The last Olympian

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WE GET HELP FROM A THIEF

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Here's my definition of not fun. Fly a pegasus toward an out-of-control helicopter. If Guido had been any

less of a fancy flier, we would've been chopped to confetti.

I could hear Rachel screaming inside. For some reason, she hadn't fallen asleep, but I could see the

pilot slumped over the controls, pitching back and forth as the helicopter wobbled toward the side of an

office building.

"Ideas?" I asked Annabeth.

"You're going to have to take Guido and get out," she said.

"What are you going to do?"

In response, she said, "Hyah!" and Guido went into a nosedive.

"Duck!" Annabeth yelled.

We passed so close to the rotors I felt the force of the blades ripping at my hair. We zipped along the

side of the helicopter, and Annabeth grabbed the door.

That's when things went wrong.

Guido's wing slammed against the helicopter. He plummeted straight down with me on his back,

leaving Annabeth dangling from the side of the aircraft. I was so terrified I could barely think, but as

Guido spiraled I caught a glimpse of Rachel pulling Annabeth inside the copter.

"Hang in there!" I yelled at Guido.

My wing, he moaned. It's busted.

"You can do it!" I desperately tried to remember what Silena used to tell us in pegasus-riding lessons.

"Just relax the wing. Extend it and glide."

We fell like a rock—straight toward the pavement three hundred feet below. At the last moment

Guido extended his wings. I saw the faces of centaurs gaping up at us. Then we pulled out of our dive,

sailed fifty feet, and tumbled onto the pavement—pegasus over demigod.

Ow! Guido moaned. My legs. My head. My wings.

Chiron galloped over with his medical pouch and began working on the pegasus.

I got to my feet. When I looked up, my heart crawled into my throat. The helicopter was only a few

seconds away from slamming into the side of the building.

Then miraculously the helicopter righted itself. It spun in a circle and hovered. Very slowly, it began

to descend.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the helicopter thudded to a landing in the middle of Fifth

Avenue. I looked through the windshield and couldn't believe what I was seeing. Annabeth was at the

controls.

I ran forward as the rotors spun to a stop. Rachel opened the side door and dragged out the pilot.

Rachel was still dressed like she was on vacation, in beach shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals. Her hair was

tangled and her face was green from the helicopter ride.

Annabeth climbed out last.

I stared at her in awe. "I didn't know you could fly a helicopter."

"Neither did I," she said. "My dad's crazy into aviation. Plus, Daedalus had some notes on flying

machines. I just took my best guess on the controls."

"You saved my life," Rachel said.

Annabeth flexed her bad shoulder. "Yeah, well . . . let's not make a habit of it. What are you doing

here, Dare? Don't you know better than to fly into a war zone?"

"I—" Rachel glanced at me. "I had to be here. I knew Percy was in trouble."

"Got that right," Annabeth grumbled. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some injured friends I've got

to tend to. Glad you could stop by, Rachel."

'Annabeth—" I called.

She stormed off.

Rachel plopped down on the curb and put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, Percy. I didn't mean to . .

. I always mess things up."

It was kind of hard to argue with her, though I was glad she was safe. I looked in the direction

Annabeth had gone, but she'd disappeared into the crowd. I couldn't believe what she'd just done—saved

Rachel's life, landed a helicopter, and walked away like it was no big deal.

"It's okay," I told Rachel, though my words sounded hollow. "So what's the message you wanted to

deliver?"

She frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"A dream."

Rachel didn't look surprised. She tugged at her beach shorts. They were covered in drawings, which

wasn't unusual for her, but these symbols I recognized: Greek letters, pictures from camp beads, sketches

of monsters and faces of gods. I didn't understand how Rachel could have known about some of that.

She'd never been to Olympus or Camp Half-Blood.

"I've been seeing things too," she muttered. "I mean, not just through the Mist. This is different. I've

been drawing pictures, writing lines—"

"In Ancient Greek," I said. "Do you know what they say?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping . . . well, if you had gone with us on

vacation, I was hoping you could have helped me figure out what's happening to me."

She looked at me pleadingly. Her face was sunburned from the beach. Her nose was peeling. I

couldn't get over the shock that she was here in person. She'd forced her family to cut short their vacation,

agreed to go to a horrible school, and flown a helicopter into a monster battle just to see me. In her own

way, she was as brave as Annabeth.

But what was happening to her with these visions really freaked me out. Maybe it was something that

happened to all mortals who could see through the Mist. But my mom had never talked about anything

like that. And Hestia's words about Luke's mom kept coming back to me: May Castellan went too far. She

tried to see too much.

"Rachel," I said, "I wish I knew. Maybe we should ask Chiron—"

She flinched like she'd gotten an electric shock. "Percy, something is about to happen. A trick that

ends in death."

"What do you mean? Whose death?"

"I don't know." She looked around nervously. "Don't you feel it?"

"Is that the message you wanted to tell me?"

"No." She hesitated. "I'm sorry. I'm not making sense, but that thought just came to me. The message

I wrote on the beach was different. It had your name in it."

"Perseus," I remembered. "In Ancient Greek."

Rachel nodded. "I don't know its meaning. But I know it's important. You have to hear it. It said,

Perseus, you are not the hero."

I stared at her like she'd just slapped me. "You came thousands of miles to tell me I'm not the hero?"

"It's important," she insisted. "It will affect what you do."

"Not the hero of the prophecy?" I asked. "Not the hero who defeats Kronos? What do you mean?"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Percy. That's all I know. I had to tell you because—"

"Well!" Chiron cantered over. "This must be Miss Dare."

I wanted to yell at him to go away, but of course I couldn't. I tried to get my emotions under control. I

felt like I had another personal hurricane swirling around me. "Chiron, Rachel Dare," I said. "Rachel, this

is my teacher Chiron."

"Hello," Rachel said glumly. She didn't look at all surprised that Chiron was a centaur.

"You are not asleep, Miss Dare," he noticed. "And yet you are mortal?"

"I'm mortal," she agreed, like it was a depressing thought. "The pilot fell asleep as soon as we passed

the river. I don't know why I didn't. I just knew I had to be here, to warn Percy."

"Warn Percy?"

"She's been seeing things," I said. "Writing lines and making drawings."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Tell me."

She told him the same things she'd told me.

Chiron stroked his beard. "Miss Dare . . . perhaps we should talk."

"Chiron," I blurted. I had a sudden terrible image of Camp Half-Blood in the 1990s, and May

Castellan's scream coming from that attic. "You . . . you'll help Rachel, right? I mean, you'll warn her that

she's got to be careful with this stuff. Not go too far."

His tail flicked like it does when he's anxious. "Yes, Percy. I will do my best to understand what is

happening and advise Miss Dare, but this may take some time. Meanwhile, you should rest. We've moved

your parents' car to safety. The enemy seems to be staying put for now. We've set up bunks in the Empire

State Building. Get some sleep."

"Everybody keeps telling me to sleep," I grumbled. "I don't need sleep."

Chiron managed a smile. "Have you looked at yourself recently, Percy?"

I glanced down at my clothes, which were scorched, burned, sliced, and tattered from my night of

constant battles. "I look like death," I admitted. "But you think I can sleep after what just happened?"

"You may be invulnerable in combat," Chiron chided, "but that only makes your body tire faster. I

remember Achilles. Whenever that lad wasn't fighting, he was sleeping. He must’ve taken twenty naps a

day. You, Percy, need your rest. You may be our only hope."

I wanted to complain that I wasn't their only hope, According to Rachel, I wasn't even the hero. But

the look in Chiron's eyes made it clear he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Sure," I grumbled. "Talk."

I trudged toward the Empire State Building. When I glanced back, Rachel and Chiron were walking

together in earnest conversation, like they were discussing funeral arrangements.

Inside the lobby, I found an empty bunk and collapsed, sure that I would never be able to sleep. A

second later, my eyes closed.

In my dreams, I was back in Hades's garden. The lord of the dead paced up and down, holding his ears

while Nico followed him, waving his arms.

"You have to!" Nico insisted.

Demeter and Persephone sat behind them at the breakfast table. Both of the goddesses looked bored.

Demeter poured shredded wheat into four huge bowls. Persephone was magically changing the flower

arrangement on the table, turning the blossoms from red to yellow to polka-dotted.

"I don't have to do anything!" Hades s eyes blazed. "I'm a god!"

"Father," Nico said, "if Olympus falls, your own palace's safety doesn't matter. You'll fade too."

"I am not an Olympian!" he growled. "My family has made that quite clear."

"You are,'' Nico said. "Whether you like it or not."

"You saw what they did to your mother," Hades said. "Zeus killed her. And you would have me help

them? They deserve what they get!"

Persephone sighed. She walked her fingers across the table, absently turning the silverware into roses.

"Could we please not talk about that woman?"

"You know what would help this boy?" Demeter mused. "Farming."

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Mother—"

"Six months behind a plow. Excellent character building."

Nico stepped in front of his father, forcing Hades to face him. "My mother understood about family.

That's why she didn't want to leave us. You can't just abandon your family because they did something

horrible. You've done horrible things to them too."

"Maria died!" Hades reminded him.

"You can't just cut yourself off from the other gods!"

"I've done very well at it for thousands of years."

"And has that made you feel any better?" Nico demanded. "Has that curse on the Oracle helped you at

all? Holding grudges is a fatal flaw. Bianca warned me about that, and she was right."

"For demigods! I am immortal, all-powerful! I would not help the other gods if they begged me, if

Percy Jackson himself pleaded—"

"You're just as much of an outcast as I am!" Nico yelled. "Stop being angry about it and do something

helpful for once. That's the only way they'll respect you!"

Hades's palm filled with black fire.

"Go ahead," Nico said. "Blast me. That's just what the other gods would expect from you. Prove them

right."

"Yes, please," Demeter complained. "Shut him up."

Persephone sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I would rather fight in the war than eat another bowl of cereal.

This is boring."

Hades roared in anger. His fireball hit a silver tree right next to Nico, melting it into a pool of liquid

metal.

And my dream changed.

I was standing outside the United Nations, about a mile northeast of the Empire State Building. The

Titan army had set up camp all around the UN complex. The flagpoles were hung with horrible

trophies—helmets and armor pieces from defeated campers. All along First Avenue, giants sharpened

their axes. Telkhines repaired armor at makeshift forges.

Kronos himself paced at the top of the plaza, swinging his scythe so his dracaenae bodyguards stayed

way back. Ethan Nakamura and Prometheus stood nearby, out of slicing range. Ethan was fidgeting with

his shield straps, but Prometheus looked as calm and collected as ever in his tuxedo.

"I hate this place," Kronos growled. "United Nations. As if mankind could ever unite. Remind me to

tear down this building after we destroy Olympus."

"Yes, lord." Prometheus smiled as if his master's anger amused him. "Shall we tear down the stables

in Central Park too? I know how much horses can annoy you."

"Don't mock me, Prometheus! Those cursed centaurs will be sorry they interfered. I will feed them to

the hellhounds, starting with that son of mine—that weakling Chiron."

Prometheus shrugged. "That weakling destroyed an entire legion of telkhines with his arrows."

Kronos swung his scythe and cut a flagpole in half. The national colors of Brazil toppled into the

army, squashing a dracaena.

"We will destroy them!" Kronos roared. "It is time to unleash the drakon. Nakamura, you will do

this."

"Y-yes, lord. At sunset?"

"No," Kronos said. "Immediately. The defenders of Olympus are badly wounded. They will not

expect a quick attack. Besides, we know this drakon they cannot beat."

Ethan looked confused. "My lord?"

"Never you mind, Nakamura. Just do my bidding. I want Olympus in ruins by the time Typhon

reaches New York. We will break the gods utterly!"

"But, my lord," Ethan said. "Your regeneration."

Kronos pointed at Ethan, and the demigod froze.

"Does it seem," Kronos hissed, "that I need to regenerate?"

Ethan didn't respond. Kind of hard to do when you're immobilized in time.

Kronos snapped his fingers and Ethan collapsed.

"Soon," the Titan growled, "this form will be unnecessary. I will not rest with victory so close. Now,

go!"

Ethan scrambled away.

"This is dangerous, my lord," Prometheus warned. "Do not be hasty."

"Hasty? After festering for three thousand years in the depths of Tartarus, you call me hasty? I will

slice Percy Jackson into a thousand pieces."

"Thrice you've fought him," Prometheus pointed out. "And yet you've always said it is beneath the

dignity of a Titan to fight a mere mortal. I wonder if your mortal host is influencing you, weakening your

judgment."

Kronos turned his golden eyes on the other Titan. "You call me weak?"

"No, my lord. I only meant—"

"Are your loyalties divided?" Kronos asked. "Perhaps you miss your old friends, the gods. Would you

like to join them?"

Prometheus paled. "I misspoke, my lord. Your orders will be carried out." He turned to the armies and

shouted, "PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"

The troops began to stir.

From somewhere behind the UN compound, an angry roar shook the city—the sound of a drakon

waking. The noise was so horrible it woke me, and I realized I could still hear it from a mile away.

Grover stood next to me, looking nervous. "What was that?"

"They're coming," I told him. "And we're in trouble."

The Hephaestus cabin was out of Greek fire. The Apollo cabin and the Hunters were scrounging for

arrows. Most of us had already ingested so much ambrosia and nectar we didn't dare take any more.

We had sixteen campers, fifteen Hunters, and half a dozen satyrs left in fighting shape. The rest had

taken refuge on Olympus. The Party Ponies tried to form ranks, but they staggered and giggled and they

all smelled like root beer. The Texans were head-butting the Coloradoans. The Missouri branch was

arguing with Illinois. The chances were pretty good the whole army would end up fighting each other

rather than the enemy.

Chiron trotted up with Rachel on his back. I felt a twinge of annoyance because Chiron rarely gave

anyone a ride, and never a mortal.

"Your friend here has some useful insights, Percy," he said.

Rachel blushed. "Just some things I saw in my head."

"A drakon," Chiron said. "A Lydian drakon, to be exact. The oldest and most dangerous kind."

I stared at her. "How did you know that?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel admitted. "But this drakon has a particular fate. It will be killed by a child of

Ares."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I just saw it. I can't explain."

"Well, let's hope you're wrong," I said. "Because we're a little short on children of Ares. . . ." A

horrible thought occurred to me, and I cursed in Ancient Greek.

"What?" Annabeth asked.

"The spy," I told her. "Kronos said, We know they cannot beat this drakon. The spy has been keeping

him updated. Kronos knows the Ares cabin isn't with us. He intentionally picked a monster we can't kill."

Thalia scowled. "If I ever catch your spy, he's going to be very sorry. Maybe we could send another

messenger to camp—"

"I've already done it," Chiron said. "Blackjack is on his way. But if Silena wasn't able to convince

Clarisse, I doubt Blackjack will be able—"

A roar shook the ground. It sounded very close.

"Rachel," I said, "get inside the building."

"I want to stay."

A shadow blotted out the sun. Across the street, the drakon slithered down the side of a skyscraper. It

roared, and a thousand windows shattered.

"On second thought," Rachel said in a small voice, "I'll be inside."

* * *

Let me explain: there are dragons, and then there are drakons.

Drakons are several millennia older than dragons, and much larger. They look like giant serpents.

Most don't have wings. Most don't breathe fire (though some do). All are poisonous. All are immensely

strong, with scales harder than titanium. Their eyes can paralyze you; not the turn-you~to-stone Medusatype

paralysis, but the oh~my~gods-that~big~snake~is~going~to~eat~me type of paralysis, which is just

as bad.

We have drakon-fighting classes at camp, but there is no way to prepare yourself for a two-hundredfoot-

long serpent as thick as a school bus slithering down the side of a building, its yellow eyes like

searchlights and its mouth full of razor-sharp teeth big enough to chew elephants.

It almost made me long for the flying pig.

Meanwhile, the enemy army advanced down Fifth Avenue. We'd done our best to push cars out of the

way to keep the mortals safe, but that just made it easier for our enemies to approach. The Party Ponies

swished their tails nervously. Chiron galloped up and down their ranks, shouting encouragement to stand

tough and think about victory and root beer, but I figured any second they would panic and run.

"I'll take the drakon." My voice came out as a timid squeak. Then I yelled louder: "I'LL TAKE THE

DRAKON! Everyone else, hold the line against the army!"

Annabeth stood next to me. She had pulled her owl helmet low over her face, but I could tell her eyes

were red.

"Will you help me?" I asked.

"That's what I do," she said miserably. "I help my friends."

I felt like a complete jerk. I wanted to pull her aside and explain that I didn't mean for Rachel to be

here, that it wasn't my idea, but we had no time.

"Go invisible," I said. "Look for weak links in its armor while I keep it busy. Just be careful."

I whistled. "Mrs. O'Leary, heel!"

"ROOOF!" My hellhound leaped over a line of centaurs and gave me a kiss that smelled suspiciously

of pepperoni pizza.

I drew my sword and we charged the monster.

The drakon was three stories above us, slithering sideways along the building as it sized up our forces.

Wherever it looked, centaurs froze in fear.

From the north, the enemy army crashed into the Party Ponies, and our lines broke. The drakon lashed

out, swallowing three Californian centaurs in one gulp before I could even get close.

Mrs. O'Leary launched herself through the air—a deadly black shadow with teeth and claws.

Normally, a pouncing hellhound is a terrifying sight, but next to the drakon, Mrs. O'Leary looked like a

child's night-night doll.

Her claws raked harmlessly off the drakon's scales. She bit the monster's throat but couldn't make a

dent. Her weight, however, was enough to knock the drakon off the side of the building. It flailed

awkwardly and crashed to the sidewalk, hellhound and serpent twisting and thrashing. The drakon tried to

bite Mrs. O'Leary, but she was too close to the serpent's mouth. Poison spewed everywhere, melting

centaurs into dust along with quite a few monsters, but Mrs. O'Leary weaved around the serpent's head,

scratching and biting.

"YAAAH!" I plunged Riptide deep into the monster's left eye. The spotlight went dark. The drakon

hissed and reared back to strike, but I rolled aside.

It bit a swimming-pool-size chunk out of the pavement. It turned toward me with its good eye, and I

focused on its teeth so I wouldn't get paralyzed. Mrs. O'Leary did her best to cause a distraction. She

leaped onto the serpent's head and scratched and growled like a really angry black wig.

The rest of the battle wasn't going well. The centaurs had panicked under the onslaught of giants and

demons. An occasional orange camp T-shirt appeared in the sea of fighting, but quickly disappeared.

Arrows screamed. Fire exploded in waves across both armies, but the action was moving across the street

to the entrance of the Empire State Building. We were losing ground.

Suddenly Annabeth materialized on the drakon's back. Her invisibility cap rolled off her head as she

drove her bronze knife between a chink in the serpent's scales.

The drakon roared. It coiled around, knocking Annabeth off its back.

I reached her just as she hit the ground. I dragged her out of the way as the serpent rolled, crushing a

lamppost right where she'd been.

"Thanks," she said.

"I told you to be careful!"

"Yeah, well, DUCK!"

It was her turn to save me. She tackled me as the monster's teeth snapped above my head. Mrs.

O'Leary body-slammed the drakon's face to get its attention, and we rolled out of the way.

Meanwhile our allies had retreated to the doors of the Empire State Building. The entire enemy army

was surrounding them.

We were out of options. No more help was coming. Annabeth and I would have to retreat before we

were cut off from Mount Olympus.

Then I heard a rumbling in the south. It wasn't a sound you hear much in New York, but I recognized

it immediately: chariot wheels.

A girl's voice yelled, "ARES!"

And a dozen war chariots charged into battle. Each flew a red banner with the symbol of the wild

boar's head. Each was pulled by a team of skeletal horses with manes of fire. A total of thirty fresh

warriors, armor gleaming and eyes full of hate, lowered their lances as one—making a bristling wall of

death.

"The children of Ares!" Annabeth said in amazement. "How did Rachel know?"

I didn't have an answer. But leading the charge was a girl in familiar red armor, her face covered by a

boar's-head helm. She held aloft a spear that crackled with electricity. Clarisse herself had come to the

rescue. While half her chariots charged the monster army, Clarisse led the other six straight for the

drakon.

The serpent reared back and managed to throw off Mrs. O'Leary. My poor pet hit the side of the

building with a yelp. I ran to help her, but the serpent had already zeroed in on the new threat. Even with

only one eye, its glare was enough to paralyze two chariot drivers. They veered into a line of cars. The

other four chariots kept charging. The monster bared its fangs to strike and got a mouthful of Celestial

bronze javelins.

"EEESSSSS!!!!!" it screamed, which is probably drakon for OWWWW!

"Ares, to me!" Clarisse screamed. Her voice sounded shriller than usual, but I guess that wasn't

surprising given what she was fighting.

Across the street, the arrival of six chariots gave the Party Ponies new hope. They rallied at the doors

of the Empire State Building, and the enemy army was momentarily thrown into confusion.

Meanwhile, Clarisse's chariots circled the drakon. Lances broke against the monster's skin. Skeletal

horses breathed fire and whinnied. Two more chariots overturned, but the warriors simply leaped to their

feet, drew their swords, and went to work. They hacked at chinks in the creature's scales. They dodged

poison spray like they'd been training for this all their lives, which of course they had.

No one could say the Ares campers weren't brave. Clarisse was right there in front, stabbing her spear

at the drakon's face, trying to put out its other eye. But as I watched, things started to go wrong. The

drakon snapped up one Ares camper in a gulp. It knocked aside another and sprayed poison on a third,

who retreated in a panic, his armor melting.

"We have to help," Annabeth said.

She was right. I'd just been standing there frozen in amazement. Mrs. O'Leary tried to get up but

yelped again. One of her paws was bleeding.

"Stay back, girl," I told her. "You've done enough already."

Annabeth and I jumped onto the monster's back and ran toward its head, trying to draw its attention

away from Clarisse.

Her cabinmates threw javelins, most of which broke, but some lodged in the monster's teeth. It

snapped its jaws together until its mouth was a mess of green blood, yellow foamy poison, and splintered

weapons.

"You can do it!" I screamed at Clarisse. "A child of Ares is destined to kill it!"

Through her war helmet, I could only see her eyes—but I could tell something was wrong. Her blue

eyes shone with fear. Clarisse never looked like that. And she didn't have blue eyes.

"ARES!" she shouted, in that strangely shrill voice. She leveled her spear and charged the drakon.

"No," I muttered. "WAIT!"

But the monster looked down at her—almost in contempt—and spit poison directly in her face.

She screamed and fell.

"Clarisse!" Annabeth jumped off the monster's back and ran to help, while the other Ares campers

tried to defend their fallen counselor. I drove Riptide between two of the creature's scales and managed to

turn its attention on me.

I got thrown but I landed on my feet. "C'MON, you stupid worm! Look at me!"

For the next several minutes, all I saw were teeth. I retreated and dodged poison, but I couldn't hurt

the thing.

At the edge of my vision, I saw a flying chariot land on Fifth Avenue.

Then someone ran toward us. A girl's voice, shaken with grief, cried, "NO! Curse you, WHY?"

I dared to glance over, but what I saw made no sense. Clarisse was lying on the ground where she'd

fallen. Her armor smoked with poison. Annabeth and the Ares campers were trying to unfasten her

helmet. And kneeling next to them, her face blotchy with tears, was a girl in camp clothes. It was . . .

Clarisse.

My head spun. Why hadn't I noticed before? The girl in Clarisse's armor was much thinner, not as

tall. But why would someone pretend to be Clarisse?

I was so stunned, the drakon almost snapped me in half. I dodged and the beast buried its head in a

brick wall.

"WHY?" The real Clarisse demanded, holding the other girl in her arms while the campers struggled

to remove the poison-corroded helmet.

Chris Rodriguez ran over from the flying chariot. He and Clarisse must've ridden it here from camp,

chasing the Ares campers, who'd mistakenly been following the other girl, thinking she was Clarisse. But

it still made no sense.

The drakon tugged its head from the brick wall and screamed in rage.

"Look out!" Chris warned.

Instead of turning toward me, the drakon whirled toward the sound of Chris's voice. It bared its fangs

at the group of demigods.

The real Clarisse looked up at the drakon, her face filled with absolute hate. I'd seen a look that

intense only once before. Her father, Ares, had worn the same expression when I'd fought him in single

combat.

"YOU WANT DEATH?" Clarisse screamed at the drakon. "WELL, COME ON!"

She grabbed her spear from the fallen girl. With no armor or shield, she charged the drakon.

I tried to close the distance to help, but Clarisse was faster. She leaped aside as the monster struck,

pulverizing the ground in front of her. Then she jumped onto the creature's head. As it reared up, she

drove her electric spear into its good eye with so much force it shattered the shaft, releasing all of the

magic weapon's power.

Electricity arced across the creature's head, causing its whole body to shudder. Clarisse jumped free,

rolling safely to the sidewalk as smoke boiled from the drakon's mouth. The drakon's flesh dissolved, and

it collapsed into a hollow scaly tunnel of armor.

The rest of us stared at Clarisse in awe. I had never seen anyone take down such a huge monster

single-handedly. But Clarisse didn't seem to care. She ran back to the wounded girl who'd stolen her

armor.

Finally Annabeth managed to remove the girl's helmet. We all gathered around: the Ares campers,

Chris, Clarisse, Annabeth, and me. The battle still raged along Fifth Avenue, but for that moment nothing

existed except our small circle and the fallen girl.

Her features, once beautiful, were badly burned from poison. I could tell that no amount of nectar or

ambrosia would save her.

Something is about to happen. Rachel's words rang in my ears. A trick that ends in death.

Now I knew what she meant, and I knew who had led the Ares cabin into battle.

I looked down at the dying face of Silena Beauregard.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: I SIT ON THE HOT SEAT

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"What were you thinking?" Clarisse cradled Silena's head in her lap.

Silena tried to swallow, but her lips were dry and cracked. "Wouldn't . . . listen. Cabin would . . . only

follow you."

"So you stole my armor," Clarisse said in disbelief. "You waited until Chris and I went out on patrol;

you stole my armor and pretended to be me." She glared at her siblings. "And NONE of you noticed?"

The Ares campers developed a sudden interest in their combat boots.

"Don't blame them," Silena said. "They wanted to . . . to believe I was you."

"You stupid Aphrodite girl," Clarisse sobbed. "You charged a drakon? Why?"

"All my fault," Silena said, a tear streaking the side of her face. "The drakon, Charlie's death . . . camp

endangered—"

"Stop it!" Clarisse said. "That's not true."

Silena opened her hand. In her palm was a silver bracelet with a scythe charm, the mark of Kronos.

A cold fist closed around my heart. "You were the spy."

Silena tried to nod. "Before . . . before I liked Charlie, Luke was nice to me. He was so . . . charming.

Handsome. Later, I wanted to stop helping him, but he threatened to tell. He promised . . . he promised I

was saving lives. Fewer people would get hurt. He told me he wouldn't hurt . . . Charlie. He lied to me."

I met Annabeth's eyes. Her face was chalky. She looked like somebody had just yanked the world out

from under her feet.

Behind us, the battle raged.

Clarisse scowled at her cabinmates. "Go, help the centaurs. Protect the doors. GO!"

They scrambled off to join the fight.

Silena took a heavy, painful breath. "Forgive me."

"You're not dying," Clarisse insisted.

"Charlie . . ." Silena's eyes were a million miles away. "See Charlie . . ."

She didn't speak again.

Clarisse held her and wept. Chris put a hand on her shoulder.

Finally Annabeth closed Silena's eyes.

"We have to fight." Annabeth's voice was brittle. "She gave her life to help us. We have to honor

her."

Clarisse sniffled and wiped her nose. "She was a hero, understand? A hero."

I nodded. "Come on, Clarisse."

She picked up a sword from one of her fallen siblings. "Kronos is going to pay."

* * *

I'd like to say I drove the enemy away from the Empire State Building. The truth was Clarisse did all the

work. Even without her armor or spear, she was a demon. She rode her chariot straight into the Titan's

army and crushed everything in her path.

She was so inspiring, even the panicked centaurs started to rally. The Hunters scrounged arrows from

the fallen and launched volley after volley into the enemy. The Ares cabin slashed and hacked, which was

their favorite thing. The monsters retreated toward 35th Street.

Clarisse drove to the drakon's carcass and looped a grappling line through its eye sockets. She lashed

her horses and took off, dragging the drakon behind the chariot like a Chinese New Year dragon. She

charged after the enemy, yelling insults and daring them to cross her. As she rode, I realized she was

literally glowing. An aura of red fire flickered around her.

"The blessing of Ares," Thalia said. "I've never seen it in person before."

For the moment, Clarisse was as invincible as I was. The enemy threw spears and arrows, but nothing

hit her.

"I AM CLARISSE, DRAKON-SLAYER!" she yelled. "I will kill you ALL! Where is Kronos? Bring

him out! Is he a coward?"

"Clarisse!" I yelled. "Stop it. Withdraw!"

"What's the matter, Titan lord?" she yelled. "BRING IT ON!"

There was no answer from the enemy. Slowly, they began to fall back behind a dracaenae shield

wall, while Clarisse drove in circles around Fifth Avenue, daring anyone to cross her path. The twohundred-

foot-long drakon carcass made a hollow scraping noise against the pavement, like a thousand

knives.

Meanwhile, we tended our wounded, bringing them inside the lobby. Long after the enemy had

retreated from sight, Clarisse kept riding up and down the avenue with her horrible trophy, demanding

that Kronos meet her battle.

Chris said, "I'll watch her. She'll get tired eventually. I'll make sure she comes inside."

"What about the camp?" I asked. "Is anybody left there?"

Chris shook his head. "Only Argus and the nature spirits. Peleus the dragon is still guarding the tree."

"They won't last long," I said. "But I'm glad you came."

Chris nodded sadly. "I'm sorry it took so long. I tried to reason with Clarisse. I said there's no point in

defending camp if you guys die. All our friends are here. I'm sorry it took Silena . . ."

"My Hunters will help you stand guard," Thalia said. "Annabeth and Percy, you should go to

Olympus. I have a feeling they'll need you up there—to set up the final defense."

The doorman had disappeared from the lobby. His book was facedown on the desk and his chair was

empty. The rest of the lobby, however, was jam-packed with wounded campers, Hunters, and satyrs.

Connor and Travis Stoll met us by the elevators.

"Is it true?" Connor asked. "About Silena?"

I nodded. "She died a hero."

Travis shifted uncomfortably. "Um, I also heard—"

"That's it," I insisted. "End of story."

"Right," Travis mumbled. "Listen, we figure the Titan's army will have trouble getting up the

elevator. They'll have to go up a few at a time. And the giants won't be able to fit at all."

"That's our biggest advantage," I said. "Any way to disable the elevator?"

"It's magic," Travis said. "Usually you need a key card, but the doorman vanished. That means the

defenses are crumbling. Anyone can walk into the elevator now and head straight up."

"Then we have to keep them away from the doors," I said. "We'll bottle them up in the lobby."

"We need reinforcements," Travis said. "They'll just keep coming. Eventually they'll overwhelm us."

"There are no reinforcements," Connor complained.

I looked outside at Mrs. O'Leary, who was breathing against the glass doors and smearing them with

hellhound drool.

"Maybe that's not true," I said.

I went outside and put a hand on Mrs. O'Leary s muzzle. Chiron had bandaged her paw, but she was

still limping. Her fur was matted with mud, leaves, pizza slices, and dried monster blood.

"Hey, girl." I tried to sound upbeat. "I know you're tired, but I've got one more big favor to ask you."

I leaned next to her and whispered in her ear.

After Mrs. O'Leary shadow-traveled away, I rejoined Annabeth in the lobby. On the way to the elevator,

we spotted Grover kneeling over a fat wounded satyr.

"Leneus!" I said.

The old satyr looked terrible. His lips were blue. There was a broken spear in his belly, and his furry

goat legs were twisted at a painful angle.

He tried to focus on us, but I don't think he saw us.

"Grover?" he murmured.

"I'm here, Leneus." Grover was blinking back tears, despite all the horrible things Leneus had said

about him.

"Did . . . did we win?"

"Um . . . yes," Grover lied. "Thanks to you, Leneus. We drove the enemy away."

"Told you," the old satyr mumbled. "True leader. True . . ."

He closed his eyes for the last time.

Grover gulped. He put his hand on Leneus's forehead and spoke an ancient blessing. The old satyr's

body melted, until all that was left was a tiny sapling m a pile of fresh soil.

"A laurel," Grover said in awe. "Oh, that lucky old goat."

He gathered up the sapling in his hands. "I . . . I should plant him. In Olympus, in the gardens."

"We're going that way," I said. "Come on."

Easy-listening music played as the elevator rose. I thought about the first time I'd visited Mount

Olympus, back when I was twelve. Annabeth and Grover hadn't been with me then. I was glad they were

with me now. I had a feeling it might be our last adventure together.

"Percy," Annabeth said quietly. "You were right about Luke." It was the first time she'd spoken since

Silena Beauregard's death. She kept her eyes fixed on the elevator floors as they blinked into the magical

numbers: 400, 450, 500.

Grover and I exchanged glances.

"Annabeth," I said. "I'm sorry—"

"You tried to tell me." Her voice was shaky. "Luke is no good. I didn't believe you until . . . until I

heard how he'd used Silena. Now I know. I hope you're happy."

"That doesn't make me happy."

She put her head against the elevator wall and wouldn't look at me.

Grover cradled his laurel sapling in his hands. "Well . . . sure good to be together again. Arguing.

Almost dying. Abject terror. Oh, look. It's our floor."

The doors dinged and we stepped onto the aerial walkway.

Depressing is not a word that usually describes Mount Olympus, but it looked that way now. No fires

lit the braziers. The windows were dark. The streets were deserted and the doors were barred. The only

movement was in the parks, which had been set up as field hospitals. Will Solace and the other Apollo

campers scrambled around, caring for the wounded. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using nature magic

songs to heal burns and poison.

As Grover planted the laurel sapling, Annabeth and I went around trying to cheer up the wounded. I

passed a satyr with a broken leg, a demigod who was bandaged from head to toe, and a body covered in

the golden burial shroud of Apollo's cabin. I didn't know who was underneath. I didn't want to find out.

My heart felt like lead, but we tried to find positive things to say.

"You'll be up and fighting Titans in no time!" I told one camper.

"You look great," Annabeth told another camper.

"Leneus turned into a shrub!" Grover told a groaning satyr.

I found Dionysus's son Pollux propped up against a tree. He had a broken arm, but otherwise he was

okay.

"I can still fight with the other hand," he said, gritting his teeth.

"No," I said. "You've done enough. I want you to stay here and help with the wounded."

"But—"

"Promise me to stay safe," I said. "Okay? Personal favor."

He frowned uncertainly. It wasn't like we were good friends or anything, but I wasn't going to tell him

it was a request from his dad. That would just embarrass him. Finally he promised, and when he sat back

down, I could tell he was kind of relieved.

Annabeth, Grover, and I kept walking toward the palace. That's where Kronos would head. As soon

as he made it up the elevator—and I had no doubt he would, one way or another—he would destroy the

throne room, the center of the gods' power.

The bronze doors creaked open. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The constellations

twinkled coldly on the ceiling of the great hall. The hearth was down to a dull red glow. Hestia, in the

form of a little girl in brown robes, hunched at its edge, shivering. The Ophiotaurus swam sadly in his

sphere of water. He let out a half-hearted moo when he saw me.

In the firelight, the thrones cast evil-looking shadows, like grasping hands.

Standing at the foot of Zeus's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was

holding a Greek ceramic vase.

"Rachel?" I said. "Um, what are you doing with that?"

She focused on me as if she were coming out of a dream. "I found it. It's Pandora's jar, isn't it?"

Her eyes were brighter than usual, and I had a bad flashback of moldy sandwiches and burned

cookies.

"Please put down the jar," I said.

"I can see Hope inside it." Rachel ran her fingers over the ceramic designs. "So fragile."

"Rachel."

My voice seemed to bring her back to reality. She held out the jar, and I took it. The clay felt as cold

as ice.

"Grover," Annabeth mumbled. "Let's scout around the palace. Maybe we can find some extra Greek

fire or Hephaestus traps."

"But—"

Annabeth elbowed him.

"Right!" he yelped. "I love traps!"

She dragged him out of the throne room.

Over by the fire, Hestia was huddled in her robes, rocking back and forth.

"Come on," I told Rachel. "I want you to meet someone."

We sat next to the goddess.

"Lady Hestia," I said.

"Hello, Percy Jackson," the goddess murmured. "Getting colder. Harder to keep the fire going."

"I know," I said. "The Titans are near."

Hestia focused on Rachel. "Hello, my dear. You've come to our hearth at last."

Rachel blinked. "You've been expecting me?"

Hestia held out her hands, and the coals glowed. I saw images in the fire: My mother, Paul, and I

eating Thanksgiving dinner at the kitchen table; my friends and me around the campfire at Camp Half-

Blood, singing songs and roasting marshmallows; Rachel and me driving along the beach in Paul's Prius.

I didn't know if Rachel saw the same images, but the tension went out of her shoulders. The warmth

of the fire seemed to spread across her.

"To claim your place at the hearth," Hestia told her, "you must let go of your distractions. It is the

only way you will survive."

Rachel nodded. "I . . . I understand."

"Wait," I said. "What is she talking about?"

Rachel took a shaky breath. "Percy, when I came here . . . I thought I was coming for you. But I

wasn't. You and me . . ." She shook her head.

"Wait. Now I'm a distraction? Is this because I'm 'not the hero' or whatever?"

"I'm not sure I can put it into words," she said. "I was drawn to you because . . . because you opened

the door to all of this." She gestured at the throne room. "I needed to understand my true sight. But you

and me, that wasn't part of it. Our fates aren't intertwined. I think you've always known that, deep down."

I stared at her. Maybe I wasn't the brightest guy in the world when it came to girls, but I was pretty

sure Rachel had just dumped me, which was lame considering we'd never even been together.

"So . . . what," I said. '"Thanks for bringing me to Olympus. See ya.' Is that what you're saying?"

Rachel stared at the fire.

"Percy Jackson," Hestia said. "Rachel has told you all she can. Her moment is coming, but your

decision approaches even more rapidly. Are you prepared?"

I wanted to complain that no, I wasn't even close to prepared.

I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I had an urge to open it. Hope seemed pretty useless to

me right now. So many of my friends were dead. Rachel was cutting me off. Annabeth was angry with

me. My parents were asleep down in the streets somewhere while a monster army surrounded the

building. Olympus was on the verge of failing, and I'd seen so many cruel things the gods had done: Zeus

destroying Maria di Angelo, Hades cursing the last Oracle, Hermes turning his back on Luke even when

he knew his son would become evil.

Surrender, Prometheus's voice whispered in my ear. Otherwise your home will be destroyed. Your

precious camp will burn.

Then I looked at Hestia. Her red eyes glowed warmly. I remembered the images I'd seen in her

hearth—friends and family, everyone I cared about.

I remembered something Chris Rodriguez had said: There's no point in defending camp if you guys

die. All our friends are here. And Nico, standing up to his father, Hades: If Olympus falls, he said, your

own palace's safety doesn't matter.

I heard footsteps. Annabeth and Grover came back into the throne room and stopped when they saw

us. I probably had a pretty strange look on my face.

"Percy?" Annabeth didn't sound angry anymore—just concerned. "Should we, um, leave again?"

Suddenly I felt like someone had injected me with steel. I understood what to do.

I looked at Rachel. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you? I mean . . . you talked to Chiron,

right?"

She managed a faint smile. "You're worried about me doing something stupid?"

"But I mean . . . will you be okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "That kind of depends on whether you save the world, hero."

I picked up Pandora's jar. The spirit of Hope fluttered inside, trying to warm the cold container.

"Hestia," I said, "I give this to you as an offering."

The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?"

"You're the last Olympian," I said. "And the most important."

"And why is that, Percy Jackson?"

"Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I said. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give

up again."

The goddess smiled. She took the jar in her hands and it began to glow. The hearth fire burned a little

brighter.

"Well done, Percy Jackson," she said. "May the gods bless you."

"We're about to find out." I looked at Annabeth and Grover. "Come on, guys."

I marched toward my father's throne.

The seat of Poseidon stood just to the right of Zeus's, but it wasn't nearly as grand. The molded black

leather seat was attached to a swivel pedestal, with a couple of iron rings on the side for fastening a

fishing pole (or a trident). Basically it looked like a chair on a deep-sea boat, that you would sit in if you

wanted to hunt shark or marlin or sea monsters.

Gods in their natural state are about twenty feet tall, so I could just reach the edge of the seat if I

stretched my arms.

"Help me up," I told Annabeth and Grover.

"'Are you crazy?" Annabeth asked.

"Probably," I admitted.

"Percy," Grover said, "the gods really don't appreciate people sitting in their thrones. I mean like

turn-you-into-a-pile-of-ashes don't appreciate it."

"I need to get his attention," I said. "It's the only way."

They exchanged uneasy looks.

"Well," Annabeth said, "this'll get his attention."

They linked their arms to make a step, then boosted me onto the throne. I felt like a baby with my feet

so high off the ground. I looked around at the other gloomy, empty thrones, and I could imagine what it

would be like sitting on the Olympian Council—so much power but so much arguing, always eleven

other gods trying to get their way. It would be easy to get paranoid, to look out only for my own interest,

especially if I were Poseidon. Sitting in his throne, I felt like I had the entire sea at my command—vast

cubic miles of ocean churning with power and mystery. Why should Poseidon listen to anyone? Why

shouldn't he be the greatest of the twelve?

Then I shook my head. Concentrate.

The throne rumbled. A wave of gale-force anger slammed into my mind:

WHO DARES—

The voice stopped abruptly. The anger retreated, which was a good thing, because just those two

words had almost blasted my mind to shreds.

Percy. My father's voice was still angry but more controlled. What—exactly—are you doing on my

throne?

"I'm sorry, Father," I said. "I needed to get your attention."

This was a very dangerous thing to do. Even for you. If I hadn't looked before I blasted, you would

now be a puddle of seawater.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Listen, things are rough up here."

I told him what was happening. Then I told him my plan.

His voice was silent for a long time.

Percy, what you ask is impossible. My palace—

"Dad, Kronos sent an army against you on purpose. He wants to divide you from the other gods

because he knows you could tip the scales."

Be that as it may, he attacks my home.

"I'm at your home," I said. "Olympus."

The floor shook. A wave of anger washed over my mind. I thought I'd gone too far, but then the

trembling eased. In the background of my mental link, I heard underwater explosions and the sound of

battle cries: Cyclopes bellowing, mermen shouting.

"Is Tyson okay?" I asked.

The question seemed to take my dad by surprise. He's fine. Doing much better than I expected.

Though "peanut butter" is a strange battle cry.

"You let him fight?"

Stop changing the subject! You realize what you are asking me to do? My palace will be destroyed.

"And Olympus might be saved."

Do you have any idea how long I've worked on remodeling this palace? The game room alone took

six hundred years.

"Dad—"

Very well! It shall be as you say. But my son, pray this works.

"I am praying. I'm talking to you, right?"

Oh . . . yes. Good point. Amphitrite—incoming!

The sound of a large explosion shattered our connection.

I slipped down from the throne.

Grover studied me nervously. "Are you okay? You turned pale and . . . you started smoking."

"I did not!" Then I looked at my arms. Steam was curling off my shirtsleeves. The hair on my arms

was singed.

"If you'd sat there any longer," Annabeth said, "you would've spontaneously combusted. I hope the

conversation was worth it?"

Moo, said the Ophiotaurus in his sphere of water.

"We'll find out soon," I said.

Just then the doors of the throne room swung open. Thalia marched in. Her bow was snapped in half

and her quiver was empty.

"You've got to get down there," she told us. "The enemy is advancing. And Kronos is leading them."

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MY PARENTS GO COMMANDO

Click here to Go to Index

By the time we got to the street, it was too late.

Campers and Hunters lay wounded on the ground. Clarisse must've lost a fight with a Hyperborean

giant, because she and her chariot were frozen in a block of ice. The centaurs were nowhere to be seen.

Either they'd panicked and ran or they'd been disintegrated.

The Titan army ringed the building, standing maybe twenty feet from the doors. Kronos's vanguard

was in the lead: Ethan Nakamura, the dracaena queen in her green armor, and two Hyperboreans. I didn't

see Prometheus. The slimy weasel was probably hiding back at their headquarters. But Kronos himself

stood right in front with his scythe in hand.

The only thing standing in his way was . . .

"Chiron," Annabeth said, her voice trembling.

If Chiron heard us, he didn't answer. He had an arrow notched, aimed straight at Kronos's face.

As soon as Kronos saw me, his gold eyes flared. Every muscle in my body froze. Then the Titan lord

turned his attention back to Chiron. "Step aside, little son."

Hearing Luke call Chiron his son was weird enough, but Kronos put contempt in his voice, like son

was the worst word he could think of.

"I'm afraid not." Chiron's tone was steely calm, the way he gets when he's really angry.

I tried to move, but my feet felt like concrete. Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia were straining too, like

they were just as stuck.

"Chiron!" Annabeth said. "Look out!"

The dracaena queen became impatient and charged. Chiron's arrow flew straight between her eyes

and she vaporized on the spot, her empty armor clattering to the asphalt.

Chiron reached for another arrow, but his quiver was empty. He dropped the bow and drew his sword.

I knew he hated fighting with a sword. It was never his favorite weapon.

Kronos chuckled. He advanced a step, and Chiron's horse-half skittered nervously. His tail flicked

back and forth.

"You're a teacher," Kronos sneered. "Not a hero."

"Luke was a hero," Chiron said. "He was a good one, until you corrupted him."

"FOOL!" Kronos's voice shook the city. "You filled his head with empty promises. You said the gods

cared about me!"

"Me," Chiron noticed. "You said me."

Kronos looked confused, and in that moment, Chiron struck. It was a good maneuver—a feint

followed by a strike to the face. I couldn't have done better myself, but Kronos was quick. He had all of

Luke's fighting skill, which was a lot. He knocked aside Chiron's blade and yelled, "BACK!"

A blinding white light exploded between the Titan and the centaur. Chiron flew into the side of the

building with such force the wall crumbled and collapsed on top of him.

"No!" Annabeth wailed. The freezing spell broke. We ran toward our teacher, but there was no sign

of him. Thalia and I pulled helplessly at the bricks while a ripple of ugly laughter ran through the Titan's

army.

"YOU!" Annabeth turned on Luke. "To think that I . . . that I thought—"

She drew her knife.

"Annabeth, don't." I tried to take her arm, but she shook me off.

She attacked Kronos, and his smug smile faded. Perhaps some part of Luke remembered that he used

to like this girl, used to take care of her when she was little. She plunged her knife between the straps of

his armor, right at his collar bone. The blade should've sunk into his chest. Instead it bounced off.

Annabeth doubled over, clutching her arm to her stomach. The jolt might've been enough to dislocate her

bad shoulder.

I yanked her back as Kronos swung his scythe, slicing the air where she'd been standing.

She fought me and screamed, "I HATE you!" I wasn't sure who she was talking to—me or Luke or

Kronos. Tears streaked the dust on her face.

"I have to fight him," I told her.

"It's my fight too, Percy!"

Kronos laughed. "So much spirit. I can see why Luke wanted to spare you. Unfortunately, that won't

be possible."

He raised his scythe. I got ready to defend, but before Kronos could strike, a dog's howl pierced the

air somewhere behind the Titan's army. "Arroooooooo!"

It was too much to hope, but I called, "Mrs. O'Leary?"

The enemy forces stirred uneasily. Then the strangest thing happened. They began to part, clearing a

path through the street like something behind them was forcing them to.

Soon there was a free aisle down the center of Fifth Avenue. Standing at the end of the block was my

giant dog, and a small figure in black armor.

"Nico?" I called.

"ROWWF!" Mrs. O'Leary bounded toward me, ignoring the growling monsters on either side. Nico

strode forward. The enemy army fell back before him like he radiated death, which of course he did.

Through the face guard of his skull-shaped helmet, he smiled. "Got your message. Is it too late to

join the party?"

"Son of Hades." Kronos spit on the ground. "Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?"

"Your death," Nico said, "would be great for me."

"I'm immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live."

Nico drew his sword—three feet of wicked sharp Stygian iron, black as a nightmare. "I don't agree."

The ground rumbled. Cracks appeared m the road, the sidewalks, the sides of the buildings. Skeletal

hands grasped the air as the dead clawed their way into the world of the living. There were thousands of

them, and as they emerged, the Titan's monsters got jumpy and started to back up.

"HOLD YOUR GROUND!" Kronos demanded. "The dead are no match for us."

The sky turned dark and cold. Shadows thickened. A harsh war horn sounded, and as the dead

soldiers formed up ranks with their guns and swords and spears, an enormous chariot roared down Fifth

Avenue. It came to a stop next to Nico. The horses were living shadows, fashioned from darkness. The

chariot was inlaid with obsidian and gold, decorated with scenes of painful death. Holding the reins was

Hades himself, Lord of the Dead, with Demeter and Persephone riding behind him.

Hades wore black armor and a cloak the color of fresh blood. On top of his pale head was the helm of

darkness: a crown that radiated pure terror. It changed shape as I watched—from a dragon's head to a

circle of black flames to a wreath of human bones. But that wasn't the scary part. The helm reached into

my mind and ignited my worst nightmares, my most secret fears. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide,

and I could tell the enemy army felt the same way. Only Kronos's power and authority kept his ranks

from fleeing.

Hades smiled coldly. "Hello, Father. You're looking . . . young."

"Hades," Kronos growled. "I hope you and the ladies have come to pledge your allegiance."

"I'm afraid not." Hades sighed. "My son here convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of

enemies." He glanced at me with distaste. "As much as I dislike certain upstart demigods, it would not do

for Olympus to fall. I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing we agree on—it is

that you were a TERRIBLE father."

"True," muttered Demeter. "No appreciation of agriculture."

"Mother!" Persephone complained.

Hades drew his sword, a double-edged Stygian blade etched with silver. "Now fight me! For today

the House of Hades will be called the saviors of Olympus."

"I don't have time for this," Kronos snarled.

He struck the ground with his scythe. A crack spread in both directions, circling the Empire State

Building. A wall of force shimmered along the fissure line, separating Kronos's vanguard, my friends,

and me from the bulk of the two armies.

"What's he doing?" I muttered.

"Sealing us in," Thalia said. "He's collapsing the magic barriers around Manhattan—cutting off just

the building, and us."

Sure enough, outside the barrier, car engines revved to life. Pedestrians woke up and stared

uncomprehendingly at the monsters and zombies all around them. No telling what they saw through the

Mist, but I'm sure it was plenty scary. Car doors opened. And at the end of the block, Paul Blofis and my

mom got out of their Prius.

"No," I said. "Don't . . ."

My mother could see through the Mist. I could tell from her expression that she understood how

serious things were. I hoped she would have the sense to run. But she locked eyes with me, said

something to Paul, and they ran straight toward us.

I couldn't call out. The last thing I wanted to do was bring her to Kronos's attention.

Fortunately, Hades caused a distraction. He charged at the wall of force, but his chariot crashed

against it and overturned. He got to his feet, cursing, and blasted the wall with black energy. The barrier

held.

"ATTACK!" he roared.

The armies of the dead clashed with the Titan's monsters. Fifth Avenue exploded into absolute chaos.

Mortals screamed and ran for cover. Demeter waved her hand and an entire column of giants turned into a

wheat field. Persephone changed the dracaenae's spears into sunflowers. Nico slashed and hacked his

way through the enemy, trying to protect the pedestrians as best he could. My parents ran toward me,

dodging monsters and zombies, but there was nothing I could do to help them.

"Nakamura," Kronos said. "Attend me. Giants—deal with them."

He pointed at my friends and me. Then he ducked into the lobby.

For a second I was stunned. I'd been expecting a fight, but Kronos completely ignored me like I

wasn't worth the trouble. That made me mad.

The first Hyperborean giant smashed at me with his club. I rolled between his legs and stabbed

Riptide into his backside. He shattered into a pile of ice shards. The second giant breathed frost at

Annabeth, who was barely able to stand, but Grover pulled her out of the way while Thalia went to work.

She sprinted up the giant's back like a gazelle, sliced her hunting knives across his monstrous blue neck,

and created the world's largest headless ice sculpture.

I glanced outside the magic barrier. Nico was fighting his way toward my mom and Paul, but they

weren't waiting for help. Paul grabbed a sword from a fallen hero and did a pretty fine job keeping a

dracaena busy. He stabbed her in the gut, and she disintegrated.

"Paul?" I said in amazement.

He turned toward me and grinned. "I hope that was a monster I just killed. I was a Shakespearian

actor in college! Picked up a little swordplay!"

I liked him even better for that, but then a Laistrygonian giant charged toward my mom. She was

rummaging around in an abandoned police car—maybe looking for the emergency radio—and her back

was turned.

"Mom!" I yelled.

She whirled when the monster was almost on top of her. I thought the thing in her hands was an

umbrella until she cranked the pump and the shotgun blast blew the giant twenty feet backward, right into

Nico's sword.

"Nice one," Paul said.

"When did you learn to fire a shotgun?" I demanded.

My mom blew the hair out of her face. "About two seconds ago. Percy, we'll be fine. Go!"

"Yes," Nico agreed, "we'll handle the army. You have to get Kronos!"

"Come on, Seaweed Brain!" Annabeth said. I nodded. Then I looked at the rubble pile on the side of

the building. My heart twisted. I'd forgotten about Chiron. How could I do that?

"Mrs. O'Leary," I said. "Please, Chiron's under there. If anyone can dig him out, you can. Find him!

Help him!"

I'm not sure how much she understood, but she bounded to the pile and started to dig. Annabeth,

Thalia, Grover, and I raced for the elevators.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: WE TRASH THE ETERNAL CITY

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The bridge to Olympus was dissolving. We stepped out of the elevator onto the white marble walkway,

and immediately cracks appeared at our feet.

"Jump!" Grover said, which was easy for him since he's part mountain goat.

He sprang to the next slab of stone while ours tilted sickeningly.

"Gods, I hate heights!" Thalia yelled as she and I leaped. But Annabeth was in no shape for jumping.

She stumbled and yelled, "Percy!"

I caught her hand as the pavement fell, crumbling into dust. For a second I thought she was going to

pull us both over. Her feet dangled in the open air. Her hand started to slip until I was holding her only by

her fingers. Then Grover and Thalia grabbed my legs, and I found extra strength. Annabeth was not going

to fall.

I pulled her up and we lay trembling on the pavement. I didn't realize we had our arms around each

other until she suddenly tensed.

"Um, thanks," she muttered.

I tried to say Don't mention it, but it came out as, "Uh duh."

"Keep moving!" Grover tugged my shoulder. We untangled ourselves and sprinted across the sky

bridge as more stones disintegrated and fell into oblivion. We made it to the edge of the mountain just as

the final section collapsed.

Annabeth looked back at the elevator, which was now completely out of reach—a polished set of

metal doors hanging in space, attached to nothing, six hundred stories above Manhattan.

"We're marooned," she said. "On our own."

"Blah-ha-ha!" Grover said. "The connection between Olympus and America is dissolving. If it fails—

"

"The gods won't move on to another country this time," Thalia said. "This will be the end of

Olympus. The final end."

We ran through streets. Mansions were burning. Statues had been hacked down. Trees in the parks

were blasted to splinters. It looked like someone had attacked the city with a giant Weedwacker.

"Kronos's scythe," I said.

We followed the winding path toward the palace of the gods. I didn't remember the road being so

long. Maybe Kronos was making time go slower, or maybe it was just dread slowing me down. The

whole mountaintop was in ruins—so many beautiful buildings and gardens gone.

A few minor gods and nature spirits had tried to stop Kronos. What remained of them was strewn

about the road: shattered armor, ripped clothing, swords and spears broken in half.

Somewhere ahead of us, Kronos's voice roared: "Brick by brick! That was my promise. Tear it down

BRICK BY BRICK!"

A white marble temple with a gold dome suddenly exploded. The dome shot up like the lid of a teapot

and shattered into a billion pieces, raining rubble over the city.

"That was a shrine to Artemis," Thalia grumbled. "He'll pay for that."

We were running under the marble archway with the huge statues of Zeus and Hera when the entire

mountain groaned, rocking sideways like a boat in a storm.

"Look out!" Grover yelped. The archway crumbled. I looked up in time to see a twenty-ton scowling

Hera topple over on us. Annabeth and I would've been flattened, but Thalia shoved us from behind and

we landed just out of danger.

"Thalia!" Grover cried.

When the dust cleared and the mountain stopped rocking, we found her still alive, but her legs were

pinned under the statue.

We tried desperately to move it, but it would've taken several Cyclopes. When we tried to pull Thalia

out from under it, she yelled in pain.

"I survive all those battles," she growled, "and I get defeated by a stupid chunk of rock!"

"It's Hera," Annabeth said in outrage. "She's had it in for me all year. Her statue would've killed me if

you hadn't pushed us away."

Thalia grimaced. "Well, don't just stand there! I'll be fine. Go!"

We didn't want to leave her, but I could hear Kronos laughing as he approached the hall of the gods.

More buildings exploded.

"We'll be back," I promised.

"I'm not going anywhere," Thalia groaned.

A fireball erupted on the side of the mountain, right near the gates of the palace.

"We've got to run," I said.

"I don't suppose you mean away," Grover murmured hopefully.

I sprinted toward the palace, Annabeth right behind me.

"I was afraid of that," Grover sighed, and clip-clopped after us.

The doors of the palace were big enough to steer a cruise ship through, but they'd been ripped off their

hinges and smashed like they weighed nothing. We had to climb over a huge pile of broken stone and

twisted metal to get inside.

Kronos stood in the middle of the throne room, his arms wide, staring at the starry ceiling as if taking

it all in. His laughter echoed even louder than it had from the pit of Tartarus.

"Finally!" he bellowed. "The Olympian Council—so proud and mighty. Which seat of power shall I

destroy first?"

Ethan Nakamura stood to one side, trying to stay out of the way of his master's scythe. The hearth

was almost dead, just a few coals glowing deep in the ashes. Hestia was nowhere to be seen. Neither was

Rachel. I hoped she was okay, but I'd seen so much destruction I was afraid to think about it. The

Ophiotaurus swam in his water sphere in the far corner of the room, wisely not making a sound, but it

wouldn't be long before Kronos noticed him.

Annabeth, Grover, and I stepped forward into the torchlight. Ethan saw us first.

"My lord," he warned.

Kronos turned and smiled through Luke's face. Except for the golden eyes, he looked just the same as

he had four years ago when he'd welcomed me into the Hermes cabin. Annabeth made a painful sound in

the back of her throat, like someone had just sucker punched her.

"Shall I destroy you first, Jackson?" Kronos asked. "Is that the choice you will make—to fight me and

die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know."

"Luke would fight with a sword," I said. "But I suppose you don't have his skill."

Kronos sneered. His scythe began to change, until he held Luke's old weapon, Backbiter, with its

half-steel, half-Celestial bronze blade.

Next to me, Annabeth gasped like she'd suddenly had an idea. "Percy, the blade!" She unsheathed her

knife. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

I didn't understand why she was reminding me of that prophecy line right now. It wasn't exactly a

morale booster, but before I could say anything, Kronos raised his sword.

"Wait!" Annabeth yelled.

Kronos came at me like a whirlwind.

My instincts took over. I dodged and slashed and rolled, but I felt like I was fighting a hundred

swordsmen. Ethan ducked to one side, trying to get behind me until Annabeth intercepted him. They

started to fight, but I couldn't focus on how she was doing. I was vaguely aware of Grover playing his

reed pipes. The sound filled me with warmth and courage—thoughts of sunlight and a blue sky and a

calm meadow, somewhere far away from the war.

Kronos backed me up against the throne of Hephaestus—a huge mechanical La-Z-Boy type thing

covered with bronze and silver gears. Kronos slashed, and I managed to jump straight up onto the seat.

The throne whirred and hummed with secret mechanisms. Defense mode, it warned. Defense mode.

That couldn't be good. I jumped straight over Kronos's head as the throne shot tendrils of electricity in

all directions. One hit Kronos in the face, arcing down his body and up his sword.

"ARG!" He crumpled to his knees and dropped Backbiter.

Annabeth saw her chance. She kicked Ethan out of the way and charged Kronos. "Luke, listen!"

I wanted to shout at her, to tell her she was crazy for trying to reason with Kronos, but there was no

time. Kronos flicked his hand. Annabeth flew backward, slamming into the throne of her mother and

crumpling to the floor.

"Annabeth!" I screamed.

Ethan Nakamura got to his feet. He now stood between Annabeth and me. I couldn't fight him

without turning my back on Kronos.

Grover's music took on a more urgent tune. He moved toward Annabeth, but he couldn't go any faster

and keep up the song. Grass grew on the floor of the throne room. Tiny roots crept up between the cracks

of the marble stones.

Kronos rose to one knee. His hair smoldered. His face was covered with electrical burns. He reached

for his sword, but this time it didn't fly into his hands.

"Nakamura!" he groaned. "Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson's secret weakness. Kill him,

and you will have rewards beyond measure."

Ethan's eyes dropped to my midsection, and I was sure that he knew. Even if he couldn't kill me

himself, all he had to do was tell Kronos. There was no way I could defend myself forever.

"Look around you, Ethan," I said. "The end of the world. Is this the reward you want? Do you really

want everything destroyed—the good with the bad? Everything?"

Grover was almost to Annabeth now. The grass thickened on the floor. The roots were almost a foot

long, like a stubble of whiskers.

"There is no throne to Nemesis," Ethan muttered. "No throne to my mother."

"That's right!" Kronos tried to get up, but stumbled. Above his left ear, a patch of blond hair still

smoldered. "Strike them down! They deserve to suffer."

"You said your mom is the goddess of balance," I reminded him. "The minor gods deserve better,

Ethan, but total destruction isn't balance. Kronos doesn't build. He only destroys."

Ethan looked at the sizzling throne of Hephaestus. Grover's music kept playing, and Ethan swayed to

it, as if the song were filling him with nostalgia—a wish to see a beautiful day, to be anywhere but here.

His good eye blinked.

Then he charged . . . but not at me.

While Kronos was still on his knees, Ethan brought down his sword on the Titan lord's neck. It should

have killed him instantly, but the blade shattered. Ethan fell back, grasping his stomach. A shard of his

own blade had ricocheted and pierced his armor.

Kronos rose unsteadily, towering over his servant. "Treason," he snarled.

Grover's music kept playing, and grass grew around Ethan's body. Ethan stared at me, his face tight

with pain.

"Deserve better," he gasped. "If they just . . . had thrones—"

Kronos stomped his foot, and the floor ruptured around Ethan Nakamura. The son of Nemesis fell

through a fissure that went straight through the heart of the mountain—straight into open air.

"So much for him." Kronos picked up his sword. "And now for the rest of you."

My only thought was to keep him away from Annabeth.

Grover was at her side now. He'd stopped playing and was feeding her ambrosia.

Everywhere Kronos stepped, the roots wrapped around his feet, but Grover had stopped his magic too

early. The roots weren't thick or strong enough to do much more than annoy the Titan.

We fought through the hearth, kicking up coals and sparks. Kronos slashed an armrest off the throne

of Ares, which was okay by me, but then he backed me up to my dad's throne.

"Oh, yes," Kronos said. "This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!"

Our blades clashed in a shower of sparks. He was stronger than me, but for the moment I felt the

power of the ocean in my arms. I pushed him back and struck again—slashing Riptide across his

breastplate so hard I cut a gash in the Celestial bronze.

He stamped his foot again and time slowed. I tried to attack but I was moving at the speed of a

glacier. Kronos backed up leisurely, catching his breath. He examined the gash in his armor while I

struggled forward, silently cursing him. He could take all the time-outs he wanted. He could freeze me in

place at will. My only hope was that the effort was draining him. If I could wear him down . . .

"It's too late, Percy Jackson," he said. "Behold."

He pointed to the hearth, and the coals glowed. A sheet of white smoke poured from the fire, forming

images like an Iris-message. I saw Nico and my parents down on Fifth Avenue, fighting a hopeless battle,

ringed in enemies. In the background Hades fought from his black chariot, summoning wave after wave

of zombies out of the ground, but the forces of the Titan's army seemed just as endless. Meanwhile,

Manhattan was being destroyed. Mortals, now fully awake, were running in terror. Cars swerved and

crashed.

The scene shifted, and I saw something even more terrifying.

A column of storm was approaching the Hudson River, moving rapidly over the Jersey shore.

Chariots circled it, locked in combat with the creature in the cloud.

The gods attacked. Lightning flashed. Arrows of gold and silver streaked into the cloud like rocket

tracers and exploded. Slowly, the cloud ripped apart, and I saw Typhon clearly for the first time.

I knew as long as I lived (which might not be that long) I would never be able to get the image out of

my mind. Typhon's head shifted constantly. Every moment he was a different monster, each more

horrible than the last. Looking at his face would've driven me insane, so I focused on his body, which

wasn't much better. He was humanoid, but his skin reminded me of a meat loaf sandwich that had been in

someone's locker all year. He was mottled green, with blisters the size of buildings, and blackened

patches from eons of being stuck under a volcano. His hands were human, but with talons like an eagle's.

His legs were scaly and reptilian.

"The Olympians are giving their final effort." Kronos laughed. "How pathetic."

Zeus threw a thunderbolt from his chariot. The blast lit up the world. I could feel the shock even here

on Olympus, but when the dust cleared, Typhon was still standing. He staggered a bit, with a smoking

crater on top of his misshapen head, but he roared in anger and kept advancing.

My limbs began to loosen up. Kronos didn't seem to notice. His attention was focused on the fight

and his final victory. If I could hold out a few more seconds, and if my dad kept his word . . .

Typhon stepped into the Hudson River and barely sank to midcalf.

Now, I thought, imploring the image in the smoke. Please, it has to happen now.

Like a miracle, a conch horn sounded from the smoky picture. The call of the ocean. The call of

Poseidon.

All around Typhon, the Hudson River erupted, churning with forty-foot waves. Out of the water burst

a new chariot—this one pulled by massive hippocampi, who swam in air as easily as in water. My father,

glowing with a blue aura of power, rode a defiant circle around the giant's legs. Poseidon was no longer

an old man. He looked like himself again—tan and strong with a black beard. As he swung his trident, the

river responded, making a funnel cloud around the monster.

"No!" Kronos bellowed after a moment of stunned silence. "NO!"

"NOW, MY BRETHREN!" Poseidon's voice was so loud I wasn't sure if I was hearing it from the

smoke image or from all the way across town. "STRIKE FOR OLYMPUS!"

Warriors burst out of the river, riding the waves on huge sharks and dragons and sea horses. It was a

legion of Cyclopes, and leading them into battle was . . .

"Tyson!" I yelled.

I knew he couldn't hear me, but I stared at him in amazement. He'd magically grown in size. He had

to be thirty feet tall, as big as any of his older cousins, and for the first time he was wearing full battle

armor. Riding behind him was Briares, the Hundred-Handed One.

All the Cyclopes held huge lengths of black iron chains—big enough to anchor a battleship—with

grappling hooks at the ends. They swung them like lassos and began to ensnare Typhon, throwing lines

around the creature's legs and arms, using the tide to keep circling, slowly tangling him. Typhon shook

and roared and yanked at the chains, pulling some of the Cyclopes off their mounts; but there were too

many chains. The sheer weight of the Cyclops battalion began to weigh Typhon down. Poseidon threw

his trident and impaled the monster in the throat. Golden blood, immortal ichor, spewed from the wound,

making a waterfall taller than a skyscraper. The trident flew back to Poseidon's hand.

The other gods struck with renewed force. Ares rode in and stabbed Typhon in the nose. Artemis shot

the monster in the eye with a dozen silver arrows. Apollo shot a blazing volley of arrows and set the

monster's loincloth on fire. And Zeus kept pounding the giant with lightning, until finally, slowly, the

water rose, wrapping Typhon like a cocoon, and he began to sink under the weight of the chains. Typhon

bellowed in agony, thrashing with such force that waves sloshed the Jersey shore, soaking five-story

buildings and splashing over the George Washington Bridge—but down he went as my dad opened a

special tunnel for him at the bottom of the river—an endless waterslide that would take him straight to

Tartarus. The giant's head went under in a seething whirlpool, and he was gone.

"BAH!" Kronos screamed. He slashed his sword through the smoke, tearing the image to shreds.

"They're on their way," I said. "You've lost."

"I haven't even started."

He advanced with blinding speed. Grover—brave, stupid satyr that he was—tried to protect me, but

Kronos tossed him aside like a rag doll.

I sidestepped and jabbed under Kronos's guard. It was a good trick. Unfortunately, Luke knew it. He

countered the strike and disarmed me using one of the first moves he'd ever taught me. My sword

skittered across the ground and fell straight into the open fissure.

"STOP!" Annabeth came from nowhere.

Kronos whirled to face her and slashed with Backbiter, but somehow Annabeth caught the strike on

her dagger hilt. It was a move only the quickest and most skilled knife fighter could've managed. Don't

ask me where she found the strength, but she stepped in closer for leverage, their blades crossed, and for a

moment she stood face-to-face with the Titan lord, holding him at a standstill.

"Luke," she said, gritting her teeth, "I understand now. You have to trust me."

Kronos roared in outrage. "Luke Castellan is dead! His body will burn away as I assume my true

form!"

I tried to move, but my body was frozen again. How could Annabeth, battered and half dead with

exhaustion, have the strength to fight a Titan like Kronos?

Kronos pushed against her, trying to dislodge his blade, but she held him in check, her arms trembling

as he forced his sword down toward her neck.

"Your mother," Annabeth grunted. "She saw your fate."

"Service to Kronos!" the Titan roared. "This is my fate."

"No!" Annabeth insisted. Her eyes were tearing up, but I didn't know if it was from sadness or pain.

"That's not the end, Luke. The prophecy: she saw what you would do. It applies to you!"

"I will crush you, child!" Kronos bellowed.

"You won't," Annabeth said. "You promised. You're holding Kronos back even now."

"LIES!" Kronos pushed again, and this time Annabeth lost her balance. With his free hand, Kronos

struck her face, and she slid backward.

I summoned all my will. I managed to rise, but it was like holding the weight of the sky again.

Kronos loomed over Annabeth, his sword raised.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She croaked, "Family, Luke. You promised."

I took a painful step forward. Grover was back on his feet, over by the throne of Hera, but he seemed

to be struggling to move as well. Before either of us could get anywhere close to Annabeth, Kronos

staggered.

He stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, the blood on her face. "Promise."

Then he gasped like he couldn't get air. "Annabeth . . ." But it wasn't the Titan's voice. It was Luke's.

He stumbled forward like he couldn't control his own body. "You're bleeding. . . ."

"My knife." Annabeth tried to raise her dagger, but it clattered out of her hand. Her arm was bent at a

funny angle. She looked at me, imploring, "Percy, please . . ."

I could move again.

I surged forward and scooped up her knife. I knocked Backbiter out of Luke's hand, and it spun into

the hearth. Luke hardly paid me any attention. He stepped toward Annabeth, but I put myself between

him and her.

"Don't touch her," I said.

Anger rippled across his face. Kronos's voice growled: "Jackson . . ." Was it my imagination, or was

his whole body glowing, turning gold?

He gasped again. Luke's voice: "He's changing. Help. He's . . . he's almost ready. He won't need my

body anymore. Please—"

"NO!" Kronos bellowed. He looked around for his sword, but it was in the hearth, glowing among the

coals.

He stumbled toward it. I tried to stop him, but he pushed me out of the way with such force I landed

next to Annabeth and cracked my head on the base of Athena's throne.

"The knife, Percy," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero . . . cursed blade . . ."

When my vision came back into focus, I saw Kronos grasping his sword. Then he bellowed in pain

and dropped it. His hands were smoking and seared. The hearth fire had grown red-hot, like the scythe

wasn't compatible with it. I saw an image of Hestia flickering in the ashes, frowning at Kronos with

disapproval.

Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands. "Please, Percy . . ."

I struggled to my feet. I moved toward him with the knife. I should kill him. That was the plan.

Luke seemed to know what I was thinking. He moistened his lips. "You can't . . . can't do it yourself.

He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can . . . can keep him

controlled."

He was definitely glowing now, his skin starting to smoke.

I raised the knife to strike. Then I looked at Annabeth, at Grover cradling her in his arms, trying to

shield her. And I finally understood what she'd been trying to tell me.

You are not the hero, Rachel had said. It will affect what you do.

"Please," Luke groaned. "No time."

If Kronos evolved into his true form, there would be no stopping him. He would make Typhon look

like a playground bully.

The line from the great prophecy echoed in my head: A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. My

whole world tipped upside down, and I gave the knife to Luke.

Grover yelped. "Percy? Are you . . . um . . ."

Crazy. Insane. Off my rocker. Probably.

But I watched as Luke grasped the hilt.

I stood before him—defenseless.

He unlatched the side straps of his armor, exposing a small bit of his skin just under his left arm, a

place that would be very hard to hit. With difficulty, he stabbed himself.

It wasn't a deep cut, but Luke howled. His eyes glowed like lava. The throne room shook, throwing

me off my feet. An aura of energy surrounded Luke, growing brighter and brighter. I shut my eyes and

felt a force like a nuclear explosion blister my skin and crack my lips.

It was silent for a long time.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Luke sprawled at the hearth. On the floor around him was a blackened

circle of ash. Kronos's scythe had liquefied into molten metal and was trickling into the coals of the

hearth, which now glowed like a blacksmith's furnace.

Luke's left side was bloody. His eyes were open—blue eyes, the way they used to be. His breath was

a deep rattle.

"Good . . . blade," he croaked.

I knelt next to him. Annabeth limped over with Grover's support. They both had tears in their eyes.

Luke gazed at Annabeth. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew . . ."

"Shhh." Her voice trembled. "You were a hero at the end, Luke. You'll go to Elysium."

He shook his head weakly. "Think . . . rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest."

Annabeth sniffled. "You always pushed yourself too hard."

He held up his charred hand. Annabeth touched his fingertips.

"Did you . . ." Luke coughed and his lips glistened red. "Did you love me?"

Annabeth wiped her tears away. "There was a time I thought . . . well, I thought . . ." She looked at

me, like she was drinking in the fact that I was still here. And I realized I was doing the same thing. The

world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive.

"You were like a brother to me, Luke," she said softly. "But I didn't love you."

He nodded, as if he'd expected it. He winced in pain.

"We can get ambrosia," Grover said. "We can—"

"Grover," Luke gulped. "You're the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There's no healing. . . ."

Another cough.

He gripped my sleeve, and I could feel the heat of his skin like a fire. "Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed.

Don't let it . . . Don't let it happen again."

His eyes were angry, but pleading too.

"I won't," I said. "I promise."

Luke nodded, and his hand went slack.

The gods arrived a few minutes later in their full war regalia, thundering into the throne room and

expecting a battle.

What they found were Annabeth, Grover, and me standing over the body of a broken half-blood, in

the dim warm light of the hearth.

"Percy," my father called, awe in his voice. "What . . . what is this?"

I turned and faced the Olympians.

"We need a shroud," I announced, my voice cracking. "A shroud for the son of Hermes."

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