CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
SILVIANA           DUVALL

Sylvie stared at the Demeter of Knidos, waiting for it to strike her down.

Leo's new mechanical hoist system had lowered the statue onto the hillside with surprising ease. Now the forty-foot-tall goddess gazed serenely over the River Acheron, her marble dress like dazzling quartz in the sun.

"Incredible," Reyna admitted.

She was still red-eyed from crying. Soon after she'd landed on the Argo II, her pegasus Scipio had collapsed, overwhelmed by poisoned claw marks from a gryphon attack the night before. Reyna had put the horse out of his misery with her golden knife, turning the pegasus into dust that scattered in the sweet-smelling Greek air. Maybe not a bad end for a flying horse, but Reyna had lost a loyal friend. Sylvie figured that she'd given up too much in her life already.

The praetor circled the Demeter of Knidos warily. "The stone looks so... new."

"Yeah," Leo said. "We brushed off the cobwebs, used a little Windex. It wasn't hard."

The Argo II hovered just overhead. With Festus keeping watch for threats on the radar, the entire crew had decided to eat lunch on the hillside while they discussed what to do. After the last few weeks, Sylvie figured they'd earned a good meal together—even though she was struggling to eat, whether it was decent food or fire water.

That was starting to concern her. For some reason, she foolishly thought her issues with eating would dissipate once she returned to the mortal world. But here she was, a perfectly made cheese sandwich right in front of her. Sylvie's stomach grumbled, hungry for it, but nausea crawled up in her throat every time she even thought about touching it.

At least she was alive, she told herself. Her ribs were very slowly but surely healing. Underneath her baggy T-shirt, her entire torso was snugly wrapped in bandaging that was coated in nectar. Underneath that was nothing but an ugly sight—her entire stomach was black and blue in one, all-encompassing bruise, and her ribcage was visibly deformed, even on the outside. It hurt so bad that Sylvie let herself eat ambrosia. That made it better, but she just wished it was healed entirely already. Not even because of the pain. She wanted to enjoy being out of Tartarus, not dwell on the lingering effects that came from it.

What better way to enjoy being out of Tartarus than to pretend like there were no lingering effects that came from it?

"Hey, Reyna," Sylvie called. "Have some food. Join us."

The praetor glanced over, her dark eyebrows furrowed, as if join us didn't quite compute. Sylvie had never seen Reyna without her armor before, but it had to be repaired. She wore a pair of jeans and a purple Camp Jupiter T-shirt and looked almost like a normal teenager—except for the knife at her belt and that guarded expression, like she was ready for an attack from any direction.

"Alright," she said finally.

They scooted over to make room for her in the circle. She sat cross-legged next to Sylvie, picked up a cheese sandwich, and nibbled at the edge.

"So," Reyna said. "Frank Zhang... praetor."

Frank shifted, wiping crumbs from his chin. "Well, yeah. Field promotion."

"To lead a different legion," Reyna noted. "A legion of ghosts."

Hazel put her arm protectively through Frank's. Finley scooted a little closer to Frank at the same time. Sylvie could tell they weren't sure what to think about their old boss from Camp Jupiter dropping in for lunch.

"Reyna," Jason said, "you should've seen him."

"He was amazing," Piper agreed.

"Frank is a leader," Hazel insisted. "He makes a great praetor."

"And anyone who doesn't think that is stupid," Finley added, though that statement seemed a little targeted, in Sylvie's opinion.

Reyna's eyes stayed on Frank, like she was trying to guess his weight. "I believe you," she said. "I approve."

Frank blinked. "You do?"

Reyna smiled dryly. "A son of Mars, the hero who helped to bring back the eagle of the legion... I can work with a demigod like that. I'm just wondering how to convince the Twelfth Fulminata."

Frank scowled. "Yeah. I've been wondering the same thing."

Sylvie still couldn't get over how much Frank had changed. A "growth spurt" was putting it mildly. He was at least three inches taller, less pudgy, and more bulky, like a linebacker. His face looked sturdier, his jawline more rugged. It was as if Frank had turned into a bull and then back to human, but he'd kept some of the bullishness.

"The legion will listen to you, Reyna," Frank said. "You made it here alone, across the ancient lands."

Reyna chewed her sandwich as if it were cardboard. "In doing so, I broke the laws of the legion."

"Oh, really," Finley interjected, catching them all by surprise. "What's so bad about breaking the laws? You know, Caesar broke the law when he crossed the Rubicon. You guys worship him!"

"We don't worship Caesar," Reyna said, brows furrowing judgmentally.

"He's, like, the only person you worship outside of Jupiter," she said. Sylvie noted how she said you instead of we.

"You just—" Reyna geared up to combat her statement, but she just shook her head like it wasn't worth it. "It doesn't matter, either way. I'm not Caesar. After finding Jason's note in Diocletian's Palace, tracking all of you down was easy. I only did what I thought was necessary."

Percy smiled. "Reyna, you're too modest. Flying halfway across the world by yourself to answer Sylv's plea, because you knew it was our best chance for peace? That's pretty fucking heroic."

Reyna shrugged. "Says the demigod who fell into Tartarus and found his way back."

"I had help," he said, throwing a gentle arm over Sylvie's shoulders.

"Oh, obviously," Reyna said. "Without Sylvie, I doubt you could find your way out of a paper bag."

"Hey!"

The others started laughing, and... maybe that included Sylvie in the mix. It honestly hurt her sore torso to laugh like this, but she didn't mind. It felt good to smile. It felt good to see other people smile. Just being in the mortal world felt good—she was breathing un-poisonous air, enjoying actual sunshine on her back.

Suddenly, she thought of Nemo. Tell the sun and stars hello for me. Maybe write me a book.

Sylvie's smile melted. Nemo and Damasen had sacrificed their lives so that Sylvie and Percy could sit here now, enjoying the sunlight and laughing with their friends.

It wasn't fair.

Leo pulled a tiny screwdriver from his tool belt. He stabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry and passed it to Coach Hedge. Then he pulled out another screwdriver and speared a second strawberry for himself.

"So, the twenty-million-peso question," Leo said. "We got this slightly used forty-foot-tall statue of Demeter. What do we do with it?"

Reyna squinted at the Demeter of Knidos. "As fine as it looks on this hill, I didn't come all this way to admire it. According to Sylvie, it must be returned to Camp Half-Blood by a Roman leader. Do I understand correctly?"

Sylvie nodded. "I had a dream down in... you know where. I was on Half-Blood Hill, and Demeter's voice said, I must stand here. The Roman must bring me."

"It makes sense," Nico said. He sat at the other end of the circle, eating nothing but half a pomegranate, the fruit of the Underworld. Sylvie wondered if that was Nico's idea of a joke. It was such an innocent thought that she was reminded of the first ever conversation she truly shared with the boy.

"Do you hate pomegranates?" he asked her, vibrating with energy.

Sylvie looked helplessly at Grover, who was trying hard not to laugh.

"No—er—pomegranates are fine..."

The memory was particularly funny, but it only made Sylvie sad. She and Nico were much more serious kids than they used to be.

"The statue is a powerful symbol," Nico said. "A Roman returning it to the Greeks... that could heal the historic rift, maybe even heal the gods of their split personalities."

Coach Hedge swallowed his strawberry along with half the screwdriver. "Now, hold on. I like peace as much as the next satyr—"

"You hate peace," Leo said.

"The point is, Valdez, we're only—what, a few days from Athens? We got an army of giants waiting for us there. We went to all the trouble of saving this statue—"

"Sylvie went to most of the trouble," Annabeth reminded him.

"—because it supposedly can stop the giants," the coach continued. "So why aren't we taking it to Athens with us? It's obviously our secret weapon." He eyed the Demeter of Knidos. "It looks like a ballistic missile to me. Maybe if Valdez strapped some engines to it—"

Piper cleared her throat. "Uh, great idea, Coach, but a lot of us have had dreams and visions of Gaea rising at Camp Half-Blood..."

She unsheathed her dagger Katoptris and set it on her plate. At the moment, the blade showed nothing except the sky, but looking at it still made Sylvie uncomfortable.

"Since we got back to the ship," Piper said, "I've been seeing some bad stuff in the knife. The Roman legion is almost within striking distance of Camp Half-Blood. They're gathering reinforcements: spirits, eagles, wolves."

"Octavian," Reyna growled. "I told him to wait."

"When we take over command," Frank suggested, "our first order of business should be to load Octavian into the nearest catapult and fire him as far away as possible."

"Agreed," Reyna said. "But for now—"

"He's intent on war," Finley put in. "He'll have it, unless we stop him."

Piper turned the blade of her knife. "Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it. I saw images of a possible future—the camp in flames, Roman and Greek demigods lying dead. And Gaea..." Her voice failed her.

Sylvie remembered the god Tartarus in physical form, looming over her. She'd never felt such helplessness and terror.

You might as well try to kill the earth, Tartarus had said.

If Gaea was that powerful, and she had an army of giants at her side, Sylvie didn't see how nine demigods could stop her, especially when most of the gods were incapacitated. They had to stop the giants before Gaea woke, or it was game over.

If the Demeter of Knidos was a secret weapon, Sylvie could see the appeal of taking it to Athens. But Sylvie also knew that was wrong. The statue belonged back on Long Island, where it might be able to stop the war between the two camps.

"So Reyna takes the statue," Percy said. "And we continue on to Athens."

Leo shrugged. "Cool with me. But, uh, a few pesky logistical problems. We got what—two weeks until that Roman feast day when Gaea is supposed to rise?"

"The Feast of Spes," Jason said. "That's on August 1st. Today is—"

"July 18th," Frank offered. "So, yeah, from tomorrow, exactly fourteen days."

Hazel winced. "It took us eighteen days to get from Rome to here—a trip that should've only taken two or three days, max."

"Eh." Finley waved a hand in the air. "That's our typical kind of trip."

"Exactly," Leo said. "So, given our usual luck, maybe we have enough time to get the Argo II to Athens, find the giants, and stop them from waking Gaea. Maybe. But how is Reyna supposed to get this massive statue back to Camp Half-Blood before the Greeks and Romans put each other through the blender? She doesn't even have her pegasus anymore. Uh, sorry—"

"Fine," Reyna snapped. She might be treating them like allies rather than enemies, but Sylvie could tell Reyna still had a not-so-soft spot for Leo, probably because he'd blown up half the Forum in New Rome.

She took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately, Leo is correct. I don't see how I can transport something so large. I was assuming—well, I was hoping you all would have an answer."

"The Labyrinth," Hazel said. "I—I mean, if Pasiphaë really has reopened it, and I think she has..." She looked at Percy apprehensively. "Well, you said the Labyrinth could take you anywhere. So maybe—"

"No." Sylvie, Percy, and Annabeth spoke in unison.

"Not to shoot you down, Hazel," Sylvie said. "It's just..."

She struggled to find the right words. How could she describe the Labyrinth to someone who'd never explored it? Daedalus had created it to be a living, growing maze. Over the centuries it had spread like the roots of a tree under the entire surface of the world. Sure, it could take you anywhere. Distance inside was meaningless. You could enter the maze in New York, walk ten feet, and exit the maze in Los Angeles—but only if you found a reliable way to navigate. Otherwise the Labyrinth would trick you and try to kill you at every turn. When the tunnel network collapsed after Daedalus died, Sylvie had been relieved. The idea that the maze was regenerating itself, honeycombing its way under the earth again and providing a spacious new home for monsters... that didn't make her happy. She had enough problems already.

"For one thing," Percy tried helping her, "the passages in the Labyrinth are way too small for the Demeter of Knidos. There's no chance you could take it down there—"

"And even if the maze is reopening," Annabeth continued, "we don't know what it might be like now. It was dangerous enough before, under Daedalus's control, and he wasn't evil. If Pasiphaë has remade the Labyrinth the way she wanted..."

Sylvie shook her head. "Hazel, maybe your underground senses could guide Reyna through, but no one else would stand a chance. And we need you here. Besides, if you got lost down there—"

"You're right," Hazel said glumly. "Never mind."

Reyna cast her eyes around the group. "Other ideas?"

"I could go," Frank offered, not sounding very happy about it. "If I'm a praetor, I should go. Maybe we could rig some sort of sled, or—"

"No, Frank Zhang." Reyna gave him a weary smile. "I hope we will work side by side in the future, but for now your place is with the crew of this ship. You are one of the nine of the prophecy."

"I'm not," Nico said.

Everybody stopped eating.

Sylvie stared across the circle at Nico, trying to decide if he was joking. "Nico—"

"I'll go with Reyna," he said. "I can transport the statue with shadow-travel."

"Uh..." Percy raised his hand. "I mean, I know you just got all ten of us to the surface, and that was awesome. But a year ago you said transporting just yourself was dangerous and unpredictable. A couple of times you ended up in China. Transporting a forty-foot statue and two people halfway across the world—"

"I've changed since I came back from Tartarus." Nico's eyes glittered with anger—more intensely than Sylvie understood. She wondered if Percy had done something to offend the guy.

"Nico," Jason intervened, "we're not questioning your power. We just want to make sure you don't kill yourself trying."

"Believe it or not, Goob, we're actually fond of you," Finn said.

"I can do it," he insisted. "I'll make short jumps—a few hundred miles each time. It's true, after each jump I won't be in any shape to fend off monsters. I'll need Reyna to defend me and the statue."

Reyna had an excellent poker face. She studied the group, scanning their faces, but betraying none of her own thoughts. "Any objections?"

No one spoke.

"Very well," she said, with the finality of a judge. If she had a gavel, Sylvie suspected she would have banged it. "I see no better option. But there will be many monster attacks. I would feel better taking a third person. That's the optimal number for a quest."

"Coach Hedge," Frank blurted.

"Oh, please," Finn begged. Her hands were placed together like a Catholic praying for a miracle.

Percy wasn't as eager. He stared at Frank, like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Uh, what, Frank?"

"The coach is the best choice," Frank said. "The only choice. He's a good fighter. He's a certified protector. He'll get the job done."

"A faun," Reyna said.

"Satyr!" barked the coach. "And, yeah, I'll go. Besides, when you get to Camp Half-Blood, you'll need somebody with connections and diplomatic skills to keep the Greeks from attacking you. Just let me go make a call—er, I mean, get my baseball bat."

He got up and shot Frank an unspoken message that Sylvie couldn't quite read. Despite the fact that he'd just been volunteered for a likely suicide mission, the coach looked grateful. He jogged off toward the ship's ladder, tapping his hooves together like an excited kid.

Nico rose. "I should go too, and rest before the first passage. We'll meet at the statue at sunset."

Once he was gone, Finley let out one of her dramatic sighs. "I'm gonna miss that little freak."

Hazel didn't seem as open to the idea of letting Nico go. "He's acting strangely. I'm not sure he's thinking this through."

"He'll be okay," Jason said.

"I hope you're right," Sylvie said, frowning in empathy. 

She'd always worried about Nico, but in recent years, that concern had been present more than ever. It didn't help that every time she'd just barely been able to see him again, either Sylvie would be sucked down into Tartarus or Nico would be traveling back into the same Labyrinth that almost destroyed them.

"We're at another crossroads." Hazel passed her hand over the ground. Diamonds broke the surface—a glittering milky way of stones. "The Demeter of Knidos goes west. The Argo II goes east. I hope we chose correctly."

Sylvie felt unsettled. Despite all they'd been through and all the battles they'd won, they still seemed no closer to defeating Gaea. Sure, they'd released Thanatos. They'd closed the Doors of Death. At least now they could kill monsters and make them stay in Tartarus for a while. But the giants were back—all the giants.

"One thing bothers me," Percy said. "If the Feast of Spes is in two weeks, and Gaea needs the blood of two demigods to wake—what did Clytius call it? The blood of Olympus?—then aren't we doing exactly what Gaea wants, heading to Athens? If we don't go, and she can't sacrifice any of us, doesn't that mean she can't wake up fully?"

Sylvie took his hand. She drank in the sight of him now that they were back in the mortal world, without the Death Mist, his black hair catching a halo around it in the sunlight—even if he was still thin and wan, like her, and his eyes still hadn't gone back to sea-green from their dark, mossy color.

"Seaweed Brain, prophecies cut both ways," Annabeth said. "If we don't go, we may lose our best and only chance to stop her. Athens is where our battle lies. We can't avoid it. Besides, trying to thwart prophecies never works. Gaea could capture us somewhere else, or spill the blood of some other demigods."

"Yeah, you're right," Percy said. "I don't like it, but you're right."

The mood of the group became as gloomy as Tartarus air, until Piper broke the tension.

"Well!" She sheathed her blade and patted her cornucopia. "Good picnic. Who wants dessert?"

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

The Argo II sailed after nightfall, only a few hours following Nico, Reyna, Coach Hedge, and the Demeter of Knidos's departure.

They veered southwest until they reached the coast, then splashed down in the Ionian Sea. Sylvie was relieved to feel the waves beneath her again.

It would have been a shorter trip to Athens over land, but after the crew's experience with mountain spirits in Italy, they'd decided not to fly over Gaea's territory any more than they had to. They would sail around the Greek mainland, following the routes that Greek heroes had taken in the ancient times.

That was fine with Sylvie. The ocean meant all things Percy. She was even blessed by Poseidon to be enhanced when in contact with the water. Needless to say, Sylvie had learned to love the feeling of fresh sea air in her lungs and the salty spray on her arms.

She stood at the starboard rail and closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the sound of the currents. But images of Tartarus kept burning in her mind—the River Phlegethon, the blistered ground where monsters regenerated, the dark forest where arai circled overhead in the blood-mist clouds. Most of all, she thought about a hut in the swamp with a warm fire and racks of drying herbs and drakon jerky. She wondered if that hut was empty now.

Percy pressed next to her at the rail, his warmth reassuring.

"I know," he murmured, reading her expression. "I can't get that place out of my head, either."

"Damasen," Sylvie said. "And Nemo..."

"I know." His voice was fragile. "We have to make their sacrifice worth it. You said it yourself: We have to beat Gaea."

Sylvie stared into the night sky. She wished they were looking at it from the beach on Long Island rather than from halfway around the world, sailing toward almost certain death.

She wondered where Nico, Reyna, and Hedge were now, and how long it would take them to make it back—assuming they survived. She imagined the Romans drawing up battle lines right now, encircling Camp Half-Blood.

Fourteen days to reach Athens. Then one way or another, the war would be decided. And Sylvie had almost all to do with that decision.

Over in the bow, Leo whistled happily as he tinkered with Festus's mechanical brain, muttering something about a crystal and an astrolabe. Amidships, Finley and Jason practiced their swordplay, gold and bronze—When did Finley get a Celestial bronze sword? Scratch that, when did Finley and Jason get along?—blades ringing in the night. Piper and Hazel spectated them with amused smiles, occasionally letting out comments for entertainment. Annabeth and Frank stood at the helm, talking in low tones—maybe discussing war strategies, or sharing thoughts on who was the world's best historical figure.

"We've got a good crew," Percy said. "If I have to sail to my death—"

"You're not dying on me, Fishstick," Sylvie said. "Remember? Never separated again. And after we get home..."

"What?" Percy asked.

She kissed him. "Ask me again, once we defeat Gaea."

He smiled, seemingly happy to have something to look forward to. "Whatever you say."

As they sailed farther from the coast, the sky darkened and more stars came out.

Sylvie watched Percy, and Percy tilted his head to look up at the sky. He knew so many constellations now, after Sylvie spent so long teaching him of her astrological knowledge. It felt so long ago now that she and Percy shared the things they loved about their homes on the Queen Anne's Revenge—one of Sylvie's ramblings being her undying love for the surplus of stars in the sky.

"Nemo says hello," Percy told the stars.

The Argo II sailed into the night.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

BAILEY YAPS...

Guys who would've thought we would've actually made it out of the Act 3 trenches. Like. We're to the end and oh my gosh the light is here and WE SURVIVED!!

Well we're not out of the woods yet but Act 3 was DARK so at least we're free from those chains ❤️ And Persylv is home ❤️ And Jinley is up ❤️ 

Persylv are Nico's parents that are constantly worrying about him and Jinley are Nico's parents that laugh when he falls in the mulch on the playground

Also the fact that we're entering the last ever act of this entire series is actually really crazy to me and I don't really know how to cope because I am so in love with the Wild Saga. It has become my entire life but umm I'm trying to ignore that fact for as long as possible. I don't want to believe it's real. No one tell me the truth.

"Eating" because they ate. "Serving ://" because well.