CHAPTER THIRTEEN

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

They arrived in Long Island just after Clarisse, thanks to the centaurs' travel powers.

Sylvie couldn't look at Chiron without thinking about what Annabeth told her. She'd met plenty of embarrassing parents, but Kronos, the evil titan lord who wanted to destroy Western Civilization? Not the kind of dad you invited to school for career day.

When they got to camp, the centaurs were anxious to meet Dionysus. They'd heard he threw some really wild parties, but they were disappointed. The wine god was in no mood to celebrate as the whole camp gathered at the top of Half-Blood Hill.

The camp had been through a hard two weeks. The arts and crafts cabin had been burned to the ground from an attack by a Draco Aionius (which as near as Sylvie could figure was Latin for "really-big-lizard-with-breath-that-blew-shit-up"). The Big House's rooms were overflowing with wounded. The kids in Apollo cabin, who were the best healers, had been working overtime performing first aid. Everybody looked weary and battered as they crowded around Thalia's tree.

The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest bough, the moonlight seemed to brighten, turning from gray to liquid silver. A cool breeze rustled in the branches and rippled through the grass, all the way into the valley. Everything came into sharper focus—the glow of the fireflies down in the woods, the smell of the strawberry fields, the sound of waves on the beach.

Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green.

Everybody cheered. It was happening slowly, but there could be no doubt—the Fleece's magic was seeping into the tree, filling it with new power and expelling the poison.

Chiron ordered a twenty-four/seven guard duty on the hilltop, at least until he could find an appropriate monster to protect the Fleece. He said he'd place an ad in Olympus Weekly right away.

In the meantime, Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates' shoulders down to the amphitheater, where she was honored with a laurel wreath and a lot of celebrating around the campfire.

(Almost) Nobody gave Sylvie, Percy, Annabeth, Grover, or Tyson a second look. It was as if they'd never left. Sylvie kind of preferred it. That way, she didn't have to deal with the overwhelming attention, and they wouldn't get expelled because no one would admit they'd snuck out. However, there was one slight shift. Sylvie almost felt like she was one of the campers for once.

But, she did say almost nobody. So she should probably clarify that.

When all the camp had filed away from the tree to commence their celebrating, there were a few campers lingering behind. Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Tyson, of course, but four others. Either glaring or awe-struck, Eurydice, Katie, Florian, and Miranda stared back at her.

"Uh—" Sylvie panicked.

Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Tyson watched the Demeter kids unsurely. For some reason, the fact they were watching made her feel more shy. "Sibling Sylvie" was a lot more chaotic of a being than they'd seen, and she kind of didn't want to chase them away. She'd grown rather fond of her quest-mates.

And Sylvie's siblings were still just staring.

"Okay," she began in a pleading sort of voice, "look, I'm sorry I snuck out of camp to go on an illegal quest in the middle of the night totally unprepared. Actually, it sounds really bad now that I say it. I just—It all happened so fast, and I couldn't really think—"

Sylvie was being tackled into a hug so fierce she was spun from the ground and her legs flailed. She let out an instinctive "Woah" at the embrace, but welcomed it all the same. She returned her sibling's hug.

"I can't believe you did that," Florian half-laughed/half-scoffed as he squeezed Sylvie tighter. "You. I knew you were crazy!"

Sylvie's face burned with embarrassment. Her quest-mates were watching—Percy was watching—and here Florian was, calling Sylvie crazy whilst hugging her to death. The duality of her brother.

"Nice to see you, too, Florian," she murmured, patting him on the back.

"You have to tell me everything," he hogged Sylvie from reuniting with her other siblings. "Where'd you go? What happened? Were you really on that cruise ship with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Did you almost die? What's the whiteboard count at—?"

"Florian," Sylvie urged, face flushing brighter as she felt everyone's stares on her. "Please. Later. I'll tell you later."

Katie pried Florian away. "Yeah, give her some space, Theater Kid." She took her turn to hug Sylvie, "I'm glad your back safe."

"We are making her tell us everything, though, right?" Miranda asked, sounding eager to know. Sylvie sighed.

It shouldn't have surprised her that, no matter how hard Sylvie tried, she couldn't get her siblings off her back. They were freaking out—"Little Sylv" had gone on a quest and survived. It was one thing for Percy and Annabeth to do it, but her? Yeah, Sylvie could understand how that kind of sounded insane.

Over one of her sibling's hugs, Sylvie sent Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Tyson sorry looks that they were bearing witness to it all. It was probably a bizarre sight to see so little people causing so much commotion out of thin air. Sylvie was being squeezed and/or interrogated by Katie, Florian, and Miranda all at once. She could barely focus. The only thing that really caught Sylvie's attention was Eurydice.

And she was just standing there, watching.

Sylvie didn't know what was scarier—the full-sized Cyclops they battled, or the fact she couldn't read her sister's expression in the slightest.

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

The next morning, after the party ponies headed back to Florida, Chiron made a surprise announcement: the chariot races would go ahead as scheduled. The campers all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.

While Sylvie had forced herself through large amounts of heroics and bravery throughout the past eleven days, she'd had enough to last her the entire summer. She didn't really want to put herself out there anymore. Once again, she'd be participating in the chariot races from the sidelines.

"Are you sure?" Percy had asked her. "I'm sure we can soften Chiron up, get him to let you compete with me and Annabeth."

Sylvie snorted. "Thanks, Fishstick, but I'd rather root for you from the sidelines."

He'd shrugged at her.

"Whatever you say, Applejack."

She had to admit. She was pretty impressed with the amount of work they were putting into the upcoming race—Sylvie hadn't even seen them around, because Percy and Annabeth were training like crazy. Tyson was missing in action, too, because he was acting as their pit crew. Their absence had Grover wanting to spend time with Sylvie, which was as shocking as it was enjoyable. When she wasn't with him, she was lounging with Mickey or annoying Phoenix.

Speaking of Mickey:

The night before the race, her half-sister and head counselor Silena tasked Mickey with the duty of locking up the stables. Usually, Mickey would be perfectly fine with doing this, but apparently she was going through a lazy streak. Mickey begged Sylvie to do her job instead for the entire day—Sylvie had gotten so fed up that she just said yes. That was the one thing Sylvie and Phoenix had in common, they were suckers for Mickey's puppy-dog eyes.

The night was late when it had finally been time for Sylvie to head over.

She'd thought her lateness would mean that no one else would be in the stables, but Sylvie was quickly proven wrong. Before she even made it to the doorway, she heard an unusual voice.

"Good luck tomorrow," the man said. "Fine team of horses you have there, though you'll excuse me if I root for the Hermes cabin. Good-bye, Percy. For now."

Sylvie dared a look at the mention of Percy—the middle-aged guy wore a postal carrier outfit. The man was slim, with curly black hair under his white pith helmet, and he had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.

She was a little shocked when she saw small white wings sprout from the pith helmet. Suddenly, he began to glow, and Sylvie's instincts told her to look away. With a brilliant white flash, he was gone.

Sylvie walked into the stables, a little stunned.

"Was that just Hermes?" she asked.

Percy jumped ten feet in the air at Sylvie's sudden presence. Sylvie had to try not to be horribly fond or amused. She watched with a restrained grin as Percy squeezed his heart over his shirt with a clenching hand. Just like on the Queen Anne's Revenge, he registered Sylvie for who she was and calmed down.

"Shit, someone needs to put a bell on you!" Percy cursed.

Sylvie couldn't help it this time. She laughed.

"Sorry," though she didn't sound apologetic. "Was that just Hermes?"

Percy sent her a disgruntled look for a moment, but he seemed to get over her jump scare soon enough. "Yeah," he exhaled. "He was telling me that... Well, he'd sent me on the quest in hopes I could change Luke's mind, I guess."

Sylvie stiffened. She really didn't like when Luke was brought up in any conversation. Had she mentioned that yet?

"Oh—Uh... I'm sorry you couldn't. I guess."

Percy's mouth quirked up for a moment. He shrugged, said, "Well, he's gone pretty psycho. There's not much I can do about that."

Sylvie was glad Percy didn't blame himself for Luke's betrayal. He was right—Luke had gone psycho, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Not Percy. Not Annabeth. Not Eurydice. 

(Sylvie really wished her big sister thought the same as Percy did.)

"Oh," Percy suddenly remembered something, "and he gave me this."

Percy showed the gift to Sylvie—Even before she read it, she could feel the power radiating off of the paper. Sylvie was expecting more, but there were only two simple words printed on the middle of the page:

Brace Yourself

"Yeesh," Sylvie blurted automatically. She one hundred percent did not mean to, and now she kind of wanted to kill herself from doing so. "I mean—Wow—Percy, that's... I, uh... ominous?"

Percy didn't seem at all phased with Sylvie's awkward behavior. If anything, Sylvie sort of thought he looked a little fond.

"Ominous," he repeated in a dry voice. "Yeah, it's from my dad."

Sylvie's eyes widened more than they already were. A couple foreboding words were weird—that was one thing. But sending attention to your forbidden kid just to get that message across? It was weird beyond belief. Most demigods would die to get addressed by their godly parent—it was a rare occurrence that only happened to the luckiest of them all. Sylvie hadn't ever talked to her mom; she'd never received something from Demeter besides the glove on her hand. So it felt oddly personal for Percy to have let her see Poseidon's note.

"Should you be showing me that, then?" Sylvie asked, feeling guilty and paranoid.

Percy folded the note back up and put it in his back pocket. He sent a shrug Sylvie's way—another careless thing that had Sylvie wondering how the hell he operated life like that. The boy who barely had worry, and the girl who was overflowing with it.

"I mean, friends tell each other things, don't they?"

They—Well—Yes, they did. But now Sylvie's brain was short-circuiting. Every time she thought Percy was done catching Sylvie off guard, he went and said things that turned over the perspective of Sylvie's life.

"Are we? Friends?"

Percy, Annabeth, Tyson, Grover—Sylvie didn't think they actually wanted her around. She sort of assumed they were forced to have her near for the quest, but that sort of closeness would dissipate when they got to camp. Honestly, Sylvie was going to keep this to herself, but she believed that was actually why she hadn't seen Percy, Annabeth, or Tyson for the past few days. She figured the training thing was just a coverup.

And yet.

"Yes...?" Percy answered, looking absolutely bewildered and confused. "Were we... not... the whole time?"

Sylvie found herself getting flustered. "Well, I didn't want to assume!"

"Did the several attempts of both me and Annabeth trying to get to know you not leave any hints?" he scoffed incredulously. "Or Tyson absolutely loving you? Or us asking you to stay around?"

"No one ever stated it explicitly!"

"There were context clues!"

"I don't do context clues!"

"Oh my—" Percy cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Or exasperation. Something that ended in ration. He then looked back at her to declare, "Sylvie Duvall: I, Perseus Jackson, am your friend. Annabeth Chase is your friend. Grover Underwood is your friend. Tyson is your friend."

Despite the fact Percy was reassuring her anxiety, Sylvie glared straight at him for his antics. He'd even put on a dramatic voice as if he was reading out a declaration for all of the townspeople to hear. If Sylvie didn't like him so much, she would hate him.

"Ha. Good to hear," she grumbled.

"Now spill your guts. Friends tell each other things, remember?" Percy teased to annoy her further. Sylvie set him a raised eyebrow. "Any menacing notes from your dad?"

All of Sylvie's natural functions stopped for a moment. Her heart didn't beat, her lungs weren't filling with air, her body couldn't move. Percy's question completely blindsided her—being caught so unexpectedly brought her back to a place so dark she felt trapped.

Sylvie's dad was a rough subject, that much was a given. How rough, however, was not something Sylvie had ever really talked about. Specifics were an eternal prison waiting to sentence Sylvie to a lifetime of agony. If she left out specifics, she could leave out the darkness. If she could leave out the darkness, she could be... remembered.

The thing was, Sylvie loved her dad. It was impossible not to. Demeter couldn't help it, her Uncle Emerson couldn't help it, and Sylvie certainly couldn't help it. It wasn't that he was a bad person—in fact, he was the brightest person Sylvie knew. Conan Duvall had the ability of lighting up an entire room with just one statement, sometimes even only a facial expression. He had this love for life and humanity that made you see the world in a completely different way than it was. To Sylvie, her dad resembled all that was hope; he lived his life as much as he could, despite how little he was allowed to do so.

Her father wasn't the problem, it was his darkness.

"Sylvie?" Percy worried, his voice pulling Sylvie out of a deep spiral that she couldn't be more grateful to leave.

Sylvie remembered to breathe. In. Out.

"Do you ever get this feeling like," she tried inhaling again, "your only purpose is to just be cursed?"

She couldn't stand to look at Percy right now. She couldn't even stand. Sylvie moved, sitting herself down on one of the wooden benches in the stables. Her eyes were glued at her feet, idly shifting the hay.

Sylvie heard Percy move, too. Out of the corner of her eye, Sylvie noted Percy sat down in the bench across from her, facing her. She felt too seen.

"What do you mean?" but Sylvie knew his answer would be yes.

"My dad..." Sylvie started, and just those two words made her voice crack. "He knows who I am, but... sometimes he doesn't."

And there it was, out in the open. It wasn't much to Percy, but saying that was everything to Sylvie. Here she was, about to tell him her biggest secret kept hidden. She felt like she owed it to Percy, he was being so open with her. He'd even told Sylvie about his own mortal parent. Something about him compelled her to speak—no poorly created avoidance plans involved.

"I guess it's, like—Well, he's not mentally well," Sylvie's voice cracked again. She sniffed. Her eyes didn't move from her feet. "I've heard him describe it once as... the—the nightmares and truth colliding, or his brain being diseased. He'll have these—episodes, my uncle calls it. It's like he's dreaming while he's awake, but—but the dreams are just hallucinations or delusions, and it—"

Sylvie broke off, throat too tight. She forced herself to breathe. In and out. She'd been holding the depth of this in for so long—a culmination of fourteen years' worth guilt and paranoia, stumbling through life unsure of where she stood with her father, of fearing that one day, Conan Duvall might forget Sylvie forever. Because sometimes, when he thought Sylvie couldn't see, her father would look at Sylvie with a bottomless grief, like he was mourning something already lost.

"A lot of the time he thinks I'm my mom," it came out sadder than she intended, but Sylvie found she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. "Sometimes that's good—better—but other times, he—he thinks... It's like I'm the one who left him alone, and I'm the demon haunting him, and he hates me."

The last few words came out as childly whimper. Fourteen—so old for a demigod, and so young for a kid. Sylvie wrapped her arms around herself, and Percy opened his mouth to tell her she didn't have to keep going, but she was doing it anyways before he could speak.

"I'm... I'm so scared of being forgotten, Percy," Sylvie's voice was wobbly now. Her eyes felt wet for some reason. "That's the real truth of it all—why I can't use my powers, why I'm so scared of putting myself out there... Because if I do, and then I fail, I'll just amount to nothing. I'll just be forgotten in the end," Sylvie rasped so soft that her hoarse voice wouldn't be heard if Percy hadn't been hanging onto every word. "And I can't—I can't be forgotten. Not by anyone else. Not... Not by him."

She sounded so, so pathetic. She sounded like a little child, desperate for just someone out there to be looking out for her—to love her. But Sylvie was. She was a child. She was young, and even though demigods weren't supposed to be, she was scared. This kind of fear wasn't normal, either. This was her darkness.

The irony, really: both Sylvie and Conan's demons being their own minds.

Sylvie blinked rapidly to clear her watery eyes. She finally, finally looked up at Percy.

"Shit, Sylvie, that's—You're so—I..." Percy trailed off, looking for the right words to say. 

He hadn't expected any of that, and Percy's heart was in his throat trying to find a response just as meaningful. He wasn't sure why this moment felt so imperative, like life or death.

"You're not cursed, okay?"

Out of all the things Sylvie had been readying to hear, it definitely wasn't that.

"And you're not alone, either," he continued. "Not anymore."

Sylvie blinked. Then her brown eyes were connecting with Percy's green ones. The type of fear she felt now was different than any other kind she'd experienced before—better than adrenaline and stronger than panic.

"Neither are you."

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

Sylvie wasn't surprised at all when Percy and Annabeth won the chariot races.

The chariot itself rode beautifully—Tyson had done an amazing job fixing it up. Percy drove it, while Annabeth fought off the other racers.

For a moment there, Sylvie had been scared that they wouldn't win. The Hephaestus team had gained on them with some crazy tricks up their sleeve. Beckendorf had managed to shoot steel cables at Percy and Annabeth's chariot, pulling them backward.

Sylvie panicked, and that panic only increased when Percy and Annabeth switched roles mid-race. Percy slashed the cables with Riptide, but Beckendorf wasn't done. He threw a leather pouch of Greek fucking fire into their chariot, just waiting to explode.

But out of nowhere, Percy punched a button on his watch and it changed instantly. Tyson had made Percy his own shield, and the device saved him then in that moment. Percy fought off Beckendorf, stopped the Greek fire, and Annabeth sped them first through the finish line.

When everyone had mobbed them, chanting Percy and Annabeth's names, Annabeth yelled over the crowd and made them listen.

"We couldn't have done it without somebody else! We couldn't have won this race or gotten the Fleece or saved Grover or anything! We our lives to Tyson, Percy's..."

"Brother!" Percy said, loud enough for everybody to hear. "Tyson, my baby brother."

All three of them were celebrities at camp, getting treated like heroes. Even Tyson. It made Sylvie smile for them. Percy and Annabeth were wearing golden laurels on their heads, and Tyson was finally befriending other campers.

At least they were having a good time today, she thought.

"Tell me why you want to keep doing this again? It's getting sad," Phoenix said, after knocking Sylvie over for the millionth time.

She glared up at him from the floor of the weaponry arena, propped up by her forearms. Gods, he was such an asshole.

"Because my sister is still mad at me for going on that stupid quest," she answered anyways.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have gone on the quest."

"Maybe you shouldn't have chickened out because your crush asked you to."

"Maybe you shouldn't have done the opposite because your crush asked you to."

Sylvie's withering look did not falter.

"Just help me up," she held out one arm.

Phoenix rolled his eyes, but he did comply to her order. He held his battle axe facing down, and used his other hand to grip Sylvie's. The Ares kid hoisted her standing easily, but he let go quick.

More honestly, Sylvie said, "I'm trying to show Eurydice that I'm finally getting good at something, and maybe she'll be proud of me. Then forget that she was upset."

"Duvall," Phoenix fixed her with a look of attitude, "no one's gonna be proud of fighting like that."

Sylvie hated that he was so good at training and teaching her how to fight—if he wasn't, she wouldn't be needing his help right now. And Sylvie really didn't want to be needing his help. But she also really needed it, unfortunately. Phoenix was a sassy ass shit.

She grimaced. "I've got an idea why you haven't bagged the girl yet, Harden. If you were wondering."

"I wasn't," Phoenix snorted. "Get into position."

Sylvie did.

"That's not correct."

Sylvie sighed. "I told you—"

Phoenix walked closer to Sylvie—they were meeting each other's eyes until Phoenix knocked her flat on her back with a sudden blow to the stomach. The air left Sylvie's lungs in a rush. She blinked lazily up at the ceiling for a moment, before the indignation set in.

"Stop doin' that!" Sylvie snapped.

"You wouldn't get knocked over if you were in the correct position," Phoenix drawled, unimpressed.

"You never warn me!" she spat, clambering to her feet.

"Oh, is that how a fight goes, Hay Day?" Phoenix mocked. "Alright, then, if it pleases you—I'm gonna strike your shoulder with the flat of my axe next."

"What?"

Quicker than a breath, Phoenix did just that. Sylvie landed on her side, her daggers flying out of her hands.

Phoenix laughed, and it was the only time she'd ever heard him make such a sound. She didn't even know Phoenix could smile when he wasn't around Mickey. "I even warned you that time and I still knocked you over. Gods, that's embarrassing."

Sylvie wanted to say, I'm telling Mickey, but caught herself before she could give that ammunition to the smug bastard. Instead, she got shakily to her feet, her entire body throbbing from the many impacts with the floor, and picked Halcyon and Cereal up from the ground.

She got into position again. Pheonix raised one eyebrow.

"This would go faster if you told me what's wrong with it," Sylvie grumbled.

"This would go even faster if you didn't fumble your basics," Phoenix retorted.

"Shut up."

"Strong demands from a farm girl who can't even get her left foot placed properly."

Sylvie considered his words. She moved her left foot inch by inch, watching Phoenix until he finally gave a curt nod. Sylvie sighed.

"See? That wasn't—Oh, fuck!" Sylvie barely had time to throw up her daggers before Phoenix crashed his axe against them. Bronze hissed. Sylvie threw her arms to the side, which consequently threw off the contact of Phoenix's axe on her xiphe. She knew she had to act quick, so she sliced at his arm. Sylvie only managed to hit him in the armguard, but she still landed a hit, which was progress.

Phoenix reacted quick, too—brought up a knee that had Sylvie stumbling backwards. He swung his axe in an arc, but Sylvie ducked just in time. She popped back up, blinking in shock that she'd gotten this far.

Sylvie rushed him, but Phoenix deflected her easily enough. He shoved the top point of his axe against Sylvie's chest, lurching her back again. Sylvie sliced with Halcyon (Phoenix took a step backwards) then followed up with Cereal (one more step).

Phoenix hacked his battle axe down, and Sylvie was more prepared this time. She stopped a possible blade-on-Sylvie collision by catching his weapon with Halcyon and Cereal. Another clinging of metal sounded. Their blades pushed against each other, strengths trying to outweigh their opponent.

Then Sylvie's knees buckled under Phoenix's surprising strength—it felt like having an entire house collapse on her, and if she fell, she'd be crushed. His eyes had turned fiery red for a moment. Dumb Ares kid powers.

Phoenix fell back, leaving Sylvie with her heart hammering in her chest.

"What was that?!" Sylvie demanded. "You could've killed me that time!"

"I could've killed you multiple times since you first walked in here." Phoenix gestured for her to get into position. Again, again, again. "Never let your hopes rise, Hay Day. Always assume the enemy has another trick up their sleeve."

Sylvie took a shaky breath, letting them each take a break for a moment (mainly Sylvie) to grab a drink of water. Then Phoenix walked away from his bench after, so Sylvie walked away from hers.

She nodded at Phoenix, then got into position.

"Okay," she exhaled. "Let's do this."

They carried on like that for an hour more.

Sylvie and Phoenix sliced and hacked at each other, Sylvie refusing to give up. Even if Phoenix defeated her with ease every time, Sylvie kept going. There was a new desire inside her chest that pushed her through. It might have even been—she thought in a little bit of astonishment—a desire to actually be better, one that was shockingly hers and not Eurydice's. Or anyone else's.

Usually Sylvie would've been too scared to train with someone else like this, in fear they would judge her. But this was Phoenix, and he judged everyone, so the fact that Sylvie knew it was coming kind of softened all the blows. Plus, she was starting to think he wasn't as genuine with his insults towards her than he led on. 

Sylvie told you she was going to get into his good graces.

They didn't speak again for the rest of their training time, and Sylvie didn't complain again when she almost—almost—disarmed Phoenix, before he inevitably knocked Sylvie over again.

"I almost got you!" Sylvie grinned, even as she picked herself up from the floor.

"Almost won't cut it on the battlefield, Duvall," Phoenix rolled his eyes. "And I was going easy on you."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Phoenix snorted. "I don't sleep."

"Gods, you're so edgy."

╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯

After training with Phoenix, Sylvie had genuinely been so tired and exhausted. The second she finished her shower and changed her clothes, Sylvie passed out in her bunk and was dead asleep for the night.

She missed Grover telling his friends that he would be able to spend the rest of the summer with them before resuming his quest for Pan. She missed the news that Tyson left camp to work at the Cyclopes' forges. She even missed dinner, and therefore, the potential bullying that would've occurred when Florian saw Sylvie so banged up.

In all honesty, Sylvie was content to sleep through the night. The raging stormed pulled her further into a peaceful unconsciousness—She wasn't even having horrible dreams that kept her up. Sylvie was dead asleep, it was perfect, and nothing was going wrong!

"Henriette, wake the hell up!" Florian shook her, harboring panic so foreign to him. "Annabeth—on the hill—she..."

The look in his eyes told Sylvie something was terribly wrong. After Annabeth, Florian was supposed to go on guard duty. The fact that he couldn't, the fact that he wasn't protecting the Fleece right now, immediately made Sylvie shoot up in a panic.

She ripped off the covers, her blood like ice water in her veins. Florian tried to make a complete sentence, but he was too stunned. "She's lying there... just lying there..."

Sylvie ran outside and raced across the central yard, the rest of her siblings right behind her. Dawn was just breaking, but the whole camp seemed to be stirring. Word was spreading. Something huge had happened. A few campers were already making their way toward the hill, satyrs and nymphs and heroes in a weird mix of armor and pajamas.

They thundered up Half-Blood Hill, where a small crowd had started to gather. Sylvie expected to see the Fleece missing from the pine tree, but it was still there, glittering in the first light of dawn. The sky was bloodred.

Florian pushed himself and Sylvie through the crowd to show her what he'd found. There at the base of the tree, a girl was lying unconscious. Another girl in Greek armor was kneeling next to her.

Blood roared in Sylvie's ears. She couldn't think straight. Annabeth had been attacked? But why was the Fleece still there?

The tree itself looked perfectly fine, whole and healthy, suffused with the essence of the Golden Fleece.

"It healed the tree," Chiron said, his voice ragged. "And poison was not the only thing it purged."

Then Sylvie realized Annabeth wasn't the one lying on the ground. She was the one in armor, kneeling next to the unconscious girl. When Annabeth saw Chiron with Percy, she ran to the centaur. "It... she.. just suddenly there..."

Her eyes were streaming with tears, but Sylvie still didn't understand. She was too freaked out to make sense of it all. Sylvie was moments from asking, but Percy suddenly broke off and ran toward the unconscious girl.

"Percy, wait!" Chiron called.

Percy kneeled by her side. She had short black hair and freckles across her nose. She was built like a long-distance runner, lithe and strong, and she wore clothes that were somewhere punk and Goth—a black T-shirt, black tattered jeans, and a leather jacket with buttons from a bunch of bands Sylvie had never heard of.

"It's true," Grover said, panting from his run up the hill. "I can't believe..."

Nobody else came close to the girl. Percy put his hand on her forehead, analyzing.

"She needs nectar and ambrosia," Percy said. But everyone all looked so scared.

Percy took her by the shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Come on!" Percy yelled. "What's wrong with you people? Let's get her to the Big House."

No one moved, not even Chiron. They were all too stunned.

Then the girl took a shaky breath. She coughed and opened her eyes.

Her irises were startlingly blue—electric blue.

The girl stared at Percy in bewilderment, shivering and wild-eyed. "Who—"

"I'm Percy," he said. "You're safe now."

"Strangest dream..."

"It's okay."

"Dying."

"No," Percy assured her. "You're okay. What's your name?"

Sylvie caught sight of the girl's blue eyes again, and she suddenly understood what the Golden Fleece quest had been about. The poisoning of the tree. Everything. Kronos had done it to bring another chess piece into play. It was another chance to control the prophecy.

"I am Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus."

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BAILEY YAPS...

NO FUCKING WAY NO WAY I JUST FINISHED ACT 1 YALL IM ACTUALLY SO EXCITED Sorry its just that i worked so hard to finish this kjdhfdr I literally started writing on the 11th and it's currently the 18th which means I did it in 7 days and I'm just Wow like I really did that. Thank you for reading I will cry I love you all

Anyways now onto TTC who awake!!

Her biggest fear is being forgotten Wow I hope a twink named Percy Jackson never ends up at a different half-blood camp with his memories stolen

Wait I actually love Phoenix like i can already smell that he's about to be shat on but he's lowkey an icon. The leader of the sassy boyfriend apocalypse. "Strong demands from a farm girl who can't even get her left foot placed properly" Phoenix omg don't gag her like that... Mickey I may want your man

"She didn't even know Phoenix could smile when he wasn't around Mickey" Kay nevermind they're kind of cute

Sylvie and Phoenix are Soooo best friends but they would never admit they're even acquaintances but they totally are but you didn't here that from me

Btw idk if I've said but Mickey is 1 year older than Sylvie, Phoenix 2 years older, Florian 2 years older, Eurydice 6 years older. It's not really important but maybe you were curious idk...

Bye bye act 1 Hello act 2 WORD