Yarol's arena was awe-inspiring. Truly a place Percy wouldn't mind fighting to the death in.
It was built on a ledge, white stone blending in with the mist. Above it, Percy finally got to see the creatures that flew on top of the mountain.
They were huge gray birds, each the size of a truck, armed with sharp bronze talons and a hooked beak.
The metallic sheen of the beast and its echoing screech made him gawk as they walked up the hill to the arena.
Dresden glanced at him and smiled. "Stymphalian bird. They were a gift to my great-grandfather from House Valtyros."
"Evil things," Thalos muttered, a murderous gaze in his eyes. "I hope they won't come down here. I wouldn't like to kill your beasts."
The Count waved away Thalos' apprehensions, pointing at the mists surrounding the mountain.
