We landed beside the golden fleece. Blackjack and the other pegasi often liked to graze close to it, since that's where the grass was the tastiest.

Or at least, that's what they told me.

"Thanks Blackjack." I said, jumping off his back.

No probs, boss. He whinnied. Just make sure you have some sugar cubes next time, yeah?

"Sure." I grinned. I glanced back at Y/N and Annabeth, who were also getting off their own Pegasi.

"Hey, Peleus," Annabeth said, walking over to the pine tree. "Keeping everything safe?"

The last time I'd seen the dragon he'd been six feet long. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lowest branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its magic protecting the camp's borders from invaders. The dragon seemed relaxed, like everything was okay.

Below us, Camp Half-Blood looked pretty peaceful. Lush green fields, thick forests, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse we called the Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.

Still... something felt wrong. There was tension in the air, as if the hill itself were holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

We walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow with woodland magic. Campers were having flying horseback lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts & Crafts.

The Athena and Demeter teams were having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent. A typical day at camp.

"I need to talk to Clarisse," Y/N said. He ran a hand through his hair, which seemed to look even longer than last time. It was a little unnerving, seeing how different he would look at times. I guess he must have had another growth spurt or something.

"What for?" Annabeth said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't talk to Clarisse all that much."

"We've been working on something," Y/N replied. "Top secret."

"Working on what?" I questioned. Hey, I was curious.

"What part of top secret do you not understand?" Y/N rolled his eyes. "I'll tell Chiron you're here. He'll want to talk to you before the hearing."

"What hearing?"

But he just looked at me with a look of pity, before jogging down towards the big house, not looking back.

.

.

.

As I made my way through camp, I said hi to some of my friends. In the Big House's driveway, Connor and Travis Stoll from the Hermes cabin were hot-wiring the camp's SUV. Silena Beauregard, the head counsellor for Aphrodite, waved at me from her Pegasus as she flew past. I looked for Grover, but I didn't see him. Finally I wandered into the sword arena, where I usually go when I'm in a bad mood. Practising always calms me down.

Maybe that's because swordplay is one thing I can actually understand.

I walked into the amphitheatre and my heart almost stopped. In the middle of the arena floor, with its back to me, was the biggest hellhound I'd ever seen.

I mean, I've seen some pretty big hellhounds. One the size of a rhino tried to kill me when I was twelve. But this hellhound was bigger than a tank. I had no idea how it had gotten past the camp's magic boundaries. It looked right at home, lying on its belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. It hadn't noticed me yet, but if I made a sound, I knew it would sense me. There was no time to go for help. I pulled out Riptide and uncapped it.

"Yaaaaah!" I charged. I brought down the blade on the monster's enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked my strike.

CLANG!

The hellhound pricked up its ears. "WOOF!"

I jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman—a grey-haired man in Greek armour. He parried my attack with no problem.

"Whoa there!" he said. "Truce!"

"WOOF!" The hellhound's bark shook the arena.

"That's a hellhound!" I shouted.

"She's harmless," the man said. "That's Mrs. O'Leary."

I blinked. "Mrs. O'Leary?"

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. I realised she wasn't angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.

"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armoured manikin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its armour. She began chewing on its helmet.

The swordsman smiled dryly. He was in his fifties. I guess, with short grey hair and a clipped grey beard. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before I could make out what it was, he shifted his armour straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

"Mrs. O'Leary is my pet," he explained. "I couldn't let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her."

"Who are you?"

Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?"

"I guess."

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."

I shook his hand. It was as rough as sandpaper.

"Percy Jackson," I said. "Sorry about...How did you, um..."

"Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with a death and quite a few giant chew toys. I'm the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away."

"Oh." I tried not to stare as Mrs. O'Leary ripped off the target dummy's shield with the arm still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. "Wait, Mr. D is away?"

"Yes, well...busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He's gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they're on the right side. I probably shouldn't say more than that."

Off to my left, there was a loud BUMP. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O'Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.

"Whoa, girl!" Quintus said. "Those aren't for you." He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.

The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides, but with my dyslexia they took me a few minutes to decipher:

TRIPLE G RANCH

FRAGILE

THIS END UP

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G

RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE,

MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS.

"What's in the boxes?" I asked.

"A little surprise," Quintus said. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."

"Uh, okay," I said, though I wasn't sure about the "excruciatingly painful death" part.

Quintus threw the bronze shield, and Mrs. O'Leary lumbered after it.

"You young ones need more challenges. They didn't have camps like this when I was a boy."

"You... you're a half-blood?" I didn't mean to sound surprised, but I'd never seen an old demigod before.

Quintus chuckled. "Some of us do survive into adulthood, you know. Not all of us are the subject of terrible prophecies."

"You know about my prophecy?"

"I've heard a few things."

I wanted to ask what few things, but just then Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. "Percy, there you are!"

He must've just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and bow slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He'd trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half, which was a white stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

"I see you've met our new instructor." Chiron's tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. "Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Percy?"

"Not at all, Master Chiron."

"No need to call me 'Master'," Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. "Come, Percy. We have much to discuss."

I took one more glance at Mrs. O'Leary, who was now chewing off the target dummy's legs.

"Well, see you," I told Quintus.

As we were walking away, I whispered to Chiron, "Quintus seemed kind of..."

"Mysterious?" Chiron suggested. "Hard to read?"

"Yeah."

Chiron nodded. "A very qualified half-blood. Excellent swordsman, I just wish I understood..."

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind. "First things first, Percy. Y/N told me you met some espousa."

"Yeah." I told him about the fight at Goode, and how Kelli had exploded into flames.

"Mm," Chiron said. "The more powerful ones can do that. She did not die, Percy. She simply escaped. It is not good that the she-demons are stirring."

"What were they doing there?" I asked. "Waiting for me?"

"Possibly," Chiron frowned. "It is amazing you survived. Their powers of deception...almost any male hero would've fallen under their spell and been devoured."

"I would've been," I admitted. "Except for Rachel."

Chiron nodded. "Ironic to be saved by a mortal, yet we owe her a debt. What the empousa said about an attack on camp... we must speak of this further. But for now, come, we should get to the woods. Grover will want you there."

"Where?"

"At his formal hearing," Chiron said grimly. "The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide his fate."

A/N: Bit of a filler chapter. There might not be any interesting action for a while. But trust me when I say that this book is going to be a wild ride :)

Chapter edited and reviewed by: @Minhea466