Family of Fire

Othrys

The only mar to the picture was the giant dragon encircling the tree. Its body was as thick as a booster rocket, glinting with coppery scales.

He had more heads than could easily be counted, as if a hundred deadly pythons had been fused together.

He appeared to be asleep, as the heads lay curled in a big spaghetti-like mounds on the grass, all of his eyes closed.

"The apples of immortality," Luna said. "Hera's wedding gift from Zeus."

Then the shadows in front began to move. It was only the beautiful but eery singing that kept her from freezing them.

Four figures shimmered into existence, four young women who looked very much like Zoë. They all wore white Greek chitons. Their skin was like caramel. Silky black hair tumbled loose around their shoulders. They looked just like Zoë – beautiful and dangerous.

"Sisters," Zoë greeted coolly.

"We do not see any sister," one of the girls said coldly. "We see three half-bloods and a Hunter. All of whom shall soon die."

"You've got it wrong," Jada said, stepping forward. "Nobody is going to die."

The girls studied her curiously with their eyes, as black as volcanic glass.

"Jada Flamel," another girl stated.

"Yes," mused another. "I do not see why she is a threat."

"Who said I was a threat?" Jada asked.

One of the Hesperides glanced behind her, toward the top of the mountain. "They fear thee. They are unhappy that this one has been killed yet."

"There are no friends here," the first one said. "Only enemies. Go back."

"Not without Annabeth," Elektra said.

"And Artemis," Zoë said. "We must approach the mountain."

"You know he will kill thee," a Hesperides. "You are no match for him."

After stunning the Hesperides, Zoë told the others to go around while she distracted Ladon. After they got around, Jada saw Ladon bite Zoë.

The older of the two youngest questers knew that the Hunter would not live to see the end of the quest and Zoë knew that as well. Even with her death stated in the prophecy, she had still gone on the quest to save her mistress.

Zoë caught up to them and the continued climbing.

"This is Atlas' mountain," Zoë said. "Where he holds–" She froze. Her voice was ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit. A few yards ahead of them, grey clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touched the mountaintop, but instead rested on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze chains.

"My lady!" Zoë said, rushing forward, but Artemis said, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now."

Her voice was strained. She was drenched in sweat. The weight of the sky was clearly too much for her.

Zoë was crying. She ran forward despite Artemis' protests and tugged at the chains.

"Ah, how touching," said a booming voice from behind them.

They turned. There, standing in a brown silk suit, was Atlas. He was flanked by Luke and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the golden sarcophagus of Kronos.