Menoetius wore elaborate robes embroidered with gold thread, askew from the mad rush across his palace. Large spectacles rested on his nose, making the first immortal I'd met with bad eyes. His pupils were dark and beady. There was a lot I didn't expect about his appearance, but by far the biggest one was his height. He barely scraped five feet.
His eyes darted over the room, lingering on his unconscious nieces. They moved to me next. Every detail about me was sized-up. He pushed his glasses higher with one finger, glaring.
"Those were mine," he said in a nasally voice. "You had no right to touch them!"
"But I did," I said. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"Touched what's mine," he muttered. "Touched what's mine. He touched what's mine!"
His voice rose an octave when he shouted, taking on a whiny quality. Lelantos skulked deeper into a corner to stay out of sight. I scratched my head.
"You are Menoetius, right?" I had to ask.
He looked more like the god of geeks than an all-powerful titan. I knew appearances could be deceiving. Just look at Mr. D. Still, I'd never seen a Titan this scrawny.
"I'll knock you out just to be safe," I decided, walking toward him.
Menoetius was going red, his breathing coming in increasingly harsh gasps. Lelantos pressed himself to the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.
"Touched what's mine!" Menoetius roared again. I cracked my knuckles.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you before."
"You…" Meneotius was completely red as I stepped into his personal space. "You make me really… really… Angry!"
His body exploded.
It wasn't like he combusted all of a sudden. Instead, the redness of his cheeks spread to the rest of his body. His height soared, firing past six feet, seven feet, then eight. His scrawny body swelled with enormous muscles that lacked for nothing in definition. His glasses were still on his face, skewed and hanging on for dear life against his new, square face.
"ANGRY!" Menoetius roared, spittle and warm air blowing my hair back.
"Huh," I said. "Maybe this will be a little harder than I thought."
My arm transformed. And this time, the changes didn't stop there.
O-o-O
Across the compound, Calypso's eyes darted around the hallways she was walking through. Her fingers flicked nervously. The urge to call on her spells welled inside her like a wave.
Prometheus jabbed her side.
"Prisoners do not use magic," he said.
The Proioxis leading them looked back, glancing nervously at Calypso, before drawing comfort from the state he saw her in and returning to walking.
Calypso's hands were bound by thick rope. Cloth had been tied over her mouth to keep her from speaking. Walking through her uncle's palace with her hands bound and her mouth clogged was a position she feared ending up in many times. She just never expected to one day be here by choice.
"Arrived," barked the Proioxis guiding them.
He snapped off a salute and doubled back. Prometheus stepped forward, gripping the handle of the heavy door they'd been led to.
"Shall we?" he said.
Not waiting for an answer from his gagged companion, he pushed the door open.
Conversation from a gallery of voices ended the moment they walked inside. Calypso felt nine pairs of eyes lock onto them as Prometheus pulled her to an empty seat.
The room wouldn't have looked out of place as a conference space for a mortal conglomerate. A large desk covered most of the room with sleek office chairs surrounding it. At the head of the table lay the only seat that was different from the rest— an empty throne twice the size of every other chair, bedecked by jewels and signs of wealth. Prometheus made Calypso stand next to his chair, keeping a grip on the ropes binding her hands.
"I'm gladdened to see all of you!" Prometheus told the room.
There were nine different men in total, not counting Prometheus himself. Some wore armor while others wore suits or even stranger clothes. Everything from the young to the old were represented. These were Menoetius's governors, the force he arrayed in order to protect his tenuous grip on the West.
Calypso felt like scoffing.
"Where'd you catch her?" a voice burst out.
It came from the youngest-looking one among the governors. He had bright red hair and a handsome-ish face, although he paled in comparison to Percy. He wore a cape of all things, fastened to a set of light armor, except the cape was drooping awkwardly over the modern chair he sat in, constantly getting stuck in the plastic wheels.
He was looking at Calypso with undisguised hunger. Calypso glared back at him, daring him to come closer.
"Eurus!" Prometheus greeted. "How long has it been? Still as brisk as ever, I see. Just like that Autumn Wind of yours!"
"Answer the question old man."
"Now, now," broke in a third voice. "Let's not toss out compliments so easily."
The new voice creaked as if its vocal cords were decades overdue for an oil change. The speaker looked even worse than he sounded. He wore a baby-blue bathrobe and slippers. His wrinkles had wrinkles, which had wrinkles themselves. His spine held the shape of a shepherd's cane, leaving him permanently hunched over the table. And yet, his eyes were sharper than those of a man a third his age. It was Geras, the god of old age.
"You shouldn't be proud of being old," Eurus said. "Old people can't fight. They can't even run, or jump, or harvest crops. There's no point in them."
Another governor groaned, resting his head on a hand propped against the table. "Can we stop this discussion? Everyone in this room is immortal. We don't even age."
He was by far the best looking there, with luscious brows and prominent cheekbones, but Calypso was plagued by the same thought she had every time she saw him: he looked fragile. Like a porcelain bust that would break under a strong wind. Hymenaios was a minor god with an insignificant love domain, a forgettable attendant of Aphrodite who ran to the Titans when his mistress fell from grace. Calypso was unsure what skills, if any, he possessed beyond sitting and looking pretty.
"Quite right!" Prometheus said, agreeing with the love god. "There's no reason for us to argue. Instead, let's chat."
"Answer my question then," Eurus said.
Nobody interrupted this time. She could see in their eyes that they all wanted the answer— how Prometheus had captured her, and more importantly, what was to be done with her now. It was not vanity when she said she was beautiful even among Titanesses. Rio was far from the only social climber desperate to capture her hand. He had simply been the most persistent.
And now, he had disappeared. Only Calypso and possibly Prometheus knew what fate he met, but the rest hardly cared. They simply saw Calypso in front of them with their largest obstacle conspicuously absent.
"It's all quite simple, really," Prometheus said. "Menoetius bid me bring her here. I found her playing with her pet mortals in the North and captured her, just as my brother asked."
Calypso waited for them to challenge the story, demanding to know how he of all Titans could have overpowered her. All too predictably, they accepted Prometheus's words without a second thought.
"Menoetius himself gave the order?" Geras asked.
"He wants to marry her to one of us," Hymenaios said. He perked up, pulling his head off his hand and smiling. "Now that I pay attention, I can feel it. I would know, after all. I'm the god of marriage."
"Nobody cares what you're the god of," Eurus said. "She's going to marry me. I'm the best Governor."
"The best at running his mouth, more like," Geras said.
"Let's not talk that way now," Prometheus chided. "There's no reason to be hurtful with our words."
"Ah, of course." Geras shook his head. "How could I forget? Prometheus is the best at running his mouth. But you, Eurus, are an easy second place."
"I'll punch you," Eurus said.
"I'll age you into dust before you get the chance!"
"I'll blow myself into your throat and choke you." Eurus looked back to Prometheus, deciding he'd won the argument. "You might as well send Calypso to stand over here next to me. She's my wife after all."
"She's definitely not marrying you," Hymenaios said. "I can feel things like that. I'm the god of marriage, after all."
"Nobody cares," Geras groaned.
Prometheus smiled at Eurus. He rested his hands on the table, interlocking the fingers.
"I like you, Eurus," he said. "I really do! You're always so energetic. Everyone can count on you to lighten the room and give them a good laugh. You know what you like and you chase after it with your whole heart. When someone calls you, you always come running."
"It sounds like you're describing a dog," Geras pointed out.
Prometheus's smile didn't shrink an inch. "Does it?"
Eurus tried to stand, looking angry, but his cape pulled him back into his seat with a crash as it caught on the wheels again.
"What are you playing at, Prometheus?" Geras asked suspiciously.
"You governors…" Prometheus said. "Governors. Governors. Governors! The term sounds so important. So powerful! Yet what is it really? A position of middling authority, for middling immortals, all drunk on delusions of grandeur. It's pathetic, to tell the truth."
"Watch your mouth!"
Eurus had managed to drag his cape free from the wheel that thwarted him. His transformed, his skin turning as orange as Autumn leaves. His brown hair turned into a nest of sharp twigs, and in each of his hands weapons appeared, bronze maces shaped like stocks of corn.
"Can a dog do this?" he yelled.
Prometheus yanked the rope in his hands. Calypso's bindings immediately fell to the floor. She grew taller and golden in an instant, biting through her gag and spitting the remains on the floor. As Eurus leaped over the table, Calypso hurled out her hands. Invisible forces slammed him against the far wall. He slid to the floor, unresponsive.
"A dog can indeed sit, yes," Prometheus said.
"I am Calypso, daughter of Atlas!" Calypso called out to the room. "I alone out of my sisters fought with my father in the war! I slew the governor Rio! I do not fear you, fools, but you would be wise to fear me!"
"You heard the lady," Prometheus said. "Don't do anything you'll regret now."
"What is this treachery!" Geras exclaimed.
All around the table Governors lost their human guises, their true forms revealing themselves as they felt threatened. Some had horns, some became giants, and others hardly changed at all. Only Prometheus stayed the same.
"Dear Geras," he said. "Dear, dear Geras. Can't you see? There is no treachery here. I never once considered myself to be the same as any of you."
"But you're a governor too!" Hymenaios said.
"And for you all, that position was a lucrative way of punching above your weight. But for me, it was a scrap tossed my way by my brother to keep me content. In truth, I'm closer to the owner of this palace than I am to any of you, and every person in this room knows it."
"Delusions of grandeur!" Geras snapped at him.
"And yet," Prometheus said, "none of you are willing to attack."
Eurus wasn't moving. Calypso had hit him hard enough to daze him with a single attack. Her eyes roved the eight deities in front of them, but not a single one made a move. Prometheus was right.
"Say you keep us in this stalemate," Geras said, slowly becoming the spokesperson for the remaining governors. "You have nothing to gain. Soon Meneotius will return, and when he does you'll be torn to shreds. You'll end up in chains again. When Kronos learns what happened here, I'm sure he'd even spare a vulture or two."
"Ah-ah," Prometheus said. "That word is off-limits. Calypso, if you would please?"
Another show of force, then. Very well. She could do that.
Mist swirled into the room, filling the walls and pooling around her hands. Every chair in the room morphed into a vulture, all of which flew directly at Geras. The aged god moved unnaturally nimbly, leaping back and extending his arms, aging the birds until they dissolved into nothing but bones.
Calypso was already moving, vaulting the table and launching herself across the room. As she was in the air, every bone from each skeleton flew to her, melding into a single wicked pike. Before Geras could react, Calypso thrust the point through his mouth, pinning him to the wall with a golden splatter.
"I do not like to fight," she said. "But if you cannot be counted on to remain patient and polite, I see no reason to warn you a second time."
Prometheus stood up. He leaned his hands flat on the table and observed the room with smug gray eyes. When nobody met his gaze, he straightened again.
"It seems you've all decided to pin your hopes on Menoetius. Shall we see if my brother comes through for you? Listen! I think I can hear him coming now."
The room went silent except for the soft whimpering of Geras. Outside, down the hall, heavy steps could be heard. They approached slowly, dramatically. Prometheus never lost his smile. Calypso watched the assorted governors perk up. When the noises were coming from just outside the door, Hymenaios worked up the courage to say, "Menoetius must already be in his true form! It's over for you!"
He punctuated the taunt with his finger, jabbing it toward Prometheus. The doors blew off their hinges.
An enormous shape sailed across the room, crashing onto the table directly underneath Hymenaios's finger.
Menoetius was almost unrecognizable. His limbs were bent and his glorious muscles had torn. His glasses lay shattered over a face twisted by swelling and painted in golden ichor, shards of glass lodged in his skin. He wasn't moving, not even to flinch as Hymenaios yelped and scrambled back.
"Finally," said a voice from the entrance. "It took way too long to drag him all the way here."
Percy walked into the room scratching the back of his head with his fully-transformed arm. Calypso's heart skipped a beat as she saw his grinning face, just like it always did these days. It skipped a second beat when she noticed what was new about him.
He was much taller. His pants looked torn, ripped all over and barely holding together. The legs peeking out underneath were large and pitch-black with bits of bright color— perfect matches for his right arm.
His eyes locked onto Calypso. "I made some more progress," he said ruefully.
"I can see that," Calypso said.
She tried not to blush as she remembered what those legs helped him do to her not so long ago.
Geras whimpered again and tried to pry himself free. Calypso shoved the bone spear deeper.
"Quiet," she said. "We're having a moment."
"Well," Prometheus said, "it seems your last hope has let you down."
Nobody spoke. Before launching a single attack, seven of the nine governors had completely accepted defeat.
"On that note," Prometheus said, "I believe this is goodbye."
Calypso flashed across the room, appearing beside Percy. Prometheus walked between them, pausing in the middle as one of the governors said, "You're not going to destroy us?"
"Goodness, no!" Prometheus said. "I would never do that. That would be a total waste of such a valuable resource!" Just as it seemed like he was going to step through the door, Prometheus paused. "That said, I don't need all of you. Percy? Calypso?"
"I feel like your enforcer!" Percy complained. "This is such a pain."
His new legs tensed. An instant later he was standing by the table, directly between three different governors. Not even Calypso had seen him move. His hand wrapped around the head of an unlucky governor, dragging him into the air.
"Menoetius was obsessed with squeezing things when I fought him. So if I want to make this look convincing…"
Percy clenched his fist. The governor's head popped in a spray of ichor. The body dissolved into flecks of golden light that sunk through the floor, sinking toward Tartarus to reform.
"How many should I leave?" Percy asked, casually looking over his shoulder toward Prometheus.
"Three should be enough," Prometheus said. "As a practitioner of non-violence, I'll be waiting outside. Good luck to you two! Goodbye, governors. I'd say it's been a pleasure but, well… I'm honestly shocked it took this long for someone to cave your heads in."
The Titan left the room. The remaining governors glanced briefly and Menoetius's devastated form. At once, as if a telepathic countdown had gone off, every single one charged Percy. Calypso watched as her lover tore them to shreds.
Every single strike from his arm was a fatal blow. It took less than a minute for all but three of Menoetius's governors to have been crushed off Gaia's surface.
Perhaps it was a sight that should have frightened Calypso. But she was no stranger to being around powerful immortals. And this one? He was hers. That thought excited her so much that Percy had to say, "Calypso?"
With a jolt, she realized it was her turn again.
Through fate or luck, it was the three governors who spoke the most that had been spared. Eurus and Geras had been disabled before the start of the fight, and Hymenaios lurked at the back of the Governors, attacking Percy last in the hopes of finding a softer target.
Now he was on the ground, paralyzed with hopelessness as he stared up at Percy.
"This will do," Calypso said.
All the Mist she had summoned was called back to her. It danced around her in intricate patterns, pleading to be put to purpose. She began to sing.
A lilting melody escaped Calypso's lips. She always sang whenever she worked a truly powerful spell. She found it crucial. The world liked to dance— giving a tune only made it more likely to contort the way you asked.
This song was full of sharp notes and choppy sounds. It was off-key in the most specific ways. The sound of it was wrong and uncomfortable. Maddening, even.
Hymenaios screamed and pressed his hands to his ears. Eurus jolted awake, only to groan and shut his eyes again. Geras whimpered from his spot against the wall. Calypso raised her voice.
She hated working spells like this one. They were ugly work better left to vindictive sorcerers, like Circe or Medea. But for Percy and the world she wanted, she would dip her toes in sludge if it served their purpose.
As her hymn reached its dissonant peak, she felt fingers weave into her own. Calypso opened her eyes, only realizing now that she had shut them as she sang. Percy's eye twitched as her song beat against him, but he hadn't left. He stayed. He was supporting her. The last of her doubts melted. Calypso finished her song, feeling the magic click completely into place.
The eyes of the remaining governors turned red, only slowly returning to their natural colors. The effects remained long after the color faded. Hymenaios growled and thrashed violently, looking for targets to attack. Eurus and Geras were the same. It was like they'd been blinded by a sudden frenzied rage.
"Let's get out of here," Percy said.
Calypso nodded a bit giddily. Even after years, the idea of being able to freely escape a place shot shocks of pleasure through her body.
"Shall we flee?" she asked.
They burst through the door together, Calypso locking it with a spell behind them. Grunts and howls echoed from inside. Prometheus was standing not far away, Lelantos at his side.
"It's over then?" he asked. When they nodded, he said, "Wonderful! There's only one part left now."
"Getting away?" Lelantos asked hopefully. "Please tell me it's getting away."
Prometheus patted his back. "Right in one, my cowardly companion! In fact, our ride should be arriving any second."
He led them out the way they came in. Calypso marveled at his memory: the Proioxis had only shown them the way once, yet Prometheus memorized the maze of hallways as if he'd been walking them since his youth.
"Won't we be caught?" Lelantos asked as they crossed the palace. "The Titans will come after you. I hope you don't expect me to shield you from their full attention for long."
"Of course not," Prometheus said. "In fact, if things go the way I expect from here, it won't be us they're coming after."
Lelantos looked relieved, Calypso thought, although he tried admirably to hide it.
"Who will they be coming after then?" he asked.
"You of course."
Lelantos froze, stopping entirely until Percy grabbed his shirt and pulled him along.
"Pardon?" Lelantos asked a few octaves too high.
"Think about it," Prometheus explained slowly. "When the Titans arrive to investigate what happened here, we will be long gone. They will find Menoetius beaten beyond his ability to heal, and surrounding him will be what remains of his governors, the trusted aids close enough to strike a dagger into his back. The governors will attack them. Will they suspect a rare and powerful spell has been worked on them, or will they assume they stumbled upon the remnants of a messy coup? Naturally, the governors who are missing will be desired for questioning. That means you, it means me, and it means dear Rio. So long as you do nothing stupid, they will find none of those three."
Speech escaped Lelantos for an impressively long time.
"They will suspect something," he said finally. "The Titans are not stupid."
"Indeed they are not," Prometheus agreed. "But the point was never to trick them forever. The more we can confuse them, the more time we can buy… Perhaps long enough to amass a true resistance."
The group burst through the front gates, stepping out into sunlight and the sounds of battle.
Scattered armor decorated the ground. A few Proioxis roared and rushed forward, only to encounter a bull elephant and be trampled underneath. The few that slipped past were picked off by a boy with golden hair using a golden sword. Calypso watched Thalia's brother pick apart spirits as if they were unruly children.
Jason was the first to notice them. He looked up and waved, standing above the bodies of the last of Menoetius's servants. The elephant shrunk back into Frank Zhang. Further back, Piper McClean and Thalia Grace watched the boys fight, holding off any monsters that wandered too near. And between them all, packed heavy with mortals, their two floating chariots stood at the ready.
"Shall we?" Prometheus said, gesturing toward the vehicles.
Calypso couldn't tamp down on a thrill as she climbed onto her chariot.
It wasn't because she had finally turned the table on her Uncle. It wasn't even because she was free of suitors, or because she finally felt as if she had a use, a purpose.
No, the reason for her thrill was at once much simpler and strangely childish. She glanced to the side, just looking at the boy next to her. Percy was at her side. He was truly hers, not in her dreams but in reality.
Really, it was as if the world was already theirs.