I Will Feast On Enemies Of Ra

Percy: The Heka-what? Annabeth: The Hundred-handed Ones. They Called Them That Because... Well, They Had A Hundred Hands. They Were The Elder Brothers Of The Cyclopes. Tyson: Very Powerful. Wonderful! As Tall As The Sky. So Strong They Can Break Mountains! Percy: Cool. Unless You're A Mountain.

We Need Music," Nico Said. "how's Your Singing?" "um, No. Can't You Just, Like, Tell It To Open? You're The Son Of Hades And All." "it's Not So Easy. We Need Music." I Was Pretty Sure If I Tried To Sing, All I Would Cause Was An Avalanche.

It Was Like Percy Had Faced Death Before, Like He Knew About Grief. What Mattered Was Listening. You Didn’t Need To Say You Were Sorry. The Only Thing That Helped Was Moving On—moving Forward.

You Must Forge Your Own Path For It To Mean Anything.

He Dropped The Rest Of The Cokes Into The Grave And Pulled Out A White Paper Bag Decorated With Cartoons. I Hadn’t Seen One In Years, But I Recognized It — A Mcdonald’s Happy Meal. He Turned It Upside Down And Shook The Fries And Hamburger Into The Grave. “in My Day, We Used Animal Blood,” The Ghost Mumbled. “it’s Perfectly Good Enough. They Can’t Taste The Difference.” “i Will Treat Them With Respect,” Nico Said. “at Least Let Me Keep The Toy,” The Ghost Said.