Surrender, Prometheus's voice whispered in my ear. 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. My parents were asleep down in the streets somewhere while a monster army Hope seemed pretty useless to me right now. I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I had an urge to open it. I wanted to complain that no, I wasn't even close to prepared. Her moment is coming, but your decision approaches even more rapidly. 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. I think you've always known that, deep down." because you opened the door to all of this." She gestured at the throne room. "I'm not sure I can put it into words," she said. Now I'm a distraction? Is this because I'm 'not the hero' or whatever?" "To claim your place at the hearth," Hestia told her, "you must let go of your distractions. The warmth of the fire seemed to spread across her. I didn't know if Rachel saw the same images, but the tension went out of her shoulders. 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.
Hestia held out her hands, and the coals glowed. "Hello, Percy Jackson," the goddess murmured. Over by the fire, Hestia was huddled in her robes, rocking back and forth. Maybe we can find some extra Greek fire or Hephaestus traps." My voice seemed to bring her back to reality. "I can see Hope inside it." Rachel ran her fingers over the ceramic designs. Her eyes were brighter than usual, and I had a bad flashback of moldy sandwiches and burned cookies. She focused on me as if she were coming out of a dream. Standing at the foot of Zeus's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. In the firelight, the thrones cast evil-looking shadows, like grasping hands. He let out a half-hearted moo when he saw me. The Ophiotaurus swam sadly in his sphere of water. Hestia, in the form of a little girl in brown robes, hunched at its edge, shivering. The constellations twinkled coldly on the ceiling of the great hall. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor. 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. Finally he promised, and when he sat back down, I could tell he was kind of relieved.Īnnabeth, Grover, and I kept walking toward the palace. 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. I want you to stay here and help with the wounded." "I can still fight with the other hand," he said, gritting his teeth. He had a broken arm, but otherwise he was okay. I found Dionysus's son Pollux propped up against a tree. "Leneus turned into a shrub!" Grover told a groaning satyr. "You look great," Annabeth told another camper. "You'll be up and fighting Titans in no time!" I told one camper. My heart felt like lead, but we tried to find positive things to say. 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. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using nature magic songs to heal burns and poison.Īs Grover planted the laurel sapling, Annabeth and I went around trying to cheer up the wounded. Will Solace and the other Apollo campers scrambled around, caring for the wounded. The only movement was in the parks, which had been set up as field hospitals. The streets were deserted and the doors were barred. The doors dinged and we stepped onto the aerial walkway.ĭepressing is not a word that usually describes Mount Olympus, but it looked that way now. Grover cradled his laurel sapling in his hands. She put her head against the elevator wall and wouldn't look at me. "You tried to tell me." Her voice was shaky. She kept her eyes fixed on the elevator floors as they blinked into the magical numbers: 400, 450, 500. "You were right about Luke." It was the first time she'd spoken since Silena Beauregard's death.
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