𝟬𝟬𝟳. a horrible fate like the others

"WE HAVE LEMONADE" was the only reason Aera agreed to lug that giant oaf Jason into the Big House. That and also because she remembered she had hidden a secret stash of Emergency Makeover #5 by the fireplace when she was 9, which contained everything in it that she needed to finally look like her glorious, gorgeous self again.

While Jason did all the boring bloo blaa trying to explain the accosting events that led them to this monster-dust circus, Aera glammed herself up in the bathroom of the infirmary. She took a steaming hot shower, applied proper skincare for the first time in Helen knows when, and got dressed in an outfit that was actually worthy of being worn on her divinely ravishing body.

As she puckered her lips in the mirror and dabbed on a lip tint, Aera tried to piece together what she knew about Jason. That unsalted pretzel was definitely hiding something and doing it with absolutely zero class too. Jason's fear of her and this place was more obvious than eyeshadow fallout. Having been by Luke's side for years, there was no amount of concealer in the world that could cover up a lie from Aera anymore. Did he really think he could just get away with lying to her face like that?

"We're not friends," Jason told her with the most poker of faces. "I don't owe you any answers. You said it yourself. I'd be a fool if I trusted you."

Not friends?

Not friends?

Aera knocked all her makeup brushes aside.

Who did this plastic-bag-wearing Johnny Bravo fellow think he was? Aera was besides herself in indignance as she perched on the counter and finished her makeup. Jason was the weird one, all one-shoe-y and immune-y to her persuasion. It wasn't like Aera wanted to be his friend. Did he think just anyone could be her friend? Aera was the one who should have told him they weren't friends.

And, how in the Givenchy headband did Jason not crack? Aera's emotion-bending powers were most effective when focused at her target's organs and in her direct line of sight. She had kept eye contact and her hand over his heart for at least three minutes and Jason dodged her charm? Who did he think he was? She didn't give him permission to do that.

How was that even possible? Aera couldn't place an acrylic-nailed finger on anyone who had resisted her concentrated persuasion since Kronos gave her that creepy lesson on how to penetrate the minds of her enemies, and she had her fair share of making deals with immortal beings. Ever since she joined the Titan's Army, it became a survival instinct to flirt and talk her way out of trouble. How could her persuasion fail?

Could it be that Aera Kim...

...was having an off day?

Impossible!

Guess Aera Kim's no longer the Helen of Troy of our generation, that walking doggie bag's voice echoed inwardly. Going home to a mirror must have been enough punishment for her.

Aera hopped down from the counter and accessed her appearance in the bathroom mirror.

Emergency Makeover #5 had provided Aera with a short, off-the-shoulder cherry red chiffon dress that highlighted her collar bones with its low cut sweetheart neckline. Aera's wavy ink-black hair streamed down her back, curling at her shoulder blades. The top pieces were meticulously pleated into braids that weaved from the crown down the sides of her head, with the tendrils at her sideburns coiled in a swirl.

An ivory pair of Dolce & Gabbana heeled satin sandals wrapped around her ankles. Its straps were embroidered with red roses and lightly flowered green vines, equipping Aera with not only the power to stomp on her enemies but also the ideal height to flaunt her flair.

As for her makeup, Aera had applied a shimmery duo-chrome eyeshadow with gold and pale purple accents. Her winged eyeliner was in pristine shape, her v-shaped jaw and nose were deepened with just the right amount of contour and highlight, and her lips appeared more enticing bathed in a red tint that matched her dress.

Aera looked phenomenal, so did those ragamuffins eat one too many rotten strawberries from the fields or what?

Aera ran her hands around the edges of her body and her natural curves, trying to see what those papaya-looking nobodies had been blabbing about.

Having a slim figure wasn't a bad thing, right? And what was so wrong with having fair skin? If anything, the dark tattoos on Aera's wrist were a nice new contrast to her paleness. She could make it work. She could make anything work.

Though, Aera had to admit...if there was something wrong with her appearance, it would probably be her complexion. Little bumps were already forming under her skin from the stress of this morning and her dunk in the lake. She had to take extra care in hiding them with her makeup. Not to mention, the short, knee-length dress from the makeover kit would have looked hotter on her if only Aera wasn't so petite and had bigger boobs...

Almost automatically, like the way water flows downstream, Aera remembered the vivid memory of Jolina humiliating her in front of all of their siblings.

Before Aera defected, the children of Aphrodite were a beautiful garden blooming with thorns. Despite its baby pink, perfume-laced walls, Cabin Ten did not consist of brothers and sisters united by Aphrodite's divine love and adoration, Cabin Ten consisted of fierce competitors who threatened to covet your crown of beauty. Aera had been promised a home at Camp Half-Blood, but what she got was a tyrant playing dollhouse. Cabin Ten's head counselor at the time, Jolina Komarov, ruled their little kingdom with a heavy jewel-adorned hand.

On the 10th of every month, Jolina used to call a cabin meeting to hold evaluations, in which she and her two phony underlings would sit behind a black-clothed table and watch every sibling strut down a makeshift runway in the center of the cabin. Acting as judges, they pointed out the physical flaws of every sibling down to the last pore. At the end of the catwalk, appearances were then rated brutally on a hundred point system that reflected a camper's rank in the cabin based on how beautiful they looked in the past month.

Aphrodite's Next Top Model was what they called it. Jolina said the evaluations were created to ensure every child of Aphrodite was upholding the beauty and grace of their mother, so as to not soil the heavenly reputation of the love goddess. But everyone knew her time as head counselor was anything but pretty.

On top of being publicly humiliated for your appearance, the lower your tier, the worse punishment you received. For a child of Aphrodite, sometimes even walking out of the cabin without makeup was enough to send your self-esteem on a one-way trip to Tartarus. Jolina's punishments were even more mortifying than that—everything from being forced to scrub the bathroom floors with a Barbie toothbrush until they sparkled brighter than Number One's pearly whites to walking down a feces-covered carpet wearing a Medusa wig in the amphitheater.

"Hormonal breakout?" Jolina had gasped at Aera that time, as if Aera had committed the most heinous crime in the universe. Her voice was a lather of unforgettably thick honey that smothered every ear it reached until your senses were suffocated by her sickly sweet presence. "And from lack of skincare? Minus 25 points. Wearing clothes that don't fit your body type? Yikes! Take away another 15."

Her first underling, Minion #1 as Aera liked to call her, criticized Aera for not watching her weight more carefully after getting her period for the first time. Minion #2 only glared Aera up and down; a silent gesture, but his message was loud and clear: Aera's appearance was more common than gum spat on the sidewalk.

Aera's fists balled at her sides. She was about a strand of hair away from slapping the foundation off Jolina's face. That's what Annabeth would have done. Luke would have found some way to get back at Jolina by sneaking a giant scorpion into her pillow or something. Both options seemed extremely appealing, but Aera didn't have the luxury of not being a part of Cabin Ten.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aera saw Silena shake her head subtly from the audience of already graded siblings. Her evaluation had came before Aera's ("Too much contour, don't wear black on Wednesdays, I give you an 80"). Back then, Silena was the only thing holding Aera back from doing what everyone wanted to do and standing up to that megalomaniac Barbie doll.

The problem was Jolina always had the dirt on everyone and their crushes. No one had ever seen her pick up a sword or a shield once at camp, but her weapon was even more dangerous than anything in the armory. Jolina wielded a flower pen topped with a rosebud infused with the same magical stuff Eros used on his arrows to make people lust after each other like cats in heat. She could make anyone infatuated with anyone or anything—like a bottle of setting spray or a compact mirror—just by waving the pen under your nose and murmuring a few words about whatever she wanted you to become smitten by. If you got on her bad side, well, no one would be surprised if you woke up one morning and found yourself in love with a banana peel.

Aera knew Jolina would only give her older sister a hard time if she tried to say anything. Luke used to say targeting the weak was what bullies did. And Jolina was possibly the most devilishly stylish bully out there. After Silena had spilled the tea about her long-standing crush on Beckendorf, Aera didn't want to risk anything that could sabotage the progress Silena was slowly making towards his heart.

Besides, Jolina was 17, turning 18 that winter, and Aera was 11. Aera didn't stand a chance against the older girl. Swallowing her pride and her anger, Aera had no choice but to bite her tongue harder than the poisonous serpent that bit the famous Egyptian beauty Cleopatra dead.

When Aera didn't give her the reaction she desired, Jolina had the cycle of modeling Aphrodite kids stop the show at once. She rose to her feet and circled around Aera like a hawk around its prey, tapping her rose pen on her clipboard, its sharp floral fragrance overpowering every smell in the room.

"You're at 60," that Echidna in Prada drawled, "and those are only minor infractions. You're not looking too hot this week, babe. Asher ate some bad sushi for lunch. You know what seafood does to his stomach. Expect a good toilet-scrubbing sesh tonight to reflect on your performance, m'kay?"

Jolina shot Aera a falsely sympathetic smile as if to say, sweetie, you are pitiful and I'm here to fix you, knowing she had and would always have the upper hand. Aphrodite would never favor anyone over her quintessential daughter—the golden child who set every standard of beauty and crushed the most inpenetrable men's hearts for breakfast.

Jolina hogging the ability to make people fall in love with random objects and possessing the ability to charmspeak anyone into doing whatever she wanted, all while looking like a cookie cutter Victoria's Secret model with her tall, hour glass figure, platinum blonde hair, and ice blue eyes was the earliest form of proof exposed to Aera that the gods had favorites, and she was not one of them.

Is that why I can't get Jason to talk? Aera pondered as she frowned at her own dejected reflection in the mirror of the infirmary. Because I only look 60 today?

Snap out of it, another voice in Aera's head chided, dragging her back down to the reality where she was the hottest demigod alive and everyone loved her. Jolina Kamarov and her two minions died when they hand-delivered those Greek fire bombs to Mount Olympus. She doesn't get to tell you what you're worth anymore.

Aera might not have inherited the skill to change her appearance at will like Silena, nor did she have the power to charmspeak others into doing her bidding like Jolina. What Aera did have that the sisters who came before her didn't was the impenetrable drive to become better than all of them. Maybe it was nerve, maybe it was experience, or maybe it was plain vanity. Whatever it was, it gave Aera the audacity.

That is, until everybody's least favorite goddess showed up to humble her.

"...want to know more about Aera first, if that's okay with you, sir," Aera overheard Jason telling Chiron as she made her way back to that dreadfully decorated living room with that dreadfully bodiless leopard. Aera ducked behind the doorway to listen. Anyone who thought she wouldn't eavesdrop in on a conversation about her must've had oatmeal for brains.

"You said you were her mentor before she turned on Camp Half-Blood," Jason relayed, uncertainty resonating from his voice. "Has she always been this..."

"Unpredictable?" Chiron offered. "Spiteful? Violent?" Rude. Chiron had the audacity to chuckle. "I'm afraid so, my boy. You should have seen her four summers ago in a game of Capture the Flag. Sherman Yang from the Ares Cabin had teased her about the glitter she wore around her eyes. Aera responded by positioning glitter bombs around the forest that blinded the enemy team with a rampant explosion of sparkles."

Aera couldn't help but smile a little. That was one of her favorite memories at camp. Even Clarisse had bellowed out a laugh when she saw her brother buried in glitter.

"Quite a sight to behold!" Chiron chuckled again, and for a second, Aera forgot where she was. "Of course, that was before Silena intervened and reminded her that the dryads would have her head for spilling so much glitter over their trees."

"Silena?" Jason asked.

"Beauregard," Chiron explicated, sadness laced in his voice. "One of Aera's sisters in Cabin 10. The two were hardly seen without the other and when they weren't together, you could always find Aera glued to Annabeth instead."

"Annabeth?" Jason reiterated in disbelief. "As in that scary blonde who wanted to kill me? She and Aera were friends?"

"The dearest of friends," Chiron answered as a giant lump sank into Aera's chest.

"What happened?"

"The war," Chiron answered after a melancholic interval. "Not only did it tear apart their kinship, but it took Silena from us, as well. She was one of the kindest half-bloods I've taught in over three thousand years."

Aera tensed immediately, the rose vines tightening in her chest. Who was he to say that Silena was the kindest half-blood he's taught? What kind of a teacher would let her die like that?

Aera didn't want Chiron to say anything else to Jason about Silena. His hypocrisy was going to make her sick.

"So," Aera said casually, being generous enough to bless the two idiot sandwiches with her gorgeous flawless presence by strutting over the doorway, "are you ready to spill your guts out to me now or do I have to spill your guts out myself?" She plopped down on the couch close to Jason, who immediately scooted an inch away. Rude. Again.

As soon as she had walked into the room, Jason had averted his eyes as if Aera were the sun and she was far too radiant to stare directly at. It was understandable that he'd be intimidated by her enticing nature, but his scandalized evasiveness gave Aera the impression he thought her outfit was raunchy, which was honestly slanderous to a new degree. That muscular fabric stain.

"Have patience, my dear," Chiron had the audacity to reprimand Aera as she glared at Jason. "Jason is a...special case."

Aera folded her left leg over her right, amused. After all these years, Chiron still was a horse manure teacher in every way possible. Her tone was jeeringly cheery as she remarked, "Translation: Jason is a lost cause in both his demigod career and his fashion one."

"Alright," Jason grumped, still not looking at Aera. "Can we just get back to the part where I'm supposed to be dead?"

"Ooh, yes, please!" Aera agreed enthusiastically. "Why isn't he dead yet? Am I supposed to dead him?"

Jason finally glowered at her, but Aera was smiling smugly in Chiron's direction. That old horse man was studying Jason in concern, as if he expected Jason to have a severe case of premature frown lines at only 15. "My boy, do you know what those marks on your arm mean? The color of your shirt? Do you remember anything?"

Jason glanced at the tattoo on his forearm: SPQR, the eagle, twelve straight lines. "No," he answered. "Nothing."

"Do you know where you are?" Chiron interrogated. "Do you understand what this place is, and who I am?"

"You're Chiron the centaur," Jason said. Aera yawned. "I'm guessing you're the same one from the old stories, who used to train the Greek heroes like Heracles. This is a camp for demigods, children of the Olympian gods."

"So you believe those gods still exist?"

"Yes," Jason said immediately. His eyes momentarily flickered over to Aera, who was making herself comfortable on that raggedy couch, waiting for this dull conversation to be over so they could get back to what was most important: her. "I mean, I don't think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything—"

"Oh, no," Aera gasped. "Sacrificing chickens is so medieval!"

"—but they're still around because they're a powerful part of civilization. They move from country to country as the center of power shifts—like they moved from Ancient Greece to Rome."

Then Chiron started randomly exchanging words with Jason in another language. Latin? Aera wasn't too sure. She could make out a few words, though. Gods. Claiming. Sephora sale. No, that wasn't it. Whatever.

"Quis erat—" Jason faltered, as if making a conscious effort to speak English instead. "What was that?"

"You know Latin," Chiron stated the obvious. "Most demigods recognize a few phrases, of course. It's in their blood, but not as much as Ancient Greek. None can speak Latin fluently without practice."

"Can we get back to the part where any of this actually matters?" Aera requested.

The fire reflected in Chiron's eyes, making them dance fretfully. He seemed strangely concerned for this weird Latin-speaking boy. "I taught your namesake, you know, the original Jason. He had a hard path. I've seen many heroes come and go. Occasionally, they have happy endings. Mostly, they don't. It breaks my heart, like losing a child each time one of my pupils dies. But you—you are not like any pupil I've ever taught. Your presence here could be a disaster."

All the color drained from Jason's face.

"So," Aera said again, reaching for the lethal lipstick tube from her makeover kit, "I'm dead-ing him now?"

"Put the lipstick down, Aera," Chiron chastised with a sigh. "Until we find out what your relation is to Jason, you mustn't be reckless."

"What does this have to do with me?" Aera demanded, completely stunned. She didn't appreciate being grouped with a juvenile barbarian who had no taste. "You know, I wouldn't have stepped a heel into this dump if he hadn't woken up next to me on that school bus."

Jason blinked. "Somehow this is my fault."

"Now," Aera ranted relentlessly, "I'm forced to be back at this stupid camp surrounded by dangerous UV rays, and people who don't appreciate beauty when they see it!"

"Hold on," Jason said, narrowing his eyes at her. "We lost our memories and what you're worried about right now is getting sunburnt?"

"Do you know how hard it is for someone with my fair complexion to get a tan?" Aera scoffed. "Of course you don't. You have a goddess-given bronze tone."

Jason raised his eyebrows. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"No!" Aera exasperated, turning her head away. "UGH!"

Chiron passed a concerned expression between the two of them. "It seems you've both had a long morning. Jason has told me his piece, but Aera, do you perhaps remember any fragment of the past week?"

"What?" Aera crossed her arms. "Did your little spies just happen to be sleeping on the job the week I got amnesia?"

"Spies?" Jason asked.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Aera quirked a brow. Chiron suddenly looked uncomfortable. Of course he didn't say anything, that old mule. "How convenient." Jason tilted his head at Aera, so she didn't see any point in beating around the bush. "Well, after the war ended, Chiron sent a bunch of smelly old goat men to stalk me."

Jason's eyes bugged out. "I'm sorry. What?"

"We assigned satyrs to watch over you to keep you out of trouble," Chiron clarified with all the sternness of a stern teacher. Aera rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, they were so annoying!" Aera continued informing Jason. "Always following me around 24/7 and reeking of hay. It was like having a farm of barnyard animals be your paparazzi." Aera whined, "And I totally did not deserve all that bad press! I'm not a criminal. I didn't do anything!"

Jason scratched his head. "Didn't you wage war on Olympus as Kronos' highest commanding general and get a bunch of demigods killed in the process—"

Aera waved a light hand at him. "Roses under the bridge."

Jason slumped back into the couch. "To you, maybe," he said with a weary shrug. "But no one here seems to have forgotten what you did to your siblings."

Aera could feel her heart twinging behind the rose vines entangled around it. If only he knew...

Antagonism, Aera had grown used to over the years. She had come a long way from Cabin Ten's monthly evaluations. Working for Kronos had made her beautiful and powerful. Aera had nearly held the entire world in her palm.

Obviously, it wasn't easy being someone so many people were jealous of. Especially when you were as enchantingly show-stopping as Aera. You were bound to make a few rivals along the road of pure perfection. Annabeth was a prime example. A fight, Aera could easily win in a flutter of her voluminous eyelashes.

Social alienation, however, was a whole different struggle. Back on the shore of that lake, when Aera had heard all the rancorous whispers and saw the wary, uninviting eyes of the people she once considered family, their isolation had unlocked an ancient fear she'd kept barred away for years in the deepest, darkest cell of her soul...

The vines around her heart tightened, its thorns piercing into her organ.

"Good." Aera tilted her head up. "Let them remember."

Jason frowned, but made no further comment. The way his jaw clenched reminded Aera of the way Luke used to get cross at her for showing up to his cabin with cuts and bruises after losing another spar. Not because Aera was showing little improvement in her training but because she had acted like it didn't hurt.

Aera quickly moved her gaze to Chiron. If she stared at Jason any longer, she might have done something totally barbaric like ruin her mascara again.

"Anyways!" she said to Chiron. "I bet those hillbillies already spilled all the tea to you. They must have told you something." She hated the way Jason was looking at her like that, so she hopefully suggested to Chiron, "Like maybe how a 6 foot tall blonde Caucasian boy with no fashion sense by the name of Jason abducted me and tatted my arm up as a means of forcing me to join some super secret spy organization that specializes in being ugly?"

Jason's miffed expression returned, exactly as Aera intended. "Really?"

"Just a theory," Aera defended innocently.

The horse man was watching Aera and Jason cautiously, as if he was expecting them to cause some kind of earth-shattering explosion together.

"Unfortunately, they have not reported any peculiar sightings of Jason or this..." Chiron paused. "...super secret spy organization you speak of. Our satyrs lost track of you last week around the Bay Area."

"And what? You didn't bother looking for me?" Aera let out another scoff as she got up to pour herself a cup of lemonade. "That stings, Chi-Chi. I thought I was on the top of The Olympians' 'watch out' list, right next Python and Typhon."

Chiron smiled sadly at her. "Forgive me, my dear. It was my suggestion to ask the satyrs to give you some space. After all, last week was Silena's birthday and I—"

Aera almost dropped the lemonade pitcher on the floor.

A searing pain rocketed from Aera's ribcage to her brain, exploding her senses with an overcoming sensation similar to what she felt when Jason hugged her on that school bus. All that Aera could make out from the internal pandemonium raging inside was the image of a neon sign: BEAUREGARD CHOCOLATIER, and the angry voice of a man shouting, "If you're so sorry, bring my daughter back!"

"Aera," Jason called her name. The sound of his voice cleared the thundering storm of her thoughts at once.

Aera clasped her hands together. They were suddenly really cold. "Yeah?"

"You alright?" he asked. Both Chiron and he were staring in concern.

The synthetic rose vines wrapped around the heels of her shoes seemed wind their way up to Aera's chest, binding another layer around her heart.

Don't be a 60, she warned herself. Stop being a 60.

Pushing aside whatever that nepenthes trip was, Aera took a deep breath and forced a crooked smile at Chiron. "I almost destroyed Olympus and now you care about me?"

"You are my student, Aera," Chiron said gently, but that was the last thing she wanted to hear. "You will always—"

"What kind of teacher lets their student kill their other students?" Aera laughed humorlessly. "You've failed, old man. Give up already."

"No matter what you do," Chiron said calmly, which only made Aera more furious, "you will still be my pupil. I wish not for you meet a horrible fate like the others."

"Then where were you when I needed you?" Aera blurted before she could think twice about who else was present. "When I was laughed at for wanting to be a hero and when I tried to tell you what Jolina was doing to Cabin 10—" Aera inhaled in a sharp breath. "—for five years, I tried to tell you what Jolina was doing to Cabin 10. She was pressuring middle school kids to go under the knife to fix their imperfections, enforcing unhealthy eating habits, and pitting her own siblings in a cutthroat competition against each other to see who could be more beautiful. I warned you that Jolina's cruelty would only end in death. Why didn't you believe me?"

"I didn't think it wise to interfere in your affairs," Chiron admitted weakly, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "I believed you were capable enough to handle it on your own."

"I was a kid!" Aera cried out. I still am a kid. But her throat seemed to automatically close up before any more traitorous words could come out. That's when Aera did a full stop on her emotions. She was not going to let herself acquire stress wrinkles over a horse man who rolled around in a wheelchair of his own manure.

"But not anymore." Aera plastered a sinister smirk across her lips, wrapping yet another layer of thorny vines around her already confined heart. "I mean, in the end, I suppose you were right, Chi-Chi. I was capable enough to handle everything and more without your useless guidance."

Chiron paled considerably at this, which was enough pacify Aera's rage...for now. It also helped that Jason was there to filter her. She wasn't going to hash out the past around someone who reminded her of Luke.

To save her own pride, Aera gifted Chiron a sarcastic toast of lemonade. "How does it feel to not even receive a participation award in your best student's legacy?"

Chiron gazed mournfully at the fire. "I had hoped that after Percy's success—"

"Percy Jackson, you mean?" Jason asked, seeming eager to change the subject. "Annabeth's boyfriend, the one who's missing."

Chiron nodded grimly. "I hoped that after he succeeded in the Titan War and saved Mount Olympus, we might have some peace. I might be able to enjoy one final triumph, a happy ending, and perhaps retire quietly. I should have known better. But now the last chapter approaches, just as it did before. The worst is yet to come."

In the corner, the arcade game made a sad pew-pew-pew-pew sound, like a Pac-Man had just died. Leave it to Mr. D to always have impeccable timing.

"No one asked you to be this dramatic," Aera retorted. "If you feel so bad about being such a crappy teacher covered in lint all the time, why don't you stop this soap opera and tell us why Jason and I woke up next to each other on the bus with amnesia?"

"I'm afraid I can't explain—"

"Of course not." She scoffed.

"I swore on the River Styx and on all things sacred that I would never..." Chiron frowned when he peered at Jason, as if realizing something about him. "But you're also here, in violation of the same oath. That too, should not be possible. I don't understand. Who would've done such a thing? Who—"

Seymour the leopard howled. His mouth froze, half open. The arcade game stopped beeping. The fire stopped crackling, its flames hardening like red shards of glass.

"Chiron?" Jason asked, alarm flashing across his face. "What's going—"

The old centaur had frozen, too. Jason jumped off the couch, but Chiron kept staring at the same spot, his mouth open mid-sentence. His eyes didn't blink. His chest didn't move. Sipping her lemonade leisurely, Aera wondered if maybe Santa really was real and had decided to get rid of everyone she hated for Christmas.

Jason noticed Aera was still in moving condition. "He's not moving!"

"Bummer." Aera helped herself to more lemonade.

"Why are you..." Jason trailed. Then that crease between his eyebrows came back. "Did you do this?"

"If I could," Aera said irritably, "do you think I would still be here with all these mosquitoes?" She swatted away one that had somehow slipped through mesh door earlier.

"Then what—"

Jason, a voice hissed. A plume of dark mist boiled out of Seymour's mouth.

Recognizing the heavy presence of a divine immortal, Aera suppressed a sigh. Not this again.

Jason seemed to also be an anti-fan. He took out his golden coin and brandished his sword faster than Aera could say "barbaric". Aera didn't know whether she should have been impressed by his reflexes or amused at the fact that this boring do-gooder was drawing his sword at a god. Wherever he came from, he must have been trained to fight for his life at every given moment...

The mist merged into the form of a woman in black robes. Her face was hooded, but her eyes glowed in the darkness. Over her shoulders she wore a hideous goatskin cloak. Aera only recognized it because it was so hideous and #34 on the extensive list of items not to wear in her life.

Would you attack your patron? the woman chided. Her voice seemed to echo in both Jason's and Aera's head in typical invasive immortal presence. Lower your sword.

Jason's hand tightened around his sword. "Who are—"

"To what do we owe the pleasure," Aera said lifelessly, reclining on the couch. She was ready to go home and take a bubble bath and eat caviar. "Queen Hera?"

Do not use such a careless tone with me, child, the goddess replied. Aera swore she could see a frown etched on her face beneath those ghastly robes. I have not the time nor the patience for your impertinence.

"Barely three words in and you already sound like you want me dead." Aera smirked. "Aren't we getting a little worked up over nothing, Your Majesty?"

If my ignorant husband didn't find amusement in your insolence, she said. I would have already turned you into a hippopotamus!

"Now, now," Aera said breezily, "is that any way to talk about the King of Olympus and your most devoted husband? I'd save my energy if I were you. Your divine complexion isn't looking as timeless as it used to these days."

The form of the goddess flickered in anger. Which brings us precisely back to my point. Our time is limited. If you shall not hear me out, let it be that Jason shall.

"Hear what out?" Jason demanded. His eyes travelled between Aera and the goddess tentatively, like he wasn't sure who to be more wary of.

My prison grows stronger by the hour. It took me a full month to gather enough energy to work even the smallest magic through its bonds. I've managed to bring you here, but now I have little time left, and even less power. This may be the last time I can speak to you.

"You took our memories?" Jason questioned the same time Aera demanded, "You put me in that disgusting Christmas sweater?"

Jason shook his head. "Look, I don't know you. You're not my patron."

You know me, she insisted. I have known you since your birth.

"I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

Aera rolled her eyes. When did she step into one of those old Korean soap operas her grandma used to watch?

No, you don't, Hera agreed. That was also necessary. Long ago, your father gave me your life as a gift to placate my anger. He named you Jason, after my favorite mortal. You belong to me.

"You belong to her?" Aera asked Jason. Well, that was the biggest red flag if Aera had ever seen one.

Jason looked absolutely dumbfounded. "Whoa. I don't belong to anyone."

Now is the time to pay your debt, she continued. Find my prison. Free me, or their king will rise from the earth, and I will be destroyed. You will never retrieve your memory.

"Is that a threat? You took my memories?"

As for you, child, Hera said to Aera, ignoring Jason completely. You are lucky to be alive. Your own debts to Olympus have remained unpaid for far too long.

Aera was not even the slightest bit ashamed of the favor that idiot fish had asked of the gods for her last summer.

"What are you now?" she challenged. "A loan shark?"

Give my hero the counsel that he requires on this journey, she commanded. Prove to me that you deserve the generous mercy of the gods. Or I will find another way around Percy Jackson's favor to collect your debt.

Aera took out the knife she had hidden in her bra while in the restroom. "I have nothing to prove to you."

You have until sunset on the solstice, children. Four short days. Do not fail me.

Enraged, Aera threw her dagger at the mist, but the shadowy figure dissolved, and the mist curled into the leopard's mouth.

Time unfroze. Seymour's howl turned into a cough like he'd sucked in a hair ball. The fire crackled to life, the arcade machine beeped, and Chiron said, "—would dare to bring you here?" right as Aera's dagger hit one of the masks hanging on the wall, and lodged right between its two grotesque grape eyes.

"Probably that lady in the mist," Jason offered. He lowered his golden sword but didn't put it away.

Aera wanted to smash a makeup palette with a sledgehammer. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."