Chapter 17: Hippocampi, Heroes, and a War-God's Family Discount
So here's the thing about training to the brink of spiritual combustion: it wrecks you. Like, "I woke up face-first in a pile of ghost laundry" wrecked.
I blinked awake on the deck of the Birmingham, smoke still curling off my fingertips, the remnants of my most recent God of War training session.
My shirt was burned. Again. My chains were resting beside me like two loyal dogs, still glowing faintly. The ghost crew was keeping their distance, muttering to one another like traumatized WWII veterans.
I sat up and groaned. My back cracked like dry firewood. "Okay, note to self: pushing into martial enlightenment and breaking reality's ankles takes a toll."
And just as I stood up—completely ready to launch into another set of pushups because pain is the forge of greatness—I heard shouting.
"GET US OUT OF HERE!"
Clarisse's voice.
Ah. The gang was back.
From the shore, I saw chaos in motion. Tyson was dragging Grover like a wet towel, Clarisse was waving her spear like she was conducting a war orchestra, and Percy was sprinting at full speed while Grover was—surprisingly, tossing rocks back at the boulder-throwing Cyclops like a spiteful raccoon.
And behind them?
Polyphemus, screaming and flailing and hurling boulders the size of Buicks.
"Ghost crew, battle stations!" I roared, flipping a barrel over for no reason because it looked cool.
The skeleton captain blinked. "We're already moving."
"Then move faster!" I shouted, striking a pose.
Clarisse scrambled up the gangplank first, panting like she'd been sprinting with two weights on her soul. She pointed at me. "Don't say it."
I grinned. "Say what?"
"That you could've done it better."
"Oh, come on, I totally could've!" I said, walking beside her as Percy and the others clambered up behind her. "Did you see the part where I lassoed the cyclops with my chains? No? Okay, your loss."
Percy flopped onto the deck. "I hate islands."
Annabeth collapsed beside him, eyes closed. "You weren't even being chased by the Cyclops mostly, he - for some reason - wanted me "
Grover clung to the mast like a squirrel stuck in a hurricane. "I think my horns aged five years."
Tyson just beamed. "I made a friend!"
I stared at him. "He tried to kill you."
Tyson shrugged. "He has anger problems."
Clarisse wiped her brow. "Where's the Fleece?"
Percy, without missing a beat, pointed at his bag. "Right here."
The bag glowed faintly with a divine hum. You could feel it—the way the air around it shimmered, the pull of ancient magic whispering promises of healing and power.
"Alright," I said, crossing my arms. "Time to get outta here."
"Boat's too slow," Annabeth groaned. "Even with the ghost crew running it at top speed."
"Got another plan?" I asked.
Percy sat up, squinting at the horizon. "Yeah… but you're not gonna believe it."
He whistled. Long. Loud. Clear.
The ocean stirred.
And from the surf, like a glorious aquatic god-broccoli-horse hybrid, emerged…
"RAINBOW!" Percy shouted.
A hippocampus. Massive. Beautiful. With a multicolored mane that sparkled like Skittles had gone full Pegasus.
"Okay," I said, slowly nodding. "I do believe it. Because I remember this part from the books. Let's gooo!"
Clarisse looked between us. "What book?"
I ignored her. Rainbow neighed and slapped his fins on the surf.
Tyson clapped. "YAY! FRIEND HORSE!"
"Let's hitch the ship!" Percy called, already diving into the water like he'd rehearsed this a thousand times.
Annabeth groaned but followed. Grover mumbled something about retirement and Pan but joined in too. Clarisse didn't say anything—just gave me a look and leapt off the side.
I watched them go, then turned to the ghost captain.
"Keep it steady," I said. "We're about to get airlifted by sea unicorns."
He groaned. "This job used to be simple."
By the time Rainbow and his aquatic buddies hauled us off the island, the sun was high and the Fleece was pulsing brighter with every nautical mile we put between ourselves and the screaming cyclops.
Back at Camp Half-Blood, the mood was… weird.
The moment we stepped ashore with the Fleece, campers gathered. Chiron—wait, no. Chiron wasn't there.
Instead, a bunch of satyrs were awkwardly clearing space. And standing by Thalia's tree, arms folded, was Dionysus. In an actual toga. Holding a Coke can.
Percy narrowed his eyes. "This is weird."
Annabeth looked around. "Where's Chiron?"
Dionysus rolled his eyes. "Fired. Sacked. Canceled. Whatever the mortals call it these days. Olympus needed a scapegoat for letting the tree get poisoned, so obviously we threw the immortal centaur under the bus. Or chariot."
I blinked. "Wait. Chiron's gone?"
"Supposed to be replaced by some dead guy," Dionysus muttered, sipping. "Tantalus. Worst idea since Hermes invented fast food delivery."
Clarisse grunted. "You let this happen?"
"I didn't care enough to stop it." Dionysus shrugged. "And now I care even less. Good luck with your war games, brats."
"You're still the camp director!" Grover squeaked.
"Nope!" Dionysus beamed. "I delegated!"
He stepped aside.
From the shadows stepped two new figures.
Twins. Armored. Grinning.
One with smoldering red eyes. The other with a shadow that writhed like it had a mind of its own.
"Sup," said the first. "I'm Phobos."
"Deimos," said the second. "We're your new bosses."
Percy groaned. "No. No, no, no."
"Yup," said Phobos, tossing a spear lazily. "Dad sent us to clean house."
I blinked. "Wait. Dad sent you?"
Clarisse looked like she'd just eaten a cactus. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Pact on the Styx," Deimos said, holding up a glowing scroll. "We swear to run the camp fair and balanced."
"And by 'fair,'" Phobos grinned, "we mean absolute chaos with an occasional food fight."
Dionysus raised his Coke. "Have fun!"
And just like that, he vanished into the Big House with a cooler full of soda and zero intentions of returning.
Phobos and Deimos wandered into the center of the camp.
"First order of business," Phobos called out, "mandatory battle drills tomorrow."
"Second order," Deimos added. "No shirts in combat - only for men or mum will kill us. Ares says it builds 'soul grit.'"
"Third!" Phobos shouted. "We hold the greatest eating contests on Fridays!"
The entire Hermes cabin cheered.
Annabeth groaned. "I miss Chiron already."
I just laughed, spinning my chains lazily.
"Let's see what kind of camp this becomes."