When I pictured venues for ultra-serious discussions, a worn-out bleacher bench wasn't the first place that came to mind. But that was where Calypso led me.
We climbed the metal stairs on the in-tact bleacher overlooking the field. Up so high the wind was brisk. I thought I caught a whiff of something dry on it, a remnant of all the tumbleweeds Rio's appearance had brought with him.
I didn't need three guesses to figure out why Calypso had picked this spot. We were high enough up for our voices not to carry, but close enough to the field to have a view of the camp. Most of the people that fled were trickling back now. Calypso watched the people — her people — with stern but relieved eyes.
"I fear I've shown you something unflattering," she said.
I nodded.
"Rio really was ugly," I agreed. "I see why you wanted to keep him a secret."
Calypso twisted to face me. "I meant— Oh, you know what I meant."
"I really don't, though," I said honestly. "If you mean your people running off scared, of course they would. What regular person wouldn't panic faced with something like that? Or if you mean casting a spell on Mikey and I, I get why you did it. And if you mean the fact that you let Rio push you around, I get that too. It's because of the Masters."
"How did you—!" Calypso shook her head. "No, of course you noticed. I forget sometimes. You are much sharper than you generally act."
"Thanks… I think?"
Calypso laughed. "I did mean it as a compliment. All of it. Your demeanor is ever-endearing."
We devolved into silence. Sitting so high up, I could see out to the rest of town, although there wasn't much of it. Just ten blocks of businesses for a downtown, with rows of houses spreading out from there. Lots of pine trees poked up between the buildings. It was hot now, but just from the terrain you could tell this place got its share of snow.
Before long my eyes returned to Calypso. The view was pretty, but she was prettier. Her dour mood had burned away, at least a little bit, after our earlier exchange. Which was why I really hated to say what I needed to say next.
"Who are the Masters?"
I could've sworn that the wind turned colder, just from saying the name.
It was a while before Calypso answered. Motes of Mist swirled absently around her fingers. Her eyes looked distant, but when she spoke her voice wasn't heavy.
"Put simply, they are the ones who rule," she said. "I imagine you'd be familiar with them if I spoke their names, though that's far from a good idea. They are the Titans who once ruled the directions of the compass, now returned to take back up old mantels. All of them but one. No one has seen a sign of my grandfather Iapetus since shortly before the war began."
A sense of relief blossomed in my chest. "Bob is alright."
Calypso's brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Bob," I said matter-of-factly. "He's great. Loves to sweep."
"Very well." Calypso paused before apparently deciding that it wasn't worth questioning. "As I was saying, the Masters are the rulers of this new world. An uncle of mine rules the West in grandfather's place. The others rule their old domains, each taking a different quadrant of the country. The oceans are the domain of your father's old enemy. And above them all, the one who defeated you rules from Mount Othrys with an iron fist.
I gripped the edge of the metal seat. Hyperion in the east, Coeus in the north, Krios in the south, and Oceanus in the seas. Without hearing a name, I couldn't tell you who ruled the West: the only child of Iapetus I knew was Atlas, and he was Calypso's father, not her uncle.
But my mind was on Kronos. His laugh echoed in my head. His horrible golden form appeared before, scythe swinging in endlessly destructive arcs. When we last met he tricked me, defeated me, stabbed me, and tore away the people I loved more than anything. Now he was sitting pretty on a throne, the world in his lap.
Maybe I should've been scared. That seemed like the normal reaction. Kronos wasn't the same as when I fought him. He was in his true form now, with enough power to treat even my father like a naughty child. But I just couldn't bring myself to fear him. No matter how powerful he was, no matter how many pawns he collected around him, all I wanted was to stab a sword deep inside his chest and watch him squirm. I could hurt him. I still remembered his shout of pain when I fought him off to escape. If I could just do that again… No, if I could just do that a thousand more times—
Somebody touched my hand.
With a jolt, I realized a high-pitched whine had invaded the bleacher's tranquility. It was my fault. My tense fingers were bending metal as easily as if it were foam.
Calypso rubbed circles into my knuckle. Slowly, I unclenched my fingers, leaving dents behind where they'd been.
"I know it is difficult," she said softly. "You've been through much. I understand the pain you've felt."
"You haven't been through what I have."
It wasn't an accusation, and thankfully Calypso understood that. I was just stating a fact. She smiled.
"I have not," she agreed, "but when it comes to pain, I am something of an expert."
For a second, my hand almost rose up and wrapped around hers. It was an automatic reaction— both to her sad smile, and to the emotions swirling around my gut. But I caught the urge and tamped down on it.
"I need you to teach me," I said.
"Teach you what, Hero?" Calypso asked softly.
"How not to be a hero. How to be something more." I raised my hand in front of us, flexing my fingers. "I have the body of a god, but I don't have any idea how to use it."
Calypso was silent for a moment. Her braids blew in the wind, little flapping trails of gold.
"If I teach you, what will you do with what you learn?"
"Honestly, I don't know yet. But aren't you curious to see?"
-
"No!" Calypso shouted. "Didn't I tell you that's the worst thing you can do?"
Slowly, I pulled my feet back up off of the cool floor. Our first lesson in How to God was taking place back in the room where we slept. Calypso was marching around, circling the beds like a vulture eyeing Prometheus's exposed liver. I, meanwhile, was sitting on my bed with my legs hanging off. Two of Calypso's potted plants had been carried into the room and set up parallel with each other to form something like a goal.
I was supposed to walk between them. Easy, right? Except…
"No touching the ground," Calypso ranted. "You must get there without touching the ground."
"Calypso, I don't mean to be a downer, but that's impossible," I said.
She spun and pointed at me with a thin finger.
"That's exactly the point!" she said. "You must walk without walking. You must move without moving. To be a god is to transcend normal rules! Who cares if it's possible? You should be able to do it, simply because you're you."
It almost made sense, if I squinted at what she was saying sideways and sent my suspension of disbelief on vacation. That was it, though. I couldn't fly. I couldn't teleport. So how was I supposed to…
Actually, that wasn't right, was it? I should be able to teleport. How many gods had I seen do the same before? Sure, it was technically just a way of moving faster than eyes could follow, but that should still be good enough.
I pictured it in my head. The way Hermes would glow brighter and brighter before disappearing. I thought I might even be making some progress, until something smacked the back of my head.
"Still wrong," Calypso said, tucking a rolled up magazine back under her arm. Where she got the makeshift club, I couldn't even guess. "I can tell that you're imagining what you've seen others do. That thinking is all wrong. Reaching the plants isn't doable because others could do it. Thalia could fly between them, does that make her a god? No, it's doable only because it's what you have decided to do."
I tried. I really did. I focused my whole brain on thinking of myself flying to the plants, shooting between them, and even giving a fancy little flip for bonus style points. It was no good. All I succeeded in was wasting time and giving myself a headache. I hadn't even known gods could get those.
Y'know, aside from when they swallowed their daughters.
"Calypso," I said tiredly, "let's take a break."
Instantly, her brusque attitude melted away. By the time she sat herself next to me on the bed, concern had wormed its way into her eyes.
"Am I being too harsh?" she asked. "I'm sorry. This is how I learned. It is the only way that I know how to teach."
"You're fine," I told her. "I know that you're doing your best. I just feel like I still don't understand a thing."
Calypso nodded. "I have no doubt this is difficult. In truth, although I've lived a rather sheltered life, I've never seen a case such as yours. Those of us born immortal understand our bodies instinctively by our very first day. I understood that the few mortals who have ascended to godhood were gifted a similar understanding in the process. And yet, however you became a god, none of that knowledge was transferred."
I had wondered about it myself. How exactly did I end up like this? What caused it?
When Kronos stabbed me, I was still mortal. I knew because the blood that flowed out of my back was regular old red. But by the time Hestia sent us flying toward freedom, the change had happened. There was no way mortal highschooler Percy Jackson was packing anything like the blast that pushed Kronos back. That left a very narrow window of a few minutes that whatever happened, must've happened within.
There was one moment that came to mind. A point where something definitely changed within me. When Kronos started slicing the thrones into dust, the raw essence of the Olympians flowed out and filled the room. At least that's what I assumed was filling the room. All I knew for sure was that a moment later my eyes were seeing the world differently, and I had the firepower to beat back the strongest immortal on the face of the planet.
If I was right, and if that was how it happened, it raised a very important question.
Exactly how much power had I absorbed?
But that was a question for later, once I was comfortable enough not to feel like a toddler in my new body.
"You know," I said, "you explained all about the Masters, but I'm still confused. Where does Rio come in? Why does he think he can negotiate with them, or even protect you from them?"
"In short? Because he is a fool," Calypso said. "Each of the Masters uses a different system to control their domain. My uncle, in his infinite fear that his more powerful peers will encroach on his land, has opted for numbers. He recruited every minor god or Titan with any level of power that would work with him, promising them riches and the chance to rule. Governors, he calls them. Petty lords with a small slice of land all their own. Rio himself is one of the higher ranking out of the lot, poached from the Lord of the South… although I can't imagine that Titan even noticed his disappearance."
Rio. The name meant river. I had gotten the feeling he was a water god, despite his penchant for dried plants. If he came from the south, then…
"Yes," Calypso said, catching the look in my eye before I even needed to speak. "You're on the right track. His full name is Rio Grande, god of the third longest river within the United States."
"I guess that explains the cowboy getup," I said.
"Indeed it does," Calypso agreed. "He peaked in the nineteenth century and never managed to move on."
We sat there for a moment as I considered the fact that an overconfident wild-west cosplayer was currently the greatest threat we faced. After a moment, Calypso clapped her hands.
"Well, shall we get started again?"
-
Day 1
I coughed and spat, trying to keep soil from slipping into my mouth. It was particularly hard considering I was upside down.
"Closer," Calypso said, although we both knew that was a complete lie. "I think you'll get the hang of it within the next few hours."
Behind her on a table were at least fifty cups filled with nothing but dirt. And in front of her, held up only by his hands, was the unfortunate ex-demigod Perseus Jackson— AKA, me.
The goal, as Calypso explained it, was for me to catch the dirt as she threw it, and because hands would be too much of an advantage, I had to catch the flakes with my feet.
It was impossible, which as we'd gone over the day before, was actually the whole point. Unfortunately, I felt no closer to busting through the rules of probability than I had back then.
"Just wiggle your toes a bit more," Calypso said. "Then I think you'll have it!"
She tossed another cup and I went back to coughing.
-
Day 2
The world was dark. My eyes were shut tight. Over them, Calypso had tied a blindfold. Over that she'd tied two more. Everything was silent. The world was at peace. I strained my senses as far as they'd go, which wasn't that far considering all the deprivation.
A wad of balled up paper struck me in the forehead.
"You didn't dodge," came Calypso's sad voice. "You weren't supposed to let it hit you."
As I struggled to push my senses even harder, a new paper struck me in the back.
-
Day 3
I stared down into the tall glass of water. My reflection stared back at me. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I hurled my head back and drained the glass.
Except for the fact that my mouth was closed. Instead of nestling in my stomach, water streamed off the sides of my face down onto the floor.
A few steps away, Calypso sighed and crossed something out on a small notebook.
-
Day 4
"What color is Mikey wearing today?" Calypso asked.
"Red," I said without hesitation.
Calypso's eyes lit up as she looked at me from the other end of my bed. "That's right!"
"It is?" I asked.
"It must be. You sounded so confident. Even though you can't see him, you must've found a way to sense it!"
"No," I said. "I guessed."
Her excited expression cracked.
"You… guessed?"
"Sorry," I said.
Her face hardened. "No, perhaps you sensed it without realizing. We will check!"
She dragged me all the way to the football field by the hand. When we got there, Mikey was playing tag.
His shirt was a deep navy blue.
-
Day 5
Very, very slowly, I retracted my left ring finger. My whole arm trembled, along with the rest of my body. I gritted my teeth, fighting to keep command of muscles that were screaming their protest, and just barely managed to hold on.
For a moment I couldn't believe it. I just stared down at my left pinky, the only part of my body touching the floor, as it supported all my weight in a one-finger handstand.
"I did it," I said breathlessly. "I did it! Calypso, I did it! I made progress!"
She smiled, kneeling next to me with her trusty notebook.
"Very good, Percy," she said, and something about her even tone set off warning bells in my head. "Just one finger left to go!"
"One… finger?" I looked down, then looked back up at her. "But I'm only using one finger right now."
She beamed. "Exactly!"
I ate floor for breakfast that day.
-
Day 6
I knew right away that something was different today. The notebook that Calypso wielded all week was nowhere to be seen. She didn't walk in with more cups of dirt, any tall glasses of water, or crinkled balls of paper. She just looked at me and said, "Try to meditate."
The task wasn't impossible now that my ADD brain had calmed down so much. I really did give it my best shot. I tried to feel out my body for at least an hour, the same way I had done a week earlier, except just like then I never found any enlightenment. Meditation was honestly a scam, because it didn't even make me feel calmer. Finally, I gave up and opened my eyes.
Calypso was nearby. She never left my side during our lessons. In fact, she hardly left my side at all since I woke up. It was like she was worried that if I slipped from her sight for more than an hour I would fall back asleep, never to wake again.
But even though she was so close, I got the feeling her thoughts couldn't be more distant. She didn't even notice me open my eyes, let alone rebuke me for slacking off.
"You're worried about Rio."
Slowly, her eyes focused on me.
"He'll be back tomorrow," I said. "You're nervous."
I hadn't paid much attention to his little one week ultimatum at the time, but the more time passed, the more I noticed it affecting Calypso. She had taken to spacing out when she thought no one was looking.
"I've dealt with him before," she said softly. "I will simply do so again. There's no need to worry."
"See, that's what I thought. But it's clearly not what you think. I've noticed how nervous you are. Why?"
"I am not nervous," she said.
"Look, I may be terrible at being a god, but I'm not an idiot."
"You do not have to worry."
"If you're worrying, then I have to worry too. That's what being friend s means."
"It is not!" she declared, but an incredulous laugh burst from of her at the same time.
"I'm afraid it is. It was just decided, by me. And I'm a god, so you have to listen."
"Well, I said that is not what it means, and I am a Titan!"
"Exactly." I nodded. "You're a Titan. So why are you worrying about some dumb little river god?"
Her expression dimmed.
"It is not about the river god himself," she said. "It is about what comes after."
I nodded. "I assumed as much. So explain it to me."
She hesitated. Then, after a sigh, she began to talk very quickly.
"Rio knows of your existence. If I force him to retreat, he will report us to the Masters, and we will not survive. Not a single soul from that camp would live. Yet, if I escalate things and remove him entirely, attention will still fall upon us. Rio only chased us so far because my uncle ordered it. He does not trust me. He knows I owe him no loyalty, and wishes to have me brought deeper under his thumb through a marriage to one of his cronies. He will not brook any further disobedience from me. Which means that no matter how I choose to fight back, I will bring nothing but ruin down upon those I chose to protect."
She stared down into her lap, grasping the hem of her dress. A dark drop appeared on the white cloth, followed by another. Tears began falling slowly from her face.
"I have only one choice left," she said. "I will do as Rio asks. I'll go with him. But do not worry, I will not make you come. No matter what Rio says, you are no pet. With you awake and once Thalia returns, the two of you can protect these people. I'm not necessary. No, I am a liability. Without me—"
She didn't get any further, her melancholic rant cut off by the squeak of bed springs as I landed on the bed next to her. We were so close that our hips were touching. As my arm wrapped around her shoulder, she spun to look at me, eyes sparkling from the tears still forming in the corners.
"You are necessary," I said. "You aren't a liability, and you never will be. I don't care who's backing Rio, or anything about these shady Masters. When I woke up, you told me you wouldn't leave me alone. Well, I'm saying the same now. You're staying right here. You're a Titan, I'm a god. Who cares if it's impossible? We'll find a way to make it happen."
"Percy…"
Something untraceable entered Calypso's eyes. Our faces were close, just like the rest of our body's. I felt the warmth of her back against my arm, and she must've felt my own warmth straight back. This situation was dangerous. I should've pulled away. I was supposed to hold back. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, not this time.
Calypso leaned in. So did I. Our lips met…
And neither of us had any interest in pulling apart.