Where You Go ― Jason Grace

vi. jason negotiates merchandising rights

JASON'S GIRLFRIEND WAS GOING TO KILL HIM, and honestly? He couldn't really blame her. Diving into the raging sea as a storm tried to break their ship in half with a still-unhealed wound in his stomach? Probably not his best idea.

But he had to do something.

He'd assumed (or rather, hoped) things would be calmer underwater than on the ship, but alas—no dice.

Of course, that could've been due to his mode of travel. Riding a cyclone to the bottom of the ocean definitely gave him some unexpected turbulence. He dropped and swerved with no apparent logic, his ears popping, his stomach pressed against his ribs.

Finally he drifted to a stop next to Percy, who stood on a ledge jutting over a deeper abyss.

"Hey," Percy said.

Jason could hear him perfectly, though he wasn't sure how. "What's going on?"

In his ventus air cocoon, his own voice sounded like he was talking through a vacuum cleaner.

Percy pointed into the void. "Wait for it."

Three seconds later, a shaft of green light swept through the darkness like a spotlight, then disappeared.

"Something's down there," Percy said, "stirring up this storm." He turned and sized up Jason's tornado. "Nice outfit. Can you hold it together if we go deeper?"

"I have no idea how I'm doing this," Jason said.

"Okay," Percy said. "Well, just don't get knocked unconscious."

"Shut up, Jackson."

Percy grinned. "Let's see what's down there."

They sank so deep that Jason couldn't see anything except Percy swimming next to him in the dim light of their gold and bronze blades.

Every so often the green searchlight shot upward. Percy swam straight towards it. Jason's ventus crackled and roared, straining to escape. The smell of ozone made him lightheaded, but he kept his shell of air intact.

At last, the darkness lessened below them. Soft white luminous patches, like schools of jellyfish, floated before Jason's eyes. As he approached the seafloor, he realized the patches were glowing fields of algae surrounding the ruins of a palace. Silt swirled through empty courtyards with abalone floors. Barnacle-covered Greek columns marched into the gloom. In the center of the complex rose a citadel larger than Grand Central Station, its walls encrusted with pearls, its domed golden roof cracked open like an egg.

"Atlantis?" Jason asked.

"That's a myth," Percy said.

"Uh... don't we deal in myths?"

"No, I mean it's a made-up myth. Not, like, an actual true myth."

"So this is why Annabeth is the brains of the operation, then?"

"Shut up, Grace."

They floated through the broken dome and down into shadows.

"This place seems familiar." Percy's voice became edgy. "Almost like I've been here—"

The green spotlight flashed directly below them, blinding Jason.

He dropped like a stone, touching down on the smooth marble floor. When his vision cleared, he saw that they weren't alone.

Standing before them was a twenty-foot-tall woman in a flowing green dress, cinched at the waist with a belt of abalone shells. Her skin was as luminous white as the fields of algae. Her hair swayed and glowed like jellyfish tendrils.