‘He watches from afar. What shall we do about him?’ I ask Apollo.

‘Don’t worry Artie, if he comes I’ll protect you,’ my brother teases.

That makes me laugh. I’m the one with the bow and arrow after all.

Our uncle, Poseidon laughs along with me. We are all out in his little boat The Medusa, bobbing and rolling along the calm sea.

Sometimes Dad let us come down from Mount Olympus to hang out in the human world so here we are.

I spot a little boat rowing out from the shore towards us. It looks vaguely familiar.

‘Uncle, pass me the telescope will you?’ I say.

I hold it up to my eye and focus on the rowboat.

No. It’s the man. The one who has been following us ever since we left Greece.

‘Uncle!’ I cry. ‘It’s him, it’s him, it’s him!’

‘Use your powers!’ Apollo implores Poseidon. ‘Get us away from him.’

But Poseidon just laughs it off. ‘Whoever is in that boat, they will be no match for three Olympians. Just let them come.’

As the boat nears, a strange feeling overcomes me. It makes me breathless and I feel like all the air is being sucked out of me. It must be fear.

The boat is only a metre away and about to pull up right next to us. I can now see that there are two men in the boat. One is tall and muscular, the other one having a pixie-like quality. I can almost see the danger vibes rolling off these two.

It pulls up alongside us and I can fully see who they are - Heracles, one of my half-brothers, and Dolos, son of Gaia and Aether. They don’t look like they are here for good reason.

Poseidon doesn’t seem to notice and asks, ‘What are you two doing here?’

That’s when Heracles gives us the most devious smile ever given and blows a pink powder in our faces.

Suddenly I feel really sleepy. I fall into the sea.

I wake up, coughing and spluttering water. My head feels like I was hit by a harpoon. I try to move, but can’t. My hands and feet are bound.

Once my eyes come into focus, I can see that Apollo and Poseidon are tied up next to me and Dolos and Heracles are standing in front of us, dangling vials in front of our faces.

‘What’s in those bottles?’ I ask, my words coming out slurred. I guess that pink powder did something.

‘Your powers.’ Heracles cackles maniacally. Not something I’d expect from a Greek hero.

Apollo suddenly becomes really angry. ‘Give them back!’ He yells, pulling on his restraints.

That smile again. It always seems more evil every time I see it.

‘You have to do something for us,’ Heracles says.

‘What?’ Apollo spits in our half brother’s face.

‘You must complete twelve labours. And your first one is to go to Olympus and steal Hera’s treasure for me. Thanks.’