CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SILVIANA        DUVALL

By the morning Leo had docked the ship at a pier in Charleston Harbor, right next to the seawall. Along the shore was a historical district with tall mansions, palm trees, and wrought-iron fences. Antique cannons pointed at the water. 

By the time Sylvie came up on the deck, Jason, Leo, and Frank had already left for the museum. According to Hazel, they'd promised to be back by sunset. Annabeth, Finley, and Piper were ready to go, but first Sylvie turned to Percy, who was leaning on the starboard rail, gazing over the bay.

Sylvie laced their fingers. "What are you going to do while we're gone?"

"Jump into the harbor," he said casually. Sylvie thought he was joking until she realized it was Percy speaking. "I want to try communicating with the local Nereids. Maybe they can give me some advice about how to free those captives in Atlanta. Besides, I think the sea might be good for me. Being in that aquarium made feel... unclean."

His hair was dark and tangled as usual. Sylvie raised her free hand to run her fingers through it, settling on the gray streak forever there, and tugging at it. When he and Annabeth were fourteen, they'd taken turns (unwillingly) holding the weight of the sky. Percy himself had given up doing it to try and save Sylvie, but the strain still left him with some gray hair. Even after so much time had passed, the gray streak was still ceasing to fade. Oddly, that made Sylvie a little happy. It felt like no matter what happened to Percy, there was still something permanent Sylvie could remember him by.

Sylvie kissed him, and Percy kissed her back with enthusiasm. "Good luck, Fishstick. Just come back to me, okay?"

"I always do," he promised. "You do the same."

Sylvie tried to push down her growing unease.

She turned to Annabeth, Finley, and Piper. "Okay, y'all. Let's find the ghost of the Battery."

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Afterward, Sylvie wished she'd jumped into the harbor with Percy. She even would've preferred a museum full of ghosts.

Not that she minded hanging out with Annabeth, Finley, and Piper—even if Finley and Piper bickered at every opportunity. They had a pretty good time walking along the Battery. According to the signs, the seaside park was called White Point Gardens. The ocean breeze swept away the muggy heat of the summer afternoon, and it was pleasantly cool under the shade of the palmetto trees. 

Charleston Harbor glittered in the sun. To the north and south, strips of land stretched out like arms enclosing the bay, and sitting in the mouth of the harbor, about a mile out, was an island with a stone fort.

Sylvie breathed in the sea air and thought about Percy. Gods forbid he ever broke up with her. She'd never be able to visit the sea again without remembering her broken heart. It didn't help that she was blessed by Poseidon himself, a gracious gift given to her for meaning so much to Percy.

Nice day for sunbathing, Sylvie heard from a lackadaisical voice. Tide is nice!

Sylvie looked around for the speaker, until her eyes settled on a purple starfish. She sighed. Speaking of her blessing—one of Poseidon's rewards was the ability to communicate with sea creatures.

"Happy for you," she told the little starfish.

"What?" asked Piper.

She turned to look at the other girls, who were looking back at her. "Oh, it's just... that starfish over there. I can speak to it."

"You can what?" Finley asked.

Sylvie's face felt hot, and she had to look away. "It's a gift from, uh, Poseidon. He blessed me after the Titan War last summer."

Finley's eyebrows rose in utter shock. Well, as much shock as one could show with such slow reactions and constant look of drowsiness. "Damn," she whistled. "So he literally gave you his blessing."

"I guess." Sylve shrugged. She hated the attention, but it was better when Percy was the topic of it.

"I think that's adorable," Piper smiled. "You and Percy really are all in."

Adorable! Purple Starfish echoed. All in, like my arms in the sun!

Sylvie couldn't fight her growing grin. "Yeah. Thanks."

They turned away from the seawall and explored the inland side of the gardens. The park wasn't crowded. Sylvie imagined that most of the locals had gone on summer vacation, or were holed up at home. They strolled along South Battery Street, which was lined with four-story mansions. The brick walls were blanketed with ivy. The facades had soaring white columns like Roman temples. The front gardens were bursting with rosebushes, honeysuckle, and flowering bougainvillea. 

"Hate to admit it reminds me of New Rome," Finley said. "The mansions, gardens, columns, and stuff."

Annabeth nodded, but then turned her head to Finley. "Why do you hate to admit it?"

Finley let out an exhale. "It's funny. You're murdered once by your fellow Romans, and you sort of start to resent your own kind."

Even Piper looked a little sad at that. Sylvie couldn't imagine what dying had been like for Finley. From what she'd heard, Finley had been taunted for years by Gaea claiming that Gaea would have her killed. Then, Gaea willed dead legionnaires to ambush Finley in one army. Percy had tried to protect her, but in the end, the ghosts killed Finley with her own gun.

Harsh, but Sylvie didn't want to outright judge.

She was so deep in thought, she might have kept walking around the park forever, but Annabeth grabbed her arm.

"There." She pointed across the harbor. A hundred yards out, a shimmering white figure floated on the water. At first, Sylvie thought it might be a buoy or a small boat reflecting the sunlight, but it was definitely glowing, and it was moving more slowly than a boat, making a straight line toward them. As it got closer, Sylvie could tell it was the figure of a woman.

"The ghost," Sylvie said.

"Not a ghost," Finley said. "No kind of spirit glows that brightly."

Sylvie decided to take her word for it. After all, Finley was a little dead herself.

As if in a trance, Piper walked across the street toward the edge of the seawall, narrowly avoiding a horse-drawn carriage.

"Piper!" Annabeth called.

"We'd better follow her," Sylvie said.

Finley groaned.

By the time the three caught up to Piper, the ghostly apparition was only a few yards away. Piper glared at it like the sight offended her.

"It is her," she grumbled.

Sylvie squinted at the ghost, but it blazed too brightly to make out details. Then the apparition floated up the seawall and stopped in front of them. The glow faded.

Sylvie gasped. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful and strangely familiar. Her skin was sun-tanned. Her eyes sparkled playfully, a beautiful sea-green. Her hair cascaded in jet-black waves.

The woman was dressed like a Southern belle, just as Jason had described. Her gown had a low-cut bodice of pink silk and a three-tiered hoop skirt with white scalloped lace. She wore tall white silk gloves, and held a feathered pink-and-white fan to her chest.

"Aphrodite," Annabeth said.

"Venus?" Finley asked.

"Mom," Piper grumbled.

"Hi," Sylvie muttered.

"Girls!" The goddess spread her arms like she wanted a group hug.

Annabeth, Finley, and Piper backed up at Aphrodite's advances. However, they didn't inform Sylvie of this plan. The daughter of Demeter got squashed in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so glad you're here," Aphrodite said. "War is coming. Bloodshed is inevitable. So there's really only one thing to do."

"Uh... and that is?" Annabeth ventured.

"Why, have tea and chat, obviously. Come with me!"

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Aphrodite knew how to do tea.

She led them to the central pavilion in the gardens—a white-pillared gazebo, where a table was set with silverware, china cups, and of course a steaming pot of tea, the fragrance shifting—sometimes cinnamon, or jasmine, or mint. There were plates of scones, cookies, and muffins, fresh butter and jam.

Aphrodite sat—or held court, rather—in a wicker peacock chair. She poured tea and served cakes without getting a speck on her clothes, her posture always perfect, her smile dazzling. Of course Sylvie was attracted to her, but she still thought Percy was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. That was ironic considering Aphrodite looked a lot like Percy in the first place.

"Oh, my sweet girls," the goddess said. "I do love Charleston! The weddings I've attended in this gazebo—they bring tears to my eyes. Many of these mansions still have statues of me in their gardens, though they called me Venus."

"Which are you?" Sylvie asked, not wanting to impolitely call her the wrong name. "Venus or Aphrodite?"

The goddess sipped her tea. Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, I'm fond of you, Silviana Duvall. You've grown into quite a beautiful young lady. You really should go more bold with how you present yourself, though. And, Annabeth Chase, a change of hairstyles wouldn't hurt. And, Finley Briggs, your clothes—"

"My clothes?" Finley looked down at her autumnal-styled outfit baffled, as if she couldn't imagine what was wrong with them.

"Mother!" Piper said. "You're embarrassing me."

"Fine," Aphrodite sighed. "To answer your question, Silviana, I am both Aphrodite and Venus. Unlike many of my fellow Olympians, I changed hardly at all from one age to the other. In fact, I like to think I haven't aged a bit!" Her fingers fluttered around her face appreciatively. "Love is love, after all, whether you're Greek or Roman. This civil war won't affect me as much as it will the others."

Wonderful, Sylvie thought. Her own mother, a relatively gentle Olympian, was reduced to a terrifying, vengeful antagonist. And the only gods who didn't seem affected by the Greek-Roman schism seemed to be Aphrodite, Nemesis, and Dionysus. Love, revenge, wine. Very helpful.

Finley nibbled a sugar cookie. "Hey, lady, we're not in a war yet."

"My lady, Finley," Aphrodite corrected, although luckily Finley's lack of manners didn't make her lose temper. "Either way, I wouldn't be so sure when you have such heartrending days ahead of you. Of course war is coming. Love and war always go together. They are the peaks of human emotion! Evil and good, beauty and ugliness."

She smiled at Finley as if they were both clued in on something that the other three weren't. Finley set down her sugar cookie. She now looked too sick to eat.

"My apologies if this comes off rude, my lady," Annabeth interjected, hoping to take the attention off Finley, "but is there a reason you're here?"

"Hmm? Oh, you mean besides the tea? I often come here. I love the view, the food, the atmosphere—you can just smell the romance and heartbreak in the air, can't you?" Aphrodite looked at Sylvie at the word romance, and Finley at the word heartbreak. "Centuries of it."

"Mother, I don't think that's what Annabeth meant."

"Yes, sorry," the goddess said. "To make the story short, I'm here to help you girls. I doubt you'll be seeing Hera much. Your little quest has hardly made her welcome in the throne room. And the other gods are rather indisposed, as you know, torn between their Roman and Greek sides. Some more than others." Aphrodite fixed her gaze on Sylvie. "I suppose you've told your friends about your falling-out with your mother?"

Heat rose to Sylvie's cheeks. Annabeth, Finley, and Piper looked at her curiously.

"Falling-out?" Annabeth asked.

"An argument," Sylvie said. "It's nothing."

"Nothing!" Aphrodite said. "Well, I don't know about that. You see, Hera likes to see herself as the mother of gods and all else living. She's the goddess of marriage, family, childbirth, and such. But it was quickly proven that Demeter better represented a mother's love than Hera, that with what happened after Persephone and Demeter's spat with Hades. Along with agriculture, harvest, and earth, the Greeks named her the goddess of fertility and motherly relationships. They relied more on Demeter to be a mother of their civilization. You didn't hear this from me, but Demeter was kinder. More understanding. More comforting to be in the presence of."

Maybe she used to be, Sylvie thought bitterly.

"When she became Ceres, she was still seen as a mother figure," Aphrodite continued, "but not as much. At any rate, the Romans quite sidelined poor Ceres. They viewed her more as an incapable agricultural deity than anything. They rejected the only good, honest mother figure in their lives. The Greeks never forgave the Romans for that insult. Neither did Demeter."

Sylvie's ears buzzed.

"The Echo of Demeter," she said. "It leads to a statue, doesn't it? It leads to... to the statue."

Aphrodite smiled. "You have an underrated intelligence to you, like your mother. Understand, though, your fellow children of Demeter have been searching for centuries. None have succeeded in recovering the statue, or their memory. In the meantime, they've been keeping alive the Greek feud with the Romans. Every civil war... so much bloodshed and heartbreak... has been orchestrated largely by Demeter's children."

"Thats..." Sylvie wanted to say impossible, but she remembered Demeter's bitter words outside Percy's fire escape, the burning hatred in her eyes.

"Romantic?" Aphrodite offered. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"You said the children of Demeter failed to recover their memory," Annabeth pointed out. "Suffer the curse of memory that reigns. That's correlated, isn't it?"

Sylvie's heart felt stuck in her throat. She had hoped to prevent her friends from discovering everything Sylvie had to go through, but she wasn't surprised Annabeth had pieced it together so soon. Sylvie found herself wishing Aphrodite hadn't said a word.

"Finally using that Athena brain of yours, my girl," Aphrodite nodded. "There isn't much I can say, but I will have you know this Echo isn't anything physical. Demeter didn't create it consciously. I'd guess it's more like a spiritual trail of breadcrumbs. It's a connection between the statue and the children of the goddess. The statue wants to be found, you see, but it can only be freed by the most worthy."

"And for thousands of years," Sylvie said dryly, "no one has managed."

"Hold on," Finley said. "What statue are we talking about?"

Aphrodite laughed. "Oh, I'm sure Silviana can fill you in. At any rate, the clue you need is close by: a map of sorts, left by the children of Demeter in 1861—a remembrance that will start you on your path, once you reach Rome. But as you said, Silviana Duvall, no one has ever succeeded in following the Echo of Demeter to its end. There you will face your worst fear. Or has it already begun, my girl?"

Sylvie felt frozen. Trapped in place by metaphorical vines. She couldn't help but think back to her and Percy's night in the stables—the sudden blip that had passed between them. Sylvie hadn't shown it to him then, but it terrified her more than words could convey.

"I see." Aphrodite sounded sad. "And even if you survive, how will you use your reward? For war or for peace?"

Sylvie was glad for the tablecloth, because under the table, her legs were trembling. "This map," she said, "where is it?"

"Guys!" Piper pointed to the sky.

Circling above the palmetto trees were two large eagles. Higher up, descending rapidly, was a flying chariot pulled by pegasi. Apparently Leo's diversion with Frank's dirty clothes hadn't worked—at least not for long.

Aphrodite spread butter on a muffin as if she had all the time in the world. "Oh, the map is at Fort Sumter, of course." She pointed her butter knife toward the island across the harbor. "It looks like the Romans have arrived to cut you off. I'd get back to your ship in a hurry if I were you. Would you care for some tea cakes to go?"

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They didn't care for any tea cakes, and they didn't make it to the ship.

Halfway across the dock, four giant eagles descended in front of them. Each deposited a Roman commando in purple and denim with glittering gold armor, sword, and shield. The eagles flew away, and the scrawniest Roman raised his visor.

"Surrender to Rome!" Octavian shrieked.

Finley pulled out her gun and grumbled, "Kill yourself, Octavian."

Sylvie cursed under her breath. By himself, the skinny augur wouldn't have bothered her, but the three other guys looked like seasoned warriors—a lot bigger and stronger than Sylvie wanted to deal with, especially since Sylvie, Annabeth, and Piper were armed with only daggers. Finley had her gun, of course, but Sylvie had heard the story that the weapon's bullets were unpredictable. Judging by what they saw of Bacchus two days ago, she doubted he'd be generous.

Piper raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Octavian, what happened at camp was a setup. We can explain."

"Can't hear you!" Octavian yelled. "Wax in our ears—standard procedure when battling evil sirens. Now, throw down your weapons and turn around slowly so I can bind your hands."

"Let me blow his brain out," Finley muttered. "Please."

The ship was only fifty feet away, but Sylvie saw no sign of Hazel or Coach Hedge on deck. Jason's group wasn't due back until sunset. Percy would be underwater, unaware of the invasion. If the girls could get on board, they could use the ballistae, but there was no way to get around these four Romans.

Sylvie was running out of time. The eagles circled overhead, crying out as if to alert their brethren: Hey, some tasty Greek demigods over here! Sylvie couldn't see the flying chariot anymore, but she assumed it was close by. She had to figure out something before more Romans arrived.

She could try to use her chlorokinesis, but Sylvie was still so petrified by her conversation with Aphrodite. She doubted she was powerful enough to restrain four bulky Romans. She needed help... some kind of distress signal to Coach Hedge, Hazel, or even better—Percy.

"Well?" Octavian demanded. His three friends brandished their swords.

Very slowly, only using two fingers, Sylvie drew the dagger on her left armband. Instead of dropping it, she chucked it as far as she could into the water.

Octavian made a squeaking sound. "What was that for? I didn't say toss it! That could've been evidence. Or spoils of war!"

Sylvie doubted he would want a xiphos named Cereal as a spoil of war, anyway. She tried for a dumb smile, like: Oh, silly me. Sometimes, her doe-eyes and baby face really had their perks. No one assumed her that big of a threat. Octavian included, who just huffed in exasperation.

"You other three..." He pointed his blade at Annabeth, Finley, and Piper. "Put your weapons on the dock. No funny bus—"

All around the Romans, Charleston Harbor erupted like a Las Vegas fountain putting on a show. When the wall of seawater subsided, the four Romans were in the bay, spluttering and frantically trying to stay afloat in their armor. Percy stood on the dock, holding Sylvie's dagger.

"You dropped this," he said, totally poker-faced.

Sylvie's heart swelled giddily. "You're perfect," she told him, grabbing Cereal and sheathing it in her golden armband.

"Guys," Hazel interrupted. She had a little smile on her face. "We need to hurry."

Down in the water, Octavian yelled, "Get me out of here! I'll kill you!"

Finley sent him the middle finger. Percy called down, "Tempting!"

"What?" Octavian shouted. He was holding on to one of his guards, who was having trouble keeping them both afloat.

"Your mom's a whore!" Finley shouted back. "Let's go, guys."

Hazel frowned. "We can't let them drown, can we?"

"They won't," Percy promised. "I've got the water circulating around their feet. As soon as we're out of range, I'll spit them ashore."

Annabeth grinned. "Always a show-off, huh?"

"My girlfriend thinks I'm perfect, actually," Percy bragged, "so I don't care."

They climbed aboard the Argo II, and Sylvie ran to the helm. "Piper, get below. Use the sink in the gallery for an Iris-message. Warn Jason to get back here!"

Piper nodded and raced off.

"Finley, go find Hazel and Grover and tell them to get on deck!"

"Ri—What? Grover?"

Sylvie nodded, wondering what was wrong with that. "Yes. Grover. The satyr?"

"Who the hell is Grover?" Finley asked her.

She paused in confusion. Was Finley okay? Had she forgotten that their quest group had been assigned a satyr chaperone? Grover had been with them since the Greek group set course for Camp Jupiter.

Annabeth placed a hand on Sylvie's back, but she spoke to Finley. "Another satyr friend of ours. She just meant Coach Hedge. Go get him, Finley."

At the words Coach Hedge, Sylvie's head pounded in agonizing pain. Coach Hedge. Not Grover. It had slipped Sylvie's mind that it was Coach Hedge with them this entire time. Her best friend Grover was nowhere near, busy with his duties as lord of the Wild. And Coach Hedge was... who?

Sylvie turned to Percy and Annabeth. The pit of her stomach felt alight with shame.

"Guys, I—"

"It's okay," Annabeth consoled. Sylvie got the feeling she knew a lot more right now than any of Sylvie's other friends did. "Right now, we just need to get this ship to Fort Sumter. Come on, Seaweed Brain."

Percy seemed deeply confused, but Annabeth didn't give him time to think about it. She shoved him toward the deck before she took the helm. Sylvie blinked rapidly, trying to recover.

Percy made it to the mast in the meantime. Sylvie had seen him control full-sized sailing ships before with only his willpower. This time, he didn't disappoint. Ropes flew on their own—releasing the dock ties, weighing the anchor. The sails unfurled and caught the wind. Meanwhile, Annabeth fired the engine. The oars extended with a sound like machine-gun fire, and the Argo II turned from the dock, heading for the island in the distance.

The four eagles still circled overhead, but they made no attempt to land on the ship, probably because Festus the figurehead blew fire whenever they got close. More eagles were flying in formation toward Fort Sumter—at least a dozen. If each of them carried a Roman demigod... that was a lot of enemies.

Hazel and Coach Hedge came pounding up the stairs with Finley at their tails.

"What happened?" Hazel worried.

"Who do I kill?" Hedge demanded.

"No killing!" Sylvie ordered, internally wishing it was Grover with them. "Just defend the ship!"

Piper emerged from below. "Got a message through to Jason. Kind of fuzzy, but he's already on his way. He should be—oh! There!"

Soaring over the city, heading in their direction, was a giant bald eagle, unlike the golden Roman birds.

"Frank!" Hazel said.

Leo was holding on to the eagle's feet, and even from the ship, Sylvie could hear him screaming and cursing. Behind them flew Jason, riding the wind.

"Never seen Jason fly before," Percy grumbled. "He looks like a blond Superman."

"This isn't the time!" Piper scolded him. "Look, they're in trouble!"

Sure enough, the Roman flying chariot had descended from a cloud and was diving straight toward them. Jason and Frank veered out of the way, pulling up to avoid getting trampled by the pegasi. The charioteers fired their bows. Arrows whistled under Leo's feet, which led to more screaming and cursing. Jason and Frank were forced to overshoot the Argo II and fly toward Fort Sumter.

"I'll get 'em!" yelled Coach Hedge.

He spun the port ballista. Before Sylvie could yell, "Don't be stupid!" Hedge fired. A flaming spear rocketed toward the chariot.

It exploded over the heads of the pegasi and threw them into a panic. Unfortunately it also singed Frank's wings and sent him spiraling out of control. Leo slipped from his grasp. The chariot shot toward Fort Sumter, slamming into Jason.

Sylvie watched in horror as Jason—obviously dazed and in pain—lunged for Leo, caught him, then struggled to gain altitude. He only managed to slow their fall. They disappeared behind the ramparts of the fort. Frank tumbled after them. Then the chariot dropped somewhere inside and hit with a bone-shattering CRACK!

"COACH!" Finley screamed.

"What?" Hedge demanded. "That was just a warning shot!"

Finley pointed her gun at his head. "I'll show you a warning shot—"

Sylvie threw herself into Finley before the threat was set in stone. She grappled with Finley for her gun, but the daughter of Bacchus obviously had a good hold on her weapon. Still, Sylvie didn't stop fighting her until it was clear Finley would not try taking out their satyr chaperone.

"Percy," Annabeth said, "we're going to come in hard. I need you to control the water so we don't smash into the docks. Once we're there, we're going to have to hold off the attackers. We'll guard the ship."

"But—Frank, Leo, and Jason!" Hazel said.

"I'll find them," Sylvie promised suddenly. She stepped away from Finley. "I've gotta figure out where the map is. And I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who can do that."

"Wait—No. Sylv, no. The fort is crawling with Romans," Percy warned. "You'll have to fight your way through, find our friends—assuming they're okay—find this map, and get everybody back alive. All on your own?"

"Average demigod day." Sylvie jogged over and kissed him much too quick for Percy's liking. "Whatever you do, don't let them take this ship!"

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The new civil war had begun. Sylvie was going to shit her pants.

Leo had somehow escaped his fall unharmed—thank the gods. Sylvie saw him ducking from portico to portico, basting fire at the giant eagles swooping down on him. Roman demigods tried to chase him, tripping over piles of cannonballs and dodging tourists, who screamed and ran in circles.

In the middle of the courtyard, a full-grown elephant—could that be Frank?—rampaged around the flagpoles, scattering Roman warriors. Jason stood about fifty yards away, sword-fighting with a stocky centurion whose lips were stained wine red.

As Sylvie watched, Jason yelled, "Sorry about this, Dakota! Don't tell Finn!"

He vaulted straight over the centurion's head like an acrobat and slammed the hilt of his gladius into the back of the Roman's head. Dakota crumpled.

"Jason!" Sylvie called.

He scanned the battlefield until he saw her.

She pointed to where the Argo II was docked. "Get the others aboard! Retreat!"

"What about you?" he called. "You need to get safe too!"

"Don't wait for me!"

"Sylvie!"

Sylvie bolted off, ignoring him.

She had a hard time maneuvering through the mobs of tourists, but without the chaos of all these panicked mortals, the Romans would have already surrounded their outnumbered crew.

Sylvie dodged into a small room that must have been part of the garrison. She tried to steady her breathing.

According to Aphrodite, some of the soldiers had been children of Demeter. They'd hidden an important map here—something they didn't want falling into enemy hands. If Sylvie had been one of those demigods, where would she have put it?

Suddenly the walls glistened. The air became warm. Sylvie wondered if she was hallucinating. She was about to run for the exit when the door slammed shut. Sylvie was left alone, with nothing but her own mind, and the panic automatically consumed her.

Then, the quiet turned into something worse. The walls began speaking to her. Sylvie covered her ears with her hands, but the voices were inside of her head. It didn't matter what she did.

I dunno who you are, her dad growled.

Sylvie shook her head instinctively. Her shaky voice cracked, "Dad, please, it's Sil. I'm not—I'm not Mom—"

You left me! her dad screamed.

But then her mother was screaming too.

It doesn't matter what I remember! He FORGOT ME!

And then it was Sylvie herself. Not screaming, but sobbing.

He forgot me, Leo. He forgot me. I—I can't breathe. He—I can't—This isn't—

"Stop," Sylvie begged, though she didn't know to who. Pressing her hands harder into her head didn't help. "Please, I'm sorry. Just stop."

Nothing stopped. Nothing ever went the way Sylvie wanted it to. She was left to suffocate in her most paralyzing fear. She couldn't handle the idea of being forgotten. She couldn't handle the idea of forgetting. It whispered to Sylvie that her existence was nothing but a fleeting moment. She was destined to lose the essence of who she was. Sylvie felt petrified at the idea of her loved ones becoming mere shadows in her mind; their laughter dissolving into echoes and their faces blurring in the fog of forgetfulness.

Goodbye, Silviana, she heard a voice taunt her mind. Go to that field of flowers, where all finished stories go. Yours will be forgotten.

Sylvie jolted. Her hands left her ears. Her eyes snapped open. That speaker was unknown to her, but Sylvie had heard them before. Once. Back on Olympus, when she had been mere moments from death.

Now, she was standing in the barracks at Fort Sumter. She was surrounded. She was shaking. She was confused, scared, and timid. Always so timid. Her nightmares were coming true.

A sleepy voice murmured: Soon, my dear. You will meet my daughter soon.

"Gaea?" Sylvie choked. She feared the answer, but she asked: "Who—Who is your daughter?"

The taunting memories amplified, echoing off of the walls, pounding in Sylvie's ears like a harrowing symphony. Only the knowledge that they were from the past kept Sylvie from passing out in fear. 

I told you I had a special plan for you, Silviana Duvall, the woman's voice said. You really thought you could walk on my earth, control it, think it's your domain? My daughter will seek revenge for me. I'd like to see you try and raise a hand against me without any memories of who you are...

Gaea's voice faded. On the far wall, in the center of the mortar between the stones, a green symbol shone to life: the figure of vines similar to the forestry Sylvie was able to grow. They spread across the walls, and everywhere they touched, the more voices quieted in Sylvie's head. Then they were silent completely. She could focus on where she was, who she was.

Go, said a new voice—Sylvie's mother. Avenge me. Follow the Echo.

The glowing symbol of the vines faded. The garrison door burst open. Sylvie stood stunned in the middle of the room, unsure whether any of that was real, or just a waking nightmare.

An explosion shook the building. Sylvie remembered that her friends were in danger. She'd stayed here much too long.

She forced herself to move. Still trembling, she stumbled outside. The ocean air helped clear her mind. She gazed across the courtyard—past the panicked tourists and fighting demigods—to the edge of the battlements, where a large mortar pointed out to sea.

It might have been Sylvie's imagination, but the old artillery piece seemed to be glowing green. She dashed toward it. An eagle swooped at her, but she ducked and kept running. Nothing could possibly scare her as much as amnesia.

Roman demigods had formed ranks and were advancing toward the Argo II, but a miniature storm had gathered over their heads. Though the day was clear all around them, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed above the Romans. Rain and wind pushed them back.

Sylvie didn't stop to think about it.

She reached the mortar and put her hand on the muzzle. On the plug that blocked the opening, the Echo of Demeter began to glow—the leafy green outline of a vine.

"Sure, why not?" Sylvie whispered.

She pried at the plug with her fingers. No luck. Cursing, she drew Halcyon. As soon as the Celestial bronze touched the plug, the plug shrank and loosened. Sylvie pulled it off and stuck her hand inside the cannon.

Her fingers touched something solid, smooth, and metal. She pulled out a small disk of bronze the size of a tea saucer, etched with delicate letters and illustrations. She decided to examine it later. She thrust it in her pack and turned.

"Rushing off?" Reyna asked.

The praetor stood ten feet away, in full battle armor, holding a golden javelin. Her two metal greyhounds growled at her side. Sylvie scanned the area. They were more or less alone. Most of the combat had moved toward the docks. 

"Reyna," she said, "what happened at Camp Jupiter was Gaea's fault. Eidolons, possessing spirits—"

"Save your explanations," Reyna said. "You'll need them for the trial."

The dogs snarled and inched forward. This time, it didn't seem to matter to them that Sylvie was telling the truth. 

"If you let Gaea drive our camps apart," Sylvie said, "the giants have already won. They'll destroy the Romans, the Greeks, the gods, the whole mortal world."

"Don't you think I know that?" Reyna's voice was as hard as iron. "What choice have you left me? Octavian smells blood. He's whipped the legion into a frenzy, and I can't stop it. Surrender to me. I'll bring you back to New Rome for trial. It won't be fair. You'll be painfully executed. But it may be enough to stop further violence. Octavian won't be satisfied, of course, but I think I can convince the others to stand down."

"Do I look like someone capable of blowing up a camp of Romans?!"

"It doesn't matter!" Reyna snapped. "Someone must pay for what happened. Let it be you. It's the better option."

Sylvie's skin crawled. "Better than what?"

"If you escape today, we won't follow," Reyna said. "I told you—not even a madman would cross the sea to the ancient lands. If Octavian can't have vengeance on your ship, he'll turn his attention to Camp Half-Blood. The legion will march on your territory. We will raze it and salt the earth."

Kill the Romans, she heard her mother urging. They can never be your allies.

Sylvie wanted to sob. Camp Half-Blood had been her home even when her own home wasn't, and in a bid for friendship, she had told Reyna exactly where to find it. She couldn't leave it at the mercy of the Romans and travel halfway around the world.

But their quest, and everything she'd suffered to get Percy back... if she didn't go to the ancient lands, it would all mean nothing. Besides, the Echo of Demeter didn't have to lead to revenge.

How will you use your reward? Aphrodite had asked. For war or for peace?

There was an answer. The Echo of Demeter could lead her there—if she survived. If she remembered.

"I'm going," she told Reyna. "I'm following the Echo of Demeter to Rome."

The praetor shook her head. "You have no idea what awaits you."

"Yes, I do," Sylvie said. "This grudge between our camps... I can fix it."

"Our grudge is thousands of years old. How can one person fix it?"

Sylvie didn't have a convincing answer. She just knew she had to try. She remembered that lost look on her mother's face: I must return home.

"The quest's gotta succeed," she said. "You can try to stop me, in which case we'll have to fight to the death. And I know I don't look intimidating, but that's a fight you won't survive. Or you can let me go, and I'll try to save both our camps. If you've gotta march on Camp Half-Blood, at least try to delay. Slow Octavian down."

Reyna's eyes narrowed. "I respect your boldness. But if you leave now, you doom your camp to destruction."

"Don't underestimate Camp Half-Blood," Sylvie warned.

"You've never seen the legion at war," Reyna countered.

Over by the docks, a familiar voice shrieked over the wind: "Kill them! Kill them all!"

Octavian had survived his swim in the harbor. He crouched behind his guards, screaming encouragement at the other Roman demigods as they struggled toward the ship, holding up their shields as if that would deflect the storm raging all around them.

On the deck of the Argo II, Percy and Jason stood together, their swords crossed. Sylvie got a tingle down her spine as she realized the boys were working as one, summoning the sky and the sea to do their bidding. Water and wind churned together. Waves heaved against the ramparts and lightning flashed. Giant eagles were knocked out of the sky. Wreckage of the flying chariot burned in the water, and Finley aimed her gun, taking shots at the Roman birds as they flew overhead.

"You see?" Reyna said bitterly. "The spear is thrown. Our people are at war."

"Not if I succeed," Sylvie said.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

BAILEY YAPS...

Okay sorry for another long chapter I don't know how this keeps happening please don't hate me

Uh oh on aisle Sylvie. The future's not looking bright for her folks but when is it ever <3

I'm sorry not funny. At least we got Sylvie still blessed by Poseidon. Sylvie thinking Aphrodite looks too perfect so she prefers Percy paralleling Percy in Wildflowers thinking Aphrodite looks too perfect so he prefers Sylvie. "You dropped this." Finley serving. Grover mention. "I'll show you a warning shot." Jasylvie crumbs.

Anyways I made a superrr important callback in this chapter that kinda has to do everything w the Echo of Demeter quest. It was pulled from Wildflowers ch 61. So basically I've been planning this for eons. So basically if you can spot it, even if it makes no sense, you're on your way to discovering what's about to go down with Sylvie ehe