CYRA | percy jackson

Prologue

Zethes frowned. "No."

"I will summarize it for you," Cyra aimed her spear directly at Zethes. "I'm not just a pretty face, I'm the Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, and you two are going to tell me where Jason fucking Grace is because I did not just scour the entire North America for you two to yap about how gorgeous I am!"

"Scary." Calais said.

"Like the other pretty girl- Piper McLean." Zethes agreed.

Cyra wanted to cry. She'd just spent two hours interrogating the densest demigods ever, and all she got was a name.

"Who's Piper McLean?"

"Very pretty girl." Calais answered.

When Cyra dragged her spear across Zethes' beloved face and he rushed out, "She's the daughter of Aphrodite. Jason Grace, her, and a fire boy, were looking for wind spirits."

"Daughter of Aphrodite?" Cyra asked. "You mean Venus."

Zethes shrugged. "She was pretty."

Cyra sighed. "Tell me more."

"They were on a dragon that became a box. They called the fire boy, Leo. They came from a camp."

"A camp?" The names Piper and Leo didn't ring any bells with Cyra, and she knew everyone in Camp Jupiter. "Like a summer camp for kids, or...?"

"Yes! Where they play Hockey!" Cyra decided to ignore that.

Zethes shrugged. "Camp... blood? Mid-blood? Semi-blood? No."

"Half-Blood!" Calais exclaimed, excited that he answered one of Cyra's questions.

"Camp Half-Blood?" Cyra asked. "What's that?"

"A camp for Half-Bloods." Zethes said as if it were obvious.

But it wasn't. Jason was half mortal, half God, but he was a part of Camp Jupiter- a camp for Half-Bloods...

Cyra's blood went cold. "Who did you say your father was again?"

"Boreas!" Zethes puffed out his chest in pride.

Or Aquilon.

"Can we go get pizza now?" Calais pleaded.

But Cyra was already walking away. She ignored the brothers' cries to let them free, her mind focused on the problem at hand.

She needed to find a Camp Half-Blood.

It was easier than she expected. It seemed that every monster she came across encountered campers from Camp Half-Blood, something about the Battle of New York.

It was clear to Cyra that they were famous. It was also clear that her journey to this camp was rigged.

Every few hours, a new set of monsters came to attack her- some were easy to defeat, others weren't. Cyra encountered more monsters then she had ever seen in all her quests combined. But it wasn't anything Cyra couldn't handle. Sure, she was almost burnt, skinned, and buried alive, but these monsters still vaporized eventually.

Although, she'd seen the same Cyclops three times that day. How did she reform so fast?

Crya decided not to think too much about it and punched the Cyclops in the gut, using her cestus to claw through her intestines.

She picked up her pace. From what she collected, Camp Half-Blood was in New York City. She quickly made her way to the airport, clearing herself of monster dust, and tending to her wounds. Seeing an untended bag, she swiftly grabbed it and tossed the items inside. She took off her cestus and replaced her backpack with the one she stole, frowning at the amount of Ambrosia and Nectar she had left.