Pro-tip: don't ascend a slippery staircase when your legs are kind of broken.

My focus is torn between climbing the stairs without slipping and hiding how much pain I'm in. When we first started our ascent, Jason had offered to carry me again, but I said no because I'm terrified of being close to him. I should've taken him up on his offer because I'm pretty sure I'm doing permanent damage to my legs. Curse my pride and fear of initmacy!

At least Will isn't here to chastise me about how I'm not properly taking care of my broken bones.

Coach is being extra annoying. The slick stone steps are no match for his goat legs. He keeps traipsing up and down the staircase like it's nothing, yelling at us to get a move on and that it's "only a few thousand more steps." Gods, I want to wring his neck more than anything, but I think my companions might frown upon that.

Jason is silent and brooding, which is concerning because that's kind of my territory. I guess it makes sense. He did just find his sister after being apart from over a decade, learn the horrible truth about his mom, and then lose his sister again within the span of a few hours. I get why he's sulking. If I wasn't so busy being concerned about him, I'd be sulking myself.

I remember too much now. For three years, I've wanted nothing more than to remember my past and now that I do, I wish I could forget. I don't want to remember how my dad treated me. I don't want to remember almost being buried alive. I don't want to remember losing the one adult in my life that I trusted, the woman who shaped me and cared for me and loved me when no one else did. I don't want to remember those intimate moments with Jason when the world disappeared and it was like it had only ever been the two of us and it will only ever be the two of us. I don't remember everything, but I don't want to.

I try to force those thoughts aside and think about Thalia's idea instead. Once Jason and Leo had safely landed on the floating island, they'd given us the lowdown on the conversation they had with Thalia. It's a weird feeling to find out you're right and to wish you weren't. Anyway, it's reassuring to know she thinks it's possible to save both Piper's dad and Hera. Thalia is one of the most experienced demigods I know. If she thinks we can do both, then we must be able to.

It feels like milennea have passed by the time we reach the top of the island. The palace is fortified with bronze walls, but the twenty-foot gates are wide open. They're waiting for us. The path to the main citadel is paved with purple stone. The main citadel is definitely Greek-inspired with a modern touch: what seems like over a dozen satellites and radio towers clustered together on the roof. It looks kind of absurd. I love it.

"That's bizarre," Piper comments, her voice low as if she speaks too loudly, she'll be smited on the spot. I want to tell her that volume doesn't matter when it comes to divine beings, but Leo cuts me off before I can even start my sentence.

"Guess you can't get cable on a floating island," he jokes. "Dang, check this guy's front yard."

Front yard doesn't feel like the right word for it. It's a quarter-mile circle sectioned off like a slice of pie, each section representing...a season? No, a cardinal direction. A part of me wants to dive right into the snow banks in the section to our right and make some snow angels, or maybe pet the cloud sheep grazing in the pasture in one of the two sections slightly obscured by the citadel. But no. We're here on business.

"One section for each of the four wind gods," Jason deduces. "Four cardinal directions."

Coach is eyeing the pasture like he hasn't eaten in centuries. "I'm loving that pasture. You guys mind—" Jason gives him the go ahead and Coach takes off to eat some nature. Meanwhile, we head straight for the palace. No one stops us as we walk through the front doors. We're greeted by a white marble foyer adorned with purple banners with messages such as 'Olympian weather channel' and 'Ow!'

"Hello!"

A woman with features like the nymphs back at Camp floats up to us, a white tablet in hand. She's pretty, though I've yet to meet an ugly nymph. Her hair flows like it's being blown back by a nonexistent breeze and her white gown is glorious. She doesn't seem to have feet which kind of freaks me out, but her eyes hold a warmth that soothes my nerves. Her smile is just as lovely and unusually genuine for someone who seems to be a receptionist.

"Are you from Lord Zeus?" the woman asks. Her essence refuses to conform to a set shape, her silhouette dissipating and solidifying at random. It's both unnerving and kind of really cool. "We've been expecting you."

Jason doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at her. Then he blurts out, "Are you a ghost?"

Her smile collapses into a pout and I smack my forehead. "Jay, you can't just ask people if they're ghosts."

"I'm an aura, sir," she corrects. "A wind nymph, as you might expect, working for the lord of the winds. My name is Mellie. We don't have ghosts."

I can't tell if Piper is diffusing the situation or flirting when she says, "No, of course you don't! My friend simply mistook you for Helen of Troy, the most beautiful mortal of all time. It's an easy mistake." Mellie's see-through cheeks flush bright red. It's clear all is forgiven.

"Oh...well, then," Mellie squeaks. She clears her throat, regaining her composure. "So you are from Zeus then?"

Jason rubs the back of his neck. "Er, I'm the son of Zeus, yeah."

Mellie beams. "Excellent! Please, right this way."  She leads us through a set of security doors. She's too busy checking her tablet to pay much attention to where's she going and I almost cry out when I see her headed for a marble column before I remember that she's an aura and can pass through physical objects no problem. "We're out of prime time right now, so that's good. I can fit you in right before his 11:12 spot."

"Um, okay," Jason agrees. We press forward into the lobby where winds blow from every direction, carrying paper planes. Every now and then, an aura would grab a plane and read it before letting go and leaving the plane to refold itself. For some reason, it reminds me of the scene in the first Harry Potter movie with all of the letters. You know, when Harry's dumb ass decides to try and catch one of the letters mid-air rather than just grab one off the ground. Gods, that scene infuriates me.

A harpy passes us. She looks just like the harpies at Camp, except she dons a hairnet. Maybe she works in the cafeteria. Is there a cafeteria? For fuck's sake, I'm hungry again. Jason rebukes at the sight of the harpy. "Not an aura?"

"That's a harpy, dummy," I retort. "I know your memories aren't the best but come on man."

Mellie giggles. "Yes, a harpy. Our, ah, ugly stepsisters, I suppose you would say. Don't you have harpies on Olympus? They're spirits of violent gusts, unlike us aurai. We're all gentle breezes." She bats her eyes at Jason and I wonder if I punched her in the face, if my fist would just go right through. Ugh, I'm being stupid. I voluntarily friend-zoned Jason, I shouldn't get upset when other people notice how pretty his face is. Damn his pretty face.

Mellie and Jason are different kinds of pretty. Mellie is the kind of pretty where she's pleasant to look at and there's not much more to it than that. Jason is the kind of pretty where you just want to look at his face all day and admire all the details, the craftsmanship, because he's a living, breathing work of art. He's the kind of pretty that turns your insides to mush and removes any and all ability to form a coherent sentence. He's the kind of pretty where he's so pretty, you kind of hate him because it's just not fair, but then again, he's so pretty that it's next to impossible to truly hate him. And the worse part is he gets even prettier the more you get to know him, the more you realize how truly kind and brave and amazing he is. To the untrained eye, he's perfect, but I know he has his flaws, and fuck, that makes him prettier too.

Momma Grace might've been an awful mother/all-around person, but she had some amazing genes. Being the son of the king of the gods helps too, I guess. 

"Dee-Dee!"

Jason's hand wraps around my elbow and he yanks me back seconds before I plummet to my death. I yelp and realize I've been walking on autopilot, which was fine until we got to the room with no floor. If you ask me, that's a bit of a design flaw. I wonder how many guests have made the mistake of walking too far into the room and boom, party's over. I glance down into the pit I nearly fell into because I was so busy thinking about how beautiful Jason is — Gods, I wish I could beat the shit out of him without having to deal with any consequences — and holy shit, that's fucking deep. The walls are like a beehive, what seems like thousands of tunnels and caves dotted along the stony surfaces. Some of the tunnels are blocked off and I want to know why but I don't think I'll ever get my answers.

"Oh, my," Mellie gasps. She pulls out a walkie-talkie from what seems like nowhere. "Hello, sets? Is that Nuggets? Hi, Nuggets. Could we get a floor in the main studio, please? Yes, a solid one. Thanks." And then all of a sudden, harpies rise from the pit carrying all sorts of tools and materials. They bang out a makeshift floor in a disturbingly short amount of time.

"That can't be safe," Jason says, eyes wide with horror.

Mellie offers him a dazzling smile. "Oh, it is! The harpies are very good." I shrug. That's good enough for me. Besides, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can sit down. I take the first step forward onto the shoddy floor covering the chasm and that's when my legs remember they're broken.

I collapse onto my knees. Jason is at my side in a second. I look back at him, Leo, and Piper, and flash them a grin alongside a thumbs up. "The floor is solid."

"Cordy," Piper whimpers. She doesn't need to say anything else. I know.

"I'm fine, Pipes," I assure her. It's probably a terrible idea but I force myself to my feet. My legs are visibly wobbling, but I'm standing mostly upright, so I consider that a success.

Piper's attention returns to the treacherous path ahead. She grabs Jason's hand. "If I fall, you're catching me."

Leo steps out. "You're catching me too, Superman. But I ain't holding your hand." Jason nods and grabs my left arm. He drapes it around his shoulders the best he can. I lean into him, doing all that I can to take as much pressure off my legs as possible.

Mellie guides us to the middle of the room — no, room doesn't justly describe the vastness and ornate decorations. It's more of a chamber. The middle of the chamber is occupied by flat-panel screens encircling a control center. Inside the control center is a man checking the monitors and paper airplane messages. He's too engrossed with his work to realize we're approaching. Mellie has to push a forty-two-inch screen out of our way in order to lead us within the control area.

It's pretty fucking impressive. Each screen is tuned in to a different channel, some normal mortal channels, others clearly available only on Hephaestus TV. In the far end of the control center sits a blue screen accompanied by floating cameras and stage lights. The man in the middle of it all is talking into one of those earpiece phones that only rich assholes and soccer moms use, pointing his remote control at screen after screen after screen. 

He looks fucking ridiculous. He's wearing this suit that looks like it's actually a green screen someone has placed a real-time video of the sky over. He's old with white hair, but his face is caked in stage makeup. He looks like he's gotten plastic surgery at least twice. His gaze bounces from screen to screen, never looking in the same place for longer than two seconds.

Mellie floats over to him. "Ah, sir, Mr. Aeolus, these demigods—"

"Hold it!" he barks, raising his hand to silence her. He points at one of the screens. "Watch!" I direct my attention to the screen just in time to see a Jeep get sucked into a tornado. I wince. Gods, I hope the people in the Jeep are okay.

"The Disaster Channel! People do that on purpose!" Aeolus cackles. His eyes latch onto Jason and he grins a smile worthy of the Joker. "Isn't that amazing? Let's watch it again."

Oh, I do not like this guy. I mean, I don't like most mythical beings I encounter, but especially not this guy.

"Um, sir," Mellie pipes up timidly, "this is Jason, son of—"

Aeolus bobs his head. "Yes, yes, I remember. You're back. How did it go?" I exchange confused glances with my friends. What did he mean back?

"Sorry?" Jason's Adam's apple bobs nervously. "I think you have me confused—"

"No, no, Jason Grace, aren't you?" Aeolus interjects. "It was — what — last year? You were on your way to fight a sea monster, I believe." I'm feeling nauseous again. More memories come back to me in the form of whispered tales of monsters slain and battles won. It's unintelligible, but it's enough to make my skin crawl.

Stop, I beg. I don't want to remember.

Suck it up, Erin's voice snaps back.

Jason's gone pale. "I—I don't remember."

Aeolus finds that response hilarious. Through a fit of chuckles, he says, "Must not have been a very good sea monster! No, I remember every hero who's ever come to me for aid. Odysseus — gods, he docked at my island for a month! At least you only stayed a few days. You and that one who wouldn't shut up — Arden, wasn't it?" A higher-pitched version of Jason's voice echoes in my head. You're going to love Arden.

"Now, watch this video. These ducks get sucked straight into—"

"Sir," Mellie cuts in. "Two minutes to air."

Aeolus's eyes were already shining, but now they're practically glowing. "Air! I love air."

"Me too!" I chime in. "Can't live without it!" Jay elbows me lightly in the ribs.

Aeolus winks at me (ew) before turning back to Mellie. "How do I look? Makeup!" A whirlwind of makeup brushes, blenders, and cotton swabs engulfs his face. When the mini-storm settles, he looks worse than ever.

"Mr. Aeolus." Jason's back to business. He slips the golden backpack off his shoulder. "We brought you these rogue storm spirits."

"Did you! Well, how nice." Aeolus eyes the bag in distaste. I have to hold myself back from punching his face in. Does he have any idea of what we've gone through to get those storm spirits and bring them here? Medea, dragon failure, nearly losing my legs, Midas, nearly freezing to death, Lycaon and his wolves, the flimsy bridge, all of that hiking — and he's not even remotely grateful? I mean, he is a god, so I'm not surprised, but it still pisses me off.

Leo nudges Jason and Jason offers up the bag, doing his best not to look like he wants to wring Aeolus's neck. "Boreas sent us to capture them for you. We hope you'll accept them and stop — you know — ordering demigods to be killed."

Aeolus lets out a bark of laughter, short and sharp, looking to Mellie with a glimmer in his eyes like 'What are these kids on?' "Demigods be killed — did I order that?" Mellie checks her tablet.

"Yes, sir, fifteenth of September. 'Storm spirits released by the death of Typhon, demigods to be held responsible,' etc...yes, a general order for them all to be killed," she confirms. I grit my teeth. Demigods to be held responsible? It was the Olympians who killed Typhon. Man, I hate immortals. Always blaming us little people for their problems instead of taking responsibility for their actions. Well, I guess it was kind of Percy's fault that Typhon got out in the first place, but my point still stands.

"Oh, pish," Aeolus scoffs. "I was just grumpy. Rescind that order, Mellie, and um, who's on guard duty — Teriyaki? — Teri, take these storm spirits down to cellblock Fourteen E, will you?" Damn. First Nuggets and now Teriyaki? Who's in charge of naming the harpies around here? Anyway, Teriyaki the harpy swoops down out of nowhere and snatches the backpack from disappearing into the inky abyss.

Aeolus grins at Jason. "Now, sorry about that kill-on-sight business. But gods, I was really mad, wasn't I?" His demeanor shifts. His face darkens and his suit follows his face's example. Lightning crackles on his lapels. "You know...I remember now. Almost seemed like a voice was telling me to give that order. A little cold tingle on the back of my neck."

My entire body tenses, as does Jason's. A voice and a cold tingle...that has to be Gaea, right? Or maybe Medea? Jason stammers, "A...um, voice in your head, sir?"

"Yes. How odd. Mellie, should we kill them?"

If Mellie is unnerved by Aeolus's dark turn, she's hiding it well. "No, sir. They just brought us the storm spirits, which makes everything alright."

"Of course." And then he's chuckling again even though there's nothing funny about this situation. It's like he's in on a joke the rest of us aren't privy to. "Sorry. Mellie, let's send the demigods something nice. A box of chocolates, perhaps."

This, all of things, gives Mellie pause. "A box of chocolates to every demigod in the world, sir?"

Aeolus waves a dismissive hand. "No, too expensive. Never mind. Wait, it's time! I'm on!"

*

this chapter is weird and i hate it but i'm more than ready for this fic to be over so i'm posting this chapter anyway