"Why couldn't Polyphemus take me as his bride instead?" Aurora let out a breathy complaint as she stared at the Cyclops's island with faux envy, causing Percy to laugh loudly. But, in all fairness, the place was literally a Caribbean postcard, with rippling fields of green (that reminded Aurora of the strawberry fields where she had been forced to sleep in at camp—traumatizing!) and tropical fruit trees and white beaches and aquamarine water the color of Percy's eyes.

In other words, it was gorgeous, and a Cyclops like Polyphemus didn't deserve to live there. But gods, if Aurora had been kidnapped, she would have been out tanning all day. The UV was 10.

As they sailed toward the shore, Annabeth breathed in the somewhat falsely sweet air. "The Fleece," the blonde concluded. Aurora nodded. They couldn't see the Fleece yet, but she could feel its power radiating through the island, and it gave her slight optimism. She wanted to believe it could heal anything, even Thalia's poisoned tree.

"If we take it away, will the island die?" Percy asked.

Annabeth shook her head. "It'll fade. Go back to what it would normally be, whatever that is."

Aurora pouted, feeling as though performing a funeral ceremony for the paradise island would be too little. However, Camp Half Blood was in trouble, and Tyson hadn't sacrificed his life for Aurora to feel sad for a pretty picture to fade back to where it had been normally.

Pathetic.

In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. They looked peaceful enough, but they were huge—the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was the massive oak tree Percy had described in his dreams. Something gold glittered in its branches.

"No way." Aurora shook her head in disbelief.

"This is way too easy." Percy agreed, staring at the Golden Fleece with an agape mouth.

Even if you had the survival instincts of a rock—even if you were Percy—you would have to know that there was no way in hell you would think you could just—

"We could just hike up there and take it?" Percy asked.

Aurora guessed she was wrong.

"Genuinely an idiot," she murmured to herself. Percy glared at her, seeming to hear her jab.

Annabeth's eyes narrowed, nodding along to Aurora's statement of Percy's stupidity. "There's supposed to be a guardian. A dragon or..."

That was when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves. Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air. A second later, the sheep all moved away, back to their regular peaceful wanderings. Where the deer had been was a pile of clean white bones. Annabeth, Aurora, and Percy exchanged looks of terror.

"They're like piranhas," Annabeth said, her voice breathy with horror.

"Piranhas with wool. How will we—" Percy nodded, staring apprehensively at the creatures.

"Percy!" Aurora gasped, grabbing Percy's arm. She tugged at it, bouncing slightly on her heels until he turned around. "Look!" She pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground. It was the other lifeboat from the CSS Birmingham.

Aurora's heart beat faster, and she pressed her lips together tightly. If Clarisse was here... well, she feared for the Cyclops' life. But, as much as she didn't want to doubt her friend, she felt a spike of panic for the daughter of Ares.

The three demigods decided there was no way they could get past the man-eating sheep. Annabeth wanted to sneak up the path invisibly and grab the Fleece, but Aurora put an end to the conversation before it could even begin. The amount of possibilities that could go wrong was infinite, and Percy and Aurora would be too far away to help.

From the look on Percy's face, the way his eyes kept flitting around the island and his neck hyperextended so he could look past the trees, he didn't know what Aurora knew. He didn't know that the passenger on the ship was Clarisse. He hoped it would be Tyson.

But Aurora didn't say anything. She simply gave a tight-lipped smile, not too much for him to read too deeply into it, but not too little for him to read too deeply into it. (Percy—annoyingly—somehow knew everything Aurora wanted to say whenever she wanted to say it, and he, for someone who didn't seem to think at all, analyzed her as quickly as he could say the word "blue." The daughter of Persephone had to be careful with her expressions and words around him.)

They—really, Percy—moored the Queen Anne's Revenge on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet. (Aurora didn't know what moored meant, but when Percy told her what she was doing, she nodded along and gave an encouraging thumbs up, like she was a mother at her son's soccer game.)

Percy figured the ship was less likely to be seen there. The cliffs looked climbable, about as difficult as the lava wall back at camp—which, Aurora pointed out, she was a master of. Being at camp since you were five did that to you.

"At least it's free of man-eating sheep," Aurora pointed out with a raise of her eyebrows, attempting to offer some positivity of some sort.

Percy sighed, offering Aurora a hand as they got into a lifeboat. Annabeth plopped herself down in the back with a dramatic gag, while Aurora took Percy's help. He held her balance as she joined the blonde girl.

"I just hope that Polyphemus doesn't also keep carnivorous mountain goats." Percy said as he rowed the lifeboat to the edge of the rocks.

"I'll go first," Aurora volunteered, staring somewhat precariously at the cliff, biting the inside of her cheek before taking her first step. Aurora pretended it was because she was the better climber, but honestly? She did not want to go first. But seeing Annabeth's face go blank and stark with horror, and Percy pick at the cuticles on his thumb—his nervous habit when he wasn't fiddling with Riptide—Aurora made herself sound like she was confident in what she was doing—which was the biggest, fattest lie to ever exist.

They only came close to dying six or seven times, which Aurora thought was pretty good. Once, Percy lost his grip and he found himself dangling by one hand from a ledge fifty feet above the rocky surf. That was fun.

"If you fell, it would almost be like being pushed off of—" Aurora started, but Percy grabbed her ankle and yanked at it before she could finish. She let out a yelp. "I was gonna save you, dipshit!"

Therefore, because of that, Aurora did not feel any guilt whatsoever when, a minute later, she hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. She fortunately found something else to put it against.

Fortunately again, that something was Percy's face.

She let out a sharp laugh, her hand leaving the rock to cover her mouth, smothering her snort. "Sorry!" She called, regaining her grip. "I'm kidding. Not sorry, you deserve it."

"Whatever," Percy grunted in response.

This happened about twelve times before they reached the top. For the last three slips, Aurora did it on purpose—just to see how Percy reacted when she stepped on his face. It always ended the same way, with an apology through laughter and Percy grumbling complaints but never actually doing anything about her actions. (Aurora liked to think she won that.)

Finally, when Aurora's fingers felt like molten lead and her arm muscles were shaking from exhaustion, they hauled themselves over the top of the cliff and collapsed.

She would've lay there all day and fell into a deep coma, if it weren't for one of the most familiar voices known to Aurora, so loud it was as if it was being blasted through speakers.

Clarisse.

Oh, and if Percy hadn't nearly fallen off the cliff as soon as they had reached the top  Annabeth had brought up the rear of their little line, but Percy was so tired from their excursion that he slumped near the edge of the wall. Heavy steps shook the base of the ledge, causing the structure to shudder and Percy's body slip below the edge.

"Oh my gods, Percy!" Aurora hissed, scrambling over as fast as she could and grabbing onto Percy's forearm as Annabeth simply just watched with a bemused, exhausted expression, her grip latching on tightly to his arms as she hauled him back up. Once he was stable on the ledge, Percy simply smiled weakly with fatigue as a form of appreciation, which, under normal circumstances, Aurora wouldn't accept, but given that she herself was so tired she could die, she simply squeezed Percy's shoulder and whispered, "I saved you."

"I'll never forget it." Percy responded, rolling his eyes before flopping back onto his back—safely, this time.

"Challenge me!" Clarisse yelled, her voice echoing above to fill Aurora's ears. The ledge they were sitting on was narrower than she'd realized. It dropped off on the opposite side, and that was where Clarisse was coming from—right below them.

Percy looked like he was about to scream, but Aurora clamped her hand over his mouth and glared at him pointedly. Don't be a baby, she reprimanded, and Percy flipped her off.

"You're a feisty one!" a deep voice bellowed. Aurora cringed to herself at the Cyclops' word choice.

"Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!" Clarisse shot back, her voice growing with rage.

The monster simply roared with laughter.

"I feel like he has a fetish for little girls," Aurora whispered to Percy, who grimaced with disgust. Ew, gross, he mouthed back.

The three crept to the edge, so that they were right above the entrance of the Cyclops's cave.

Below them stood Polyphemus and Grover, still in his wedding dress. Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water.

"Shit, she's cooked." Percy said, his mouth outlining a smirk, and both Aurora and Annabeth glared daggers into the son of Poseidon's head.

"Shut up," Annabeth hissed. "Why does nothing valuable ever come out of your mouth?"

The son of Poseidon shrugged dumbly, pulling at one of Annabeth's blonde curls as a form of retaliation.

"Ooh, that's a pretty dress." Aurora commented, humming as her eyes examined the white, sleeveless, floor-length gown adorning Grover. It was stained with dirt, sure, but it was a gorgeous dress, with a classic cut, a full skirt with three layers of tulle, and somehow accentuated the satyr's waist. There were pearls beaded along the hem of the sweetheart neckline, which was an unfortunate waste of perfectly good materials.

"Yeah, it really brings out his eyes," Percy drawled, rolling his own eyes at her comment.

"Hmm," Polyphemus pondered. "Eat loudmouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?" He turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his completed bridal train.

Aurora almost laughed. Full honesty, Grover being called a bride was really funny.

"I can't believe I wasn't asked to be a bridesmaid. This is so fucked up." Aurora whispered under her breath to Percy, who almost let out a chuckle.

"Hey, I thought I'd be best man. We don't all get what we want, Miller." Percy retaliated with a mockingly disappointed shrug. Aurora's grin widened at how the son of Poseidon played along.

"Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps—"

"Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded. "Who—Grover?"

"No, Clarisse. Stop." Aurora murmured, pursing her lips as she drew out the word "No." "Come on, Clar. Come on."

Next to her, Annabeth muttered, "Shut up. She has to shut up."

Polyphemus glowered. "What 'Grover'?"

"The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

"Fuck." Percy hissed.

"Oh!" Grover yelped. "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

Polyphemus's eyelid narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly. The Cyclops was an even more horrible sight than he had been described as in Percy's dreams. His rancid smell and his wedding outfit—a crude kilt and shoulder-wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedos, as if he'd skinned an entire wedding party—were not an attractive combination.

"What satyr?" asked Polyphemus. "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

"No, you fucking idiot!" bellowed Clarisse, pointing at Grover with anger at Polyphemus's stupidity. "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress, dumbfuck!"

Aurora pressed her hand against her forehead, and Percy burst into grumbles about murdering her friend. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch as Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil—revealing his curly hair, his scruffy adolescent beard, his tiny horns.

Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger. "I don't see very well," he growled. "Not since many years ago when the other hero stabbed me in eye. But YOU'RE—NO—LADY—CYCLOPS!"

The Cyclops grabbed Grover's dress and tore it away. Underneath, the old Grover reappeared in his jeans and T-shirt. He yelped and ducked as the monster swiped over his head.

"Stop!" Grover pleaded. "Don't eat me raw! I—I have a good recipe!"

Aurora took off her ring, but Annabeth grabbed her hand to stop her from unsheathing her sword. "Wait," she commanded. Polyphemus seemed to be hesitating, a boulder in his hand, ready to smash his would-be bride-to-be.

"Recipe?" he asked Grover.

"Oh y-yes! You don't want to eat me raw. You'll get E-coli and botulism and all sorts of horrible things. I'll taste much better grilled over a slow fire. With mango chutney! You could go get some mangos right now, down there in the woods. I'll just wait here." Grover bargained, his voice trembling.

The monster pondered his suggestion. "Grilled satyr with mango chutney," Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. "You a satyr, too?"

"No, you overgrown pile of shit!" she yelled. "I'm a girl! The daughter of Ares! Now untie me so I can rip your arms off!"

"Rip my arms off," Polyphemus repeated, as if fascinated and awe struck by the thought of Clarisse murdering him slowly and painfully.

"And stuff them down your throat!" Clarisse added. If looks could kill, everyone in a ten mile radius would be ten feet under.

"You got spunk."

"Let me down!"

Polyphemus snatched Grover up as if he were a wayward puppy. "Have to graze sheep now. Wedding postponed until tonight. Then we'll eat satyr for the main course!"

"But... you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt and betrayed. Again, Aurora almost laughed. Grover was getting cheated on, on his own wedding day. "Who's the bride?"

"Wow, this Polyphemus is a whore." Aurora said, shaking her head with distaste.

Polyphemus looked toward the boiling pot.

Clarisse made a strangled sound, and Aurora nearly fell off the cliff as her, Percy, and Annabeth's jaws dropped simultaneously with incredulity.

"Oh, fuck no! You can't be serious. I'm not—" Clarisse cried with trepidation.

Before Aurora, Annabeth, or Percy could do anything, Polyphemus plucked Clarisse off the rope like she was a ripe apple, and tossed her and Grover deep into the cave. "Make yourself comfortable! I come back at sundown for big event!"

Then the Cyclops whistled, and a mixed flock of goats and sheep—smaller than the man-eaters—flooded out of the cave and past their master. As they went to pasture, Polyphemus patted some on the back and called them by name—Beltbuster, Tammany, Lockhart, etc.

When the last sheep had waddled out, Polyphemus rolled a boulder in front of the doorway as easily as Aurora could close a refrigerator door, shutting off the sound of Clarisse and Grover screaming inside.

"Mangos," Polyphemus grumbled to himself. "What are mangos?"

He strolled off down the mountain in his baby-blue groom's outfit, leaving them alone with a pot of boiling water and a six-ton boulder.

"Now you have to be the maid of honor," Percy mumbled after a beat as they scrambled off the cliff and to the cave, dragging a hand down his face with dread. "I don't really wanna be the best man anymore, though."

"Do you think if I go down there, he'll choose me?" Aurora asked teasingly, deciding to turn towards humor rather than facing her fright of her two friends being the Cyclops's polyamorous captives. She added a drawl to her voice, pitching it higher with mocking as she attempted to push the boulder.

"Oh, for sure." Percy snorted as he and Annabeth joined Aurora in trying to move the rock. "But don't worry, I'll fight him for your hand in marriage."

"Aw, thanks. You're too sweet." Aurora let out a huff, eventually giving up on trying. It seemed like they were attempting for hours, and every try was no good. The boulder wouldn't move.

They tried to yell into the cracks and tap on the rock to get a signal to Grover, but even if he had heard them, they wouldn't be able to tell.

Even, if by some miracle, they managed to kill Polyphemus, what good would it do for any of them? Grover and Clarisse would die inside that sealed cave. The only way to move the rock was to have the Cyclops do it.

Aurora watched as Percy, in total frustration, stabbed Riptide against the boulder. Sparks flew, but nothing else happened.

"Great job, Jackson. Kill that rock." Aurora commented, raising her eyebrow with a ridiculous snort. Percy simply shot her a deadly glare.

The three sat on the ridge in despair and watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks. He had wisely divided his regular animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island. The only way across was the rope bridge, and the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

They watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side. Unfortunately, they didn't eat him. In fact, they didn't seem to bother him at all. He fed them chunks of mystery meat from a great wicker basket.

After what seemed like forever, Annabeth spoke. "Trickery," she decided. "We can't beat him by force, so we'll have to use trickery."

"Okay," Percy said slowly. "What trick?'

"I haven't figured that part out yet." The daughter of Athena responded, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Great."

"Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside." Aurora pointed out.

"At sunset," Percy continued in agreement. "Which is when he'll marry Clarisse and have Grover for dinner. I'm not sure which is grosser."

"I could get inside," Annabeth offered, "invisibly."

Aurora felt her stomach drop. Annabeth, going in there? By herself? "Haha, you're funny. No."

"You guys can come too, I guess." The blonde rolled her eyes. "But you have to hide under the sheep. I can get close to Polyphemus."

But Aurora wouldn't listen to Annabeth's reasoning. She was already shaking her head violently. "Give me the fucking cap, Annie."

Annabeth frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can do it, Ror."

"Oh, I know. That's not what I'm worried about. You're the toughest one of us all."