Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Sixty-Nine

"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 Percy, imploring, "Percy, please..."

It seemed like Percy could move again. He surged forward and scooped up her knife. He knocked Backbiter out of Luke's hand and it spun into the hearth. Luke hardly paid him any attention. He stepped towards Annabeth, but Percy put himself between him and her.

"Don't touch her," Percy said, a protectiveness that was definitely not brotherly. I knew Annabeth was only seven, but I already loved the idea of her and Percy together.

Where were my priorities? I was literally watching what would probably turn into someone's death scene and I was worried about Percy and Annabeth being a couple. What was wrong with me?

Anger rippled across Luke's 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 towards it. Percy tried to stop him, but Luke pushed him out of the way with such force he landed next to Annabeth and cracked his head on the base of Athena's throne.

"ANNABETH!" There was another voice, one that seemed extremely familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. A tall young woman wearing witch's robes dashed in, her robes torn, her blonde hair in a braid that was falling out. She stopped, her wand raised, to scan the room, and that was when I recognized her. She was me, but ten years older.

My first stupid thought (which probably came from the Apollo kid part of me) was "Wow, I'm going to be hot." But that thought flickered away as Future-Me rushed to Annabeth's side.

"The knife," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero... cursed blade..."

"Yes," Future-Me agreed. I noticed she'd probably been fighting, too; her face was just as messy as her hair. "Where is it?"

Kronos grasped 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. When he saw Future-Me, his eyes widened. "Ash, please..."

"Ash, don't!" Percy exclaimed.

"I will," Future-Me said. She picked up the knife and walked toward Luke.

Luke 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."

What was he talking about? Why was my future self giving him a knife? And what did he mean by "I know where?" He was definitely glowing now, his skin starting to smoke.

"A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap." My future self smiled at Luke sadly, like she'd known this was going to happen. It was probably my imagination, but I could've sworn her eyes glowed green as she spoke.

"You knew everything," Luke said.

"I did," Future-Me said. "I tried to stop it, Luke. I tried so hard. But I might as well have tried to stop time itself."

What was she talking about? Did she mean all of the visions I'd had were going to come true and I couldn't stop it?

"It's not your fault," Luke said. His face contorted. "He's fighting, Ash. I need to —"