PIPER DIDN’T KNOW MUCH about the Mediterranean, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to freeze in July.
Two days out to sea from Split, gray clouds swallowed the sky. The waves turned choppy. Cold drizzle sprayed across the deck, forming ice on the rails and the ropes.
“It’s the scepter,” Nico murmured, hefting the ancient staff. “It has to be.”
Piper wondered. Ever since Jason and Nico had returned from Diocletian’s Palace, they’d been acting nervous and cagey. Something major had happened there—something Jason wouldn’t share with her.
It made sense that the scepter might have caused this weather change. The black orb on top seemed to leach the color right out of the air. The golden eagles at its base glinted coldly. The scepter could supposedly control the dead, and it definitely gave off bad vibes. Coach Hedge had taken one look at the thing, turned pale, and announced that he was going to his room to console himself with Chuck Norris videos. (Although Piper suspected that he was actually making Iris-messages back home to his girlfriend Mellie; the coach had been acting very agitated about her lately, though he wouldn’t tell Piper what was going on.)
So, yes…maybe the scepter could cause a freak ice storm. But Piper didn’t think that was it. She feared something else was happening—something even worse.
“We can’t talk up here,” Jason decided. “Let’s postpone the meeting.”
They’d all gathered on the quarterdeck to discuss strategy as they got closer to Epirus. Now it was clearly not a good place to hang out. Wind swept frost across the deck. The sea churned beneath them.
Piper didn’t mind the waves so much. The rocking and pitching reminded her of surfing with her dad off the California coast. But she could tell Hazel wasn’t doing well. The poor girl got seasick even in calm waters. She looked like she was trying to swallow a billiard ball.
“Need to—” Hazel gagged and pointed below.
“Yeah, go.” Nico kissed her cheek, which Piper found surprising. He hardly ever made gestures of affection, even to his sister. He seemed to hate physical contact. Kissing Hazel…it was almost like he was saying good-bye.
“I’ll walk you down.” Frank put his arm around Hazel’s waist and helped her to the stairs.
Piper hoped Hazel would be okay. The last few nights, since that fight with Sciron, they’d had some good talks together. Being the only two girls on board was kind of rough. They’d shared stories, complained about the guys’ gross habits, and shed some tears together about Annabeth. Hazel had told her what it was like to control the Mist, and Piper had been surprised by how much it sounded like using charmspeak. Piper had offered to help her if she could. In return, Hazel had promised to coach her in sword fighting—a skill at which Piper epically sucked. Piper felt like she had a new friend, which was great…assuming they lived long enough to enjoy the friendship.
Nico brushed some ice from his hair. He frowned at the scepter of Diocletian. “I should put this thing away. If it’s really causing the weather, maybe taking it below deck will help…”
“Sure,” Jason said.
Nico glanced at Piper and Leo, as if worried what they might say when he was gone. Piper felt his defenses going up, like he was curling into a psychological ball, the way he’d gone into a death trance in that bronze jar.
Once he headed below, Piper studied Jason’s face. His eyes were full of concern. What had happened in Croatia?
Leo pulled a screwdriver from his belt. “So much for the big team meeting. Looks like it’s just us again.”
Just us again.
Piper remembered a wintry day in Chicago last December, when the three of them had landed in Millennial Park on their first quest.
Leo hadn’t changed much since then, except he seemed more comfortable in his role as a child of Hephaestus. He’d always had too much nervous energy. Now he knew how to use it. His hands were constantly in motion, pulling tools from his belt, working controls, tinkering with his beloved Archimedes sphere. Today he’d removed it from the control panel and shut down Festus the figurehead for maintenance—something about rewiring his processor for a motor-control upgrade with the sphere, whatever the heck that meant.
As for Jason, he looked thinner, taller, and more careworn. His hair had gone from close-cropped Roman style to longer and shaggier. The groove Sciron had shot across the left side of his scalp was interesting too—almost like a rebellious streak. His icy blue eyes looked older, somehow—full of worry and responsibility.
Piper knew what her friends whispered about Jason—he was too perfect, too straitlaced. If that had ever been true, it wasn’t anymore. He’d been battered on this journey, and not just physically. His hardships hadn’t weakened him, but he’d been weathered and softened like leather—as if he were becoming a more comfortable version of himself.
And Piper? She could only imagine what Leo and Jason thought when they looked at her. She definitely didn’t feel like the same person she’d been last winter.
That first quest to rescue Hera seemed like centuries ago. So much had changed in seven months…she wondered how the gods could stand being alive for thousands of years. How much change had they seen? Maybe it wasn’t surprising that the Olympians seemed a little crazy. If Piper had lived through three millennia, she would have gone loopy.
She gazed into the cold rain. She would have given anything to be back at Camp Half-Blood, where the weather was controlled even in the winter. The images she’d seen in her knife recently…well, they didn’t give her much to look forward to.
Jason squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be fine. We’re close to Epirus now. Another day or so, if Nico’s directions are right.”
“Yep.” Leo tinkered with his sphere, tapping and nudging one of the jewels on its surface. “By tomorrow morning, we’ll reach the western coast of Greece. Then another hour inland, and bang—House of Hades! I’ma get me the T-shirt!”
“Yay,” Piper muttered.
She wasn’t anxious to plunge into the darkness again. She still had nightmares about the nymphaeum and the hypogeum under Rome. In the blade of Katoptris, she’d seen images similar to what Leo and Hazel had described from their dreams—a pale sorceress in a gold dress, her hands weaving golden light in the air like silk on a loom; a giant wrapped in shadows, marching down a long corridor lined with torches. As he passed each one, the flames died. She saw a huge cavern filled with monsters—Cyclopes, Earthborn, and stranger things—surrounding her and her friends, hopelessly outnumbering them.
Every time she saw those images, a voice in her head kept repeating one line over and over.
“Guys,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about the Prophecy of Seven.”
It took a lot to get Leo’s attention away from his work, but that did the trick.
“What about it?” he asked. “Like…good stuff, I hope?”
She readjusted her cornucopia’s shoulder strap. Sometimes the horn of plenty seemed so light she forgot about it. Other times it felt like an anvil, as if the river god Achelous was sending out bad thoughts, trying to punish her for taking his horn.
“In Katoptris,” she started, “I keep seeing that giant Clytius—the guy who’s wrapped in shadows. I know his weakness is fire, but in my visions, he snuffs out flames wherever he goes. Any kind of light just gets sucked into his cloud of darkness.”
“Sounds like Nico,” Leo said. “You think they’re related?”
Jason scowled. “Hey, man, cut Nico some slack. So, Piper, what about this giant? What are you thinking?”
She and Leo exchanged a quizzical look, like: Since when does Jason defend Nico di Angelo? She decided not to comment.
“I keep thinking about fire,” Piper said. “How we expect Leo to beat this giant because he’s…”
“Hot?” Leo suggested with a grin.
“Um, let’s go with flammable. Anyway, that line from the prophecy bothers me: To storm or fire the world must fall.”
“Yeah, we know all about it,” Leo promised. “You’re gonna say I’m fire. And Jason here is storm.”
Piper nodded reluctantly. She knew that none of them liked talking about this, but they all must have felt it was the truth.
The ship pitched to starboard. Jason grabbed the icy railing. “So you’re worried one of us will endanger the quest, maybe accidentally destroy the world?”
“No,” Piper said. “I think we’ve been reading that line the wrong way. The world…the Earth. In Greek, the word for that would be…”
She hesitated, not wanting to say the name aloud, even at sea.
“Gaea.” Jason’s eyes gleamed with sudden interest. “You mean, to storm or fire Gaea must fall?”
“Oh…” Leo grinned even wider. “You know, I like your version a lot better. ’Cause if Gaea falls to me, Mr. Fire, that is absolutely copacetic.”
“Or to me…storm.” Jason kissed her. “Piper, that’s brilliant! If you’re right, this is great news. We just have to figure out which of us destroys Gaea.”
“Maybe.” She felt uneasy getting their hopes up. “But, see, it’s storm or fire…”
She unsheathed Katoptris and set it on the console. Immediately, the blade flickered, showing the dark shape of the giant Clytius moving through a corridor, snuffing out torches.
“I’m worried about Leo and this fight with Clytius,” she said. “That line in the prophecy makes it sound like only one of you can succeed. And if the storm or fire part is connected to the third line, an oath to keep with a final breath…”
She didn’t finish the thought, but from Jason’s and Leo’s expressions, she saw that they understood. If she was reading the prophecy right, either Leo or Jason would defeat Gaea. The other one would die.
