xvi. fighting fate for a happy ending

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BY THE TIME the sun rose, none of them had slept. Despite Neptune's assurance their friends would return, everyone was still worried. Percy had scoured the seafloor and found nothing. The Argo II was no longer in danger of sinking, though without Leo, they couldn't do full repairs. The ship was capable of sailing, but no one suggested leaving the area—not without the rest of their crew.

Piper and Annabeth sent an Iris-message to Camp Half-Blood, warning Chiron of what had happened with the Romans at Fort Sumter and the threat they now posed to the Greek camp. Ophelia sat on the deck, freshly showered and dry, still reeling from what the god of the sea had told her. Her old dagger was sitting on her desk, out of sight for the moment, but not out of mind. Jason stayed at her side, his arm wrapped around her as if he could shield her from the cruel fate she'd just been handed.

Soon, there was nothing left to do but wait.

When their friends finally resurfaced in giant pink bubbles bursting at the surface off the starboard bow, Piper kind of lost it. She cried out in relief and dove straight into the water to hug Leo, which probably wasn't the smartest idea, but Ophelia couldn't blame her. After hours of worrying, she was just as relieved that their friends were back.

Once everyone got back on board and changed into dry clothes, the crew all gathered on the quarterdeck for a celebratory breakfast—except for Hedge, who grumbled about the atmosphere being too cuddly for his tastes. 

While Leo fussed over his helm controls, Hazel and Frank related the story of the fish-centaurs and their training camp over a breakfast of fudge brownies from the sea.

Ophelia forced herself to forget Maren for just a moment and enjoy breakfast with her friends.

"Incredible," Jason said. "These are really good brownies."

"That's your only comment?" Piper asked incredulously.

"They are really good," Ophelia admitted, taking another bite.

Jason shrugged. "What? I heard the story. Fish-centaurs. Merpeople. Letter of intro to the Tiber River god. Got it. But these brownies—"

"I know," Frank agreed.

Percy, for his part, wanted to hear every detail about the aquatic camp. He kept coming back to one point: "They didn't want to meet me?"

"It wasn't that," Hazel said. "Just... undersea politics, I guess. The merpeople are territorial. The good news is they're taking care of that aquarium in Atlanta. And they'll help protect the Argo II as we cross the Atlantic."

Percy nodded absently. "But they didn't want to meet me?"

Annabeth swatted his arm. "Come on, Seaweed Brain! We've got other things to worry about."

"She's right," Hazel said. "After today, Nico has less than two days. The fish-centaurs said we have to rescue him. He's essential to the quest somehow."

She looked around defensively, as if waiting for someone to argue. No one did. Ophelia couldn't imagine what Nico was feeling, stuck in a jar with only two pomegranate seeds left to sustain him and no idea if he would be rescued.

"Nico must have information about the Doors of Death," Piper said. "We'll save him, Hazel. We can make it in time. Right, Leo?"

"What?" Leo tore his eyes away from the controls. "Oh, yeah. We should reach the Mediterranean tomorrow morning. Then spend the rest of that day sailing to Rome, or flying, if I can get the stabilizer fixed by then..."

Jason suddenly looked like his brownie didn't taste as good. "Which will put us in Rome on the last possible day for Nico. Twenty-four hours to find him—at most."

Where You Go ― Jason GraceWhere stories live. Discover now