#green tree python prophecy

[quornesha]

Green Tree Python Prophecy And Symbolism

The Following Channel is from higher powers, Divine, the ancestral plane and is prophetic through Quornesha S. Lemon|

Whether the appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that you are about to acquire territory, you are coming through the fire. Just like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, just like, Daniel, out of the lions den. I see 4 miracles ‘walking’ the sacred spirit is with you. Your enemies’ ancestors, their demons, their minions, all of it, will be yours, this is your birthright. What the enemy has tried to attack you with becomes your own. Your enemies have to beware, because, you are taking up real estate and the truth of the matter is, you own demons, this is so because you have fought your entire existence against the darkness that now, it is yours to command. It is already God alone, who gets the glory, but you will be acknowledged by the Divine.

It is time to rise now, the weapons the enemy owns, are about to become yours. I hear ownership. Territory. Real estate. Tell the enemy before you come at me, I own portions of hell. I own the demons, they don’t own me. I have a few of my own, so beware at what you throw, for you will reap it. Your enemies, are about to see the divine working on your behalf using the very thing they have drawn against you with. You have received more power from God, and wealth is coming into your life. This is the era where everything will go in your favor. You have authority over the fire, over the eath and you’re back on top of the world. The Green Tree Python is a prophecy that you have people irritated by your anointing. And they have been trying to bait you into an argument to get close to your energy. They are simply pathetic and you are simply the best.

Continue forward. This is not about clout for you, although this is a part of your reward. Do not allow yourself to get baited into arguments and conflict. Tell your enemies no thank you. You are flying high and are doing an impeccable job with serving your soul mission. You are an Eagle and one thing about an eagle, is that, you don’t fly below anyone’s radar. You soar without limits. There’s someone who is spiteful towards you without reason and their intentions are developing colon cancer in their body. This is the recipe for hate. Coming up against you without consent, furthermore without just cause. The Green Tree Python, is a prophecy that you are limitless and you are upsetting negative people. You are blinding out the evil eyes and shining anyway. You are intelligent and brilliant, extraordinary. You have a heightened gift of extra sensory perception and this power is elevating. You are sensitive to the voice of God/Divine. Over the coming days, you will learn or speak a single word. Literally. And something evading your space will quickly leave. The Green Tree Python is a prophecy that you have power over your enemies and you are utilizing your gift to the fullest.

There are about to occur a plethora of storms, including supercells and Derechos. The enemy is bringing down God’s wrath upon their own head. You wish for all people to be successful and there are foolish people who make themselves your enemy. You are about to conquer them all. Your enemies are about to witness you succeed on every level. For the enemy, they are operating out of greed. They have tried to come against you and what’s yours, and now God/Divine will take everything they have and add more to you just because. The Enemy is filled with such distaste for what Divine is doing in and through you and now, they lose it all. They should have walked away and stayed in their line. The Green Tree Python is a prophecy and symbol that someone evil is about to leave your life permanently. As they leave better people enter. The doorway to karmic relationships are now over. The delays, obstacles and setbacks are ending. The enemy has wanted to destroy you but are ending up with 7 targets on their backs at once. The voodoo spirits they use turn against them, the Christian witchcraft they used is now a trap they fall in. The enemy wanted you to feel irritated and anxious. Your life is turning around for the better. You are tapping into your ability to manifest with the power of your tongue and you are full power now. It will never be a dull moment in your life from this day forward.

You are also learning the power of humor and your timing is impeccable. They are calling you a sniper in the spirit. Because you’ll never miss. You are an assassin in the spirit, terminating your enemies and conquering territories. You have power over every creeping thing, everything that walks the earth, you have command over. You will have authority over snakes/serpents, spiritually and in the natural. God is walking with you. You are entering a period of absolution and 100% accuracy. You have power from pyramids and you are able to manifest all that you need. Whether financially, spiritually, emotionally, relational, or otherwise.

The enemy can turn a bling eye all they’d like to what you’re doing, but it will be that same eye, they’ll hope people can see through when them tables turn. Your enemies will be in the fire and will be hopeless because it’s a season of them becoming invisible and this is when the chaos erupts. They’ll call for help and help will be delayed. They’ll cry out for roadside assistance and it will be hours that they are stuck. Help will be blind to your enemies. As for you and your house, God’s eyes are watching over you all and help is on the way.

Continue to fly high, continue to rise, the Green Tree Python totem is looking out for you and you are about to receive some fortunate news that will be a relief to you and your family. Your life will be filled with good reports. The Hand of God/Divine is upon you. God is never early and never late, he is always on time. You are being exonerated in the spirit and it’s the high courts that have made this decision. Something in your life, will not even become a legal headache for you. Tell the enemy, to have several seats. God is so good and he always will be to you. Change is imminent and it is for your highest good. Your whole aura system is about to change. You have changed the heart of an extremist and they are lowering their ‘weapons’ and walking away with their head bowed down. It is you that holds the victory.

This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may encounter someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. 

Need further clarity or your own queries answered? Book your own reading as my schedule is full and I do not guarantee a reply on social media regarding this post.

If this is not you, then it is time to get clear to rejoin your tribe or the rest of the world of infinite beings. It's time to bring your light to the forefront. However, if you aren't able to invoke, heal or otherwise on your own, call on the assistance of shamans, healers, intuitive people, etc. to assist you. This synchronicity can possibly have specific meanings for you, it's time to get insight. 

The Gift that Quornesha Has can never be duplicated, She is a Shaman, Writer, Healer,  And Teacher with incredible prophetic/healing gifts. Please do not infringe upon her rights as the author. You are not permitted to reuse, nor are you to sale as you wish. This information has been made available to you for the purpose of introduction and demonstration. All rights reserved. If you'd like to use this in a magazine, online publication, or other, please ask for permission first. Legal actions will be taken if you proceed to impose. Be blessed, bless others and be at peace on your journey. What you do is coming back on you. Make sure that it is good, and all is well within you, through you and around you.  The source sees all and knows what you think it does not. 

[differentsoulsweets]

Apollo

Απολλων [Apollo] God of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease

Epithets: ⟡ Proopsios [Foreseeing] ⟡ Phoibos [Bright] ⟡ Akestor [Healer] ⟡ Alexikakos [Averter of Evil] ⟡ Theoxenios [ God of Foreigners ] ⟡ Pythios [Slayers of Python] ⟡ Chrusaor [Of Golden Sword] ⟡ Daphnephorios [Bearer of Laurels] ⟡ Loimios [ Deliverer from Pague] ⟡ Moiragetes [Leader of Fate] ⟡ Pagasios [Pagasaean] ⟡ Hekaergos [Far-shooting]

Domains: ⟡ Prophecy & Oracles ⟡ Light ⟡ Music & Arts ⟡ Song & poetry ⟡ Archery ⟡ Healing & medicine ⟡ Plague & Disease ⟡ Protection of the young ⟡ Boys ⟡ Sudden Death ⟡ Knowledge ⟡ Herds & Flocks ⟡ Protector of Fugitives

Devotional acts: ⟡ Donate to medical charities ⟡ Draw or Paint ⟡ Read poetry or listen to music ⟡ Sing or play an instrument ⟡ Go to the library

Associations

Symbol: ⟡ The Lyre ⟡ Silver bow & Arrows ⟡ Dolphins ⟡ Swans ⟡ Crows ⟡ Ravens ⟡ Lions ⟡ Wolves ⟡ Mice ⟡ Griffins ⟡ Hawks ⟡ Snakes ⟡ Laurel wreath ⟡ Fire / flame ⟡ The sun / Light ⟡ Tripod ⟡ Apples

Element: ⟡ Light

Color: ⟡ Orange ; yellow ; Gold ⟡ Red ⟡ Pure white ⟡ Pink ⟡ Purple ⟡ Green ⟡ Blue

Crystals & stones: ⟡ Sunstone ⟡ Amber ⟡ Honey ; Yellow Calcite ⟡ Rutilated ; Clear ; Rose quartz

Fruits,Vegetables,Flowers,Herbs: ⟡ Cypress ⟡ Laurel ⟡ Larkspur ⟡ The-apple-tree ⟡ The palm tree ⟡ Hyacinth

Animal: ✧Swan ⟡ Raven ⟡ Tortoise ⟡ Serpent ⟡ Wolf ⟡ Dolphin ⟡ Mouse

Incense: ✧ Bay ⟡ Frankincense ⟡ Cypress

Food & Drinks: ⟡ Red wine ⟡ Olive oil ⟡ Water ⟡ Fruit ⟡ Honey ⟡ Almonds ⟡ Citruses ⟡ Cinnamon ⟡ Coffee ⟡ Herbal tea with Honey cakes ⟡ Bay leaves ⟡ Anise

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Sunday ⟡ Middsummer ⟡ Midday ⟡ May

Tarot: ✧ The Sun ⟡ The chariot ⟡ Strength ⟡ Temperance

[deitiesmasterlist]

Goddesses

Achlys : Goddess of poisons, and the personification of misery and sadness.

Amphitrite : Goddess of the sea.

Ananke : Goddess of destiny, fatality and necessity.

Aphrodite : Goddess of beauty, love, desire, and pleasure. Symbols : myrtle, roses, scallop shell, doves and sparrows.

Artemis : Goddess of the hunt, wilderness, animals, the Moon and young girls. Symbols : hunting spears, animal pelts, deer.

Athena : Goddess of reason, wisdom, intelligence, skill, peace, warfare, battle strategy, and handicrafts. Symbols : olive tree, owl.

Asteria : Goddess of nocturnal oracles and falling stars.

Brizo : Patron goddess of sailors, who sent prophetic dreams.

Ceto : Goddess of the dangers of the ocean and of sea monsters.

Chaos : personification of nothingness, origins of existence.

Demeter : Goddess of grain, agriculture, harvest, growth, and nourishment. Symbols : cornucopia, wheat-ears, the winged serpent, and the lotus staff, pigs and snakes.

Eos : Goddess of the dawn.

Eirene : Goddess of peace.

Eunomia : Goddess of law and legislation and spring-time goddess of green pastures.

Gaia : Goddess of earth, mother of the titans.

Harmonia : Goddess of harmony and concord.

Hekate : Goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Symbols : torches, key, snakes, dogs.

Hemera : The goddess of day.

Hera : Queen of the gods, and goddess of marriage, women, childbirth, heirs, kings, and empires. Symbols : diadem, heifer, peacock, and cuckoo.

Hestia : Goddess of the hearth, home, domesticity and chastity. Symbols : hearth and kettle.

Leto : Goddess of motherhood.

Macaria : Goddess of blessed death.

Metis : Goddess of good counsel, advice, planning, cunning, craftiness, and wisdom. Mother of Athena.

Mnemosyne : Goddess of memory and remembrance, and mother of the Nine Muses.

Nemesis : Goddess of revenge, balance, righteous indignation, and retribution Symbols : whip, dagger.

The Nesoi : The goddesses of islands.

Nike : Goddess of victory

Nyx : The goddess of night.

Persephone : Queen of the underworld, wife of Hades and goddess of spring growth

Phoebe : Goddess of the "bright" intellect and prophecy, and consort of Coeus.

The Potamoi : Gods of rivers and streams of the earth.

Rhea : Goddess of fertility, motherhood and the mountain wilds.

Selene : Goddess of the moon.

Styx : Goddess of the Underworld river Styx and personification of hatred.

Tethys : Goddess of fresh-water, and the mother of the rivers, springs, streams, fountains, and clouds.

Thalassa : Goddess of the sea.

Theia : Goddess of sight and the shining light of the clear blue sky.

Themis : Goddess of divine law and order.

Tyche : goddess of fortune, chance, providence, and fate.

Gods

Aether : The god of light and the upper atmosphere.

Aion : The god of eternity, personifying cyclical and unbounded time.

Anteros : God of requited love.

Apollo : God of music, arts, knowledge, healing, plague, prophecy, poetry, manly beauty, and archery. Symbols : laurel wreath, bow and arrow, lyre, roe deer, swans, and pythons.

Ares : God of courage, war, bloodshed, and violence. Symbols: helmet, spade, sword, vultures, venomous snakes, dogs, and boars.

Astraeus : God of dusk, stars, and planets, and the art of astrology.

Chronos : The god of empirical time.

Coeus : God of intellect and the axis of heaven around which the constellations revolved.

Crius : God of constellations.

Cronus : God of harvests and personification of destructive time.

Dionysus : God of wine, fruitfulness, parties, festivals, madness, chaos, drunkenness, vegetation, ecstasy, and the theater. Symbols : thyrsus, drinking cup, grape vine, crown of ivy, dolphins, serpents, tigers, and donkeys.

Epimetheus : God of afterthought and the father of excuses.

Erebus : God of darkness and shadow.

Eros : God of love, attraction and sexual intercourse.

Hades : King of the underworld, the dead and wealth. Symbols : drinking horn or cornucopia, key, sceptre, the three-headed dog Cerberus, screech owl.

Hedylogos : God of sweet talk and flattery.

Helios : God of the sun and guardian of oaths.

Hephaestus : God of fire, metalworking, and crafts. Symbols : hammer, anvil, donkey, fire.

Hermaphroditus : God of unions, androgyny, marriage, sexuality and fertility.

Hermes : God of boundaries, travel, trade, communication, language, writing, cunning and thieves. Symbols : herald's wand or caduceus, winged sandals, traveler's cap, tortoise.

Hymen : God of marriage ceremonies, inspiring feasts and song.

Hyperion : God of light.

Hypnos : God of sleep.

Iapetus : God of mortality

Menoetius : God of violent anger, rash action, and human mortality.

Ouranos : God of the heavens and the sky.

The Ourea : The gods of mountains.

Pallas : God of warcraft.

Perses : God of destruction.

Phanes : The god of procreation.

Phorcys : God of the hidden dangers of the deep.

Photos : God of sexual longing, yearning, and desire.

Pontus : The god of the sea, father of the fish and other sea creatures.

Poseidon : God of the sea, rivers, floods, droughts, and earthquakes, king of the sea and the waters. Symbols : trident, horse and dolphin.

Prometheus : God of forethought and crafty counsel, and creator of mankind.

Proteus : Shape-shifting, prophetic old sea god.

Zeus : King of the gods, ruler of Mount Olympus, and god of the sky, weather, thunder, lightning, law, order, and justice. Symbols : royal scepter, lightning bolt, eagle and bull.

Tartarus : The god of the deepest, darkest part of the underworld, the Tartarean pit.

Thanatos : God of death.

[thisblogisalsoboundforglory]

WHAT I HAVE BEEN READING LATELY

Kage Baker’s Company Series

In the Garden of Iden

Sky Coyote

Mendoza in Hollywood

The Graveyard Game

The Life of the World to Come

The Children of the Company

The Machine's Child

The Sons of Heaven

The Empress of Mars

Not Less than Gods

Nell Gwynne's On Land and At Sea

Black Projects, White Knights: The Company Dossiers

Gods and Pawns

In the Company of Thieves

Ø  Science Fiction written by a woman with Asperger’s. Wildly uneven. Main protagonist is female, but there are lots of POV characters, male and female.

Ø  Big ideas.

Ø  Lots of adventure, some action.

Ø   Small doses of humor.

 Neil Gaiman

Good Omens (with Sir Terry Pratchett)

Neverwhere

Stardust

American Gods

Anansi Boys

The Graveyard Book

The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Ø  Neil’s books are a road trip with Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and a baggie full of sativa.

Ø  Ideas are incidental. The Milieu’s in charge.

Ø  Adventure happens whether you like it or not.

Ø   Cosmic humor. The joke’s on us.

 Connie Willis’s Oxford Time Travel Series

Firewatch

Doomsday Book

To Say Nothing of the Dog (and the novel that inspired it – Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat)

Blackout/All Clear

Assorted:

The Last of the Winnebagos

Ø  Connie loves her historical research. Blackout/All Clear actually lasts as long as the Blitz, but anything in the Oxford Time Travel series is worth reading. Doomsday Book reads like prophecy in retrospect.

Ø  One idea: Hi! This is the human condition! How fucking amazing is that?!?

Ø  Gut-punch adventure with extra consequences. Background action.

Ø   I’d have to say that Doomsday Book is the funniest book about the black death I’ve ever read, which isn’t saying much. To Say Nothing of the Dog is classic farce, though. Girl’s got range.

Neal Stephenson

Snow Crash (After the apocalypse, the world will be ruled by Home-Owners Associations. Be afraid.)

Cryptonomicon

Anathem

Seveneves

Ø  Neal writes big, undisciplined, unfocused books that keep unfolding in your mind for months after you’ve read them. He’s a very guy-type writer, in spite of a female protagonist or two. Seveneves, be warned, starts out brilliant and devolves into extreme meh.

Ø  Big. Fucking. Ideas.

Ø  Battles, crashes, fistfights, parachute jumps, nuclear powered motorcycles and extreme gardening action. Is there an MPAA acronym for that?

Ø   Humor dry enough to be garnished with two green olives on a stick.

  Christopher Moore

Pine Cove Series:

Practical Demonkeeping

The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Okay, yeah, Christmas. But Christmas with zombies, so that’s all right.)

Fluke (Not strictly Pine Cove, but in the same universe. Ever wonder why whales sing? They’re ordering Pastrami sandwiches. I’m not kidding.)

Death Merchant Chronicles:

A Dirty Job

Secondhand Souls (Best literary dogs this side of Jack London)

Coyote Blue (Kind of an outlier. Overlapping characters)

Shakespeare Series:

Fool

The Serpent of Venice

Shakespeare for Squirrels

Assorted:

Island of the Sequined Love Nun (Cargo cults with Pine Cove crossovers. I have a theory that the characters in this book are direct descendants of certain characters in Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon.)

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal (So I have a favorite first-century wonder rabbi. Who doesn’t?)

Sacre Bleu

Noir

Ø  Not for the squeamish, the easily offended, or those who can’t lovingly embrace the fact that the human species is pretty much a bunch of idiots snatching at moments of grace.

Ø  No big ideas whatever. Barely any half-baked notions.

Ø  Enthusiastic geek adventure. Action as a last resort.

Ø   Nonstop funny from beginning to end.

 Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London Series

Rivers of London

Moon Over Soho

Whispers Under Ground

Broken Homes

Foxglove Summer

The Hanging Tree

The Furthest Station

Lies Sleeping

The October Man

False Value

Tales From the Folly

Ø  Lean, self-deprecating police procedurals disguised as fantasy novels. Excellent writing.

Ø  These will not expand your mind. They might expand your Latin vocabulary.

Ø  Crisply described action, judiciously used. Whodunnit adventure. It’s all about good storytelling.

Ø  Generous servings of sly humor. Aaronovitch is a geek culture blueblood who drops so many inside jokes, there are websites devoted to indexing them.

  John Scalzi

Old Man’s War Series:

Old Man’s War

Questions for a Soldier

The Ghost Brigades

The Sagan Diary

The Last Colony

Zoe’s Tale

After the Coup

The Human Division

The End of All Things

Ø  Star Trek with realpolitik instead of optimism.

Ø  The Big Idea is that there’s nothing new under the sun. Nor over it.

Ø  Action-adventure final frontier saga with high stakes.

Ø  It’s funny when the characters are being funny, and precisely to the same degree that the character is funny.

Assorted:

The Dispatcher

Murder by Other Means

Redshirts (Star Trek, sideways, with occasional optimism)

Ø  Scalzi abandons (or skewers) his space-opera tendencies with these three little gems of speculative fiction. Scalzi’s gift is patience. He lets the scenario unfold like a striptease.

Ø  What-if thought experiments that jolt the brain like espresso shots.

Ø  Action/misadventure as necessary to accomplish the psychological special effects.

Ø  Redshirts is satire, so the humor is built-in, but it’s buried in the mix.

  David Wong/Jason Pargin

John Dies at the End

This Book is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It

What the Hell Did I Just Read?

Ø  Pargin clearly starts his novels with a handful of arresting scenes and images, then looses the characters on an unsuspecting world to wander wither they will.

Ø  Ideas aren’t as big or obvious as Heinlein, but they are there to challenge all your assumptions in the same way that Heinlein’s were.

Ø  Classic action/adventure for anyone raised on Scooby-Doo.

Ø  Occasional gusts of humor in a climate that’s predominantly tongue-in-cheek.

 Jodi Taylor’s Chronicles of St. Mary’s Series

Just One Damned Thing After Another

The Very First Damned Thing

A Symphony of Echoes

When a Child is Born*

A Second Chance

Roman Holiday*

A Trail Through Time

Christmas Present*

No Time Like the Past

What Could Possible Go Wrong?

Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings*

Lies, Damned Lies and History

The Great St Mary’s Day Out*

My Name is Markham*

And the Rest is History

A Perfect Storm*

Christmas Past*

An Argumentation of Historians

The Battersea Barricades*

The Steam Pump Jump*

And Now for Something Completely Different*

Hope for the Best

When Did You Last See Your Father?*

Why Is Nothing Ever Simple*

Plan For The Worst

The Ordeal of the Haunted Room

Ø  The * denotes a short story or novella. Okay, try to imagine Indiana Jones as a smartassed redheaded woman with a time machine and a merry band of full contact historians. I love history, and I especially love history narrated by a woman who can kick T. Rex ass.

Ø  The ideas are toys, not themes. Soapy in spots.

Ø  Action! Adventure! More action! More adventure! Tea break. Action again!

Ø  Big, squishy dollops of snort-worthy stuff.

 Laurie R. King’s Mary Russell Series

The Beekeeper's Apprentice

A Monstrous Regiment of Women

A Letter of Mary

The Moor

Jerusalem

Justice Hall

The Game

Locked Rooms

The Language of Bees

The God of the Hive

Beekeeping for Beginners

Pirate King

Garment of Shadows

Dreaming Spies

The Marriage of Mary Russell

The Murder of Mary Russell

Mary Russell's War And Other Stories of Suspense

Island of the Mad

Riviera Gold

The Art of Detection (Strictly speaking, this is in the action!lesbian Detective Kate Martinelli series, but it crosses over to the Sherlock Holmes genre. If you’ve ever wondered how Holmes would deal with the transgendered, this is the book.)

Ø  Sherlock Holmes retires to Sussex, keeps bees, marries a nice Jewish girl who is smarter than he is and less than half his age and he’s mentored since she was fifteen in an extremely problematic power dynamic relationship that should repulse me but doesn’t, somehow, because this is the best Sherlock Holmes pastiche out there. Mary should have been a rabbi, but it is 1920, so she learns martial arts and becomes an international detective instead. Guest appearances by Conan Doyle, Kimball O’Hara, T.E. Lawrence, Cole Porter, and the Oxford Comma.

Ø  Nothing mind-expanding here, unless the levels of meta present in a fictional world that is about how the fictional world might not be as fictional as you thought come as a surprise to anyone in the era of tie-in books, films, tv, interactive social media and RPGs.

Ø  If these two geniuses can’t catch the bad guys with their dazzling brilliance, they will happily kick some ass. Adventure takes center stage and the action sequences are especially creative.

Ø  Amusement is afoot.

 Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next Series

The Eyre Affair

Lost in a Good Book

The Well of Lost Plots

Something Rotten

First Among Sequels

One of Our Thursdays is Missing

The Woman Who Died a Lot

Ø  In a world where Librarians are revered and Shakespeare is more popular than the Beatles, someone has to facilitate the weekly anger-management sessions for the characters of Wuthering Heights, if only to keep them from killing each other before the novel actually ends. That someone is Thursday Next – Literature Cop.

Ø  Mind-bending enough to give Noam Chomsky material for another hundred years.

Ø  Adventure aplenty. Action? Even the punctuation will try to kill you.

Ø  This is a frolicsome look at humorous situations filled with funny people. Pretty much a full house in the laugh department.

 Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series/City Watch Arc

Guards! Guards!

Men at Arms

Feet of Clay

Jingo

The Fifth Elephant

Night Watch

Thud!

Snuff

Raising Steam

Ø  If this were a game of CLUE, the answer would be Niccolo Machiavelli in Narnia with a Monty Python. Everything you think you know about books with dragons and trolls and dwarves and wizards is expertly ripped to shreds and reassembled as social satire that can save your soul, even if it turns out you don’t really have one. Do not be fooled by the Tolkien chassis – there’s a Vonnegut-class engine at work.

Ø  Caution: Ideas in the Mirror Universe May be Larger Than They Appear

Ø  The City Watch arc has plenty of thrilling action sequences. Some other of the fifty-million Discworld novels have less. Every one of them is nonstop adventure. Most of the adventure, however, takes the form of characters desperately trying to avoid thrilling action sequences.

Ø  Funny? Even though I’ve read every book in the series at least ten times, I still have to make sure I have cold packs on hand in case I laugh so hard I rupture something.

[lake-lyn]

ET’s exclusive excerpt of The Tyrant’s Tomb by Rick Riordan (1/2)

Chapter 1

There is no food here

Meg ate all the Swedish fish

Please get off my hearse

I believe in returning dead bodies.

It seems like a simple courtesy, doesn’t it? A warrior dies, you should do what you can to get their body back to their people for funerary rites. Maybe I’m old-fashioned. I am over four thousand years old. But I find it rude not to properly dispose of corpses.

Achilles during the Trojan War, for instance. Total pig. He chariot-dragged the body of the Trojan champion Hector around the walls of the city for days. Finally I convinced Zeus to pressure the big bully into returning Hector’s body to his parents so he could have a decent burial. I mean, come on. Have a little respect for the people you slaughter.

Then there was Oliver Cromwell’s corpse. I wasn’t a fan of the man, but please. First, the English bury him with honors. Then they decide they hate him, so they dig him up and “execute” his body. Then his head falls off the pike where it’s been impaled for decades and gets passed around from collector to collector for almost three centuries like a disgusting souvenir snow globe. Finally, in 1960, I whispered in the ears of some influential people, Enough, already. I am the god Apollo, and I order you to bury that thing. You’re grossing me out.

When it came to Jason Grace, my fallen friend and half bropppther, I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. I would personally escort his coffin to Camp Jupiter and see him off with full honors.

That turned out to be a good call. What with the ghouls attacking us and everything.

Sunset turned San Francisco Bay into a cauldron of molten copper as our private plane landed at Oakland Airport. I say our private plane. The chartered trip was actually a parting gift from our friend Piper McLean and her movie star father. (Everyone should have at least one friend with a movie star parent.)

Waiting for us beside the runway was another surprise the McLeans must have arranged: a gleaming black hearse. Meg McCaffrey and I stretched our legs on the tarmac while the ground crew somberly removed Jason’s coffin from the Cessna’s storage bay. The polished mahogany box seemed to glow in the evening light. Its brass fixtures glinted red. I hated how beautiful it was. Death shouldn’t be beautiful.

The crew loaded it into the hearse, then transferred our luggage to the backseat. We didn’t have much: Meg’s back- pack and mine (courtesy of Marco’s Military Madness), my bow and quiver and ukulele, and a couple of sketchbooks and a poster-board diorama we’d inherited from Jason.

I signed some paperwork, accepted the flight crew’s condolences, then shook hands with a nice undertaker who handed me the keys to the hearse and walked away.

I stared at the keys, then at Meg McCaffrey, who was chewing the head off a Swedish fish. The plane had been stocked with half a dozen tins of the squishy red candy. Not anymore. Meg had single-handedly brought the Swedish sh ecosystem to the brink of collapse.

“I’m supposed to drive?” I wondered. “Is this a rental hearse?”

Meg shrugged. During our flight, she’d insisted on sprawling on the Cessna’s sofa, so her dark pageboy haircut was flattened against the side of her head. One rhinestone-studded point of her cat-eye glasses poked through her hair like a disco shark n.

The rest of her out t was equally disreputable: floppy red high-tops, threadbare yellow leggings, and the well-loved knee-length green frock she’d gotten from Percy Jackson’s mother. By well-loved, I mean the frock had been through so many battles, washed and mended so many times, it looked less like a piece of clothing and more like a deflated hot-air balloon. Around Meg’s waist was the pièce de résistance: her multi-pocketed gardening belt, because children of Demeter never leave home without one.

“I don’t have a driver’s license,” she said, as if I needed a reminder that my life was presently being controlled by a twelve-year-old. “I call shotgun.”

“Calling shotgun” didn’t seem appropriate for a hearse. Nevertheless, Meg skipped to the passenger’s side and climbed in. I got behind the wheel. Soon we were out of the airport and cruising north on I-880 in our rented black grief-mobile.

Ah, the Bay Area . . . I’d spent some happy times here. The vast misshapen geographic bowl was jam-packed with interesting people and places. I loved the green-and-golden hills, the fog-swept coastline, the glowing lacework of bridges and the crazy zigzag of neighborhoods shouldered up against one another like subway passengers at rush hour.

Back in the 1950s, I played with Dizzy Gillespie at Bop City in the Fillmore. During the Summer of Love, I hosted an impromptu jam session in Golden Gate Park with the Grateful Dead. (Lovely bunch of guys, but did they really need those fteen-minute-long solos?) In the 1980s, I hung out in Oakland with Stan Burrell—otherwise known as MC Hammer—as he pioneered pop rap. I can’t claim credit for Stan’s music, but I did advise him on his fashion choices. Those gold lamé parachute pants? My idea. You’re welcome, fashionistas.

Most of the Bay Area brought back good memories. But as I drove, I couldn’t help glancing to the northwest—toward Marin County and the dark peak of Mount Tamalpais. We gods knew the place as Mount Othrys, seat of the Titans. Even though our ancient enemies had been cast down, their palace destroyed, I could still feel the evil pull of the place—like a magnet trying to extract the iron from my now-mortal blood.

I did my best to shake the feeling. We had other problems to deal with. Besides, we were going to Camp Jupiter—friendly territory on this side of the bay. I had Meg for backup. I was driving a hearse. What could possibly go wrong?

The Nimitz Freeway snaked through the East Bay flatlands, past warehouses and docklands, strip malls and rows of dilapidated bungalows. To our right rose downtown Oakland, its small cluster of high-rises facing off against its cooler neighbor San Francisco across the Bay as if to proclaim We are Oakland! We exist, too!

Meg reclined in her seat, propped her red high-tops up on the dashboard, and cracked open her window.

“I like this place,” she decided.

“We just got here,” I said. “What is it you like? The abandoned warehouses? That sign for Bo’s Chicken ’N’ Waffles?”

“Nature.”

“Concrete counts as nature?”

“There’s trees, too. Plants flowering. Moisture in the air. The eucalyptus smells good. It’s not like . . .”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Our time in Southern California had been marked by scorching temperatures, extreme drought, and raging wild res—all thanks to the magical Burning Maze controlled by Caligula and his hate-crazed sorceress bestie, Medea. The Bay Area wasn’t experiencing any of those problems. Not at the moment, anyway.

We’d killed Medea. We’d extinguished the Burning Maze. We’d freed the Erythraean Sibyl and brought relief to the mortals and withering nature spirits of Southern California.

But Caligula was still very much alive. He and his co- emperors in the Triumvirate were still intent on controlling all means of prophecy, taking over the world, and writing the future in their own sadistic image. Right now, Caligula’s fleet of evil luxury yachts was making its way toward San Francisco to attack Camp Jupiter. I could only imagine what sort of hellish destruction the emperor would rain down on Oakland and Bo’s Chicken ’N’ Waffles.

Even if we somehow managed to defeat the Triumvirate, there was still that greatest Oracle, Delphi, under the control of my old nemesis Python. How I could defeat him in my present form as a sixteen-year-old weakling, I had no idea.

But, hey. Except for that, everything was fine. The eucalyptus smelled nice.

Traf c slowed at the I-580 interchange. Apparently, California drivers didn’t follow that custom of yielding to hearses out of respect. Perhaps they gured at least one of our passengers was already dead, so we weren’t in a hurry.

Meg toyed with her window controls, raising and lower- ing the glass. Reeee. Reeee. Reeee.

“You know how to get to Camp Jupiter?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“ ’Cause you said that about Camp Half-Blood.”

“We got there! Eventually.”

“Frozen and half-dead.”

“Look, the entrance to camp is right over there.” I waved vaguely at the Oakland Hills. “There’s a secret passage in the Caldecott Tunnel or something.”

“Or something?”

“Well, I haven’t actually ever driven to Camp Jupiter,” I admitted. “Usually I descend from the heavens in my glorious sun chariot. But I know the Caldecott Tunnel is the main entrance. There’s probably a sign. Perhaps a Demigods Only lane.”

Meg peered at me over the top of her glasses. “You’re the dumbest god ever.” She raised her window with a final Reeee. SHLOOMP!—a sound that reminded me uncomfortably of a guillotine blade.

We turned west onto Highway 24. The congestion eased as the hills loomed closer. The elevated lanes soared past neighborhoods of winding streets and tall conifers, white stucco houses clinging to the sides of grassy ravines.

A road sign promised CALDECOTT TUNNEL ENTRANCE, 2 MI. That should have comforted me. Soon, we’d pass through the borders of Camp Jupiter into a heavily guarded, magically camouflaged valley where an entire Roman legion could shield me from my worries, at least for a while.

Why, then, were the hairs on the back of my neck quivering like sea worms?

Something was wrong. It dawned on me that the uneas- iness I’d felt since we landed might not be the distant threat of Caligula, or the old Titan base on Mount Tamalpais, but something more immediate . . . something malevolent, and getting closer.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Through the back window’s gauzy curtains, I saw nothing but traffic. But then, in the polished surface of Jason’s coffin lid, I caught the reflection of movement from a dark shape outside—as if a human-size object had just own past the side of the hearse.

“Oh. Meg?” I tried to keep my voice even. “Do you see anything unusual behind us?”

“Unusual like what?”

THUMP.

The hearse lurched as if we’d been hitched to a trailer full of scrap metal. Above my head, two foot-shaped impressions appeared in the upholstered ceiling.

“Something just landed on the roof,” Meg deduced.

“Thank you, Sherlock McCaffrey! Can you get it off?”

“Me? How?”

That was an annoyingly fair question. Meg could turn the rings on her middle fingers into wicked gold swords, but if she summoned them in close quarters, like the interior of the hearse, she a) wouldn’t have room to wield them, and b) might end up impaling me and/or herself.

CREAK. CREAK. The footprint impressions deepened as the thing adjusted its weight like a surfer on a board. It must have been immensely heavy to sink into the metal roof.

A whimper bubbled in my throat. My hands trembled on the steering wheel. I yearned for my bow and quiver in the backseat, but I couldn’t have used them. DWSPW, driving while shooting projectile weapons, is a big no-no, kids.

“Maybe you can open the window,” I said to Meg. “Lean out and tell it to go away.”

“Um, no.” (Gods, she was stubborn.) “What if you try to shake it off?”

Before I could explain that this was a terrible idea while traveling fifty miles an hour on a highway, I heard a sound like a pop-top aluminum can opening—the crisp pneumatic hiss of air through metal. A claw punctured the ceiling—a grimy white talon the size of a drill bit. Then another. And another. And another, until the upholstery was studded with ten pointy white spikes—just the right number for two very large hands.

“Meg?” I yelped. “Could you—?”

I don’t know how I might have finished that sentence. Protect me? Kill that thing? Check in the back to see if I have any spare undies?

I was rudely interrupted by the creature ripping open our roof like we were a birthday present.

Staring down at me through the ragged hole was a withered, ghoulish humanoid, its blue-black hide glistening like the skin of a house y, its eyes filmy white orbs, its bared teeth dripping saliva. Around its torso uttered a loincloth of greasy black feathers. The smell coming off it was more putrid than any dumpster—and believe me, I’d fallen into a few.

“FOOD!” it howled.

“Kill it!” I yelled at Meg.

“Swerve!” she countered.

One of the many annoying things about being incarcerated in my puny mortal body: I was Meg McCaffrey’s servant. I was bound to obey her direct commands. So when she yelled “swerve,” I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The hearse handled beautifully. It careened across three lanes of traffic, barreled straight through the guardrail, and plummeted into the canyon below.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Thirty-Nine: Kalypso

I Argue with an Inanimate Object

             Kally almost slapped the Cloven Terror helm in surprise, but realized exactly how dumb that would look since she was wearing it. “You can talk?” she said out loud. “Um, to me? You’re alive?”

           She glanced towards the battle and felt a horrific sense of vertigo. As her gaze went to the peripheral of her vision, it expanded, showing everything on either side of her: the way Percy screamed on his throne, the two giants battling near them. Maybe near? Her depth perception failed.

           Disoriented, Kally returned her gaze to Alabaster, where his pale face stared back, patiently letting her get adjusted. Her vision returned to normal.

           Not all of us. We reflect the monsters they want to be. Ajax thinks silence is terror; Axel, the calculated insertion of an intelligent beast; Alabaster…

           There was a wry laugh.

           Besides, I was the first. I needed to come with an instruction manual.  

         Everything hummed. Kally could feel energy surge through her body. Green sparks erupted from the broken corner of the helm.

           Alabaster reached a hand out, pressing one of his rune pouches into her palm. He weakly gestured towards her Argonaut statue in her other hand.

           We made something for you, but, with my master in his current state, you must cast the spell. We had no time to test it.

           Kally wanted to inform the talking helmet that this was epic and cool, but they picked the wrong person. She wondered, if she had known this was how things would turn out, would she have followed Axel and Pax out of her school a few months ago?

           Without hesitation, she knew the answer was yes.

           “I can’t use magic,” she said.

           All creatures possess the ability to use magic. It’s whether you have the aptitude to excel. Now, cast with me.

           The words raced through her mind. Later, she would need to demand when Alabaster had the time for prepping this spell and exactly why he hadn’t done it before. She took Alabaster’s hand and the spell pouch, and pressed it against the Argonaut statue. If she had to guess, that statue was giving her the most skeptical look possible. When her mouth moved, she couldn’t tell if it was the voice of the helm or her own.

           “Incantara: revertetur,” Kally said, the helm’s darker tone whispering in harmony with hers.

           The statue glowed green as the rune pouch melded into the metal. Kally wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen. She didn’t feel any different, though Alabaster now looked paler. Knowing her luck, she just used all of Alabaster’s magic reserves to make her weapon cuss in squirrel instead of anything useful.[1]

           His quivering hand pointed behind her. His eyebrows furrowed, but that could have been from the pain. The ambrosia didn’t seem to have much effect on his broken jaw, though she guessed he would need a bit more than a godly pain killer for that.

           She didn’t like the idea of leaving Alabaster by himself, barely conscious, and unguarded. As though he could read her mind—maybe he could with the helm on—he withdrew his pistol and set it on his lap.

           “Okay,” Kally said, her voice cracking, “Okay. I’m going to go help the others. But, uh, I need you to protect this.” She took off her messenger bag and set it beside him. “Make sure no one else reads my journal,” she said lamely, since she couldn’t get herself to say, Yea, don’t die while I’m not looking. Or while I’m looking. Just don’t die.

           Alabaster rolled his eyes. Then, looked like he might throw up from the motion.

           As gently as she could, Kally kissed his forehead.[2]

           Then, she stood up and turned to face the battle. Preparing for the nausea and disorientation this time, she glanced to the edge of her peripheral, feeling her vision expand like a panorama photo.

           There was another monster on the field she hadn’t seen before. She didn’t remember anything in Greek mythology like this; it was huge, towering over the Roman’s field lights, matching the size of Eris. At first, her stomach clenched to think they’d have to fight another god, but it slammed into the goddess of Chaos with a, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

           “Pax?” Kally said stupidly.

           The creature was humanoid, but it looked nothing like her not-really-ex-boyfriend. Talons busted through the back of both the monster’s combat boots. Its fingers were twice the length of a normal human’s or demigods, with black more talons further extending the digits. His forearms and thighs seemed twice as thick as usual.  

           Poking through the Silver-Tongued Snake’s helm, which had also grown, the face under was narrowed and pointed, not squishy.

           When he struck Eris, Kally couldn’t follow the speed of his movements, like seeing a snake or bird wind up for an attack, then only seeing the aftereffects.

           Ah, a feathered serpent. How utterly appropriate, the Cloven Terror muttered.

           With each slash of Pax’s talons, Eris giggled hysterically, regardless of whether she successfully blocked or not. Ichor splattered her clothing; Kally couldn’t tell if it was from Eris or Pax. Each time Pax drew close, she’d lash haphazardly out with a jagged knife coated in some black liquid and a smattering of his glittery blood.

           Every time they stepped, the ground shook.

           If Kally were looking at them with her normal eyesight, Pax would appear to be gaining the upper hand: Eris was rapidly losing ground. With the expanded vision, Kally could see Eris backing them towards the strawberry fields, where one misstep from their knife-talon family squabble could squish a stray camper or ghoul.

           Eris wouldn’t mind some flattened comrades. Kally suspected creepy eagle-snake Pax might be a bit traumatized if he had to pick demigod skeletons out of his boots.

           Behind them, the camp was in mayhem. Clarisse La Rue, several other Ares campers, and one or two Apollo children tried to corner Python. The massive drakon snapped around, swallowing one camper in a single strike.[3]

           The Romans were fighting their way through hoards of ghosts and ghouls to form a single rank and protect their sides. There were so many undead, several ranks were isolated and couldn’t make it to the conglomeration around the barracks or strawberry field.

           Some of the Greeks rushing out to help collapsed onto the ground, unconscious. Certain ones would stagger back to their feet, then turn on their allies.

           In the distance, by the cabins, Phobetor tried to keep piping on his flute for his sleep-hypnosis, but Hazel Levesque and Lou Ellen prevented him from gathering a sleep army. Each time one of the magic-users blasted or slashed him, he lost one of his sleep walkers.

           Although Greeks and Romans had been unprepared and several were dead, Kally felt like they were doing pretty well without the main heroes helping.

           In her counting of the gods that had been present at the Pax Tree Growing Party, she realized she was missing one: Atë.

           A puff of smoke whirled into existence by Clarisse La Rue’s legs. Kally didn’t see Atë fully materialize, just her tire iron smashing into the daughter of Ares’ calf.

           Clarisse crumbled to the ground.

           Kally clenched her Argonaut statue, focusing her vision on the smoke, allowing the panorama to narrow to her normal vision. Somehow, someone needed to stop Pax’s half-sister. How was she supposed to predict Atë’s movements to hit her? The goddess of Ruin and Mischief only seemed to appear at the least convenient place possible. (Something to add to the list of uncannily similarities between Eris’ children.) Otherwise, her victims were randomized.

           Don’t take aim. Just throw instinctively. Don’t even look, the Cloven Terror helm instructed.

           Yea, throw blindly into the middle of an active battlefield. What could possibly go wrong? Kally thought, disliking the helm’s ill-timed sense of humor. Knowing my luck it’ll miss, fly several hours away and clock Jason Grace in the head so the others can’t save Hemera.

           You are a child of prophecy. You predict the rash and unpredictable ruin of others, it responded, seriously. And, on the Jason Grace comment, I’m not seeing a downside.    

           Lou Ellen must have told Hazel to help the Roman ranks. The child of Pluto had turned to race towards where the Romans were about to be overwhelmed by a troop of undead, despite a friendly rhino’s attempts to mow the enemy down. As animal choices go, Kally winced at what Frank had picked with his recent concussion.

           As Lou Ellen moved her mouth to prepare a spell, something to deflect Phobetor’s oncoming hatchet attack, smoke vortexed near her.

           Kally took a step backwards to prepare a throw with her discus.

           You’re too late to save the daughter of Hecate. Accept that you cannot save everyone, then blind throw. Being the Cloven Terror, you must embrace that the end will justify the means.

           But if there’s a chance—

           She wanted to argue, but a surreal sense of disassociation stunned her mind. Kally felt like her thoughts had detached from the battlefield, from knowing Lou Ellen as Alabaster’s quirky half-sister, from caring that a demigod could die if she didn’t help them.

           A tugging sensation pulled at her stomach as her eyes fluttered shut. While Kally stepped forward into a full rotation, building up the power of her throw, she pictured Atë’s terrifying red eyes.

           Power surged from her body’s swing, from her step forward, up her spine, through her arm as she arched it, and finally, releasing through her fingertips.

           A hissing sound left her hand.

           Kally opened her eyes, searching for Lou Ellen.

           Her discus steamed and glinted gold in the field lights, but it wasn’t going anywhere near Lou Ellen.

           It hissed straight towards the rhino smashing through enemy ghouls.

           Oh gods, I’m going to hit Frank and give him another concussion, Kally thought.

           When the helm said she needed to accept she couldn’t save anyone, she didn’t think it meant she’d be murdering a Canadian.

           In a split second, she glanced over to Lou Ellen, across the battlefield. The child of Hecate lay on the ground, unmoving.

           Rage filled Kally. “Why did you make me do that?!” she shouted, wondering who was wearing whom.[4] She went to tear the helm from her head in a panic.

           A black wisp of smoke puffed out ahead of the rhino.

           As Atë went to strike Frank’s skull with her tire iron, Kally’s discus smashed into Atë’s arm. The tire iron flipped harmlessly into a ghoul’s head.

           Atë vanished again.

           The rhino stopped short, looking very confused, or Kally imaged that’s how a confused rhino would look.

           The discus—instead of slamming into the ground—did something very odd. The hissing golden metal sizzled green. It slingshot back towards them.

           Kally froze as the helm laughed darkly. If I wanted you to kill the praetor, I would have made you do far worse. Hecate’s Helms are more powerful when we work in harmony with our masters. Why do you think the Leonis Caput has weakened so? Now, I suggest you either duck or catch.

           The discus was closing in, fast. All the times Kally had hit people with it, she never thought about how much it would hurt to be on the other end. Maybe Alabaster’s spell was the most extreme of rejection letters, Uh, sorry, it isn’t going to work out. I’m too awkward to say that, so I decided it would be easier to kill you with your own weapon. It’s me though, not you.

           Kally sidestepped and extended her hand. As the discus passed her, she grabbed it, spinning with the momentum to decelerate the metal without ripping off her arm. In a weird, reverse spin, she stumbled to a stop.

           Kally’s breath felt ragged. She tentatively touched the helm. Yea, it had been right about Atë, but she did not like that moment of forced battle apathy.

           We’re not done here. Now, fight in the same manner you threw.

           “I say when we’re done. I’m wearing you, not the other way around!” Kally said, though her mind was focused on, In the same manner I—?

           Confusion gave way to a horrific sense of dread.

           Reflexively, Kally lifted her discus to be level with her throat.

           As she did, nails made a screeching sound against it. Something struck her discus, hard.

           At least it was that instead of her neck.

           Kally stumbled backwards, alarmed to see black smoke swirling on either side of her and unprepared to fight a goddess.

  Sorry I’m running so late! My brother and my new sister had their Nikah yesterday, so we were celebrating that alongside Easter and it has been a crazy busy month. Hope everyone had/is having a great Easter/Passover/return of Persephone!

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed :D I feel like Kally needs to find a partner with better communication skills….

[1] Magnus might say this is very useful.

[2] Mel’s betanote, “AWWWWWWWWWWWW HOW GENTLY DOMESTIC!” Jack, “Alabaster would resent that comment.”

[3] Mel’s betacomment was just a picture of Meg from Disney’s Hercules from the moment he was eaten by the hydra <3

[4] Bought to you by the accidental alliteration association.

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Twenty-Eight: Kalypso

I Do Target Practice with an Angry Eagle

 Author’s note: Finally back on normal posting track. Thanks for reading guys! If you celebrate, I hope you’re ready for Halloween this year :D Now, stayed tuned to see the Heroes of Olympus face off against the Traitors of Olympus!

 When the hail cleared, Kally peeked over her hiding spot by the trench and saw Pax needed help. Euna had immediately gone into battle, but now Kally had to make a decision: help Calex keep Merry from hyperventilating, or save Pax.

A giant eagle—that Kally could only assume was Frank or a close personal friend of Frank’s—snatched the Silver-Tongued Snake off the lawn, lifted him into the air, then dropped into a free fall with him. During this freefall, the eagle morphed into a black bear to bat the reptilian monster around. Right before they hit the ground, Frank morphed back into an eagle and snatched him back into the air.

Kally had a strange feeling Frank knew about the whole Pax-making-out-with-him-as-Hazel thing.[1]

She had to wonder how betrayed and violated Frank felt to have Pax pretend to be someone he liked to make out with him and steal something important.

Kally growled. Thinking about Nico Di Angelo and her Oath to the River Styx, she didn’t need to imagine it. For a split second, Kally sincerely considered letting Frank continue to pulverize him.

There must have been a demigod or godly help group for that right? I’m sorry, I turned into _____’s husband/wife again. I have gotta stop doing that. If not, she was going to make Pax start it.[2]

Despite her frustration, Kally rose to her feet. She fingered her Argonaut statue as she stepped closer. This would have to be a careful shot, considering she needed the discus to hit her target but not do permanent damage.

As she approached, she could see Pax’s desperation.

Initially, the eagle’s prey looked like a human and a drakon had a baby, and that serpentine baby was writhing and thrashing. The more Kally watched them soar higher, the more her friend came into focus. Kally could see Pax scramble to use his acrobatics—to kick Frank, or flip up to attack the talons digging into his pauldrons.

But nothing worked. Pax couldn’t get enough leverage to dislodge the Frank’s claws.

And they were dropping into another dive.

Kally had to time this perfectly.

When they were almost at the end of the descent, Pax doing what little he could to block the bear’s attacks, Kally took her steps to wind up. Like when fighting the Silver Festus, or Python, she let instinct take over. Energy pulsed through her body, following her twist and releasing through her finger tips.

Just as Frank shifted back into an eagle, latching his talons back into Pax’s shoulders and pumping his wings once to stop their descent, Kally’s discus nailed him.

Frank and Pax collapsed onto the grass with a thud. Fortunately, the drop shouldn’t have been too bad, since Kally timed it right when Frank started to ascend. That physics should work out, right? To not equal murdering the praetor and her friend?

The giant eagle flopped onto the Silver-Tongued Snake and morphed back into Frank.

Naked Frank.

Kally already felt bad knocking Camp Jupiter’s heroic bear out of the sky, considering he was normally more of a teddy bear and less a dangerous one. Now she was mortified. Through all the Mist and hail earlier, she had no idea the praetor would be naked or why he’d be naked.

Pax crawled out from under Frank. “Thanks, Kally!” he called, “That was super hot—er—the you-having-amazing-aim—not the Frank-falling-on-me-naked—”

“Shut up and go help your brother!” she snapped, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Trying not to look at Pax—had he been taller?—or anything else on the battlefield, Kally turned back to Calex and Merry. Calex had one hand pressed between Merry’s collarbones, gently lifting and pressing while saying, “It’s okay. Breathe in. Breathe out,” rhythmically.

Tears streaked down Merry’s cheeks as she shook her head, gasping for air. In all the years Kally had known Merry, she’d never seen her like this. Even after fights with her father where, Kally now knew, Merry’s father had been beating her and her little brother, Merry could always put on a mask and make a joke.

Here, Merry was panicking. “N-no! These aren’t baddies… these are… our friends. Gotta… make ‘em… stop…” she rasped between gasps, “What if… someone else… dies?”

The “what if” was shockingly comforting. If this was Merry’s nightmare-prophecy, at least there wasn’t a definitive, additional death forecasted. Just a what if.

Kally felt like she was reaching a new low when “if someone dies” was a positive.

           Kally clasped Merry’s arm, trying to ignore the shouts and yelps behind them. “Merry, I’m going to drag Frank and Jason out of the battlefield and heal them up as best I can. I’m going to try to get Vinyl Scratch over here, so you guys can make it back to camp to warn Chiron about Eris,” Kally’s voice broke, “I need you to be able to do that, Merry.”

           Calex nodded when Kally faltered, his grey eyes ablaze. Kally could almost see the calculations happening in his head. In the past, Kally remembered Calex fearing he was a coward. He didn’t look like a coward now. He looked scared, but in control, calm, and aware of every consequence, like he’d been studying Axel. This was the boy who had protected his mother from drugged up ex-soldiers in Kakata before Thanatos broke his confidence.

“That’s the source of all of this rubbish. Merry, we can save a lot of campers from violence if we get to them before Eris. Are you ready to help us get this sorted?” he asked.

Merry trembled. She reached up, and took the hand Kally had on her arm and the one Calex had on her collarbone. The sight almost made Kally give a hysterical laugh, seeing how pale and small Merry’s hands looked in Calex’s and how tan and strong Merry’s fingers looked in Kally’s.

Merry’s breathing became more regular as she nodded her head. “You guys,” she managed.  

After all this was over, Kally would need to remember to tease Merry about Calex the same way Merry always teased her about Pax. If Kally could ever work up the courage, considering Merry could tear apart anyone outside of physical battle and considering Merry would immediately do so after.

With that, Kally raced away from the trench into the yard. Fortunately, she didn’t need to dodge much other than charred tree roots and weird stones to get to Frank. She hoped Alabaster didn’t recast that hail spell while she was out here, since she wouldn’t know which way would be back to safety.

Kally tried to keep her focus on Frank for now, before she could let herself think about the others.

Regardless of her concentration, she felt her eyes wander. Watching Alabaster, Euna, and Hazel’s fight was difficult. Not because she liked all three of those people—though that didn’t help either—but Hazel and Alabaster seemed to keep disappearing. Hazel kept shifting in and out of shadows to dodge the vines twisting and snaking around her feet and her opponent’s attacks. Euna kept pivoting to follow Hazel’s movement. She’d extended Kronos’s xiphos into a full scythe again, something that made Kally shiver to see against a good person like Hazel.

Mist kept warping and changing Alabaster’s form. Green runes would glow on his black armor as he trailed Hazel. He and Euna clearly didn’t know how to function as a team yet, which was fortunate for the Roman. Their staff and scythe combo outdistanced Hazel’s spatha, but the Roman seemed to know this, driving in close when she could.

Maybe fifteen feet away from them, Percy was on his feet, facing off the Pax brothers. Well, sort of on his feet. Instead of balancing Percy’s weight on what must have been a torn ligament, Kally could make out a watery bubble encasing Percy’s injured limb; he’d made himself a liquid leg cast.

Practical. Will would applaud if…

Kally tried not to tear up. True, she’d only known her half-brother for a few months, but…

She skidded to a stop when she reached Frank. Somehow, she’d forgotten he was naked. Keeping her eyes above waist level—or at least trying—she fumbled to withdraw an ambrosia square from her messenger bag. When Kally knelt down and tilted his head back to give it to him, she could feel the knot forming on his skull.

He would have a nasty concussion.[3] There were cuts all over him from Pax’s daggers and bruises from the fall. He shivered in the cold.

Maybe she could sing while dragging Frank to the side of the house. She thought she’d seen Annabeth, Calypso, and Piper there. It would be safer than leaving him out here, within ten feet of the fight.

But, carrying the large Chinese Canadian—

Kally almost yelped when Calex appeared at her side. The son of Eros had taken the time to sling Merry across his back. Unlike his usual bridal sweep, he’d picked her up fireman style, with Merry’s stomach and face down across his shoulders, one of his arms laced through her legs and the other lacing through one arm. Much less graceful, but more mobile.  

Although Kally couldn’t imagine how, he let go of Merry’s arm to lean down and take Frank’s just below the elbow. “You got the other arm, Kal?” he asked.

Kally nodded, grabbing Frank’s other arm at the same spot.

As smoothly as possible, they dragged Frank towards the side of the house. Kally breathed out the words to any song about sunshine she could think of, knowing she had to keep Frank from any more brain damage. Kally wished they had a towel or something they could wrap him in. When she glanced ahead—

Kally dropped Frank.  

“Kallybae, I know Calex is a big teddybear but he can’t—”

She ignored Merry’s mumbles and sprinted ahead.

Where she could see her namesake smothering Annabeth with Percy’s hoodie.

No one but them would have been able to see her. Calypso, Annabeth, and Piper were further towards the front of the yard, where Calypso or someone must have dragged them away to keep them safe from Festus, Leo, and the weasels.

Instinct completely took over as Kally closed in.

Calypso teared up while shoving the material into the unconscious girl’s face. She didn’t hear Kally or notice her until Kally nailed her foot into Calypso’s chest, the same way she might kick a soccer ball for a final goal.

Calypso flopped backwards with a gasp of air. Kally could envision Pax shouting, “GOAL!” while running in circles, if he wasn’t off helping his brother.

Once done, Kally tore the hoodie from Annabeth’s face. She exhaled in relief to find the daughter of Athena still breathing without assistance. Annabeth’s face was just flushed.

Calypso gasped on the ground. Kally had to wonder if she’d broken a few of the girl’s ribs. She didn’t look mad, just startled. “I—I was supposed… supposed to be healing…” she gaped. “Thought about… being alone on the island…. Another hundred years… and…”

Calypso released another sob.

Kally couldn’t tell if this was an act or not. She didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Calex stepped up beside them. He’d set Merry down near Annabeth, so he could pick up Calypso.

She squirmed and struggled. “No!” she tried to shout, though she was still winded. “Put me down! Leo! Help!”

With a quiet rage, Calex carried her to the edge of the trench. One stretch of the ditch ended by the border of the property. He knelt down and said, softly, “If you ever try something like that again, or if Annabeth ever gets hurt, and I think it might have been your doing, so help me God, I’ll assure no one ever loves you again.”

Calypso stopped struggling. Her almond eyes went wide. The tangles of her cinnamon hair looked dramatic fluttering in the wind with Calex’s black scarf.

“Trust me. I’m a son of Eros. I can do that,” he stated.

Then Calex dropped her into the trench.

Calypso let out a breathy scream before a subtle thump hit somewhere ten feet down.

Calex rose, flipped his scarf back over one shoulder, adjusted his black-and-red Arsenal beanie, and walked back towards them.

Merry spoke for both of them when saying, “Boy, you can be a much scarier teddy when your fan crush is on the line.”

“That’s sorted,” he said as a we’re not talking about this response. “How about it, Captain? What’s next?”

Kally almost gawked to realize he was talking to her. Instead, she felt her mouth moving of her own accord, like he hadn’t just signed over their metaphorical sailing ship to get hit by a train by some slip of cruel and unlikely fate. “You and Merry should still take Vinyl—”

He put two fingers into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

“—get to Camp Half-Blood—”

Galloping erupted from the other side of the house. A blast of sparks appeared beside her, and she was startled to see a black and crimson stallion huffing there with an unconscious weasel in its teeth.

She reached out and gently took the weasel from Vinyl, who huffed again, probably to say, Take it before I eat it for a midnight snack. The California Long-Tailed Weasel had a patch of black spots—Hunnie. She tried not to tear up at how singed the weasel was.

“—and still warn them. Chiron and Dionysus trust you. I’ll stay here and try to heal who I can. They—they don’t have a healer anymore—s-so…”

Kally had to stop or else she knew she’d cry. This situation had gotten so chaotic. She wanted to say she’d stop the fighting, but she didn’t know how to do that. And she wanted to say that she would heal everyone as best she could, but Will had been a far better and more experienced healer than she was, and he was dead.

As Calex picked up Merry to lift her onto Vinyl Scratch’s back, she gave Kally a warm grin. “You got this, Kallybae. Look at how much you can do when you’re not being a doormat.”

That sapped the tears right out of Kally. She scowled at Merry while Calex saddled up behind her. “Shut up and get back to camp,” Kally snapped, the words coming out as easy as if she were scolding Pax.

“Oh! Fiesty. The new Kallydear has no end to her sass,” Merry continued.

Kally could tell she was trying to cheer her up. It just hit her that Merry was probably as scared of leaving Kally as Kally was of staying. Merry should be okay with Calex and Vinyl though, right?  

“Kal,” Calex said, putting a hand to Vinyl’s mane, “I trust Axel, and—Hades, I can’t believe I’m saying this about that dodgy perv—but I trust Pax enough not to be a complete idiot. I don’t trust that Alabaster bloke. I know you think he’s fit, but he’s wrong in the head. Broken and angry. Be careful around him.”

Kally felt like she should have been offended or confused by Calex’s assertion, but he was a son of Eros. And, she knew what he meant.

Merry managed to give her a brief thumbs up before they heard someone say, “Are you three trying to escape from Commander Toolbelt? Because I have some pretty strict orders from an unconscious eagle, and I’ve still got a bone to pick with you for the Leo and Calypso House Party Incident of October uh—whatever year this is!”

Kally turned to see Leo Valdez standing beside the house. His impish features were contorted into a scowl that seemed unfamiliar to his face. He scanned the area, like he was looking for their big red self-destruct buttons or whatever machinists did. Kally swallowed when she realized he was looking for Calypso and checking to assure they hadn’t killed anymore of his downed friends. A small makeshift cage containing a white weasel dangled from his belt and banged against his thigh.

“Where’s Calypso? And what did you—scratch that. I don’t want to know what’s going on with Frank’s clothing.”

Leo shoved a hand to the side.

Fire extended in a wall, meeting up with the end of Hazel’s trench. Either they needed to run through that or turn back towards the battle.

Calex huffed, raising his chin. “She’s gone mental, mate.” He turned back to Kally. “You still got this, Kal?”

Kally nodded her head, uncomfortable with how much confidence he had in her to “still have this.” Whatever that meant when facing someone that could make this yard look like the Fourth of July with the snap of his fingers.

“Go,” she said.

“Leo!” Calypso’s voice came from over the edge of the trench.

Leo flinched and searched for the source of her voice.

“Vinyl,” Calex called.

Instead of rushing towards the fire, or back towards the battle, the unicorn took off towards the trench in a rainbow blur. Although Kally couldn’t see well enough to tell, the blur didn’t seem to break stride while hopping over the gap.

Leo’s fire sizzled to smoke at their escape. “Hey! No rainbows or unicorns allowed!” he shouted.

Kally fumbled inside her messenger pack, shoving Hunnie inside for now. She should have picked up her discus when she was dragging Frank. There was an imperial gold knife in her bag, but she didn’t want to go flaming-sledgehammer to knife. Leo already had a slight one-up on her in being flame resistant and the whole human torch thing. And, for some weird reason, the knife kept pressing into the side of the bag, like it wanted to fly towards the battle. She should really keep that blade away from Hunnie.

Leo turned to face her dead on, a crazed smile coming to his face as he shifted his steam-punk goggles down over his eyes. She’d once heard Will describe him as a rogue Santa’s helper that was high on sugar. That summed it up.

This fight hadn’t even started and Kally knew who would win.

           Then a gigantic snake rose from the grass beside her—or what Kally thought was a snake initially. Both Leo and she flinched before recognizing the serpentine helm of the Silver-Tongued Snake as the humanoid figure stood to its full height.

           “This is Alabaster’s property, and, I assure you, he welcomes both unicorns and rainbows. You speciest and colorist,” the monster hissed.[4]

           For an instant, Kally forgot it wasn’t a monster. The bronze scales of his breastplate seemed to blend in as skin in the Mist. A tail flickered in and out of her line of sight, twisting about the grass and shadows. This couldn’t have been Pax. This monster was… was…

           “Dude, weren’t you like way shorter before?” Leo demanded. He’d taken a step back in alarm, mirroring Kally.

           “Pax?” she squeaked to second Leo’s confusion.

           Pax loomed several feet above both Kally and Leo.

           A hissing laugh slithered from his helm. “Oh, I only grow more powerful and influential in the midst and heat of chaos and war. Ha—ha! Heat. It’s funny because Leo’s hands were on fire.”

           “Over explaining it, hombre,” Leo said, “To think I thought you were fun at the party. Augh, two out of ten for a lazy joke, and that two is just out of pity.”

He fidgeted his fingers along the sledgehammer. His eyes flicked to the side of the house, where the others must have still been battling. Judging by the way the wind whipped a blast of salty rain into them, Kally had a feeling Percy hadn’t been taken out yet.

           She frowned and shoved some of the golden hair out of her eyes. “Pax, Axel needs you to help fight Percy. You don’t need to—”

           “That’s why I’m here. We’re losing but it’s not a party without Leo there. He’s our backup plan,” the way Pax said it disheartened Kally. He sounded tired and… sad.

“You and I are a lot alike,” Pax said to Leo. The words were more… personal and light-hearted than his prior comment. Pax stepped forward and angled his body to shut Kally out of the conversation, like he wanted Leo to forget she was there. Between his tone and body language, Kally felt like an intruder.

“I think the comparisons stop at the bat belt and hot accents,” Leo disagreed, fingering his tool belt with one hand. Absently, he’d withdrawn some wires and began to fiddle with them.

Pax shrugged, holding his hands up helplessly. No weapons drawn. “And an appreciation for beautiful women named Calypso. Both C and K respectively.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” Kally said, “but keep me out of it.” She suddenly hoped he’d go back to ignoring her. The way he was moving and talking, Kally wasn’t sure what Pax wanted her to do: if he had this fight and she could go back to get Frank, or was intentionally making a distraction so Kally could retrieve her discus for a double heroicide.

“And we also both want to switch out all the Diet Pepsi for Diet Coke in the camp and film Mr. D’s reaction to get the best soft drink trailer that Mount Olympus has ever seen,” Pax said.

“You know we’re fighting right? Not just listing off things that definitely are going to happen at camp in the near future?” Leo asked. The wires in Leo’s hand were suspiciously forming some kind of trap-like object. Kally wanted to warn Pax, but he seemed to know.

Kally took a step backwards. If nothing else, she’d need her discus, and maybe Calex and she had dropped Frank far enough away from the battle to heal him.

Pax laughed. The hysteria in his voice made her pause.

“A machinist and an information broker. When you and I are panicking during a fight, it means we haven’t done our jobs right at the beginning. We can’t heal people. We can’t make people do what we want with our voices. We can’t really seem to help without blowing something up… literally…” Pax gestured towards Leo. “Emotionally.” He gestured towards himself.

“Hades, your dragon is in pieces on the other side of this house, and my weasel is missing. Here we both are, scrambling to pick up the pieces, because we fucked up. You knew about the Leonis Caput, since he attacked you, but you were too worried about Calypso and Percy to take the proper anti-kitty precautions. I wanted a hug so bad that I wouldn’t go inside. We could have prevented this.”

The trap-mechanism looked complete in Leo’s hands, almost like a hybrid between a leg cage and a bear trap. But his fingers were slowing down as Leo’s expression soured.

“Um, are you surrendering or something? Because, while I applaud your creativity, a traditional white flag will do over this inspiring speech.”

Kally understood Leo’s hesitation. There was a desperation in Pax’s voice, like it was about to pinpoint the single incident in Leo’s life that—if he’d made a different choice—would have left the world perfect. She felt like she couldn’t move until the Silver-Tongued Snake finished talking.

“You see, we’re the people who… when those that we love start to die, can’t do anything but make jokes… fake a smile, and pretend to be okay. Because what better way to mourn someone than to force a smile?”

Leo’s lip twitched.

Kally felt sick to her stomach. She remembered Howe’s Cavern, when she thought Python was going to kill her and Will, and a rage inside her set off a weird sun blast. Pax triggered it. He had spoken like he knew what happened to her mother, like he’d peeled her fears from the corner edges of her brain and forced her to confront them.

As though reading her thoughts now, the serpentine monster hissed, “Kally, go heal Frank. I don’t want you to see me do this again.”

Footnotes!

[1] Mel’s beta notes: “And a whole list of other shit Pax has done to him personally!”

[2] But that means Pax would need to spend time around Zeus, and that has bad idea written ALL over it.

[3] If you’ve read my first two stories, you’ve probably heard me say this before, but I wince when head injuries are used as knock outs for shows, movies, and books. I had to rewrite this line three times because I kept writing “nauseous” instead of “massive” concussion. Stupid Freudian slips!

[4] A colorist is actually an artist who uses colors in a special way, like a hairdresser that works with dyes. I’m not sure Pax has ever seen a hairdresser, of—if he has—the hairdresser could live through the shock of dealing with his hair, so excuse his misuse of the word.