Would you just—quit splashing me!" Annabeth snapped, shoving Percy's shoulder as another wave of water sloshed over the edge of the tank.
Percy grinned, shaking his sopping hair like a dog. "Relax, it's just water. You're in a *boat*, Wise Girl."
Grover bleated nervously from the prow, gripping his seat as the small vessel rocked. "Guys, we're *not* supposed to be here. This place gives me the—*hic*—the creeps."
They shouldn't have been able to find the facility—buried deep in the Nevada desert, camouflaged under layers of illusion magic—but Annabeth had pieced together the coordinates from a shredded Hermes Express package. Now, their stolen research boat drifted through a cavernous chamber lined with enormous glass tanks, each filled with murky liquid. Shadows moved inside them.
Then Percy's flashlight beam caught something solid in the nearest tank. Not a shadow. A shape.
Annabeth's breath hitched. "Is that—?"
The figure floated motionless, suspended in the water. Dark hair drifted like seaweed. A boy, maybe their age, curled fetal, arms wrapped around himself. His skin was pale, nearly translucent under the tank's dim glow. But what made Percy's stomach drop were the thick metal bands clamped around the kid's wrists and ankles—chains bolted directly into the glass.
And the bones.
Where the light hit just right, you could see them beneath his skin. Not white. Black. Gleaming like forged iron.
Grover whimpered. "Those aren't—that's not *normal*."
Percy's hand went to Riptide. "No kidding."
The boy's eyes snapped open. Gold. Burning.
A muffled *thud* echoed through the water as he slammed his fist against the glass. A crack splintered outward.
Annabeth lunged for the boat's controls. "We need to go. *Now.*"
The tank shattered.
Percy barely had time to raise his arms before freezing water and jagged glass exploded outward. The force flipped their boat sideways, dumping them into the churning flood. Saltwater burned his nostrils as he kicked hard, surfacing just in time to see the boy—*no, not a boy, what the hell was he?*—land in a predatory crouch on the floating wreckage of their vessel. Water sluiced off him, steam rising where droplets met his skin. The chains still dangled from his limbs, snapped clean through.
Annabeth surfaced gasping beside Percy. "Move!" She yanked him sideways just as one of those shattered chains whipped past his ear, embedding itself in the concrete wall with a metallic shriek.
Grover floundered near a ledge. "*Pipes!*" he wheezed, pointing frantically. "There's pipes behind that panel—*hic*—lead to the surface!"
The boy lunged. Percy barely parried with Riptide—the collision sent sparks skittering across the water's surface. Up close, those golden eyes burned with something feral, pupils slitted like a cat's. The Stygian steel bones gleamed through his skin as his fingers flexed, claws extending with an audible *snick*.
Annabeth's dagger flashed. "We don't want to fight you!"
A guttural growl. The boy twisted, avoiding her strike with unnatural speed—then froze abruptly. His nostrils flared. Percy watched, transfixed, as those inhuman eyes darted to his face, then lower… to the pen still clutched in Percy's fist. *Riptide.*
Recognition flickered. The boy staggered back, clutching his head like something inside hurt. A shudder ran through him, chains rattling.
Grover seized the moment. He jammed his reed pipes to his lips and blew—not a soothing melody, but a jagged, pulsing rhythm. The facility's emergency sprinklers erupted, dousing them all in fresh water.
The boy's snarl cut off abruptly. He blinked—once, twice—and when his eyes reopened, the gold had dulled to something closer to human. Exhaustion crashed over him. He slumped forward, fingers barely catching the edge of the wreckage before slipping under.
Percy didn't think. He dove.
Underwater, the boy hung suspended, hair drifting like a dark halo. The chains dragged him down. Percy grabbed his wrist—and instantly regretted it. Even through the water, the skin seared his palm, hotter than a sunbaked dock in July. But the boy didn't fight. Just stared at him with something like exhausted desperation as bubbles escaped his lips. No air left. Percy tightened his grip and kicked upward.
The boy's skin burned hotter with every second—like holding onto a live wire dipped in lava—but Percy gritted his teeth and hauled him toward the surface. They broke through with a gasp, the boy coughing violently, water and something darker—smoke?—spewing from his lips. His body spasmed, bones shifting audibly beneath his skin with wet cracks.
Annabeth grabbed the boy's other arm, hissing as her fingers singed. "He's *boiling*—!"
"Not helping!" Percy snarled, kicking toward the ledge Grover was frantically waving from. The boy convulsed again, his ribs expanding unnaturally beneath his sopping shirt. The chains dragged like anchors.
Then—silence. His breathing evened out. The heat receded to a bearable warmth, though his bones still glinted obsidian under torn skin. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing ordinary hazel irises, pupils round and human.
"You're…" His voice was rough, unused. He squinted at Percy like sunlight hurt. "...son of Poseidon."
Percy tensed. "How do you know that?"
The boy coughed, grimacing. "Smell it. Salt and storm." His gaze flicked to Annabeth. "Daughter of Athena." Then to Grover. "Satyr." He frowned suddenly, as if remembering something unpleasant. "They kept files on you. On all of them."
Annabeth's grip tightened. "*Who* did?"
The boy's jaw clenched. Before he could answer, a metallic *clang* echoed through the chamber—distant, but closing fast. Boots on grating. Walkie-talkie static.
Grover's hooves skittered on the wet concrete. "They're coming!"
The boy's nostrils flared. His fingers curled into fists, claws pricking his own palms. "Run," he rasped. "They'll cage you too."
Percy saw the raw terror in his eyes—not for himself, but *for them*. Something cold settled in his gut. "Not without you." He sliced Riptide through the boy's remaining chains, the celestial bronze shearing through Stygian steel like butter.
The boy stared at the severed links, stunned.
Annabeth was already shoving him toward Grover. "Move! Those pipes lead to the desert. We can lose them aboveground."
The boy hesitated—just for a second—then nodded sharply. He moved like a predator unshackled, muscles coiling with lethal grace despite his exhaustion.
Percy caught the exact moment the facility's floodlights hit them: Annabeth's blonde braid swinging as she vaulted onto the pipes, Grover's panicked bleating, the boy's black-boned fingers flexing like he was already imagining them around a throat.
And behind them, the first gun cocked.
The boy's lips peeled back in a silent snarl.
Percy grinned. "Race you topside, Sparky."
They ran.