Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
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children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal man, it’s purely intellectual,
the way she loved Odysseus in the old stories. It’s a meeting of minds. She would tell you that’s the
purest kind of love.”
“So your dad and Athena…so you weren’t…”
“I was a brain child,” Annabeth said. “Literally. Children of Athena are sprung from the divine
thoughts of our mother and the mortal ingenuity of our father. We are supposed to be a gift, a
blessing from Athena on the men she favors.”
“But—”
“Percy, the spider’s getting away. Do you really want me to explain the exact details of how I
was born?”
“Um…no. That’s okay.”
She smirked. “I thought not.” And she ran ahead. I followed, but I wasn’t sure I would ever
look at Annabeth the same way again. I decided some things were better left as mysteries.
The roaring got louder. After another half mile or so, we emerged in a cavern the size of a
Super Bowl stadium. Our spider escort stopped and curled into a ball. We had arrived at the forge of
Hephaestus.
There was no floor, just bubbling lava hundreds of feet below. We stood on a rock ridge that
circled the cavern. A network of metal bridges spanned across it. At the center was a huge platform
with all sorts of machines, cauldrons, forges, and the largest anvil I’d ever seen—a block of iron the
size of a house. Creatures moved around the platform—several strange, dark shapes, but they were
too far away to make out details.
Annabeth picked up the metal spider and slipped it into her pocket. “I can. Wait here.”
“Hold it!” I said, but before I could argue, she put on her Yankees cap and turned invisible.
I didn’t dare call after her, but I didn’t like the idea of her approaching the forge on her own. If
those things out there could sense a god coming, would Annabeth be safe?
I looked back at the Labyrinth tunnel. I missed Grover and Tyson already. Finally I decided I
couldn’t stay put. I crept along the outer rim of the lava lake, hoping I could get a better angle to see
what was happening in the middle.
The heat was horrible. Geryon’s ranch had been a winter wonderland compared to this. In no
time I was drenched with sweat. My eyes stung from the smoke. I moved along, trying to keep away
from the edge, until I found my way blocked by a cart on metal wheels, like the kind they sue in mine
shafts. I lifted up the tarp and found it was half full of scrap metal. I was about to squeeze my way
around it when I heard voices from up ahead, probably from a side tunnel.
“Bring it in?” one asked.
“Yeah,” another said. “Movie’s just about done.”
I panicked. I didn’t have time to back up. There was nowhere to hide except…the cart. I
scrambled inside and pulled the tarp over me, hoping no one had seen me. I curled my fingers
around Riptide, just in case I had to fight.
The cart lurched forward.
“Oi,” a gruff voice said. “Thing weighs a ton.”
“It’s celestial bronze,” the other said. “What did you expect?”
I got pulled along. We turned a corner, and from the sound of the wheels echoing against the
walls I guessed we had passed down a tunnel and into a smaller room. Hopefully I was not about to
be dumped into a smelting pot. If they started to tip me over, I’d have to fight my way out quick. I
heard lots of talking, chattering voices that didn’t sound human—somewhere between a seal’s bark
and a dog’s growl. There were other sounds too—like an old-fashioned film projector and a tinny
voice narrating.
“Just set it in the back,” a new voice ordered from across the room. “Now, younglings, please
attend to the film. There will be time for questions afterward.”
The voices quieted down, and I could hear the film.
As a young sea demon matures, the narrator said, changes happen in the monster’s body.
You may notice your fangs getting longer and you may have a sudden desire to devour human
beings. These changes are perfectly normal and happen to all young monsters.
Excited snarling filled the room. The teacher—I guess it must have been a teacher—told the
younglings to be quiet, and the film continued. I didn’t understand most of it, and I didn’t dare look.