15 - The Art of the Steal

THADDEUS POV

The following morning, me, Percy, and Annabeth shared a silent, unspoken agreement—to forget the incident by the pool. No words were needed, and no glances were exchanged. It was buried, locked away in the vault of things we do not speak of.

Grover, however, was completely oblivious. And if there's one thing about Grover, it's that silence makes him dangerously curious.

"Alright, what's up with you three?" he finally asked, glancing between us. "Did something happen? Did Percy finally make a move? Did Annabeth—"

"NOPE." Annabeth cut in. "Nothing happened."

"Absolutely nothing," I added, leaning against the window.

"Nothing at all," Percy mumbled, tightening his grip on the wheel.

Grover squinted. "You guys are acting weird."

"We're always weird," I shot back.

Still suspicious, Grover chewed on a straw and let it go—for now.

Outside, the city skyline shifted around us, buildings rising like stone giants in the distance. The truck rumbled forward, and a large road sign loomed ahead:

WELCOME TO NASHVILLE. ATHENS OF THE SOUTH!

"Bit bold, don't you think?" I muttered, stretching my arms. "Athens of the South? Magellan once thought he could just stroll into an island and call it his for the Spanish. Got a spear for it. The moral of the story—maybe don't declare yourself Athens when you're not Athens."

Percy gave me a look. "So what, Nashville's about to get a spear to the face?"

"Metaphorically speaking? Maybe."

Eventually, we rolled into Centennial Park, just as the sun hit its peak in the sky. It was noon, and the place was packed—families sprawled on picnic blankets, joggers looping the walking paths, a street performer juggling flaming torches, and, most importantly, a kid getting absolutely obliterated in a Nerf battle.

Poor kid.

We pulled the truck to a stop. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover hopped out, blending into the crowd as best they could. Percy had on sunglasses and a baseball cap, pulling the brim low to conceal his face. I, on the other hand, did the exact opposite—removed my glasses, messed up my hair a bit, and casually leaned into my new identity as "Just Some Guy."

It was foolproof.

Then, standing tall in the center of it all, was The Parthenon.

A full-scale replica of the ancient Greek structure dropped right in the middle of modern-day Nashville like some architect lost a bet. It was... jarring, honestly. The blend of past and present, old and new. The massive columns, the intricate designs—it felt like a piece of Olympus had been misplaced.

Grover pulled out the map, flipping it open and squinting at the details. "Alright, second pearl. It's in there. Somewhere."

I stared up at the looming structure. "Somewhere is a very broad term, and I am too tired to even begin explaining how annoyingly vague that is."

Annabeth folded her arms. "Wish Luke's map had been a little more specific than just 'Parthenon.'"

I sighed. "Yeah, well, that would've been too easy. Like, 'X marks the spot' easy. And, you know, we can't have that. Otherwise, this whole quest would just be a scavenger hunt with better lighting."

"Still better than navigating by trial and error," Percy muttered.

"True. Could be worse, though," I said. "Could be like Magellan thinking he was the main character that early firearms would win against the natives, once again I say, only to get speared by a bunch of islanders for underestimating literally everyone."

Percy frowned. "You really have a thing for Magellan getting speared, huh?"

"I just think it's an excellent lesson in reading the room."

Annabeth rolled her eyes and gestured toward the entrance. "C'mon, we'll figure it out inside."

Once inside, the place was packed—and I mean shoulder-to-shoulder, elbow-to-the-face levels of packing. Tourists milled about, snapping photos, gawking at the architecture, and generally making this whole stealthy heist thing infinitely harder.

Towering above us, standing in all her gilded glory, was Athena.

Forty-one feet of pure, imposing divinity, her golden form shining beneath the artificial lighting. The statue radiated authority, wisdom, and a strong "I will judge you if you say something dumb" energy. For a brief second, I could almost picture what it must've been like to step into a real Greek temple 4,000 years ago, standing before the gods in their prime.

...And then some kid with a Minions t-shirt ran past me, waving a selfie stick, and poof—there went my immersion.

Annabeth, however, was completely locked in, her gaze stuck on the statue. I noticed the name engraved at the base and turned to her.

"It's your mom," I pointed out.

Annabeth gave a small nod, barely reacting.

"Does she actually look like that?" Percy asked, tilting his head.

Annabeth finally blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. "Slight resemblance," she admitted, though there was something else in her voice. Something unreadable.

Before I could think too hard about it, Grover—in all his infinite wisdom—ruined the moment.

"Nice rack," he muttered, snapping a photo.

I immediately facepalmed.

Annabeth's head snapped toward him, pure fury brewing in her eyes. "Excuse me?!"

"Nothing. Hormones. Sorry," Grover yelped, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I blame the satyr instincts."

Meanwhile, Percy's eyes suddenly went wide, shifting to something way more important.

"Up there," he pointed.

We all followed his gaze.

There, nestled among the rare, colorful jewels on Athena's golden crown, sat the second green pearl.

And just like that, our mission got infinitely more complicated.

"I see it," I muttered. "I also see our problem."

"Too easy," Grover whispered.

Annabeth scoffed. "Not really. It's forty feet in the air, in the middle of a crowded building filled with tourists and security guards. What, are we supposed to just jump up and grab it?"

"Technically... yes?" I offered.

Annabeth stared at me, waiting for further explanation. And oh, was I about to give her one hell of an explanation.

"Alright, hear me out. What if... and this is just an idea, a brilliant, well-thought-out idea—what if we created a distraction? Like, say, a fake fire drill. I trip the alarms, and while everyone rushes outside, Percy, using his 'chosen one' powers, summons a tidal wave from a randomly burst pipe, which conveniently washes over the base of the statue, causing enough chaos for Annabeth—using her tactical skills—to scale the columns like some ancient ninja. Meanwhile, Grover—who's already halfway there in terms of animal agility—sprints up one of the support beams and leaps onto Athena's shoulder. At this point, I, having been completely undetected because I am just that good, guide the team from the ground with pinpoint accuracy, and once Grover gets into position, Percy catapults him using a water boost. Grover, in mid-air, does a sick backflip, lands on Athena's head snatches the pearl, and before anyone knows what happened, we are out. No alarms, no security problems, and no evidence. Just clean execution."

Silence.

I was grinning.

They were not.

Annabeth blinked. "That is the single stupidest plan I have ever heard."

"Correction," I held up a finger. "It is the single most brilliant plan you have ever heard."

"That would take hours," she argued.

"And?"

"And it involves a tidal wave. Inside a museum."

"Controlled tidal wave," I corrected. "We keep it classy."

Percy just rubbed his temples. "Please tell me we have a second option."

Annabeth sighed. "We do. And it involves a lot less property damage."

"Fine," I grumbled. "But if this doesn't work, I get to run point on the next plan."

"Deal," Annabeth said, already moving toward the next step of the mission.

Grover, meanwhile, whispered under his breath, "I kinda wanted to see the backflip..."

Long pause.

My eyes shift to Percy.

He's smiling.

Not just any smile—that smile.

You know the one. The "I've got a brilliant idea too" smile. The "I just solved world hunger but at what cost" smile. The kind of smile that, if it were coming from any other person, might actually be reassuring.

But this is Percy Jackson.

A guy who, up until now, has never had a solid plan outside of "wing it and hope I don't die." And now he's looking at me like he just cracked the code of the universe for the nth time.

Oh, this is how I die.

"Maybe we don't need to do a backflip," Percy says, his grin widening. "Huddle up."

Shit.

He pulls us into a corner of the Parthenon exhibit, lowering his voice like we're planning a top-secret military operation. His hands move into his bag, fingers flipping open a small box. And there, sitting inside, are the winged shoes Luke gave him before we left camp.

Grover, Annabeth, and I exchange glances.

It was:

A good idea.

Efficient.

The best chance we had of not getting arrested today.

And yet, despite all that...

"I need to eat."

Which is how, twenty minutes later, we ended up sitting at a random picnic table in the park, eating street tacos while hashing out this so-called genius plan.

Percy holds up the winged shoes, turning them in his hands. "Luke gave me these for a reason. Tonight, after closing hours, I'll sneak in, fly up, grab the pearl, and get out before anyone even knows I was there."

I take a slow bite of my taco, processing.

"Yeah, we heard that already." I wipe some sauce off my thumb. "But, uh... you do realize this place is government property, right? As in, 'You so much as sneeze near it after hours and the FBI materializes out of thin air' type of government property."

Percy frowns. "It's a museum."

"A museum with security," I clarify. "And cameras. And motion sensors. And probably guards who have nothing better to do than wait for some dumbass teenager to try exactly what you're planning."

Annabeth tilts her head, intrigued. "How do you know all that?"

I finish chewing and point vaguely at the building. "I processed it while we were inside for, like, an hour."

Grover blinks. "You... processed it?"

"Yeah. You know, counted the cameras, tracked guard rotations, noted the number of entry points. That kinda thing."

Percy stares. "You did all that while we were arguing about backflips?"

"I multi-task," I say proudly, taking another bite.

Annabeth, on the other hand, looks way too pleased with me. "Alright. So what's your read? What's the biggest problem?"

I gesture toward the Parthenon. "Cameras. Those things are everywhere. You try to fly up there without disabling them first? Boom. Security alerted. The museum goes on lockdown. Best case scenario? We run. Worst case? We get arrested, and I'm not calling my dad for bail."

Percy grimaces. "Okay, so... what do we do?"

I set my taco down, clasp my hands together, and lean forward. "Oh, my dear Percy. My sweet, innocent, absolutely clueless friend. I just so happen to have a plan."

Grover leans back in immediate concern. "Oh no."

Annabeth sighs. "This is gonna be a Thaddeus plan, isn't it?"

"Why do you guys say my name like it's a slur?"

"Because your plans are usually long, elaborate, and include unnecessary theatrics," she points out.

"Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, theatrics are an art form. Third of all—" I pause for dramatic effect. "—this plan actually makes sense."

Percy raises an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."

I smirk. "Oh, you're gonna love this."

And just like that, the real planning begins.

---

Later that night, we put the plan into motion.

Now, logically, the easiest part of the entire operation should've been cutting the power to a specific section of the museum—you know, not the one with the giant, priceless statue of Athena, but just enough to kill the security feeds. Turns out, that one little detail turned into a ten-minute debate between Annabeth and me about who got to do the honors.

"I'm more qualified."

"I literally have magic. I can just fry the damn thing."

"Yes, and that would be noticeable."

"And you pulling some Mission: Impossible stunt wouldn't?"

"I'd be subtle!"

"Says the girl who threw a grown man over her shoulder because, and I quote, 'he was in my way.'"

Anyway, after a lengthy discussion (which I totally won, by the way), we settled on her doing it—but I got to supervise and make unnecessary commentary, which I consider a fair trade.

By the time we regrouped in front of the statue, the Parthenon was officially locked down for the night. The surrounding park was eerily deserted—like your mom's DMs—save for one security guard sitting in a booth near the entrance.

Now, I don't know what it was about this guy, but something just screamed "I peaked in high school." He had that acne-scarred, gawky 23-year-old redneck energy, the kind of guy who definitely took his job way too seriously but also thought that quoting Super Troopers made him the funniest person alive.

Weirdest part? He was the only guard on shift tonight.

Which, you know... sketchy as hell.

Anyway, we moved fast. First phase? Done. Power cut. Cameras looped. Hallways checked. Boom.

I made Grover "carefully" knock out the guard (sat him in the booth, propped him up like he was taking a nap, and made sure he wasn't dead—because let's be real, Grover's definition of "gentle" is questionable at best).

With everyone accounted for, we met at the base of Athena's giant golden sandal.

"All good on the power. Should be back up in an hour." I jogged up, spinning my staff.

"Cameras are looping last week's footage," Annabeth confirmed, dusting off her hands like she didn't just commit a casual cybercrime.

"Coast is clear, me and Grover checked everywhere," Percy added.

Now for the hard part.

I looked up at the massive statue, where our second pearl sat gleaming from Athena's crown.

"Alright, Jackson," I exhaled, stretching my arms. "You ready to go full Icarus?"

He grinned. "Born ready."

Percy kicks off his sneakers, replacing them with winged shoes. He stands up, rolling his shoulders, then starts shuffling like some Olympic sprinter about to set a world record. The way he stares ahead, all focused and determined, makes me nervous.

"Any idea how these things work?" Percy asks, glancing at us.

I kneel, inspecting the enchanted footwear. The wings twitch slightly, eager. "Alright, so from my expert perspective," I say, pushing my glasses up, "and applying basic aerodynamics—thank you, birds—you'll need a running start. Think of it like a jet taking off. You build up speed, find the right balance, and—"

Aaaaaand he's already running.

God-fucking-dammit, Jackson.

Before I can finish my sentence, Percy bolts forward, sprinting through the parking lot like he's late for his own execution. And—hey, would you look at that?—the shoes actually work. He lifts off, defying gravity, soaring a solid ten, maybe fifteen feet into the air.

And then—

Oh no.

Percy's arms start flailing. His body tilts forward, then backward, like a malfunctioning airplane about to nosedive. A split-second later—

SMACK!

The impact is glorious. He lands flat on his back, hard enough to make me wince.

I cross my arms and finish my thought. "—practice. You need practice."

Annabeth and Grover rush to his side. Percy groans, sitting up, looking like he just got into a fistfight with gravity and lost.

"Okay, okay... I can do this..." he mutters, shaking it off.

I step forward and promptly smack him upside the head with my staff.

"LET ME FINISH EXPLAINING FIRST, DUM-DUM."

"Not helping!" Annabeth scolds as she pulls him up.

"Maybe just keep trying?" Grover suggests, trying to be the optimistic one. "It's only been, like, a minute."

And so, round two begins.

This time, Percy listens. He sprints, lets the wings do their thing, and lifts off with a bit more control. The takeoff is shaky, sure, but he's learning fast. The kid's a natural—either that or showing off for Annabeth. Honestly, could go either way.

He gains altitude, soaring toward the Athena statue. He starts to ease into it, body adjusting, movement smoother. But then... something shifts. His confidence falters. His face tenses as he looks down at his feet.

Grover, sensing the impending disaster, turns to Annabeth. "He's going too fast." Then, to Percy, "Try to slow down!"

But it's too late.

Percy doesn't slow down. He's barreling straight for Athena, completely out of control. Inches away from impact, I think I hear him mutter something like "Oh, shi—"

CRASH.

He slams right into the statue, smacking into Athena like a bug on a windshield. The entire thing shudders from the force of the collision.

I nod, pretending to analyze the crash site. "I give it a solid 6/10. Points for commitment, but deductions for technique. Also, next time, try not to headbutt a goddess."

The statue groaned—a deep, ancient sound that sent my stomach straight to the floor. Athena tilted, her massive form leaning forward, threatening to crash down and turn this entire museum into a very expensive crime scene.

"Ah, shit—" Instinct took over. Raising my staff, I threw out my free hand and focused. The air between me and the statue wavered, rippling like heat on asphalt. My magic flared, tendrils of energy wrapping around the colossal figure, locking it in place. A telekinetic hold—delicate but strong—fighting against gravity itself.

"This wasn't part of the plan!" I gritted through my teeth, reinforcing the spell.

Percy, meanwhile, scrambled to fix the mess he started. He looped back around, using the winged shoes to push against the falling statue, trying to guide it back into place.

The grinding sound that followed was not reassuring.

With one final shove, the statue clicked back onto its base, wobbling slightly before settling into stillness. The museum remained standing. We remained not super wanted criminals than we already are. Small victories.

I sighed in relief, lowering my staff. "I'm not jinxing it... yet."

Percy, perched on Athena's shoulder, looked ridiculously tiny compared to the sheer scale of the statue. Her face, carved with stoic grace, made him look like an action figure climbing Mount Rushmore.

He glanced up. The green pearl sat embedded in the center of Athena's crown, glinting mockingly in the dim light.

"Alright, Jackson, don't screw this up," Annabeth muttered, arms crossed.

Grover, now stress-eating an empty Coke can like it was a bag of popcorn, simply nodded. "He's got it. Probably."

Percy reached upward, stepping carefully onto Athena's earrings as he began his ascent. One foot, then the other.

And then—woop.

His foot slipped.

Annabeth and Grover sucked in sharp breaths.

I didn't even have time to cast a spell before he caught himself, fingers clutching the edge of the crown. He dangled there for a second, feet swinging over empty air before he managed to pull himself back up.

I smirked. "Scaredy cats."

Annabeth, without hesitation, drove her knee straight into my stomach.

"Ow! Okay, I take it back!" I wheezed, bending over slightly.

Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Percy, who, now more carefully, steadied himself on the crown. Finally, he stretched out a hand, fingers brushing against the green pearl.

Almost there.

The pearl came loose with a final pop, and for a second, I thought Percy might actually drop the damn thing. But no, he held it up high, grinning like he'd just won the Olympic gold in reckless decision-making.

"He did it," Grover said, half in awe, half in relief.

"Not quite," Annabeth muttered, eyes already scanning for the next problem. Smart girl.

Percy tucked the pearl into his pocket, ready to make his grand escape, when—

"Get off the statue."

My stomach dropped.

It was the guard.

The same guard I specifically told Grover to take care of. And yet, here he was, wide awake, standing there with a gun leveled right at Percy.

Now, I don't know about you, but something about this guy wasn't sitting right with me. There was this feeling—something off, something wrong, something that made me grip my staff just a little tighter.

Percy, caught mid-flight, slowly descended, landing softly in front of the guard with his hands raised.

"Yes, sir," he said, voice calm but eyes sharp.

"Now," the guard repeated, stepping closer, gun unwavering.

I took a step forward, trying to defuse the situation. "Let's not get trigger-happy now, alright? We can talk this out like—"

Click.

The guard swung the gun on me.

"Shut up."

Oh, so that's how this was gonna go.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Percy clenching his fists, jaw tightening. He knew as well as I did—we weren't walking out of here without a fight.

I leaned toward Grover, voice barely above a whisper. "When I give the signal, book it with Annabeth. I got Percy."

Grover swallowed hard but nodded. He knew better than to argue.

The guard, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes at Percy, lips curling into a sick grin.

"You look familiar."

Percy didn't flinch. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do," the guard continued, tilting his head. "You're that kid. On the news. The one who killed his mother."

My grip on my staff tightened.

Percy's whole body went rigid. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for his sword, but he didn't. Not yet.

"You're thinking of somebody else," he said evenly.

The guard chuckled. "Naw... it's you. I remember the eyes."

And just like that, my escape plan—the one I hadn't told them about because, honestly, I figured we wouldn't need it—was officially dead.

"Drop your gun."

The guard turned.

Annabeth stood a few feet away, bow drawn, arrow notched, eyes cold as steel.

The guard laughed.

"You think an arrow's gonna stop me?"

I tapped my staff against the ground. Flames crackled to life in my left palm, flickering in the dim museum light.

"I don't know," I said, tilting my head, and smirking just slightly. "But I'd like to see if fire will."

Annabeth's voice rang out, steady and firm. "I'm an Olympian."

The guard didn't even flinch. His lips curled into something that was almost a smile, but not quite. It was too cold, too knowing. "I know who you are, daughter of Athena."

The four of us exchanged glances. Okay, yeah, officially not a normal security guard.

Then, his gaze landed on me.

"And you..." his voice dropped lower like he was peeling away something hidden. "Mr. Bartholomew. You can play the unbothered act all you want, but soon enough... the world will know your secret. And when that moment comes, you will stand at the edge of everything you are, everything you were, and wonder if you were ever truly free to begin with."

His eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, unwavering.

"And you won't be able to hide from it."

Something sharp lodged itself in my chest as I had just heard something I wasn't supposed to hear. The way he said it—it wasn't a threat, it wasn't a warning. It was a statement. A fact.

My fingers twitched. The fire in my palm flared hotter. "Oh yeah? Sounds like a future-me problem." I smirked, but it was forced. Something about this guy was off—something wrong in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself like he was seeing something none of us could.

The guard tilted his head slightly like he had heard that same line a thousand times before and was already mourning the inevitability of it. Then, as if shaking off a passing thought, he turned to Percy.

"I've been expecting you, Percy Jackson."

Percy stiffened. "You know me too?"

"Who wouldn't?" the guard chuckled, dark and humorless. "But it doesn't matter. Just give me the lightning bolt... and I'll let you all walk out of here."

The room went still.

Percy squared his shoulders. "I don't have it."

The guard sighed, almost disappointed. Then, with an eerie sense of calm, he tossed the gun to the far side of the massive room.

"I was really hoping to avoid this."

Then—

He breathed in.

Deep, slow, deliberate.

Then exhaled.

And his skin exploded.

Shrapnel—no, fragments of something not human—burst through the air like jagged glass. The room was filled with the sound of tearing, shifting, something being unmade and remade all at once. The air felt heavier, wrong like reality itself was warping.

"Grover, now!" I shouted.

Grover grabbed Annabeth, dragging her back as I snatched Percy's arm and yanked him away. We bolted as pieces of the "guard" flew past us, embedding themselves in the marble floors and walls like shrapnel from a grenade.

I didn't have to look back to know—whatever was standing there now... wasn't human anymore.

All that remained of the so-called security guard was a thick, swirling column of smoke, pooling on the floor like ink spilling into water.

We didn't move at first, barely breathing, just watching. Then, cautiously, we took a few steps forward.

The smoke began to shift, thinning slightly. And then—

A reptilian eye snapped open.

I blinked. "Oh, come on."

The smoke dissipated further, revealing another set of eyes. Then another. And another.

I stopped counting at four.

By the time I processed what I was looking at, fourteen piercing, reptilian eyes gleamed in the dim light. And they were attached to seven snarling, monstrous heads—each one rising higher and higher as if being born from the depths of a nightmare. The smoke had never been a smokescreen—it had been a cocoon.

The hulking, dragon-like body finally solidified, standing before us in its full, terrifying form.

Grover's voice cracked. "H-Hydra."

"Of course, it's a Hydra," I muttered. "Because fighting one overgrown snake lady just wasn't enough."

The beast let out a collective, bone-rattling roar, its seven heads snapping their jaws, ready to turn us into an afternoon snack.

"To the columns!" I yelled.

Annabeth was already moving, losing arrows at the Hydra, the sharp stings only serving to enrage it. The heads lunged, trying to snatch her and Grover off the ground with their massive, fanged jaws.

"Go! Go!" I shouted, raising my staff. A blast of ice shot from my palm, frost creeping up the creature's scaled legs, locking two of its heads in a temporary prison of frozen spikes. It wouldn't hold for long, but I just needed to buy time.

Annabeth and Grover dived behind the massive stone columns, just as the motion sensors finally decided to do their job, setting off the blaring alarms.

"You don't say!" I shouted back, slamming my staff against the ground and sending another freezing burst toward the Hydra.

The beast let out an ear-splitting screech as the frost coated its body, crackling like shattered glass along its scales. But before I could even catch my breath, the ice began to splinter.

Oh. That's... not good.

The Hydra flexed. That's all it did. And the ice shattered.

Its heads broke free with ease, shaking off the frost like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Great. So much for that.

I barely had time to react before Percy took off in a dead sprint—straight for the Hydra.

"Percy! Wait—" I called, but he was already moving.

He reached into his bag, yanking out Luke's shield and slinging it onto his arm. With a running leap, he grabbed onto one of the Hydra's heads, hanging on as the beast thrashed wildly to shake him off.

The other six heads immediately focused on him, their massive jaws lunging in to rip him apart. Percy twisted, barely dodging a set of razor-sharp teeth, while he fumbled into his pocket, pulling out his pen—

Click.

The familiar gleam of celestial bronze filled the air.

"Well, shit," I muttered.

I swung my staff again, sending a concentrated blast of ice toward two of the heads lunging at Percy. It wouldn't stop them, but it would slow them down long enough for him to not get torn in half.

He better have a really good plan, or we were all about to have a very bad evening.

Another Hydra head lunged at Percy, jaws snapping with enough force to crush solid stone. Percy swung Riptide in a clean, fluid motion— shhk!—decapitating the beast in one stroke.

A thick spray of green bloodshot from the stump, sizzling as it hit the marble floor. The remaining six heads recoiled, letting out a chorus of bloodcurdling shrieks.

"Oi! Dumbass, stop cutting the heads off!" I barked, slamming my staff against the ground. "I'm warning you—!"

And right on cue, two fresh heads began to sprout from the severed stump, their flesh twisting and reforming at an unnatural speed.

"Oh, come on!" Percy groaned.

Meanwhile, I was extremely busy keeping the other six heads from turning us all into a demigod-flavored buffet.

One head lunged, its massive fangs gleaming under the dim museum lights. I pivoted on my heel, twisting my staff in a precise arc— whoosh! A swirling gust of fire and wind ignited at the tip, shooting forward like a flaming spear.

The blast struck the Hydra's open mouth—boom!—an explosion of heat and force sent it reeling back, coughing up embers like it had inhaled a volcano.

Another head came at me from the side. Without missing a beat, I switched tactics—ice this time.

I spun the staff downward, slamming its base into the ground. Instantly, a jagged wall of frost shot up from the floor, intercepting the Hydra's strike. The beast's fangs crunched against the ice, and for a brief second, I locked eyes with it.

It looked pissed.

I really didn't have time to enjoy that victory before another two heads lunged at me simultaneously.

"Oh, you want round two? Alright then—"

I flipped the staff behind me, drawing in the air around me. A swirling tornado of flames erupted in my palm, twisting like a miniature wildfire.

I hurled the firestorm straight into their faces. The explosion lit up the museum like a fireworks show, sending the Hydra staggering back with a guttural roar.

"How's that taste, huh?!" I called. "Burns, doesn't it?!"

But I barely had a second to feel cocky before I heard Percy shout in pain.

I turned just in time to see him—one of the Hydra's heads had slashed his shoulder, tearing a chunk of fabric (and probably skin) off. Another head struck low, ripping into his thigh.

"Shit—Percy!" I yelled.

Percy gritted his teeth, barely holding onto the Hydra's thrashing neck. His grip on Riptide tightened. He wasn't going down that easy.

Good. Because we really needed to finish this fast, before things got even worse.