BLAIRE FELL ASLEEP—she must have somehow dozed off despite her chaotic mind that usually refused to rest. She came to this conclusion because the one person she prayed she'd never see again was standing before her, hand extended in greeting. And beside her, Sunny lounged on the golden sand. The appearance of the two was impossible, for both of them were dead, rotting six feet under the dark earth.

She wasn't sure why her own mind took to taunting her each night. But it did.

"Hi," Olivia Kingsley, the new Aphrodite child who was claimed a mere week before, chirped, peering down at the young duo. "I'm Olivia."

   She held out a hand for them to shake, the glittery  pink-chipped polish on her fingers glinting beneath the August sun. Olivia was the embodiment of an Aphrodite child, with dark-silky hair that fell over her shoulders, brushing the colorful puffed sleeves of her smugly cropped top. A silver chain fell over her collarbone, a heart charm attached to the end. Her light-washed jeans were held up by a sparkly studded belt. And her eyelids were illuminated by purple eyeshadow.

She looked to be around their age, twelve, just a more glammed out individual.

"I'm Sunny," The young boy reached up, shaking her hand in greeting. With his other hand, he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his sunkissed nose. "And this is Blaire."

Olivia grinned, displaying the pink braces splayed across her seemingly perfect and pearly teeth. She studied the two intently, her gaze pausing to take in the French textbook Blaire held, the way her legs were thrown across Sunny's lap carelessly.

Olivia seemed entirely intrested in Sunny, she smirked at the disheveled state of his hair and the sunburn marring his skin.

"I always see you two together," Olivia informed them, "Are you guys like a thing?"

The both of them shook their heads frantically, suddenly flustered by her words.

"Nope," Sunny denied, "Best friends."

"Cool," Olivia grinned, her glossed lips turning up. She gestured toward the dip in the sand beside them. "May I join?"

"The more the merrier," Sunny said, missing the way Blaire rolled her eyes before turning back to the page of her book.

She didn't know that the girl would soon become her best friend. Only to hurt her in ways she'd never begin to imagine.

Then, the scene dissolved into darkness.

Blaire woke up to the loud racket of terrified screams piercing through the previously silent interior. Though she wasn't at all complaining, for they tore her away from Olivia Kingsley and their unfortunate meeting that would soon lead to much more.

"Ahhhggggggh!"

On the other side of the room, Jason leapt to his feet, apparently jarred by the sunlight bathing the room and the sudden yelps.

"Coach is awake," Leo said, which was kind of unnecessary. Gleeson Hedge was capering around on his furry hindquarters, swinging his club and yelling, "Die!" as he smashed the tea set, whacked the sofas, and charged at the throne.

"Coach!" Jason yelped in suprise.

Hedge turned, breathing hard. His eyes were so wild, Blaire thought he might attack.

"You're the new kid," Hedge said, lowering his club to glower at Jason. Then he looked toward Blaire, "And who the Hades are you?"

"Who are you?" Blaire retorted defensively, narrowing her eyes at the chubby satyr.

"I will—"

He was cut off by Leo, who stood and quickly approached the Satyr, in attempt to diffuse the situation. "This is Blaire. She's a friendly daughter of Hecate here to help us with our quest."

Friendly. Ha!

   He tried to throw an arm around the aforementioned girl's shoulders to prove his words, but she feircely shrugged it off, shooting him a warning glare, as if portraying her emotions into words; touch me again and I'll kill you!

"Hecate you say?" The goat man quiered.

"Yeah. Got a problem with that, Lard-Ass?"

Before Hedge was able to attack the girl, Leo interjected. "Guys! Sto—"

   And then Coach Hedge caught sight of the storm spirit cage. He seemed to forget about the potential threat that was Blaire, and took to swinging his bat like crazy. "Die!"

  "Whoa, Coach!" Leo stepped in his path, which was pretty brave, even though Hedge was six inches shorter. "It's okay. They're locked up. We just sprang you from the other cage."

  "Cage? Cage? What's going on? Just because I'm a satyr doesn't mean I can't have you doing plank push-ups, Valdez!"

Blaire scoffed.

Jason cleared his throat. "Coach—Gleeson—um, whatever you want us to call you. You saved us at the Grand Canyon. You were totally brave."

   Blaire couldn't imagine a scenario in which anyones saviour was a half-goat man.

"Of course I was!"

"The extraction team came and took us to Camp Half- Blood. We thought we'd lost you. Then we got word the storm spirits had taken you back to their—um, operator, Medea."

"That witch! Wait—that's impossible. She's mortal. She's dead."

"Yeah, well," Leo corrected, "somehow she got not dead anymore."

Hedge nodded in approval, his eyes narrowing. "So! You were sent on a dangerous quest to rescue me. Excellent!"

"Um." Piper got to her feet, holding out her hands so Coach Hedge wouldn't attack her. "Actually, Glee—can I still call you Coach Hedge? Gleeson seems wrong. We're on a quest for something else. We kind of found you by accident."

From beside Leo, Blaire smirked at the goat, raising both of her eyebrows— as if saying, ha!

Hedge snarled at her, causing Leo to turn toward her, but she quickly let her face fall before he could take note of it.

"Oh." The coach's spirits seemed to deflate, but only for a second. Then his eyes lit up again. "But there are no accidents! Not on quests. This was meant to happen! So, this is the witch's lair, eh? Why is everything gold?"

Gold?

Blaire looked around, letting her eyes roam around the room and it's new lighting, and she caught her breath. Woah.

The room was full of gold—the statues, the tea set Hedge had smashed, the chair that was definitely a throne. Even the curtains—which seemed to have opened by themselves at daybreak—appeared to be woven of gold fiber.

"Nice," Leo gasped. "No wonder they got so much security."

"This isn't—" Piper stammered. "This isn't Medea's place, Coach. It's some rich person's mansion in Omaha. We got away from Medea and crash-landed here."

"What sort of rich person decks their house out in gold?" Blaire questioned, suspicion seeping into her veins.

She had a feeling, a gut feeling, that something wasn't right.

  Completely disregarding Blaire's previous words, Hedge spoke. "It's destiny, cupcakes!" Hedge insisted. "I'm meant to protect you. What's the quest?"

   Before any of them were able to speak again, a door opened at the opposite end of the room, causing all of them to jump.

  A pudgy man in a white bathrobe stepped out with a golden toothbrush in his mouth. He had a white beard and one of those long, old-fashioned sleeping caps pressed down over his white hair. He froze when he saw them, and the toothbrush fell out of his mouth.

  He glanced into the room behind him and called, "Son? Lit, come out here, please. There are strange people in the throne room."

  Coach Hedge did the obvious thing. He raised his club and shouted, "Die!"

  Really, it was unfair of the man to threaten him in his own house but who was she to speak up on that matter.

  "Bring it down a few notches!" Jason demanded.

  A younger man charged into the room. Jason guessed he must be Lit, the old guy's son. He was dressed in pajama pants with a sleeveless T-shirt that said cornhuskers, and he held a sword that looked like it could husk a lot of things besides corn.

  He was covered in scratches. Everything from his ripped arms to his chiseled face, framed with black curly hair, was marred with small scars.

Lit immediately zeroed in on Jason like he was the biggest threat, and stalked toward him, swinging his sword overhead. "Hold on!" Piper stepped forward, trying for her best calming voice. "This is just a misunderstanding! Everything's fine."

Lit stopped in his tracks, but he still looked wary. It didn't help that Hedge was screaming, "I'll destroy them! Don't worry!"

Blaire rolled her eyes. "Shut up. You're not destroying anything besides a tin can!" Then she spared him yet another once-over. "...Or two."

"That does it!" Coach Hedge hollered, and began to charge forward. But Leo stopped him.

"Who are you? And why are you here?" The old man in a bathrobe asked, interrupting the chaotic bickering.

"Let's all put our weapons down," Piper said. "Coach, you first

Hedge clenched his jaw, "Just one thwack?"

"No."

"What about a compromise? I'll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I'll apologize."

"No!" Piper insisted again, this time more urgently.

"Meh." Coach Hedge lowered his club.

Piper flashed Lit a charming smile, which seemed to ease his nerves. However, it did the opposite to Jason. Blaire could tell.

Lit huffed and sheathed his sword. "You speak well, girl —fortunately for your friends, or I would've run them through."

"Appreciate it, man" Leo chimed in. "I try not to get run through before lunchtime."

The old man in the bathrobe sighed, kicking the teapot that Coach Hedge had smashed. "Well, since you're here. Please, sit down."

Lit frowned. "Your Majesty—"

 
  "No, no, it's fine, Lit," the old man said. "New land, new customs. They may sit in my presence. After all, they've seen me in my nightclothes. No sense observing formalities." He did his best to smile, though it looked a little forced. "Welcome to my humble home. I am King Midas."

King Midas? Like the golden guy with an unfortunate knack of turning things into gold. That Midas?— Blaire thought to herself.

  "Midas? Impossible." Coach Hedge furrowed his bushy brows. "He died."

    They were sitting on the sofas now, while the king reclined on his throne. Tricky to do that in a bathrobe, and Blaire kept worrying the old guy would forget and uncross his legs. Hopefully he was wearing golden boxers under there.

    Lit stood behind the throne, both hands on his sword, glancing at Piper— and sometimes Blaire—and flexing his muscular arms just to be annoying.

   Piper sat forward, still cringing benath Lit's gaze. "What our satyr friend means, Your Majesty, is that you're the second mortal we've met who should be—sorry—dead. King Midas lived thousands of years ago."

   "Interesting." The king gazed out the windows at the brilliant blue skies and the winter sunlight. In the distance, downtown Omaha looked like a cluster of children's blocks —way too clean and small for a regular city.

   "You know," the king said, "I think I was a bit dead for a while. It's strange. Seems like a dream, doesn't it, Lit?"

  "A very long dream, Your Majesty."

  Blaire almost felt bad for Lit. She couldn't imagine having to call her own father Your Majesty.

  "And yet, now we're here. I'm enjoying myself very much. I like being alive better."

   "That doesn't make any sense," Blaire scoffed from where she sat on an arm of a couch. "Who's your patron?"

  Midas hesitated, but there was a sly twinkle in his eyes. "Does it matter, my dear?"

  "We could kill them again," Hedge suggested. Blaire nearly agreed.

  "Coach, not helping," Jason said. "Why don't you go outside and stand guard?"

  Leo coughed. "Is that safe? They've got some serious security."

 
"Oh, yes," the king said. "Sorry about that. But it's lovely stuff, isn't it? Amazing what gold can still buy. Such excellent toys you have in this country."

  He fished a remote control out of his bathrobe pocket and pressed a few buttons—a pass code, Blaire guessed.

  "There," Midas announced. "Safe to go out now."

  Coach Hedge grunted. "Fine. But if you need me ..." He winked at Jason meaningfully. Then he pointed at himself, pointed two fingers at their hosts, and sliced a finger across his throat. Very subtle sign language.

  On his way out, Blaire waved to him, but quickly retracted four fingers, only keeping the middle one up. Leo elbowed her, stifiling a laugh at the Coach's offended glare.

  After the satyr left, Piper tried another diplomatic smile. "So ... you don't know how you got here?"

"Oh, well, yes. Sort of," the king spoke. He frowned at Lit. "Why did we pick Omaha, again? I know it wasn't the weather."

"The oracle," Lit reminded him.

"Yes! I was told there was an oracle in Omaha." The king shrugged. "Apparently I was mistaken. But this is a rather nice house, isn't it? Lit—it's short for Lityerses, by the way—horrible name, but his mother insisted—Lit has plenty of wide-open space to practice his swordplay. He has quite a reputation for
that. They called him the Reaper of Men back in the old days."

Good thing Blaire wasn't a man.

"Oh." Piper tried to sound enthusiastic (but failed). "How nice."

Lit's smile was more of a cruel sneer. Blaire had decided from the second she saw this guy that she didn't like him, and the more she looked at him, the more sure she was in her beliefs. Then again, Blaire didn't like anyone.

"So," Jason said. "All this gold—"

The king's eyes lit up. "Are you here for gold, my boy? Please, take a brochure!"

Blaire looked at the brochures on the coffee table. The title said GOLD: Invest for Eternity. Something about the phamplets was screaming at her, telling her to run. Maybe it was the obnoxious font, or the vibrant colors—

"Um, you sell gold?"

  "No, no." the king waved him off. "I make it. In uncertain times like these, gold is the wisest investment, don't you think? Governments fall. The dead rise. Giants attack Olympus. But gold retains its value!"

Leo frowned in recognition. "I've seen that commercial."

"Oh, don't be fooled by cheap imitators!" the king said. "I assure you, I can beat any price for a serious investor. I can make a wide assortment of gold items at a moment's notice."

Blaire cocked her head in confusion. If she was recalling correctly, he'd given the aforementioned ability-curse up literal ages ago. Piper seemed to be thinking the same, for she spoke up.

"Your Majesty, you gave up the golden touch, didn't you?"

The king looked absolutely astonished. "Gave it up?"

"Yes," Piper nodded. "You got it from some god—"

Dionysus," the king agreed. "I'd rescued one of his satyrs, and in return, the god granted me one wish. I chose the golden touch."

"But you accidentally turned your own daughter to gold," Piper recalled. "And you realized how greedy you'd been. So you repented."

"Repented!" King Midas looked at Lit incredulously, he stared back in disbelief as if Piper had said something wild. "You see, son? You're away for a few thousand years, and the story gets twisted all around. My dear girl, did those stories ever say I'd lost my magic touch?"

"Well, I guess not. They just said you learned how to reverse it with running water, and you brought your daughter back to life."

"That's all true. Sometimes I still have to reverse my touch. There's no running water in the house because I don't want accidents"—he gestured to his statues—"but we chose to live next to a river just in case. Occasionally, I'll forget and pat Lit on the back—"

Blaire shrunk away from the man, suddenly aware of what he was capable of doing if he for some reason felt like it.

Lit retreated a few steps, obviously aware as well. "I hate that."

The group expchanged weary glances.

"I told you I was sorry, son. At any rate, gold is wonderful. Why would I give it up?"

"I can think of a few good reasons," Blaire told him, but didn't further list them.

He ignored her.

Piper looked truly lost now. "Isn't that the point of the story? That you learned your lesson?"

Midas laughed heartily. "My dear, may I see your backpack for a moment? Toss it here."

Piper hesitated, but Blaire guessed she wasn't eager to offend the king so she dumped everything out of the pack and tossed it to Midas. As soon as he caught it, the pack turned to gold, like frost spreading across the fabric. It still looked flexible and soft, but definitely gold. The king tossed it back.

"As you see, I can still turn anything to gold," Midas said. "That pack is magic now, as well. Go ahead—put your little storm spirit enemies in there."

The way he said little storm spirit enemies almost felt degrading.

"Seriously?" Leo was suddenly interested at the mention of the bag's new mechanics. He took the sack from Piper and held it up to the cage. As soon as he unzipped the backpack, the winds stirred and howled in protest. The cage bars shuddered. The door of the prison flew open and the winds got vacuumed straight into the pack. Leo zipped it shut and grinned like an over-excited child. "Gotta admit. That's cool."

  "You see?" Midas sighed. "My golden touch a curse? Please. I didn't learn any lesson, and life isn't a story, girl. Honestly, my daughter Zoe was much more pleasant as a gold statue."

  "She talked a lot," Lit offered, like his sister was nothing.

  Blaire knew someone that talked alot, who might have benefited from being a golden statue. She shook the thought away though upon glancing back at that statues, the expressions most of them wore were straight miserable.

  "Exactly! And so I turned her back to gold." Midas pointed. There in the corner was a golden statue of a girl with a shocked expression, as if she were thinking, Dad! Blaire's jaw dropped— this man was straight evil. Sure, Blaire was terrible, but she'd never turn anyone to a gold statue out of pure annoyance. Let alone her own daughter.

  "That's horrible!" Piper protested, fear alight within her irises.

  "Nonsense. She doesn't mind. Besides, if I'd learned my lesson, would I have gotten these?"

    Midas pulled off his oversize sleeping cap, and Blaire struggled with two opposite yet completely equally prominent urges to either vomit or laugh.

  Midas had long fuzzy gray ears sticking up from his white hair—like Bugs Bunny's, but they weren't rabbit ears. They were donkey ears...

  "Oh, wow," Leo gasped, his face crinkled with terror / humor. "I didn't need to see that."

   Blaire nodded in agreement, "Put the hat back on."

  Terrible, isn't it?" Midas sighed in self pity. "A few years after the golden touch incident, I judged a music contest between Apollo and Pan, and I declared Pan the winner. Apollo, sore loser, said I must have the ears of an ass, and voilà. This was my reward for being truthful. I tried to keep them a secret. Only my barber knew, but he couldn't help blabbing." Midas pointed out another golden statue—a bald man in a toga, holding a pair of shears. "That's him. He won't be telling anyone's secrets again."

  Blaire struggled to find words. She knew that they had to get out of there, or else they might end up as a statue alongside Midas' babrbe, but her mind couldn't muster up an appropriate idea.

   The king smiled. Suddenly he didn't strike Blaire as a harmless old man in a bathrobe. His eyes had a merry glow to them—the look of a madman who knew he was mad, accepted his madness, and enjoyed it. "Yes, gold has many uses. I think that must be why I was brought back, eh Lit? To bankroll our patron."

  Blaire's stomach churned as he continued. She was standing face to face with someone who was technically a serial murderer. There was dozens of innocent people frozen in a state of gold before her. That could easily be her.

   Lit nodded. "That and my good sword arm."

"So you do have a patron," Jason said, stating the obvious. "You work for the giants."

  King Midas waved his hand dismissively. "Well, I don't care for giants myself, of course. But even supernatural armies need to get paid. I do owe my patron a great debt. I tried to explain that to the last group that came through, but they were very unfriendly. Wouldn't cooperate at all."

  That didn't sound very promising for the future of the questers, Blaire thought. Wouldn't cooperate? Blaire's hand inched toward her newly aqquired sword, driven by the fuel of his words.

  "Hunters," Lit snarled. "Blasted girls from Artemis."

  Blaire was all too familiar with the Hunters.

  When?" Jason demanded urgently. "What happened?"

  Lit shrugged. "Few days ago? I didn't get to kill them, unfortunately. They were looking for some evil wolves, or something. Said they were following a trail, heading west. Missing demigod—I don't recall."

  Percy Jackson. Blaire shivered, the name of the wrongly kind boy making her heart ache with nostalgic rememberance.

   Midas scratched his donkey ears. "Very unpleasant young ladies, those Hunters," he recalled. "They absolutely refused to be turned into gold. Much of the security system outside I installed to keep that sort of thing from happening again, you know. I don't have time for those who aren't serious investors."

  On cue, the four demigods stood, sparing eachother wary glances. An urgent bolt of panic shot up and down Blaire's spine, all of her nerves on high alert.

   "Well," Piper said, managing a smile. "It's been a great visit. Welcome back to life. Thanks for the gold bag."

  "Oh, but you can't leave!" Midas said. "I know you're not serious investors, but that's all right! I have to rebuild my collection."

  Blaire cursed silently, running a finger over the purple charm on her bracelet. It morphed into a large sword.

    Lit was smiling cruelly. The king rose, and Leo and Piper moved away from him, flocking towards Jason and Blaire.

  "Don't worry," the king assured them. "You don't have to be turned to gold. I give all my guests a choice—join my collection, or die at the hands of Lityerses. Really, it's good either way."

  Piper tried to use her charmspeak. "Your Majesty, you can' t—"

  Quicker than any old man should've been able to move, Midas lashed out and grabbed her wrist.

  Jason yelped, but it was too late. Before their very eyes, a frost of gold spread over Piper, freezing her movements. In a heartbeat, she was a glittering gold statue.

  Blaire, Leo, and Jason all stared in shock for a second. They were incredibly petrified and suprised upon seeing their friend morph into nothing but a mere statue.

    Leo Valdez made the first move. Raising his hand in attempt to summon fire, forgetting about his inability to do so in the gold house. He scrunched his face up in determination, but before he could do anything else, Midas reached forward and touched his hand.

  Leo transformed into solid gold.

  No longer he was grinning, stuck in a state of humor and amusement, instead, his final resting form was a concerned looking statue.

  Blaire spluttered in anger.

Midas smiled apologetically. "Gold trumps fire, I'm afraid." He waved around him at all the gold curtains and furniture. "In this room, my power dampens all others: fire... even charmspeak. Which leaves me only two more trophies to collect."

Blaire did not know how she was going to get out of this one. But she knew, she was. After everything, she wouldn't let herself die at the hands of this lunatic whose only meaning was to turn innocents intol golden statues for his own keeping.

LYNNIE'S NOTES :)
pls if u still read this story comment because it's been flopping therefore im vv low on motivation. like bleo are my babies 4eva obv but writing for abt 5 people to read is lowkey pointless ykwim?!

ANYWHOM!?!(!3)2) blaire and hedges beef is SOO iconic like i cackled writing it 😭 lard ass!! this chap is boring but theres more fun content coming soon :) also unedited!