It's the same.
Isabella hummed quietly, her magic flowing through the purple bag.
Her analysis spell had failed.
Just like it had with the Lotus.
"Why are you still carrying that around?" Annabeth demanded. "We agreed not to trust a word that god said. You should've gotten rid of it."
Isabella set the bag aside and leaned forward on the wooden bench.
Annabeth crossed her arms as she met her gaze.
"Have you finally stopped pouting?" Isabella asked, folding her hands in her lap.
"I'm not pouting!" Annabeth snapped, stomping her foot. "Just answer my question."
Isabella shrugged.
"I tried to get rid of it. That bag has the same enchantment as Riptide. It bonded with me the moment I first touched it."
"Then you shouldn't have touched it."
"So it would seem."
She leaned back and quietly studied the girl.
"You are pouting… why?"
Annabeth's eyes narrowed.
"You know why."
Isabella exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the mortals passing by.
Los Angelas was a busy city.
"You weren't in any danger. The Lotus Eaters don't harm their guests."
"You don't know that!" Annabeth retorted.
"I'm rather certain I do."
"How?"
"I asked."
Annabeth inhaled sharply and took a step back.
"Why am I even surprised?" she muttered.
Isabella tilted her head. "What are you talking about?"
"We lost five days!" Annabeth hissed. "Because you were too busy playing your stupid games."
Her hands clenched into fists.
"And like always, I'm the only one who sees what's wrong with that."
Isabella tapped her fingers against the bench.
Right when they had started getting along so well.
"I didn't know about the time dilation," she admitted.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Annabeth gasped theatrically. "Why didn't you just ask?"
"I don't understand you," Isabella sighed, releasing a quiet breath. "Why are you so hostile? I have been nothing but kind to you, little owl."
Annabeth threw her arms up.
"That's exactly it!" she shouted. "I've told you not to call me that—over and over again."
A shadow fell over her face.
"You don't care. You don't care about anyone!"
"You're wrong."
"Am I?" Annabeth scoffed. "I bet you don't even know the names of ten people at camp."
Isabella's grip tightened on her dress.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Annabeth shook her head, her hair gleaming like molten gold in the harsh sunlight.
"I'm the only one who does." She lifted her chin. "Everyone else might be dazzled by your beauty and power—but not me."
Her spine straightened.
"I see the real you."
A small smile formed on Isabella's face.
If only that were true.
Her hand rose as she propped her cheek against her fist.
Sometimes, victory could be found in the guise of defeat.
"I'm sorry, Annabeth."
The girl blinked.
"You're right... I should have controlled myself better."
Isabella rose to her feet, her voice lowering to a whisper.
"But you're also wrong."
Annabeth retreated a step as she approached.
"I am not the villain you think I am." She extended her hand. "I didn't—"
Her gaze locked onto a dark-haired boy leaving the store across the street, a bag of groceries in his hand.
Her arm slowly fell to her side.
"What time is it?" Isabella asked quietly.
Annabeth frowned, still disoriented by their earlier exchange.
"What?"
Isabella scanned the street, her eyes flicking between the passing pedestrians.
Where is he?
Annabeth glanced up at the sky.
"About noon," she said. "Why?"
"Percy should've been back by now," Isabella sighed. "And yet… he isn't."
The tension drained from Annabeth's shoulders as she rubbed her temples.
"Again?" she groaned. "Really?"
——————
A dull pain throbbed at the back of Percy's head as his eyes fluttered open.
He lay in a dark room, dimly lit by a thin slit of sunlight cutting through the wall.
"What the hell?" he muttered, rolling onto his side.
His movements halted abruptly.
Chains.
Bronze shackles bound his arms and legs to the corners of the steel bed.
He closed his eyes again.
Counted to ten.
Opened them.
Still there.
"Shit," Percy cursed, staring up at the ceiling. "She's going to be insufferable."
Annabeth's smug voice echoed in his mind.
"I told you not to go off by yourself, didn't I?"
"Look at you! Seaweed brain can't even buy lunch without walking into a trap."
"It's not my fault," he whispered, tugging at the chains. "There were no monsters. I checked!"
"Not well enough, apparently."
Percy's head snapped toward the door as it creaked open.
A tall man stepped inside.
Wavy black hair and sea green eyes.
Very familiar.
"I wasn't even hiding that well," the man added with a sly grin.
"And who are you supposed to be?" Percy asked, testing his restraints again.
"I am Procrustes," the man answered proudly as he sauntered across the room. "The greatest bandit—"
Percy groaned loudly.
"How many times do I have to say it? I did not steal that stupid bolt."
"Of course you didn't," Procrustes scoffed. "Only an idiot would think that."
"I know! That's what I've been—"
His brows furrowed as he paused.
"What's this all about then?"
His chains rattled as he lifted his arms slightly.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of busy right now."
Especially after that Lotus Hotel mess.
Less than 48 hours remained until the summer solstice.
"While I'm innocent," Percy went on, "someone still has to do the whole 'save the world from a divine civil war' thing."
"Don't you worry, little brother," Procrustes chuckled. "Everyone's heard about your heroic little Quest. That's a lot of pressure to put on such small shoulders."
He rested a hand on the wall.
"How about I help you grow—"
"I'm not your brother!" Percy retorted sharply.
"Oh, but you are," Procrustes grinned. "I too am one the mighty Stormbringer's sons—making me your big brother."
Percy scoffed.
"So is literally every cyclops."
And wasn't that just fantastic?
"I don't claim monsters as family."
Procrustes clicked his tongue.
"Did you not hear me?" he asked, spreading his arms. "I'm no mere monster. I am Procrustes—the greatest bandit to ever roam Attica!"
"Never heard of you," Percys replied without missing a beat.
His lips curled slightly.
"Crusty."
Procrustes' eye twitched.
"That's unfortunate… because I've heard all about you, little brother."
His hand closed around the lever on the wall.
"Racing across the new world in your luxury vehicles. Flaunting the gifts our father gave you."
He pulled it.
"Play time's over."
The chains snapped taut.
"It's time for you to grow up."
Percy gasped as his limbs were yanked in opposite directions.
"What are you—"
His voice broke under the strain.
"I should thank that paranoid fool for sending you out on this Quest," Procrustes continued. "I was drawing blanks thinking of ways to get you out of that camp you hid yourself away in."
Percy sucked in a breath as the tension eased suddenly.
"It got so bad," Procrustes went on. "I even started looking for your mortal mother."
He shook his head.
"Complete waste of time that turned out to be."
Percy went still.
"What did you just say?"
Procrustes tilted his head.
"Not a fan of subtlety?" he asked. "Fair enough."
He cleared his throat.
"I was going to kill your mother—"
Pain exploded behind Percy's navel as water burst from a pipe beneath the floor.
Finally.
A sharp grin spread across his face as he seized control of it.
He forced the water into the shape of a lance and launched it forward.
"Weren't you listening?"
The lance froze midair—just inches from Procrustes' throat.
"You're not the only son of the sea here."
Percy's eyes widened.
His construct collapsed, splashing uselessly to the ground.
"Don't think—"
The door slammed open.
"Found you."
Percy let out a breath as his head snapped toward the entrance.
Isabella stood there.
His self-proclaimed protector.
Her heels clicked against the stone floor as she stepped inside.
She hummed softly, sweeping her gaze over his bound form.
"Aren't you a bit young for—"
Her attention shifted—locking onto his captor.
"Who is that?"
Procrustes' hand tightened on the lever.
"If you take one more step. Your friend dies."
Isabella tilted her head.
"I rather doubt that."
A slow smile spread across her lips, her amethyst eyes gleaming.
"Release him."
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as her voice cut through the room.
"You stupid bitch!" Procrustes laughed, his eyes his eyes wide and frantic. "I am Procrustes—the greatest bandit in the world! Do you really think I wouldn't do reconnaissance on my targets?"
He grinned.
"I know all about that little charmspeak of yours."
Percy pulled against his restraints.
"What did you just call her?"
It didn't matter whether it was schoolyard bullies or monstrous half-brothers—nobody insulted his friends.
Procrustes ignored him, lifting his hand instead.
The silver ring on his finger glinted in the light.
"This artifact once belonged to Helen of Troy herself. A courtship gift from Paris. It renders its wielder immune to all mental interference."
Percy blinked.
Did he really just say that?
"I see," Isabella said, glancing around the room.
"Did you hear that?"
Procrustes froze.
The ring slid from his finger and flew away.
"Every word," a familiar voice answered.
Annabeth!
The girl appeared beside Isabella, her invisibility cap clutched in one hand.
"Seaweed brains must run in the family," Annabeth mocked with a taunting grin. "That was absurdly easy."
Procrustes stared at his bare hand in disbelief.
Isabella nodded approvingly.
"How splendid. Now we can finally have a civilized discussion."
Procrustes' eyes widened.
His hands shot toward his ears.
"Freeze"
They stopped mid-motion.
"Good," Isabella said pleasantly.
"Now."
Her voice deepened as a knife materialized in her hand.
"Procrustes."
The blade shot forward and embedded itself in the wall beside his head.
Her smile brightened.
"Kill yourself."
Percy's lips parted.
No way.
Procrustes' hands trembled as he pulled the knife free—and drove it into his own throat.
His eyes burned red as he coughed up blood.
"This isn't ov—"
He dissolved into golden sand.
Percy sagged in his chains as Annabeth rushed forward.
"I told you not to go off by yourself, didn't I?" she chastised, undoing his shackles.
"We can't take our eyes off you for five minutes!"
"I know, I know," he breathed. "Thanks for the save."
His gaze drifted as his evil half-brother's words echoed in his mind.
He had been searching for his mothers.
Percy's jaw tightened.
Ladora Buné…
You better keep her safe.
—————
"I promised to keep you safe, didn't I?"
Sally nodded slowly, doing her best to avoid looking at the body on the floor.
"You did."
I leaned forward.
"And you believed me. Why?"
"Because you saved my life," she answered without hesitation.
Color returned to her face.
"I trust you."
I sank back into the couch, satisfaction curving my lips.
The most critical stage had passed.
"Thank you, Sally. That means a lot to me."
After all the time we had spent together, one dead body would never be enough to shatter the ties of gratitude and dependence that bound her to me.
Sally released a breath and glanced at the corpse.
"Who is he?"
"An enemy."
I looked down at the dead pirate.
"One I've already dealt with."
Sally frowned, her gazed lifting to me.
"What did he do?"
The map stored in the Boosted Gear flashed through my mind.
"He tried to kill your son."
Sally shot to her feet.
"What?" she snapped. "How? When? Where?"
Her barrage of questions cut off as she slammed her hands onto the table.
"You promised he would be safe!"
I arched a brow.
"I did not do such," I responded calmly. "I promised to make sure he was protected."
I gestured to the corpse. "What do you think I did this for?"
Sally hesitated—then slowly sat back down.
"Is this about the Master Bolt?" she asked. "Has the Quest already begun?"
"Yes."
She gripped her knees, her gaze dropping.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I studied her for a moment and then rose to my feet.
Brownbeard's body ignited in crimson flames at the snap of my fingers.
"I wasn't sure whether you could handle it," I answered, stepping closer to the fire.
"You weren't sure I could handle knowing what's happening to my son?" Sally echoed, her voice gaining a hard edge.
"Yes."
I flicked my hand, and the flames vanished.
Not even ash remained.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you flinch at the sight of death."
I turned to face her fully.
"Because you are weak."
She stared at me, stunned.
Of course she was.
Until now, I had shown her nothing but kindness.
For the first time since we met, anger twisted the her features.
"I am not—"
"You're mortal," I cut in. "You have no power."
My voice dropped—colder now.
"All you can do in this world… is beg."
I stepped closer.
"Please, Chiron, protect my son."
Sally flinched as her own voice echoed through the room.
"Please, Ladora… protect my son. And me!"
I stopped a few feet away from her.
"Aren't you tired of it?" I asked quietly. "Living without power. Living at the mercy of others."
"Of course I am," she responded, her shoulders trembling. "I regret—"
Her hair fell like a dark curtain as she stared at the floor.
"Tell me. What do you regret?"
She looked up at me.
"I regret not accepting Lady Hecate's offer," she whispered, as if ashamed of her own words. "When she offered to take me as her apprentice."
"As you should." I nodded. "There is nothing more noble than the pursuit of power."
"It's too late for that now."
"Says who?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Sally Jackson."
I raised my hand.
"Do you want to become strong?"
For a moment, I feared she was going to refuse my offer.
Then her gaze dropped to the spot where I had burned the dead pirate and any traces of hesitation vanished from her expression.
"Yes."
My fangs lengthened as I bit into my palm. Then I extended it toward her, draconic power coiling within it.
Sally's blue eyes widened as crimson blood began to pool in my hand.
My pupils narrowed into slits.
"Drink… and become more."