A Camp Without a Home
Before Miraak could leave the camp, someone stepped out from between the trees. He paused for a moment, with the same calm as always, while the silence left behind by Tantalus’ death still seemed to cling to the place. Then he lifted his gaze, steady and fixed, toward the person walking in his direction.
She was a young woman. If Percy had been there, he would have recognized her as the girl who always tended the campfire, shifting the embers and making sure it never went out. Though, to be fair, he only seemed to have noticed her once, back when he had first arrived at the camp.
And her appearance was, in every sense, quite ordinary. She wore modest, discreet clothing, enough to blend easily among the other campers, without drawing attention or standing out in any particular way.
Miraak studied her briefly as he crossed his arms.
“So, are you finally going to do something other than watch?” Miraak said, his tone harsh.
“Tantalus was not really the best option for the camp, but he did have a reason to be there, even so,” the young woman replied softly. “After several crises at the camp, deaths, betrayals, and prophecies spiraling out of control, he did not want this to be a home for the campers, but rather… a containment facility,” she added with a hint of sorrow, as if it were something she herself could not change.
“Hm. And?” Miraak replied, sounding completely unconcerned.
The young woman looked at him for a moment.
“You took the children of Poseidon as your disciples and gave them something that truly costs my peers a great deal,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “Happiness. I honestly feel a bit envious,” she admitted, then offered a faint smile. “I heard from someone that you tend to accept missions.”
Miraak raised an eyebrow slightly. He had not expected that. Even so, he seemed interested in what might come next.
…
“H he… Tanta… lus,” Annabeth murmured, completely stunned, as the boat moved forward while Percy and Tyson began rowing hard, putting more and more distance between themselves and the shore.
“Do not feel sad for him. He really wanted to kill us. He only got what he deserved,” Percy said seriously, without taking his eyes off the massive cruise ship drifting farther away. The sight filled him with a quiet frustration. With a lifeboat and two oars, the distance felt impossible.
“Damn it, we need to reach it before it gets any farther away,” Percy shouted angrily.
And as if his shout had called something forth, he suddenly spotted three silvery lines cutting through the water toward them. Both Tyson and Percy stopped rowing and stared at the marks, as though an enormous claw were tearing through the sea’s surface. Percy even drew his swords, ready for a fight.
But then, three white heads burst out of the water like foam.
“Fish ponies!” Tyson shouted instantly, unable to hide his excitement.
And he was not entirely wrong. They were three horse heads with the upper halves of their bodies, while beneath the water their fish tails were barely visible, covered in gleaming scales, with a rear fin shimmering in rainbow colors.
“Hippocampi,” Annabeth said as she recognized them, her voice genuinely happy. “They’re beautiful,” she added with a soft smile.
The one in front let out a neigh, as if acknowledging them with its muzzle. Percy raised an eyebrow at the creatures’ perfectly timed arrival. His gaze drifted briefly toward the sea, but before he could think any further, he caught sight of the cruise ship in the distance and let out an annoyed sigh.
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There was no need to ask the hippocampi for anything. They positioned themselves at the sides and behind the boat with complete ease, as if they had done this many times before. They began to push, swishing their tails beneath the water, and the boat’s speed increased almost instantly, carrying them forward like a motorboat straight toward the ship. All three had to hold on tightly to avoid falling over.
As they drew closer, only then did they truly grasp how enormous the ship was. From below, it felt more like a skyscraper than a cruise liner. The hull, spotless white, rose at least ten stories high, each level marked by elegant curves, viewing decks, and brightly lit portholes. Near the bow, the ship’s name shone clearly in glowing letters.
The sight made Percy think of the original Perseus, the savior of Princess Andromeda, who had faced a sea monster using Medusa’s head. He was also one of the few heroes among his peers who had earned a happy ending, unlike so many others who had been betrayed, torn apart, mutilated, poisoned, or cursed by the gods.
And although the original Perseus had been a son of Zeus, Sally had given Percy that name because she wanted him to have the same good fortune.
Though Percy often joked that, so far, his life did not seem to be heading in that direction at all.
The hippocampi guided the lifeboat to the side of the ship, where a rope ladder hung, ready for them to climb.
After watching the three of them climb up and leave the boat behind, the hippocampi let out a farewell neigh.
“Can’t we take Rainbow with us?” Tyson asked, his tone a little sad as he watched the hippocampus he had grown fond of drift away slowly, as if it too were hesitant to leave.
Percy looked at him for a moment, laughing softly at the name he had given the hippocampus he had only just met.
“We have to go, Tyson. We’re probably heading somewhere dangerous for a hippocampus. It’s better if he stays here. You’ll see him again later… maybe,” Percy said.
“I’m going to miss you, Rainbow!” Tyson shouted for a moment, while the hippocampus neighed back at him in farewell before slipping beneath the water.
The three of them managed to climb up and hid for a moment, looking around with a mix of confusion and surprise.
The place was crowded with people who seemed to be on vacation, or something close to it. Some were walking around leisurely, others were enjoying the pools, and several shops were selling all kinds of things clearly meant to make the stay even more enjoyable.
“Well… at least we know we’re traveling in style,” Percy said, unable to stop himself from smiling.
…
Clarisse walked beyond the camp’s barrier for the first time in a long while. Her steps were firm, determined, and serious. She stopped right where the barrier ended, as if hesitating for just a single instant, but then quickly stepped forward while holding her breath.
She looked around and allowed herself a faint smile, taking another step, until suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.
She reacted instantly. Drawing her spear, she attacked without hesitation.
But before the tip could reach her opponent’s neck, her eyes flew open and she dropped the weapon, immediately kneeling on the ground.
Almost trembling, and with absolute respect, she said,
“Lord Ares, father.”
The man dressed in leather looked at her with a confident, slightly amused smile, casually turning his daughter’s spear between his fingers as if it were nothing more than trash.
“Your presence honors me,” Clarisse added, unaware of the gesture.
“That’s for losers. Get up,” Ares said proudly.
“Follow me,” he ordered next, in a tone that allowed no argument.
He turned around and began walking toward his motorcycle, which stood there as if it had always been present. Clarisse had not even noticed when it had appeared.
The bike even had a side seat, clearly prepared for her. Ares mounted the motorcycle and glanced at her impatiently, as if annoyed by the slightest delay.
Clarisse, unable to hide her excitement and happiness, smiled before running to the seat and putting on the helmet.
Ares started the motorcycle and twisted the throttle hard, as if he did not want to remain in the area for even a second longer. They shot forward like an arrow, the engine roaring like a monster tearing through the forest.
And there was no doubt he did not want to stay there.
A gaze had been fixed on him from the moment he arrived until the moment he left. From the new seat of the activities director, someone watched the campers as they trained. He sat with his arms crossed, a trace of disappointment on his face as he observed how weak they were, comparing them to his own students.
At the same time, his eyes drifted toward the spot where Ares had stood moments earlier, a faintly mocking smile on his lips.
Miraak.
For a moment, he frowned slightly before turning away. In the sky, he spotted a towering red-haired figure riding a chariot pulled by goats, carefully observing the campers for a few seconds. Then the figure shook his head in disappointment, took the reins, and rode off.
Miraak truly had no idea what kind of foolishness was being set in motion.
And that, perhaps, was the most irritating part of all.
The divine beings of this plane were, unfortunately for him, far more troublesome than the Daedric Princes themselves.
