The Dark Prophecy

“Hey, you two,” Leo said. “No ancient dialects. Spanish or English, please. Or Machine.”

’s not how long you live that matters. It’s what you live for

What do we do?” Calypso asked.
“Follow the ghost,” I said.
“What?” Leo yelped.
“We follow the cheese-colored ghost. As you’re always saying: Vaya con queso.”
“That was a joke, ese.”

Besides, dearie, you’re not a god anymore.”
Why did people have to keep reminding me of that?

Calypso jabbed her thumbs into Leo’s kidneys.
“Ow!” he complained.
“I know what the Mist is, Leonidas—”
“Hey, I told you never to call me that.”

Hey, you two,” Leo said. “No ancient dialects. Spanish or English, please. Or Machine.”

Calypso grumbled in ancient Minoan, “I already said that.”
“Well, excuse me, sorceress!” I replied in the same language. “Perhaps if you had helpful visions, I’d listen to you more often!”
Calypso called me a few names that reminded me how colorful the Minoan language had been before it went extinct.

“GPS?” Calypso asked.
“Godly positioning systems.”
“That’s not a real thing!”
“Guys, cool it.” Leo patted the dragon’s neck. “Apollo, just try, will you? Does this look like the city you dreamed about or not?”

For a moment, I sat on the ledge, stunned and devastated. I didn’t feel physically hurt, but I realized it was possible to suffer a thousand bites in this snake pit, even if none of the vipers came near you. There were other kinds of poison.

(I’ve always found spiders fascinating creatures, despite what Athena thinks. If you ask me, she’s just jealous of their beautiful faces. BOOM!)