Daughter of Light

Percy

The senate house interior looks like a high school lecture hall. A semicircle of tiered seats faces a dais with a podium and two chairs. The chairs are empty, but one has a small velvet package on the seat.

Me, Hazel, and Frank sit on the left side of the semicircle. The ten senators and Nico di Angelo occupy the rest of the front row. The upper rows are filled with several dozen ghosts and a few older veterans from the city, all in formal togas. Octavian stands in front with a knife and a Beanie Baby lion, just in case anyone needs to consult the god of cutesy collectibles. Reyna walks to the podium and raises her hand for attention.

"Right, this is an emergency meeting," she says. "We won't stand on formalities."

"I love formalities!" a ghost complains.

Reyna shoots him a cross look.

"First of all," she says, "we're not here to vote on the quest itself. The quest has been issued by Mars Ultor, patron of Rome. We will obey his wishes. Nor are we here to debate the choice of Frank Zhang's first two companions."

"Three from the Fifth Cohort?" calls out Hank from beside Max. "That's not fair."

"And not smart," says the boy on his other side. "We know the Fifth will mess up. The fourth questmate has to be somebody good."

Dakota gets up so fast, he spills Kool-Aid from his flask. "We were plenty good last night when we whipped your podex, Larry!"

Hazel frowns. "Max is being really quiet. Usually she jumps into arguments like this."

"She looks sick." Frank grimaces. 

"Enough, Dakota." Reyna says. "Let's leave Larry's podex out of this. As quest leader, Frank has the right to choose his companions. He has chosen Percy Jackson and Hazel Levesque. Mars called for a fourth questmate, which isn't traditional, but will be allowed."

A ghost from the second row yells, "Absurdus! Frank Zhang isn't even a full member of the legion! He's on probatio. A quest must be led by someone of centurion rank or higher. This is completely-"

"Cato." Reyna snaps. "We must obey the wishes of Mars Ultor. That means certain...adjustments."

Reyna claps her hands, and Octavian comes forward. He sets down his knife and Beanie Baby and takes the velvet package from the chair. 

"Frank Zhang," he says, "come forward."

Frank glanced nervously at me. Then he gets to his feet and approaches the augur.

"It is my...pleasure," Octavian says, forcing out the last word, "to bestow upon you the Mural Crown for being first over the walls in siege warfare." Octavian hands him a bronze badge shaped like a laurel wreath. "Also, by order of Praetor Reyna, to promote you to the rank of centurion."

He hands Frank another badge, a bronze crescent, and the senate explodes in protest.

"He's still a probie!" one yells.

"Impossible!" says another.

"Water cannon up my nose!" yells a third.

Max smiles faintly, but she still looks pained. She's resting her head in her hand, as if it takes too much strength to hold her head up. 

"Silence!" Octavian's voice sounds a lot more commanding than it did  last night on the battlefield. "Our praetor recognizes that no one below the rank of centurion may lead a quest. For good or ill, Frank must lead this quest—so our praetor has decreed that Frank Zhang must be made centurion."

Suddenly I understand what an effective speaker Octavian is. He sounds reasonable and supportive, but his expression is pained. He carefully crafts his words to put all the responsibility on Reyna. This is her idea, he seems to say.

If it goes wrong, Reyna is to blame. If only Octavian was the one in charge, things would be done more sensibly. But alas, he has no choice but to support Reyna, because Octavian is a loyal Roman soldier.

Octavian manages to convey all that without saying it, simultaneously calming the senate and sympathizing with them. For the first time, I realize this scrawny, funny-looking scarecrow of a kid might be a dangerous enemy.

Reyna must recognize this too. A look of irritation flashes across her face. "There is an opening for centurion," she says. "One of our officers, also a senator, has decided to step down. After ten years in the legion, she will retire to the city and attend college. Gwen of the Fifth Cohort, we thank you for your service."

Everyone turns to Gwen, who manages a brave smile. She looks tired from the previous night's ordeal, but also relieved. I can't blame her. Compared to getting skewered with a pilum, college sounds pretty good.

"As praetor," Reyna continues, "I have the right to replace officers. I admit it's unusual for a camper on probatio to rise directly to the rank of centurion, but I think we can agree...last night was unusual. Frank Zhang, your ID, please."

Frank removes the lead tablet from around his neck and hands it to Octavian.

"Your arm," Octavian says.

Frank holds up his forearm. Octavian raises his hands to the heavens. "We accept Frank Zhang, Son of Mars, to the Twelfth Legion Fulminata for his first year of service. Do you pledge your life to the senate and people of Rome?"

Frank mutters something like "Ud-dud." Then he clears his throat and manages: "I do."

The senators shout, "Senatus Populusque Romanus!"

Fire blazes on Frank's arm. For a moment his eyes fill with terror, and I'm afraid my friend might pass out. Then the smoke and flame dies, and new marks are seared onto Frank's skin: SPQR, an image of crossed spears, and a single stripe, representing the first year of service.

"You may sit down." Octavian glances at the audience as if to say: This wasn't my idea, folks.

"Now," Reyna says, "we must discuss the quest."

The senators shift and mutter as Frank returns to his seat.

"Did it hurt?" I whisper.

Frank looks at his forearm, which is still steaming. "Yeah. A lot." He seems mystified by the badges in his hand—the centurion's mark and the Mural Crown—like he isn't sure what to do with them.

"Here." Hazel's eyes shine with pride. "Let me."

She pins the medals to Frank's shirt.

I smile. I've only known Frank for a day, but I feel proud of him too. "You deserve it, man," I say. "What you did last night? Natural leadership."

Frank scowls. "But centurion—"

"Centurion Zhang," calls Octavian. "Did you hear the question?"

Frank blinks. "Um...sorry. What?"

Octavian turns to the senate and smirks, like What did I tell you?

"I was asking," Octavian says like he's talking to a three-year-old, "if you have a plan for the quest. Do you even know where you are going?"

"Um..."

Hazel puts her hand on Frank's shoulder and stands. "Weren't you listening last night, Octavian? Mars was pretty clear. We're going to the land beyond the gods—Alaska."

The senators squirm in their togas. Some of the ghosts shimmer and disappear. Even Reyna's metal dogs roll over on their backs and whimper.

Finally Senator Larry stands. "I know what Mars said, but that's crazy. Alaska is cursed! They call it the land beyond the gods for a reason. It's so far north, the Roman gods have no power there. The place is swarming with monsters. No demigod has come back from there alive since—"

"Since you lost your eagle," I say.

Larry is so startled, he falls back on his podex.

"Look," I continue, "I know I'm new here. I know you guys don't like to mention that massacre in the nineteen-eighties—"

"He mentioned it!" one of the ghosts whimpers.

"—But don't you get it?" I continue. "The Fifth Cohort led that expedition. We failed, and we have to be responsible for making things right. That's why Mars is sending us. This giant, the son of Gaea—he's the one who defeated your forces thirty years ago. I'm sure of it. Now he's sitting up there in Alaska with a chained death god, and all your old equipment. He's mustering his armies and sending them south to attack this camp."

"Really?" Octavian says. "You seem to know a lot about our enemy's plans, Percy Jackson."

Most insults I can shrug off—being called weak or stupid or whatever. But it dawns on me that Octavian is calling me a spy—a traitor. That's such a foreign concept to me, so not who I am, I almost can't process the slur. When I do, my shoulders tense. I'm tempted to smack Octavian on the head again, but I realize Octavian is baiting me, trying to make me look unstable.

I take a deep breath.

"We're going to confront this son of Gaea," I say, managing to keep my composure. "We'll get back your eagle and unchain this god..." I glance at Hazel. "Thanatos, right?"

She nods. "Letus, in Roman. But his old Greek name is Thanatos. When it comes to Death...we're happy to let him stay Greek."

Octavian sighs in exasperation. "Well, whatever you call him...how do you expect to do all this and get back by the Feast of Fortuna? That's the evening of the twenty-fourth. It's the twentieth now. Do you even know where to look? Do you even know who this son of Gaea is?"

"Yes." Hazel speaks with such certainty that even I'm surprised. "I don't know exactly where to look, but I have a pretty good idea. The giant's name is Alcyoneus."

That name seems to lower the temperature in the room by fifty degrees. The senators shiver.

Reyna grips her podium. "How do you know this, Hazel? Because you're a child of Pluto?"

Nico di Angelo has been so quiet, I almost forgot he's here. Now he stands in his black toga.

"Praetor, if I may," he says. "Hazel and I...we learned a little about the giants from our father. Each giant was bred specifically to oppose one of the twelve Olympian gods—to usurp that god's domain. The king of giants was Porphyrion, the anti-Jupiter. But the eldest giant was Alcyoneus. He was born to oppose Pluto. That's why we know of him in particular."

Reyna frowns. "Indeed? You sound quite familiar with him."

Nico picks at the edge of his toga. "Anyway...the giants were hard to kill. According to prophecy, they could only be defeated by gods and demigods working together."

Dakota belches. "Sorry, did you say gods and demigods...like fighting side by side? That could never happen!"

"It has happened," Nico says. "In the first giant war, the gods called on heroes to join them, and they were victorious. Whether it could happen again, I don't know. But with Alcyoneus...he was different. He was completely immortal, impossible to kill by god or demigod, as long as he remained in his home territory—the place where he was born."

Nico pauses to let that sink in. "And if Alcyoneus has been reborn in Alaska—"

"Then he can't be defeated there," Hazel finishes. "Ever. By any means. Which is why our nineteen-eighties expedition was doomed to fail."

Another round of arguing and shouting breaks out.

"The quest is impossible!" shouts a senator.

"We're doomed!" cries a ghost.

"More Kool-Aid!" yells Dakota.

"Silence!" Reyna calls. "Senators, we must act like Romans. Mars has given us this quest, and we have to believe it is possible. These three demigods must travel to Alaska. They must free Thanatos and return before the Feast of Fortuna. If they can retrieve the lost eagle in the process, so much the better. All we can do is advise them and make sure they have a plan." 

Reyna looks at me without much hope. "You do have a plan?"

I want to step forward bravely and say, No, I don't!

That's the truth, but looking around at all the nervous faces, I know I can't say it.

"First, I need to understand something." I turn toward Nico. "I thought Pluto was the god of the dead. Now I hear about this other guy, Thanatos, and the Doors of Death from that prophecy—the Prophecy of Eight. What does all that mean?"

Nico takes a deep breath. "Okay. Pluto is the god of the Underworld, but the actual god of death, the one who's responsible for making sure souls go to the afterlife and stay there—that's Pluto's lieutenant, Thanatos. He's like...well, imagine Life and Death are two different countries. Everybody would like to be in Life, right? So there's a guarded border to keep people from crossing back over without permission. But it's a big border, with lots of holes in the fence. Pluto tries to seal up the breaches, but new ones keep popping up all the time. That's why he depends on Thanatos, who's like the border patrol, the police."

"Thanatos catches souls," I say, "and deports them back to the Underworld."

"Exactly," Nico says. "But now Thanatos has been captured, chained up."

Frank raises his hand. "Uh...how do you chain Death?"

"It's been done before," Nico says. "In the old days, a guy named Sisyphus tricked Death and tied him up. Another time, Hercules wrestled him to the ground."

"And now a giant has captured him," I say. "So if we could free Thanatos, then the dead would stay dead?" I glance at Gwen. "Um...no offense."

"It's more complicated than that," Nico says.

Octavian rolls his eyes. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"You mean the Doors of Death," Reyna says, ignoring Octavian. "They are mentioned in the Prophecy of Eight, which sent the first expedition to Alaska—"

Cato the ghost snorts. "We all know how that turned out! We Lares remember!"

The other ghosts grumble in agreement.

Nico puts his finger to his lips. Suddenly all the Lares go silent. Some look alarmed, like their mouths have been glued together. I wish I had that power over certain living people...like Octavian, for instance. 

"Thanatos is only part of the solution," Nico explains. "The Doors of Death...well, that's a concept even I don't completely understand. There are many ways into the Underworld—the River Styx, the Door of Orpheus—plus smaller escape routes that open up from time to time. With Thanatos imprisoned, all those exits will be easier to use. Sometimes it might work to our advantage and let a friendly soul come back—like Gwen here. More often, it will benefit evil souls and monsters, the sneaky ones who are looking to escape. Now, the Doors of Death—those are the personal doors of Thanatos, his fast lane between Life and Death. Only Thanatos is supposed to know where they are, and the location shifts over the ages. If I understand correctly, the Doors of Death have been forced open. Gaea's minions have seized control of them—"

"Which means Gaea controls who can come back from the dead," I guess.

Nico nods. "She can pick and choose who to let out—the worst monsters, the most evil souls. If we rescue Thanatos, that means at least he can catch souls again and send them below. Monsters will die when we kill them, like they used to, and we'll get a little breathing room. But unless we're able to retake the Doors of Death, our enemies won't stay down for long. They'll have an easy way back to the world of the living."

"So we can catch them and deport them," I sum up, "but they'll just keep coming back across."

"In a depressing nutshell, yes," Nico says.

Frank scratches his head. "But Thanatos knows where the doors are, right? If we free him, he can retake them."

"I don't think so," Nico says. "Not alone. He's no match for Gaea. That would take a massive quest...an army of the best demigods."

"Foes bear arms to the Doors of Death," Reyna says. "That's the Prophecy of Eight..." She looks at me, and for just a moment I can see how scared she is. She does a good job of hiding it, but I wonder if she's had nightmares about Gaea too—if she's seen visions of what will happen when the camp is invaded by monsters that can't be killed. "If this begins the ancient prophecy, we don't have resources to send an army to these Doors of Death and protect the camp. I can't imagine even sparing eight demigods...Maxima."