He managed to get to his feet again, but Grover put his reed pipes to his lips

and began to play.

 

Leneus joined him. Around the grove, every satyr took up the song — an eerie

melody, like a creek flowing over stones. The ground erupted at Hyperion's feet.

Gnarled roots wrapped around his legs.

 

"What's this?" he protested. He tried to shake off the roots, but he was still

weak. The roots thickened until he looked like he was wearing wooden boots.

 

"Stop this!" he shouted. "Your woodland magic is no match for a Titan!"

 

But the more he struggled, the faster the roots grew. They curled about his

body, thickening and hardening into bark. His golden armor melted into the wood,

becoming part of a large trunk.

 

The music continued. Hyperion's forces backed up in astonishment as their leader

was absorbed. He stretched out his arms and they became branches, from which

smaller branches shot out and grew leaves.

 

The tree grew taller and thicker, until only the Titan's face was visible in the

middle of the trunk.

 

"You cannot imprison me!" he bellowed. "I am Hyperion! I am — "