𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 • 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯

The Beginning Of The Quest

I hesitated. "A little too perfect, don't you think? What if it's a trap?"

Percy went silent.

"What choice do we have?" he asked. "Are you going to help me rescue Grover or not?" 

I glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in our conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava. 

"Percy," I said under my breath, "we'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the worst of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters." 

"Where's that?" 

Is he playing dumb?

Nah, I think he is dumb.

"The Sea of Monsters," I said. "The same sea Odysseus sailed through, and Jason, and Aeneas, and all the others." 

"You mean the Mediterranean?" 

"No. Well, yes...but no." 

"Another straight answer. Thanks." 

"Look, Percy, the Sea of Monsters is the sea all heroes sail through on their adventures. It used to be in the Mediterranean, yes. But like everything else, it shifts locations as the West'scenter of power shifts." 

"Like Mount Olympus being above the Empire State Building," Percy said. "And Hades beingunder Los Angeles." 

"Right." 

"But a whole sea full of monsters—how could you hide something like that? Wouldn't the mortals notice weird things happening...like, ships getting eaten and stuff ?" 

"Of course they notice. They don't understand, but they know something is strange about that part of the ocean. The Sea of Monsters is off the east coast of the U.S. now, just northeast of Florida. The mortals even have a name for it." 

"The Bermuda Triangle?" 

"Exactly." 

Percy went silent again.

"Okay...so at least we know where to look," he said at last.

"It's still a huge area, Percy. Searching for one tiny island in monster-infested waters—" 

"Hey, I'm the son of the sea god. This is my home turf. How hard can it be?" 

I knit my eyebrows. "We'll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He'll say no." 

"Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody. The whole camp will hear. They'll pressure him. He won't be able to refuse." 

"Maybe." A little bit of hope crept into my voice. "We'd better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?" 

That night at the campfire, my cousins led the sing-along. They tried to get everybody's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing halfheartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guy strummed their guitars and picked their lyres. 

We did all the standard camp numbers: 

Down by the Aegean, I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa, This Land is Minos's Land and so.

The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing colour and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I'd seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into the flames. Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the colour of lint.