❝ Why Would She Work For You? ❞

      There was a dark chamber. A very opaque one. Aquila had no memory of how she found herself there. Her footsteps echoed as she walked towards the door in front of her. The door seemed like the door you know something bad was lurking inside, but it tempts you to open it. Aquila couldn't resist her curiosity, she hardly touched it, but the huge double doors swung open smoothly.

She stepped back, unsure if she should go inside or find another way. The door opened by itself as if it wanted her inside. She slowly stepped forward and continued the pace until she reached the very end. There was a throne in front of her, it was magnificent, dark, and evil.

A powerful force was seated on the Throne. She could see that darkness itself surrounded the person who sat there. Her night vision allowed her to see things in the darkness, but still, she could only see a silhouette of the figure. The man got up and came towards her. Aquila struggled to see who it was, but all she could see was a long, dark shadow towering over her tiny figure.

"Greetings Aquila, glad to finally meet you,"

"Excuse me?" She asked.

​​​​​The shadow ignored her question.

"You only have to do what I say, as simple as that,"

"Who are you?" she managed to ask, her voice small.

The whole room rumbled as the evil man growled.

"It doesn't matter who I am, silly girl. It matters who you are, and who you work for; will you do what as I say? Don't make a fool of yourself by trying to escape."

Aquila didn't know how the man knew she planned on running away, but what he said was the truth, there was no way out. She was struck.

The more she stayed silent the worse it became. Aquila could hear screams, blood, yells, slashes, and grunts. She was going insane, no, the man was making her go insane. She decided finally to speak.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Aquila.

An evil smirk played across the man's face "I want you to destroy the world, kill the Olympians, and bring back the golden age."

Aquila's insides were frozen. She was quite a fighter, but she was never someone who loved violence or took pleasure in others' pain. She certainly did not want the golden age to start again. It would be a nightmare. People dying and suffering pain, slavery of innocent mortals, the sacrifice of godly offspring and so much even worse she couldn't even imagine.

She shook her head in horror.

"I can't do that— I won't!" somehow Aquila managed to find the courage and spoke loudly at the figure.

Aquila must've made a wrong move because she was thrown across the room the next second by an invisible force. She groaned as her head ached from hitting the dark floor.

The shadowy figure came into her view. She regretted seeing it. He was roughly seventeen feet tall, iron ram horns glinting wickedly from an unknown source of dim light. His face was barely visible in the ram helmet he was wearing. His eyes, it was a cold and cruel blue, and the intensity of his eyes was too much for Aquila, it was filled with war, hate, power, destruction, loath, darkness, supernova, collapsed stars, black holes, and thirst for reign.

The eyes— she had seen that before— those cold blue eyes filled with the vast universe in them— her father, Astraeus, had those cold blue eyes, but it was not as evil as this man. This could not be her father, no, but who was it...?

She managed to get to her feet and glared at the monstrous creature. He came forward and crouched down, he was still towering over her by a good thirteen feet. He was more terrifying and evil as he looked her in the eye.

"If you want to know who I am, then let me tell you," he gritted through his teeth. "I'm Krios, Fourth Son of Ouranos and Gaia, elder Titan, Lord of South, father of stars and constellations, your grandfather to be precise."

"Will you work for me now? Do as I say?"

Aquila was petrified, how?—it's not possible, Krios was in Tartarus, he was a cruel Titan—wait, if Krios was here could that mean she was in Tartarus? No. She was in a dream, a nightmare. Courage rushed through her as she realized, he could do nothing to her, he could only threaten her.

"I won't, I will never do anything you say!"

Krios's face turned cold, his eyes narrowed and he sneered ruthlessly at her.

"Oh poor Aquila, if you think this is a mere dream, you are mistaken. This is a vision and I could kill you," he said his voice was so harsh that anyone would've flinched, but not Aquila, she found her voice and courage she was not going to be afraid.

"You can kill me, I couldn't care less," she replied smoothly her voice was cool enough to make Krios angry, but he did not seem mad.

"I'm not asking you to do something unreasonable or impossible," he reasoned. "You are a half Titan, you must know our power and make use of it wisely,"

"I'm not like you or the other Titans, my father is not like you either, why would you think I will help you all in your cruel plans?" Aquila asked.

Krios' eyes narrowed. "I never thought Astraeus would change like this and love a useless mortal! I expected more from him. He was so much better back then, killing mortals and working for us, but he had produced you, a powerful weapon. The odds aligned perfectly."

Aquila felt anger boiling inside her, how dare he compare her to a cruel weapon used for the killing of innocent mortals?!

​​​​​​"Unlike you, he is a great man now, and I'm not a weapon!" she seethed.

"There are choices you should make correctly Aquila, and this is one of them," he said. "If you join us you will be rewarded, if you don't you will be killed just like those puny demigods."

"Then I'll die, it sounds better," she replied.

"This won't be the last time we see each other, Aquila. Since I'm generous, you still have the offer. Think what is better for you. Do you want to live worthily? Or die meaninglessly?"

And with those words, the room collapsed into eternal darkness.

I woke up, startled by the nightmare. I was sweating profusely, Krios— he wanted me to work for the Titans, everything was running through my mind the encounter with my grandfather, the Titans' plan to make me work for them. What was happening?

Whatever it was, I was more tired than before, sleep was an essential thing and I slept occasionally, was it necessary for the nightmares to ruin them? I couldn't think for underworld's sake! I slept surprisingly and it turned out worse, damn these people.

Suddenly Grover called me and said Chiron had something to say. I went to the big house and by the time Chiron was telling something to Percy.

".....Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard.

"Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

"What?!" I shouted. Zeus's lightning bolt was stolen?

"Yes, come in, Aquila."

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"What did I miss?" I asked, looking between the two.

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that heered the top of Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?" Percy asked.

"Stolen," Chiron said.

"By who?" Percy asked.

"By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you."

My jaw dropped. What? Percy stole the lightning bolt?

"At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't—" he started.

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his sin. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief."

"But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Er, Percy...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy as if he actually expected him to remember question thirty-eight.

"Something about a golden net?" he guessed. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods...they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"

"Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw."

"But I'm just a kid!" he protested.

"Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you.... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

"But I didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?"

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief on the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?"

"Bad?" he guessed.

"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature is at war with itself. Olympians were forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."

"Bad," he repeated.

"Horrible." I corrected.

Percy gulped, poor boy, he was definitely too obvilious to even know how to steal the lightning bolt.

"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky. Percy had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of him, but it was not his fault though.

"So I have to find the stupid bolt," he said. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?"

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago...well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you both must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked.

"Aquila, Zeus suspects you too, a child of a Titan would definitely try to steal the weapon used to bring the downfall of their kind, you must accept the quest to prove you did not do that,"

Every day passed by and my hate for the Olympians only grew more. Zeus was so arrogant and ignorant. I wanted to break his lightning bolt into two pieces and see him cry, that's probably never going to happen. Too bad. I only nodded.

"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?" Percy asked.

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

He swallowed. "Good reason."

"You agree then?" Chiron asked.

"All right," he said. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Dolphin?" I asked. Why would he be turned into a dolphin? They ignored me.

"Then it's time you both consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson and Aquila Scott, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. Percy pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place.

The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood. Eww.

I held my breath and climbed.

The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things—severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, and various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.

By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead a long, long time.

Looking at her sent chills up my back. And that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. Percy stumbled over himself trying to get to the trapdoor, but it slammed shut. There was no going back.

Inside my head, I heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around my brain: I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.

The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around me in the green mist.

But its presence didn't feel evil, like Krios.

Before I spoke, Percy muttered up the courage to ask, "What is my destiny?"

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around Ellie came into my view

She turned toward me and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle:

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

She began to dissolve. At first, I was too stunned to say anything, the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy.

Percy cried, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"

The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.

I got the feeling that I could stand here until I had cobwebs, too, and I wouldn't learn anything else.

"The Oracle only speaks in riddles, Percy, we should figure out what it means," I said. He nodded.

Our audience with the Oracle was over.

"Well?" Chiron asked us.

I slumped into a chair at the pinochle table.

"She said I would retrieve what was stolen," Percy said.

Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can.

"That's great!"

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important."

My ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice.

I took a deep breath and said:

"'You shall go west, and face the god who has turned. You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned—'"

Percy cut me off, asking "Who is the god in the West?"

"I'll tell you, Percy, first tell me the full thing" Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

"No," he said. "That's about it." Why is he hiding?

He studied our faces. "Very well, But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

I got the feeling he knew we were holding back something bad, and he was trying to make us feel better.

"Okay," Percy said, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the West?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?" he guessed.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

"Hades," I said.

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon...."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and they had to be summoned by someone within the