all business. "What is happening?"

"It came from there." Percy gazed north. Even though the sand in the air obscured his vision, he could feel it. The presence of fighting, half a mile away. "I assume there's something important there?"

"Monsters have been prowling closer to the city," Poseidon said grimly. "I decided to set up outposts all around." 

A monster that can do that much damage is unfair. Why did trouble have to show up everywhere he went? Percy sighed. "Where's Triton?"

"He's out with his fiance." Poseidon's face brightened. "Oh, you haven't met Ampiana, have you?"

"Tell him that if he doesn't get his butt over here right now, I'll crash his wedding." 

"What about you? Don't do anything dangerous . . ."

Percy grinned. "Dad, don't worry. I got Asími and my powers now. It'll be okay."

Dad. The word sounded like music to his ears. His other offspring rarely called him that—immortal culture always got in the way of meaningful, familiar relationships. For the first time in his life, he began to realize just how much he had messed up. "Don't get hurt, Percy."

With that, Percy launched into action. He threw Asími toward the explosion with all his might, then grabbed onto it. An hour ago, he would've looked stupid. But with his new and improved powers, the weapons shot forward like a bullet—taking Percy with it.

Wait a minute. This might be too fast—! The sea turned into a blur—various shelled crustaceans burrowed into the seabed, hiding as Percy zoomed past. He narrowly missed a Great White shark leisurely swimming in the ocean. The animal spun around, alert, but when it saw the trail of bubbles left by the son of the sea, it bowed its head and swum away.

The blue turned into a green, then a murky brown as Percy confronted the rolling wave of sand drawn up by the explosion. He clapped his hand over his mouth, trying not to breath, and willed the waves to push him faster. 

As sweat dripped down his forehead and dissolved into the sea, he thought, Why am I trying this hard for people I don't know?

Deep inside, however, he knew. These people had a family waiting for them, back in Atlantis. Some even with children. A grim smile appeared on his face. Death would mean more children like him—fatherless, motherless, or, even worse, orphans. He'd gone through hell, and life was just beginning to get better . . .

But that didn't mean others had to go through it, too. 

The sandstorm passed, and Percy's senses were finally released—the sounds of fighting and the familiar scent of blood wafted to his nostrils. He stopped short.

Just in Percy's sight was a carbon copy of Atlantis—a golden gate that looked like it could survive even an atomic bomb blast, coral-roofed buildings that were straight out of a fantasy novel, and mermen all around. But this city was only a mile across; if Percy had wanted to, he could get from one side to the other in just a few minutes. 

This has to be the outpost Dad was talking about, he noted as his eyes swept across the destructed buildings. But . . . where are the monsters? 

There was a scream, and then something crashed to the ground beside Percy. The son of the sea jumped back and found a merman lying in a crater he'd created with his impact. Given the weird angle of his neck and his bleeding skull, it didn't look like he was gonna get up soon—or even ever. 

Percy looked away. Even after what he'd been through, it didn't numb the gore.

In retrospect, however, he shouldn't have let his guard down; the dead merman was a testament to the fast that there were evil forces in the proximity. 

Then, slowly, he was surrounded by an inky black aura. First, Percy thought his body was shutting down—he'd inhaled a lot of sand. But then he realized it was a a shadow. A huge shadow. 

He looked up, then swore. 

A long, thick, and purple tentacle darted from above him, wrapping around his leg—then tugged him upwards. Percy shouted in alarm as the world around him swirled into a blur. He helplessly struggled to free himself.

The outpost wasn't as safe as he thought it had been.