The Omnitrix holder and the lighting theif

It's Not The End But A New Beginning

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Luke, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

As Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us goodbye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said. "I just came to say . . . well, you know."

I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying goodbye. We both only known Grover a year, yet he was one of my greatest friends. Percy almost did not let go of the hug.

Luke gave him a hug. He told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..."

"We understand," I said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?"

"Jeez, Amara" he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway — nothing like the little runty boy me and percy used to defend from bullies at Yancy Academy.

"Well," he said, "wish me luck."

He gave me and luke another hug. He clapped percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, and George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," Percy called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going — I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Luke said. I tried to believe it. The fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years . . . well, I decided not to think about that. Grover would be the first. He had to be.

July passed. Percy and I spent our days devising new strategies for capturing the flag and helping him make alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands, I learn more first aid skills studying with little will in Apollo cabin. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time before Chiron came and promptly banned me from it cause still a mortal.

From time to time, I'd walk past the Big House, glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle. I tried to convince myself that its prophecy had come to completion. Even percy does the same.

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned. Been there, done that — the traitor god Ares not Hades.

You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned. Through a battle of wars and stars