²Olden Crown, heroes of olympus

006.

OLDEN CROWN
━━ chapter six

━━ PERCY HAD THE strangest feeling he almost knew what it was like to be a Medusa victim. He didn't know if he had that uncomfortable sense of déjà vu because he slept like a rock, or because Medusa's pain-in-the-ass sisters said he had met ( and killed her ) before. He assumed it was a bit of both.

He hadn't slept in a safe, comfortable bed since ... well, he couldn't even remember. Despite his insane day and the million thoughts running through his head, his body took over and said: You will sleep now. He had dreams, of course—there were always dreams. However, this time, they passed by like blurred images from the window of a train. He saw a curly-haired faun in ragged clothes running to catch up with him.

Percy geared up for the questions by saying, "I don't have any spare change. Sorry."

The faun stuttered in his trot. "Uh ... what?" But the faun shook his head. "No, Percy. It's me, Grover! Stay put! We're on our way to find you. Tyson is close—at least we think he's the closest. We're trying to get a lock on your position."

"What?" Percy called, but the faun disappeared in the fog.

Then a girl with curly black hair and eyes the color of amethyst appeared—Elisa. Elisa Bardales. Percy's heart lurched, getting lodged in his throat. When she reached out, he tried to grab her hands, but it dissolved and then reconfigured when he drew his hand back.

"Thank the gods!" she sighed. "For months, Percy. Are you okay? You better be alive, or I'll find you myself and kill you all over again!"

Percy remembered what Juno had said—for months he had been slumbering, but now he was awake. The goddess had intentionally kept him hidden, but why?

"Are you real?" he asked Elisa. He wanted so much to believe it he felt like Hannibal the elephant was standing on his chest.

Elisa's face morphed when she realized—shock, fear, and then anger. "Percy, stay where you are! It'll be easier for Tyson to find you! Don't go anywhere!"

Then she was gone. Percy's heart hurt as he watched the images accelerate before him—a huge ship in a dry dock, workers scrambling to finish the hull, a guy with a blowtorch welding a bronze dragon figurehead to the prow. He saw the war god stalking toward him in the surf, a sword in his hands. Then the scene shifted—Percy stood on the Field of Mars, looking up at the Berkeley Hills. Golden grass rippled, and a face appeared in the landscape—a sleeping woman, her features formed from shadows and folds in the terrain. Her eyes remained closed, but her voice spoke in Percy's mind:

So this is the demigod who destroyed my son Kronos. You don't look like much, Percy Jackson, but you're valuable to me. Come north. Meet Alcyoneus. Juno can play her little games with Greeks and Romans, but in the end, you will be my pawn. You will be the key to the gods' defeat.

Percy's vision turned dark. He stood in a theater-sized version of the camp's headquarters—a principia with walls of ice and freezing mist hanging in the air. The floor was littered with skeletons in Roman armor and Imperial gold weapons encrusted with frost. In the back of the room sat an enormous shadowy figure. His skin glinted of gold and silver, as if he were an automaton like Reyna's dogs. Behind him stood a collection of ruined emblems, tattered banners, and a large golden eagle on a staff of iron.