ᴀɪᴜᴛᴀɴᴛᴇ ¥ ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ ¥ ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ᴄʜᴀsᴇ

ᴄʟᴀʀɪꜱꜱᴇ ʙʟᴏᴡꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ

"What?" I said. "What did the Oracle tell you?"

"Nothing." Clarisse's ears turned pink. "All you need to know is that I'm finishing this quest and you're not helping. On the other hand, I can't let you go ..."

"So, we're prisoners?" Annabeth asked.

"Guests. For now." Clarisse propped her feet up on the white linen tablecloth and opened another Dr Pepper. "Captain, take them below. Assign them hammocks on the berth deck. If they don't mind their manners, show them how we deal with enemy spies."

The dream came as soon as I fell asleep.

Grover was sitting at his loom, desperately unravelling his wedding train, when the boulder door rolled aside and the Cyclops bellowed, "Aha!"

Grover yelped. "Dear! I didn't—you were so quiet!"

"Unravelling!" Polyphemus roared. "So that's the problem!"

"Oh, no. I—I wasn't—"

"Come!" Polyphemus grabbed Grover around the waist and half carried, half dragged him through the tunnels of the cave. Grover struggled to keep his high heels on his hooves. His veil kept tilting on his head, threatening to come off.

The Cyclops pulled him into a warehouse-size cavern decorated with sheep junk. There was a wool-covered La-Z-Boy recliner and a wool-covered television set, crude bookshelves loaded with sheep collectibles—coffee mugs shaped like sheep faces, plaster figurines of sheep, sheep board games, and picture books and action figures. The floor was littered with piles of sheep bones, and other bones that didn't look exactly like sheep—the bones of satyrs who'd come to the island looking for Pan. Polyphemus set Grover down only long enough to move another huge boulder. Daylight streamed into the cave, and Grover whimpered with longing. Fresh air!

The Cyclops dragged him outside to a hilltop overlooking the most beautiful island I'd ever seen.

It was shaped kind of like a saddle cut in half by an axe. There were lush green hills on either side and a wide valley in the middle, split by a deep chasm that was spanned by a rope bridge. Beautiful streams rolled to the edge of the canyon and dropped off in rainbow-coloured waterfalls.

Parrots fluttered in the trees. Pink and purple flowers bloomed on the bushes. Hundreds of sheep grazed in the meadows, their wool glinting strangely like copper and silver coins.

And at the centre of the island, right next to the rope bridge, was an enormous, twisted oak tree with something glittering in its lowest bough.

The Golden Fleece.

Even in a dream, I could feel its power radiating across the island, making the grass greener, the flowers more beautiful. I could almost smell nature magic at work. I could only imagine how powerful the scent would be for a satyr.

Grover whimpered.

"Yes," Polyphemus said proudly. "See over there? Fleece is the prize of my collection! Stole it from heroes long ago, and ever since—free food! Satyrs come from all over the world, like moths to flame. Satyrs good eating! And now—"

Polyphemus scooped up a wicked set of bronze shears.

Grover yelped, but Polyphemus just picked up the nearest sheep like it was a stuffed animal and shaved off its wool. He handed a fluffy mass of it to Grover.

"Put that on the spinning wheel!" he said proudly. "Magic. Cannot be unravelled."

"Oh ... well ..."

"Poor Honeypie!" Polyphemus grinned. "Bad weaver. Ha-ha! Not to worry. That thread will solve the problem. Finish the wedding train by tomorrow!"