The Dissonant Notes Of Fate

Thirty

THE doors dinged and Thalia stepped out tentatively, jaw clenched. She couldn't understand what had just gone down, but she led the dizzy Grover out of the elevator with her left hand, onto the aerial walkway.

Both she and the city of the gods looked depressed. Luke had been vanished away, by some Hecate magic, and Thalia was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, worry for her friend overriding her system. But she had impaled the mist form, although she was a few seconds too late, and her lips curled in anger as she threw the torn up pieces of paper over the side of Mount Olympus with her free hand.

She glanced around, eyes glinting, head pounding. Was Luke dead? What had Alabaster's mist form done to him? Where had he vanished to? Thalia wanted to scream. How was she supposed to face off against Kronos when her best friend was missing, possibly dead, her boyfriend wasn't bothering to call, and her forces were reduced to a few demigods, hunters and horses who were ready to die from exhaustion?

Thalia exhaled, exchanging a glance with Grover as they walked inside. No fires lit the braziers in Olympus. 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. The wounded were so, so many. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using nature magic songs to heal burns and poison.

She was a bit distracted, as Grover planted the laurel sapling, watching the injured people around her. Thalia couldn't help but think she had led them all to their deaths. Had she seriously thought they could fight thousands and thousands of monsters and Titans, and come out unscathed? She spotted 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. She didn't want to know who was underneath.

She caught sight of Dionysus's son Pollux propped up against a tree. He had a broken arm, but otherwise he was okay; except for the clear fatigue written on his face.

When Grover was done, he stood. "We have to find out what happened to Luke."

Thalia's breath stuttered. 'What—what if he's..."

"We could ask Bianca," Grover said, dubiously. "She would know, right?" She hated the fact that they were talking about their best friend like he was already gone.

Grover, and Thalia kept walking toward the palace. That was where Kronos would head. As soon as he made it up the elevator—and deep within her, Thalia knew that he would—he would destroy the throne room, the centre of the gods' power, and kill all those who resisted him, if she didn't beat him.

The bronze doors creaked open at her touch. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The constellations above them twinkled lowly, as if they were afraid to shine. They looked dead. 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 spotted them approaching.

The throne room was gathering dust, and despite the fire, Thalia suddenly felt cold.

Standing at the foot of her dad's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was holding a Greek ceramic vase.

"Rachel?" The daughter of Zeus called, shock in her voice. "What are you doing with that?"

She focused on Thalia, blinking slowly as if she were coming out of a dream. "It appeared in front of me, in the elevator. It's Pandora's jar, isn't it?"

Her eyes were brighter than usual and Thalia frowned. "Please put down the jar," She told the other girl.

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