CHAPTER SIX

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

"THERMOS!" Percy screamed as they hurtled toward the water.

"WHAT?" Annabeth shouted, and Sylvie could commune in her bafflement, because she was absolutely certain that Percy was out of his mind. Both girls were holding on to the boat straps for dear life, their hair flying straight up like torches.

But Tyson understood. He managed to open Percy's duffel bag and take out Hermes's magical thermos without losing his grip on it or the boat.

Arrows and javelins whistled past them.

Percy grabbed the thermos, and Sylvie prayed silently because this guy was absolutely crazy. He was going to get them killed. "HANG ON!"

"I AM HANGING ON!" Annabeth yelled.

Percy screamed, "TIGHTER!"

"I AM HANGING ON TIGHTER!" Sylvie bellowed.

"THEN JUST TRUST ME!"

"NO!" she yelled.

But Sylvie didn't really have much of a choice. Percy was already hooking his feet under the boat's inflatable bench. Tyson grabbed Sylvie, Percy, and Annabeth by the backs of their shirts, and Percy gave the thermos cap a quarter turn.

Instantly, a white sheet of wind jetted out of the thermos and propelled them sideways, turning their downward plummet into a forty-five-degree crash landing.

The wind seemed to laugh as it shot from the thermos, like it was glad to be free. As they hit the ocean, they bumped once, twice, skipping like a stone. Sylvie was certain she was either going to throw up or fall out. Then, before either thing could happen, they were whizzing along like a speed boat, salt spraying in their faces and nothing but sea ahead.

Sylvie heard a wail of outrage from the ship behind them, but they were already out of weapon range. The Princess Andromeda faded to the size of a white toy boat in the distance, and then it was gone.

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

As they raced over the sea, Percy and Annabeth tried to send an Iris-message to Chiron. Sylvie knew she wasn't included in their bond with the centaur, so she sat closer to where Tyson was. Luckily, the big guy was happy to have "Boots" next to him. Sylvie had a feeling she wasn't escaping that name anytime soon.

Anyways, Percy and Annabeth felt it important to let somebody know what Luke was doing, and they didn't know who else to trust. Sylvie suggested Eurydice since she was actually at camp, but that idea didn't turn out too popular.

In the end, it didn't matter that they chose Chiron instead for the Iris-message. They told him everything, of course, but Sylvie wasn't sure how much he heard. The entire call there was loud shouting behind Chiron, and he could never get a full sentence out. Sylvie thought he said something about cursing his relatives as a plate flew over his head, which reminded her a lot of time spent with her own siblings. In the end, the only coherent words Sylvie heard were:

Annabeth, you shouldn't have let Percy leave camp! But if you do get the Fleece—Miami—I'll try to keep watch—

So, yeah. The amazing, fired centaur was great help for the questers. Sylvie was really thankful they chose him!

She knew she shouldn't have been petty. There wasn't really a reason to be—she was probably just still hung up on her interaction with Luke. Sylvie could almost understand now why he'd gotten Eurydice so messed up in the head. One conversation with him, and his words were haunting her.

Gods, Sylvie wasn't cut out for this.

That's what everyone else thought too, wasn't it? Luke had said it himself—Sylvie didn't belong anywhere, she wasn't understood anywhere, she wasn't capable anywhere. She was, in a word, lonesome.

Sylvie wasn't always alone, but she was always lonesome. The state of being apart. Of being other. Alone-some. Even in a group, she was naturally held separate. It happened easier than one might expect—everyone allowed it to happen. The odd-one-out didn't ever really get a chance to be understood. Not when she didn't even understand herself. As Luke had told her, Sylvie stood in her own way. She could never get her brain to calm down enough to let herself try, to be known.

Silviana Duvall was unknowable to all, and unknowable to herself.

The thought nagged at her, as it always did. Sure, she had her siblings, and yeah, they knew more than most, but did that even count when they were forced to tolerate Sylvie's obnoxious presence? Did it count when they probably wouldn't give Sylvie a second glance if they weren't bound by their maternal upbringing?

Sylvie forced herself out of her thoughts, because she really didn't want to know the answer to that.

When she turned her head away from the sea (because she couldn't risk zoning out again), she found that Percy was already staring at her. The question of how long and what for was unknown, but the fact remained. Percy's sea-green eyes were boring into hers and Sylvie's amber ones had just met them.

"What?" Sylvie shifted nervously, feeling awkward under his gaze.

For a moment, Percy looked like he was just going to drop it. For a moment, Sylvie thought he was. But it seemed that now he'd been caught, he couldn't retreat.

"Uh—Your, uh... weapon is cool," Percy suddenly blurted, and Sylvie blinked. If riding the waves of the sea were quieter, they would've heard Annabeth's exhausted sigh of disbelief.

That wasn't it, and Sylvie knew that wasn't it, but she chose to humor him and let Percy distract himself. If it meant distracting Sylvie too, she would take it.

"Thanks," she responded, right hand absentmindedly fidgeting as they both stared at her olive glove. "It's a gift from my mom when I was claimed. Halcyon."

"That's cool," Percy repeated. "I have no clue what that word means, but—that's cool."

Sylvie's mind was blanking at the fact Percy Jackson was trying to have a conversation with her; it had Sylvie forgetting how he knew the fingerless mitten was even a dagger at all. But then she remembered—Sylvie had accidentally whipped it out when Luke was grilling her.

Suddenly Sylvie understood why Percy was staring at her. This wasn't about weapons at all. Apparently Sylvie wasn't the only one thinking about what Luke had told Sylvie.

"Uh," Sylvie continued to ramble, because she couldn't keep thinking about Luke right now, and she was pathetic, and she couldn't be calm around Percy, so she found herself still speaking even after she'd said all she needed to say. "I have another one, actually."

She lifted up where her shirt was hiding the second, bronze xiphos.

"It's not a—you know—gift, or anything. That's why it doesn't transform. Or reappear. I just, er, keep it tucked away. Nothing special—well, to me it's special, but not to anyone else."

Percy seemed too kind to tell Sylvie to shut up, or even judge her for speaking at all. Sylvie probably should've been grateful, but she wasn't, because she knew if no one muted her soon, Sylvie would start talking them into a hole. Gods knew where the topic might turn to. Sylvie's nervous rambling was a dangerous gamble.

"What's its name?" Percy asked, genuinely curious.

Sylvie stared at him. Never mind. She was very quiet now.

"Uhh... it looks cool, doesn't it?" Sylvie tried changing the subject, hiding the xiphe from view of beneath her waistband.

Now Annabeth looked interested in their conversation, too. It was probably because she was a daughter of Athena, and they were on the topic of weaponry. Whatever it was, Annabeth's eyes were currently curiously peering at Sylvie. Waiting for her answer. With both pairs of eyes on her, Sylvie was suddenly panicking again.

(Take a shot every time Sylvie panicked.)

"Yeah," Annabeth started suspiciously, "but what's the name?"

Gods. She was never going to make new friends.

Sylvie nodded, like she was thinking something profound. Avoiding eye contact with both Percy and Annabeth, she quietly answered, "Cereal."

Percy laughed out almost immediately. It wasn't necessarily malicious laughing, but it still made Sylvie nervous, because Percy always had the ability to make her feel that way. "That's amazing," he snorted. When she mustered up the courage to risk a glance back at her quest-mates, Percy was looking at Annabeth like Can we keep her?

However, Annabeth judged, "Cereal?"

"Look, I was eleven, okay?" Sylvie defended, cheeked a flustered pink. "And hungry! I didn't know it'd've gotten stuck with the name!"

Annabeth's dark eyes lingered on Sylvie for a little longer—something about her was so much like Eurydice. Then, Sylvie could've sworn her analytical face broke out into a restrained smile. "You really are something else, Duvall," she analyzed.

"Why, uh, thank you... Chase...?"

Sylvie must've said something right, because Annabeth's smile was no longer restrained. She even let out a soft laugh of amusement.

"You're really one for weird nicknames," Percy told her. Just before Sylvie could get offended, she noted the upward quirk of his mouth—that sarcastic smile of his. Unfortunately, Sylvie was only paying attention to this and not on deciphering what Percy just said.

Her gaze snapped back up to his eyes, confused. "What?"

"Fish sticks?" Percy reminded, but something told Sylvie he liked it.

Something bought you here, Sylvie. Whether it be fate or destiny.

Or fish sticks.

And, yeah. They were back on the conversation with Luke again. Sylvie had somehow forgotten she'd called Percy that—she was so caught up on everything else that was said between them. Of course Percy focused on the most unserious part of their interaction.

"Oh," Sylvie said. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that, Fishstick."

Honestly, any other day she wouldn't have the heart to casually poke fun at Percy. But she did think the nickname was funny, and it finally put a tiny smile on her face, which was a rare occurrence for the situation she was currently stuck in.

"That's not changing, is it?" Percy feigned a grimace. Sylvie's smile grew.

"It's not, I fear. You're stuck with it now."

"But it's awful, though."

"I don't make the rules," Sylvie shrugged.

This was kind of fun. It wasn't at all scary, like how she'd expected it would be talking to Percy. Sylvie almost felt... calm. It was an emotion very foreign to her.

"Well, now I have to call you something," Percy quipped right back. "It's not fair for just you to have all the fun."

His eyes were so alive that Sylvie almost couldn't handle maintaining eye contact. Percy's troublemaker aura was both alluring and overwhelming, but either way, Sylvie wanted to stay in this moment. She still couldn't believe this was a reality. He was talking to her, and Sylvie was talking back, and she had yet to do anything that would cause her starting over the count on the whiteboard. There was no chance she'd ever get another opportunity like this. Sylvie had to appreciate the good things before they got taken away from her—just like everything else.

Percy broke Sylvie from her thoughts with, "Maybe something southern. Since you have that accent."

Moment over. Sylvie was now very offended.

"I do not have a southern accent," Sylvie protested. Her gaze darted over to Annabeth for help—Put your best friend on a leash, he's being crazy!

Annabeth tilted her head contemplatively, sending Sylvie a sorry look. "You have a slight bit of an accent."

"Wh—" Sylvie gaped. "I don't! Tyson, tell them I don't."

Tyson hadn't been interested in their conversation at all. He was still searching the sea for Rainbow when Sylvie called upon him.

"Boots does not!" Tyson cheered, even if he had no clue what he was talking about.

Sylvie grinned softly at the Cyclops. "See. Tyson doesn't think so."

"Yeah, well Tyson isn't the brightest in the bunch," Annabeth grumbled.

"Hey!" Sylvie and Percy protested in unison.

Annabeth shrugged. "Just saying."

Percy exhaled, disappointed and a little annoyed. Either way, he continued, "She's right, though. Not about Tyson. Just—You do have an accent, Duvall."

"See, but I just don't," Sylvie argued.

"See, but you just do," winked Percy.

Sylvie's head was spinning. She was pretty sure. Yeah. Normal thoughts were being thunk. She's okay.

"You know, it's okay if you're southern, Sylvie," Annabeth interjected. Thank the gods for Annabeth Chase, because Sylvie would not be paying attention if she didn't keep adding her input. "Actually, I'm from Virginia."

"Okay, yeah, I'm southern," Sylvie stated in offense, "but I don't have an accent!"

Percy held up his thumb and pointer finger, holding a little gap of air between the digits. "Little, teensy one."

"It's slight," Annabeth agreed.

Sylvie shook her head adamantly. "Y'all don't know what you're talking about. I do not have a southern accent."

Percy and Annabeth shared looks, and Sylvie knew her mistake before they even said something. She groaned, tilting her head down, as the two before her tried not to laugh. Another snort slipped out of Percy.

"'Y'all,'" he echoed, sounding very amused with himself.

Sylvie grumbled, and maybe she was a little childish for crossing her arms. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's so hilarious."

Percy beamed at her. "'Tis indeed, Applejack."

Sylvie's eyes widened. "Ap—what? Oh! No. That's the worst nickname in the history of all nicknames. It doesn't even fit. I'm not answering to that."

"I didn't ask you to," Percy shrugged, like an asshole.

Sylvie pointed at Percy. "I'm not answering to that."

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

An hour later they spotted land—a long stretch of beach lined with high-rise hotels. The water became crowded with fishing boats and tankers. A coast guard cruiser passed on their starboard side, then turned like it wanted a second look. Sylvie guessed it wasn't every day they saw a yellow lifeboat with no engine going a hundred knots an hour, manned by four kids.

"That's Virginia Beach!" Annabeth said as they approached the shoreline. "Oh my gods, how did the Princess Andromeda travel so far overnight? That's like—"

"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," Percy said.

Sylvie and Annabeth stared at him.

"How did you know that?"

Percy stammered, "I—I'm not sure."

Annabeth thought for a moment. "Percy, what's our position?"

"36 degrees, 44 minutes north, 76 degrees, 2 minutes west," Percy said immediately. Then he shook his head. "Woah. How did I know that?"

"Because of your dad," Annabeth guessed. "When you're at sea, you have perfect bearings. That is so cool."

Sylvie thought it more creepy, but she wasn't going to say that out loud. Percy was lucky he was cute, because there were so many reasons for Sylvie to be offput by him now. And yet, she wasn't.

Then Tyson was tapping her shoulder. "Other boat is coming."

Sylvie looked back. The coast guard vessel was definitely on their tail now. Its lights were flashing and it was gaining speed.

"Oh, shit!" Sylvie panicked. "I can't get arrested, I'm too young!"

Percy nodded. "We can't let them catch us. They'll ask too many questions."

"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Annabeth said. "I know a place we can hide."

Sylvie trusted Annabeth, because she was smart as hell and so far—in Sylvie's eyes—knew absolutely everything on the planet. Percy must've trusted her enough, too. He loosened the thermos cap a little more, and a fresh burst of wind sent them rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coast guard boat fell farther and farther behind. They didn't slow down until the shores of the bay narrowed on either side, and Sylvie realized they'd entered the mouth of a river.

"There," Annabeth directed them. "Past that sandbar."

They veered into a swampy area choked with marsh grass. This was the type of water Sylvie was used to. She saw a lot of it in Louisiana's swamps.

Percy beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress. Vine-covered trees loomed about them. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river.

"Come on," Annabeth said. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" Percy asked.

"Just follow." She grabbed a duffel bag. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."

After burying the lifeboat with branches, Sylvie, Percy, and Tyson followed Annabeth along the shore, their feet sinking in red mud. Sylvie took back everything she said about the similarities to Louisiana. A snake slithered past her shoe and disappeared into the grass.

"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet line on his arm.

Another few minutes, Annabeth said, "Here."

All Sylvie saw was a patch of brambles. Then Annabeth moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and Sylvie realized she was looking into a camouflaged shelter.

The inside was big enough for four, even with Tyson being the fourth. The walls were woven from plant material, but they looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want for a campout—sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too—bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty, like it had been vacant for a long time.

"A half-blood hideout," Percy realized.

Sylvie looked at Annabeth in awe. "You made this place?"

"Thalia and I," she said quietly. "And Luke."

That made Sylvie more nervous than she already was—which said a lot, if you knew her well enough. She worriedly blurted, "Do you think Luke will look for us here?"

Annabeth shook her head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this. I doubt Luke even remembers where they are. Or cares."

She threw herself down on the blankets and started going through her duffel bag. Her body language made it pretty clear she didn't want to talk. Sylvie internally cursed herself for screwing everything up. Again. She shouldn't have asked Annabeth about it.

"Um, Tyson?" Percy said. "Would you mind scouting around outside? Like, look for a wilderness convenience store or something?"

"Convenience store?"

"Yeah, for snacks. Powdered donuts or something. Just don't go too far."

"Powdered donuts," Tyson said earnestly. "I will look for powdered donuts in the wilderness." He headed outside and started calling, "Here, donuts!"

Sylvie sent a sad look over to where Tyson exited. She felt bad Percy had just made him go on an impossible search. However, it was quite known Sylvie had a hard time voicing her more serious opinions. She didn't want Percy to hate her, either. So she let Tyson go without a protest, just hoping Percy could feel the disappointment wafting off of her. He didn't, of course. Just sat down across from Annabeth.

"Hey, I'm sorry about, you know, seeing Luke."

"It's not your fault," Annabeth sighed. She unsheathed her knife and started cleaning the blade with a rag.

This conversation already felt too personal for Sylvie's presence—with Luke, everything was personal, but still. Sylvie wasn't actually close with Percy and Annabeth, no matter how much she wanted to be. This was just another place she didn't belong, another place she intruded.

"Uh—I'll go keep a lookout outside," Sylvie awkwardly spoke up. Her thumb pointed toward the exit, which she tried heading towards.

"No," said Annabeth. Sylvie paused, shocked. "You should stay."

Sylvie stiffly pivoted back to face Percy and Annabeth. She stammered, "Are you... sure? 'Cause I can go. Maybe help Tyson not get lost."

Sylvie shied away. When she was uncertain about something, her eyes looked away and her thumb fiddled with the top edge of her glove. It was in evidence now.

"Don't be stupid, we want you here," Percy added surely, eyes trained on where Sylvie was nervously fidgeting.

She really didn't know what to do with herself. This had never happened before. But Percy and Annabeth were staring at her, awaiting her next move, and Sylvie had to do something besides stand there like an idiot.

Sylvie set into motion, sitting crisscrossed where the two of them were.

"Luke let us go too easily," Percy said. It was as if he hadn't just said one of the nicest things Sylvie had ever been told in her life—assurance that she was wanted somewhere.

Annabeth nodded, just as unphased. "I was thinking the same thing. What we overheard him say about a gamble, and 'they'll take the bait...' I think he was talking about us."

"The Fleece is the bait? Or Grover?"

Sylvie finally snapped out of it at the mention of the satyr. Her stunned state was replaced with a feeling of guilt. She'd kind of forgotten about Grover completely. Sorry, dude.

"I don't know, Percy," Annabeth answered, studying the edge of her knife. "Maybe he wants the Fleece for himself. Maybe he's hoping we'll do the hard work and then he can steal it from us. I just can't believe he would poison the tree."

"What did he mean," Percy asked, much braver than Sylvie, "that Thalia would've been on his side?"

"He's wrong."

The genius himself replied, "You don't sound sure."

Annabeth glared at Percy, and Sylvie was sure she was about to watch an act of first-degree murder be committed before her eyes. The girl was holding a knife for fuck's sake.

"Percy, do you know who you remind me of most? Thalia. You guys are so much alike it's scary. I mean, either you would've been best friends, or you would've strangled each other."

"'Best friends' sounds nicer," Sylvie shrugged meekly.

"Thalia got angry with her dad sometimes. So do you. Would you turn against Olympus because of that?"

Percy stared at the quiver of arrows in the corner. "No."

"Okay, then. Neither would she. Luke's wrong." Annabeth stuck her knife blade into the dirt, and Sylvie still felt like she wasn't supposed to be here. But, "About a lot of things, too..."

She trailed off, and Sylvie realized Annabeth had done it to look Sylvie's way. The daughter of Demeter straightened up uncomfortably. There was something about Annabeth's voice that put her on edge.

"I didn't realize how much camp probably alienated you," Annabeth told Sylvie, who suddenly had the simultaneous urge to run away and stay glued in her seat at the same time. "I'm sorry for that. You're really cool, Sylvie. You do belong at camp—Don't listen to what Luke said."

"Well, I, uh," Sylvie nodded awkwardly, feeling constricted by the tense air. Cool wasn't the word she'd use to describe herself. "Thanks, I guess—"

"I'm sorry, too," Percy blurted out of nowhere. The girls' heads turned his way, and the attention flustered him, "I know I haven't been at camp long, but..."

Sylvie didn't know what to say. She couldn't help but stare.

"Yeah," Percy finished with a nod.

"Right," said Sylvie, steadying her breathing slightly.

This topic was deeper than Sylvie wanted to go, especially with two people she didn't really know all that well. She hoped they'd make a topic change soon because Sylvie couldn't handle thinking about herself. It always made her feel a little sick inside. And then a little sad.

"So," Percy (her savior) smoothed along, "Annabeth. What did Luke mean about Cyclopes? He said you of all people—"

"I know what he said. He... he was talking about the real reason Thalia died."

Both Sylvie and Percy waited, neither of them sure what to say.

Annabeth drew a shaky breath. "You can never trust a Cyclops. Six years ago, on the night Grover was leading us to Half-Blood Hill—"

She was interrupted when the door of the hut creaked open. Tyson crawled in.

"Powdered donuts!" he said proudly, holding up a pastry box.

Annabeth stared at him. "Where did you get that? We're in the middle of the wilderness. There's nothing around for—"

"Fifty feet," Tyson said. "Monster Donut shop—just over the hill!"

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

"This is bad," Annabeth muttered.

They were crouching behind a tree, staring at the donut ship in the middle of the woods. It looked brand new, with brightly lit windows, a parking area, and a little road leading off into the forest, but there was nothing else around, and no cars parked in the lot. They could see one employee reading a magazine behind the cash register. That was it. On the store's marquis, in huge black letters that even Sylvie could read, it said:

MONSTER DONUT

A cartoon ogre was taking a bite out of the O in MONSTER. The place smelled good, like fresh-baked chocolate donuts.

"This shouldn't be here," Annabeth whispered. "It's wrong."

"What?" Sylvie asked. "It's a donut shop."

"Shhh!"

"Why are we whispering?" questioned Percy. "Tyson went in and bought a dozen. Nothing happened to him."

"He's a monster."

"Aw, c'mon, Annabeth," Percy argued. "Monster Donut doesn't mean monsters! It's a chain. We've got them in New York."

"A chain," she agreed. "And don't you think it's strange that one appeared immediately after you told Tyson to get donuts? Right here in the middle of the woods?"

Sylvie thought about it. It did seem a little weird, but donut shops weren't real high on her list of sinister forces.

"It could be a nest," Annabeth explained.

Tyson whimpered. Annabeth's tone was making him nervous—He'd plowed through half a dozen donuts from his box and was getting powdered sugar all over his face.

"A nest for what?" Sylvie asked, though she didn't think she wanted to know the answer.

"Haven't you ever wondered how franchise stores pop up so fast?" she asked. But Sylvie lived in Albany and didn't really know much about big industries at all. "One day there's nothing and then the next—boom, there's a new burger place or a coffee shop or whatever? First a single store, then two, then four—exact replicas spreading across the country?"

"Um, no," Sylvie muttered. "I live on a farm."

"You—what?" questioned Annabeth wildly. Then, "Never mind. Look, some of the chains multiply so fast because all their locations are magically linked to the life force of a monster. Some children of Hermes figured out how to do it back in the 1950s. They breed—"

She froze.

"What?" Percy demanded. "They breed what?"

"No—sudden—moves," Annabeth said, like her life depended on it. "Very slowly, turn around."

Then Sylvie heard it: a scraping noise, like something large dragging its belly through the leaves.

Sylvie turned and saw a rhino-size thing moving through the shadows of the trees. It was hissing, its front half writhing in all different directions. Sylvie couldn't understand what she was seeing at first. Then she realized the thing had multiple necks—at least seven, each topped with a hissing reptilian head. Its skin was leathery, and under each neck it wore a plastic bib that read: I'M A MONSTER DONUT KID!

Sylvie's breaths sped up, and a familiar mantra sounded in her mind. WhatamIdoingherewhatamIdoingherewhatamIdoinghere? She seriously wasn't cut out for this. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home.

Percy took out his ballpoint pen, but Annabeth silently urged not to do anything just yet. Sylvie was glad—she was very okay with not doing anything at all. Annabeth's reasoning was much different, however. A lot of monsters had terrible eyesight. It was possible the Hydra might pass them by. But if Percy uncapped his sword now, the bronze glow would certainly get its attention.

They waited.

The Hydra was only a few feet away. It seemed to be sniffing the ground and the trees like it was hunting for something. Then Sylvie noticed that two of the heads were ripping apart a piece of yellow canvas—one of their duffle bags. She hoped it wasn't hers.

A horrible realization hit her. The thing had already been to their campsite. It was following their scent.

Sylvie's heart pounded. She'd seen a stuffed Hydra-head trophy at camp before, but that did nothing to prepare her for the real thing. Each head was diamond-shaped, like a rattlesnake's, but the mouths were lined with jagged rows of sharklike teeth. It all scared Sylvie so bad that she stepped back and accidentally snapped a twig. Immediately, all seven heads turned toward them and hissed.

"Scatter!" Annabeth yelled. She dove to the right.

Percy rolled to the right. Sylvie shot backwards and behind the nearest tree, her thoughts a mixture of self-hatred and panic. Of course it had to be her that fucked things up. She always did this. She always did this. She always did this. Who was Sylvie Duvall, if not the biggest mistake alive?

One of the Hydra heads spat an arc of green liquid that would've hit Sylvie if she hadn't made it behind the tree in time. Instead, the liquid splashed against an elm different to the one Sylvie was behind. The trunk smoked and began to disintegrate. The whole tree toppled straight toward Tyson, who still hadn't moved, petrified by the monster that was now right in front of him.

"Tyson!" Percy tackled him with all his might, knocking Tyson aside just as the Hydra lunged and the tree crashed on top of two of its heads.

The Hydra stumbled backward, yanking its heads free then wailing in outrage at the fallen tree. All seven heads shot acid, and the elm melted into a steaming pool of muck.

"Move!" Percy told Tyson. He ran to one side and uncapped Riptide, drawing the monster's attention.

The sight of celestial bronze was hateful to most monsters. As soon as his glowing blade appeared, the Hydra whipped toward it with all its heads, hissing and baring its teeth.

Sylvie shakily looked down at her own concealed weapon, in the form of a glove. Suddenly, she could feel Cereal's blade pressing up against her skin. Sylvie knew she should try helping—should be more useful than hiding like this—but there was something so, incredibly wrong with her. She couldn't stop being scared. She was always scared, and the fear she felt now was threatening to eat her alive. Sylvie hated herself—she was the one that caused this mess. The least she could do was help Percy.

One of the heads snapped at him experimentally, causing Percy to swing his sword in response.

"No!" Annabeth yelled.

Too late. He sliced the Hydra's head clean off. It rolled away into the grass, leaving a flailing stump, which immediately stopped bleeding and began to swell like a balloon.

In a matter of seconds, the wounded neck split into two necks, each of which grew a full-size head. Now they were looking at an eight-headed Hydra.

"Percy!" Annabeth scolded. "You just opened another Monster Donut shop somewhere!"

Percy dodged a spray of acid. "I'm about to die and you're worried about that?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sylvie rambled, her fingers squeezing. "I'm sorry, I—I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it!" Percy yelled, but Sylvie was most definitely worrying. Then, "How do we kill it?"

"Fire! We have to use fire!" answered Annabeth.

Percy backed up toward the river. The Hydra followed.

Annabeth moved in on Percy's left, and Sylvie cursed underneath her breath. She couldn't keep hiding—she couldn't let them clean up Sylvie's own mess. In one swift motion, she pulled out Cereal and transformed Halcyon.

Both girls tried distracting the heads. Annabeth parried off one head's teeth with her knife. Sylvie did the same with its toes. Unfortunately, another head swung like a club and knocked her into the muck.

"No hitting my friends!" Tyson charged in, putting himself between the Hydra and Sylvie. As Annabeth helped Sylvie to her feet, Tyson started smashing at the monster heads with his fists so fast it reminded Sylvie of a whack-a-mole game. But even Tyson couldn't fend off the Hydra forever.

The questers kept inching backward, dodging acid splashes and deflecting snapping heads without cutting them off, but Sylvie knew they were only postponing their deaths. Eventually, she would make another mistake and get them all killed.

Then Sylvie heard a strange sound—a chug-chug-chug that, at first, she thought was her heartbeat. It was so powerful it made the riverbank shake.

"What's that noise?" Annabeth shouted, keeping her eyes on the Hydra.

"Steam engine," Tyson said.

"What?" Percy ducked as the Hydra spat acid over his head.

Then from the river behind them, a familiar female voice shouted: "There! Prepare the thirty-two-pounder!"

Sylvie didn't dare look away from the Hydra, but she was pretty sure she already knew who that was.

A gravelly male voice said, "They're too close, m'lady!"

"Damn the heroes!" the girl said. "Full steam ahead!"

"Aye, m'lady!"

"Fire at will, Captain!"

Luckily Annabeth understood what was happening quicker than Sylvie. She yelled, "Hit the dirt!" and they dove for the ground as an earth-shattering BOOM echoed from the river. There was a flash of light, a column of smoke, and the Hydra exploded right in front of them, showering them with nasty green slime that vaporized as soon as it hit, the way monster guts tend to do.

"Gross!" screamed Annabeth.

She'd obviously never seen a cow give birth.

"Steamship!" yelled Tyson.

Sylvie stood, coughing from the cloud of gunpowder smoke that was rolling across the banks.

Chugging toward them down the river was the strangest ship Sylvie had ever seen. It rode low in the water like a submarine, its deck plated with iron. In the middle was a trapezoid-shaped casemate with slats on each side for cannons. A flag waved from the top—a wild boar and spear on a bloodred field. Lining the deck were zombies in gray uniforms—dead soldiers with shimmering faces that only partially covered their skulls.

The ship was ironclad. A Civil War battle cruiser. Sylvie could just make out the name along the prow in moss-covered letters: CSS Birmingham.

And standing next to the smoking cannon that had almost killed them, wearing full Greek battle armor, was Clarisse.

"Losers," she sneered. "But I suppose I have to rescue you. Come aboard."

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

VAILEY YAPS...

I'm kind of scared this whole chapter is ooc and shit. So if it is please don't tell me I'm aware. I'll cry. I just wanted to deliver some persylv for the soul and even some sylvabeth (Or Sylviebeth? What's that their name? Should we call them something else?) bestfriendism. Is that so wrong

Soooo basically Sylvie is really sad, has no clue how to talk to people, and detrimentally accident prone. Is she based off of me? That's a secret I'll never tell

Okay but fr guys hang in with me. Sylvie's actually dogshit at everything demigod and horribly clumsy but I promise that's not forever. This is her baby era. She's just so scared of herself and everything around her. God I just wish someone would come along and show her that she doesn't have to be freaked out all the time because she's fine the way she is... God... I wonder if the lines It wasn't at all scary, like how she'd expected it would be talking to Percy. Sylvie almost felt... calm will be useful in the future...

ANYWAYS

Do y'all know that Hank guy on tiktok like his username is hankyspankyyyy Yeah so he's Sylvie basically

Sylvie in chesapeake bay... Somewhere at camp half-blood a bitch with an eccentric ass name like Florian Whitlock is fangirling so hard rn... Something about lafayette and a spy on the inside i hear...

Florian i miss u and so does sylvie ok bye