From the dining pavilion, the entire landscape unfolded before us. Hills encircled the valley, their peaks adorned with the majestic Half-Blood Hill, where Thalia's pine tree proudly displayed the Golden Fleece, a magical shield against the camp's foes. Peleus, the towering guard dragon, now so massive that his presence could be spotted even from afar, coiled protectively around the tree, emitting wisps of smoke in his slumber.
To the right, the woods stretched endlessly, while on the left, the canoe lake sparkled under the sunlight, and the climbing wall shimmered with the molten lava cascading down its surface. Twelve cabins dedicated to an Olympian deity formed a horseshoe around the central area. Further south, the strawberry fields, armoury, and the imposing Big House, painted in sky blue with a bronze eagle weathervane, completed the camp's landscape.
Despite the familiar scenery, the signs of war were not etched in the architecture or the fields but in the sombre expressions of the demigods, satyrs, and naiads ascending the hill.
The camp, once bustling, now bore the scars of loss—some had departed, never to return, while others had fallen in battle or succumbed to the allure of the enemy's promises.
War trials marked those who remained, their laughter replaced by weariness.
Even the mischievous antics of the Hermes cabin had dwindled, overshadowed by the gravity of their existence. Practical jokes lost their charm when life itself felt like a relentless jest.
Chiron, the wise centaur, arrived at the pavilion first. His majestic form effortlessly traversed the terrain. His beard, grown wilder over the summer, added to his venerable appearance. He wore a green T-shirt bearing "MY OTHER CAR IS A CENTAUR" and carried a bow across his back.
"Percy! Oskar!" he said. "Thank the gods. But where . . ."
Oskar and Percy had arrived at the North Shore Beach of Long Island together, beginning their ascent up the hill.
Connor Stoll, hailing from the Hermes cabin, trailed behind them, having sounded the conch horn to announce the return of the half-bloods to camp.
While Percy barely registered in my peripheral vision, my gaze remained fixed on Oskar. He had undergone a noticeable transformation during our year apart.
When I last saw Oskar, he stood tall, his presence commanding attention with his height easily clearing six feet. As I laid eyes on him again, it was as if he had grown even taller, his figure expanding with a newfound sense of strength and vitality. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his usual white t-shirt.
His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his usual white t-shirt, causing it to hug his chest snugly and accentuate the contours of his muscular physique. The cotton material strained ever so slightly against the sinewy lines of his arms.
Each movement he made seemed to emphasize the well-defined shape of his shoulders, the fabric shifting and flexing with every subtle shift in his posture. It was as if the shirt itself struggled to contain the raw power within his frame, giving him an aura of quiet strength and confidence.
His dark hair cascaded in untamed waves that hinted at his rebellious spirit. A familiar urge stirred within me—a longing to reach out and tame the unruly curls that dared to frame his forehead. One stray tendril, in particular, boldly obstructed his vision, a silent challenge that beckoned me to defy convention and succumb to the temptation of intimacy.
Yet, with a steadfast resolve, I suppressed the impulse.
Noting his subtle differences—signs of maturity, a newfound gravity that seemed to have settled upon him within a mere year.
In the dim glow of the firepit, his eyes gleamed with a captivating depth, that mesmerizing shade of icy blue. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my gaze inevitably drifted to his lips, their softness and allure a constant temptation.
Yet, despite my unspoken longing, Oskar remained aloof, his attention elsewhere, never meeting my gaze.
Leaning against the pavilion column with effortless grace, he exuded an air of casual nonchalance, arms crossed in a familiar stance that spoke of ease.
But beneath the calm facade, a shadow of weariness lingered in his eyes.
His unfocused and distant gaze seemed to wander beyond the flickering flames, lost in a realm of his thoughts.
His demeanour had a palpable sadness, a weariness that weighed heavily upon his shoulders.
I longed to reach out and chase away the shadows that clouded his soul, to offer comfort in the face of his silent struggles.
Annabeth's words struck me like lightning, shattering the peace I desperately tried to maintain. It wasn't until her announcement that Oskar would be joining Percy on the Princess Andromeda that the full weight of reality crashed down upon me. Anger surged through my veins, a fiery tempest threatening to consume me from within. Not in front of Annabeth, of course—I plastered on a calm facade, hiding the storm raging beneath the surface.
But in the solitude of the training arena, I let the rage take hold.
How could he be so reckless, so blindly determined to throw himself into danger?
With his stubborn insistence on performing heroic feats at any cost, Oskar was a foolhardy idiot.
Yet, despite the fury that simmered within me, a spark of elation flickered to life when I finally saw him. The sight of his familiar figure brought a surge of joy to my heart. But that fleeting moment of happiness was short-lived, extinguished by the cold reality of his indifference.
His disregard stung like a slap in the face, a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between us. As I watched him from afar, leaning against the pavilion column with that infuriatingly relaxed demeanour, I couldn't help but wonder what had transpired on the ship.
What trials had he faced, and what challenges had he overcome?
Over the last year, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, I consumed myself with thoughts of Oskar. I wondered how he was faring. The temptation to reach out to him, to send him an iris message, and to bridge the gap that separated us tugged at my heartstrings.
Time and time again, I found myself with a coin in hand, poised to make contact with him. But each time, something held me back, a nagging uncertainty that whispered caution in my ear. I couldn't shake the feeling that reaching out to him would only complicate things further.
So, with a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, I forced myself to set the coin aside, letting the opportunity slip through my fingers once more.
As the year trudged on, life at camp became a routine of battling monsters and maintaining the grounds. Together, those of us who remained fought tirelessly against the creatures that dared to encroach upon our sanctuary.
I took it upon myself to train the half-bloods, passing down the skills and knowledge I had acquired over the years. From archery to swordplay, from hunting techniques to survival skills, I imparted everything to them, preparing them for the battles ahead.
But it wasn't just about combat prowess. We also worked together to maintain the camp, ensuring it remained a haven amidst the chaos of the outside world. Whether it was repairing damaged structures, fortifying our defences, or tending to the needs of the campers, we all pitched in, each doing our part to keep our home running smoothly.
The busyness of camp life kept my mind occupied, but no matter how hard I tried to focus on the tasks at hand, thoughts of Oskar inevitably crept into my mind.
My thoughts often wandered back to our last day together, sitting side by side by the crackling campfire. At that moment, a silent yearning had stirred within me, a desire for him to lean in and kiss me.
But then fear had gripped me, fear of the implications of such a public display of affection. What if he kissed me right there in front of everyone? The thought had sent a shiver down my spine, and before he could act, I had made my excuses and left, fleeing from the possibility of my vulnerability.
I could see it in his eyes, the longing mirrored in his gaze, but something had held him back. Something from within me, no doubt. I couldn't blame him for hesitating; after all, I had been distant and unpredictable, sending mixed signals that must have left him utterly bewildered.
One moment, I would be cold and aloof; the next, I would kiss him.
It was no wonder he was confused.
After the battle, we never had the chance to talk properly, clear the air, or make sense of our tangled emotions.
A year had passed, yet my feelings for Oskar remained as potent as ever.
Whatever they were, whatever they meant, they refused to be dulled by the passage of time.
I turned my attention away from Oskar to Annabeth, who ran into the pavilion behind Chiron.
"What's going on?" Annabeth gripped Percy's arm. "Is Luke—"
"The ship exploded," Percy interrupted. "But he wasn't on it. I don't know where—"
Silena Beauregard broke through the crowd; her appearance is dishevelled, a departure from her usual polished self. Her hair was unkempt, and she wore no makeup, a stark deviation from her usual immaculate appearance.
"Where's Charlie?" Her voice trembled with urgency as she scanned the area, expecting him to materialize from thin air.
Percy's gaze shifted to Chiron, seeking guidance, while Oskar looked to his feet.
The wise centaur cleared his throat, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"Silena, dear, perhaps we should discuss this further at the Big House—"
"No," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "No. No."
Tears welled in her eyes, and a heavy silence descended upon us all.
We stood there, a sombre tableau of grief and disbelief.
Beckendorf's absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill. I had always held a deep respect for the son of Hephaestus; he embodied strength, reliability, and unwavering loyalty. He was the bedrock of our camp, a steadfast presence that we could always depend on. His loss was like a gaping wound, a painful reminder of the fragility of life in our world.
Clarisse stepped forward from the Ares cabin, extending her arm to envelop Silena in a gesture of comfort.
Theirs was an unlikely friendship—a convergence of the war god's daughter and the love goddess's offspring.
Yet, since the previous summer, when Silena had offered Clarisse sage advice about matters of the heart, Clarisse had assumed the role of Silena's steadfast protector.
Dressed in her signature blood-red combat armour, Clarisse cut an imposing figure, her brown hair tucked beneath a bandana. Despite her formidable appearance, reminiscent of a rugby player in size and strength, Clarisse's expression softened as she addressed Silena with unexpected tenderness.
"Come on, girl," she coaxed gently. "Let's make our way to the Big House. I'll whip up some hot chocolate for you."
With Clarisse's reassuring presence to guide her, Silena allowed herself to be led away from the gathering.
Everyone turned and wandered off in twos and threes, heading back to the cabins.
Only Annabeth, Chiron and I stayed behind.
"I'm relieved you're safe, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth murmured to Percy as she brushed away a tear.
"Thanks," Percy replied, his relief evident in his tone. "Me too."
Annabeth turned towards Oskar, who stood silently, his gaze fixed on the ground. Without hesitation, she approached him, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. Oskar responded wordlessly, returning the hug, and a pang of jealousy shot through me—not at their closeness; their bond was unmistakably sibling-like. Still, I longed to offer him comfort in this moment of sadness.
As they parted, Annabeth kept her arm around Oskar's waist, his own draped over her shoulders, their solidarity palpable.
Yet, he still hadn't spared me a glance.
Meanwhile, Chiron placed a reassuring hand on Percy's shoulder.
"I'm certain you did all you could, Percy," Chiron said gently. "Will you share with us what transpired?"
Percy's expression betrayed his reluctance to relive the ordeal, yet he bravely recounted the events, including the unsettling dream about the Titans. Despite his narrative, I sensed there was more he wasn't sharing, but I chose not to press the matter. I was drawn to Oskar, who studied Percy intently, a silent question lingering in his eyes. He seemed to sense it, too.
Meanwhile, Chiron's focus remained fixed on the valley below.
"We must convene a war council without delay," he declared solemnly, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation. "There are matters that require urgent attention, including the identification and handling of this spy, as well as other pressing concerns."
"Poseidon mentioned another threat," Percy said. "Something even bigger than the Princess Andromeda. I thought it might be that challenge the Titan had mentioned in my dream."
Chiron and Annabeth exchanged looks.
"We will discuss that also," Chiron promised.
"One more thing." Percy took a deep breath. "When I talked to my father, he said to tell you it's time. I need to know the full prophecy."
Chiron's shoulders sagged, but he didn't look surprised.
"I've dreaded this day. Very well. Annabeth, we will show Percy the truth—all of it. Let's go to the attic."
***
I let out a heavy sigh, my fingers absently twirling a ping-pong ball on the table, as the senior counsellors once again descended into a cacophony of heated arguments.
My gaze drifted towards Oskar, who stood by the window, a silent observer amidst the chaos, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. His expression was unreadable, his focus unwavering as he watched the proceedings with a detached air.
Then, Annabeth, Chiron, and Percy entered the room.
Clarisse remained clad in her formidable battle gear, her electric spear "Maimer" securely strapped to her back. Though she dubbed it "Maimer" behind her back, it earned the less flattering nickname of "Lamer." With her boar-shaped helmet tucked under one arm and a knife at her belt, she cut an imposing figure.
She was heatedly exchanging with Michael Yew, Apollo's newly appointed head counsellor. The sight of the towering Clarisse towering over Michael, who stood a foot shorter, was almost comical. Michael had inherited the position following the tragic demise of Lee Fletcher in battle the previous summer. Despite his diminutive stature of four feet six inches, he possessed an abundance of fiery spirit, standing his ground with an impressive two feet of attitude. His sharp features and perpetual scowl brought to mind a ferret, his gaze reminiscent of one who spent an inordinate amount of time peering down an arrow shaft.
"It's our spoils!" he retorted, rising onto his tiptoes to meet Clarisse eye-to-eye. "If you have a problem with it, feel free to kiss my quiver!"
Around the table, stifled laughter bubbled from the assembled demigods—the mischievous Stoll brothers, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin, and even Katie Gardner from Demeter managed to suppress a smile. Jake Mason, the newly appointed Hephaestus counsellor, also smiled faintly.
The only one who seemed unaffected was Silena Beauregard, sitting quietly beside Clarisse. Her eyes were vacant as she stared blankly at the Ping-Pong net. Her red and swollen eyes betrayed her recent grief. A cup of untouched hot chocolate sat in front of her.
"STOP IT!" Oskar's voice boomed above the tumult, cutting through the chaos like a thunderclap.
It was the first time he had spoken since his return to camp, and his commanding tone instantly silenced the room. All eyes turned to him, including mine. I had long noticed Oskar's respect and authority among the campers; they listened to him, even Clarisse, whose jaw visibly tightened in response to his interruption.
Glaring at Michael, Clarisse's frustration was palpable. "Tell Michael not to be a selfish jerk," she demanded, her tone laced with irritation.
Michael's retort was swift. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you," he shot back.
"The only reason I'm here is to support Silena! Otherwise, I'd be back in my cabin."
Percy, bewildered by the sudden tension, interjected. "What are you talking about?"
Pollux, sensing the need to clarify, cleared his throat before speaking. "Clarisse has refused to speak to any of us until her, um, issue is resolved. She hasn't uttered a word in three days."
"It's been wonderful," Travis Stoll added wistfully.
Percy's confusion deepened. "What issue?" he pressed, eager to understand the source of the discord.
Clarisse turned her piercing gaze towards Chiron. "You're the one calling the shots, aren't you? So, do we get what we're asking for or not?"
Chiron shifted uncomfortably, the weight of responsibility evident in his demeanour. "My dear, Michael's claim is valid, as I've already explained. The Apollo cabin holds priority. Furthermore, we have pressing matters—"
"Of course," Clarisse interjected sharply. "Always more pressing matters than attending to Ares's needs. We're expected to show up and fight whenever it suits you without a word of complaint!"
"Wouldn't that be nice," muttered Connor Stoll under his breath.
Clarisse's grip tightened on her knife, a silent threat lingering. "Maybe I should bring this up with Mr. D—"
"As you're well aware," Chiron interjected, his tone tinged with irritation, "our camp director, Dionysus, is preoccupied with the ongoing conflict. He cannot be bothered with such matters."
"I see," Clarisse's voice was cold and steely. "And what about the senior counsellors? Is there anyone among you willing to stand by my side?"
Nobody was smiling now.
Silence hung heavy in the air as none dared to meet Clarisse's gaze.
However, Oskar's eyes locked with Clarisse's.
Their friendship ran deep, akin to the bond shared between Ares and Hades, their respective godly parents.
Oskar whispered, "Clarisse, there are more pressing—"
Clarisse interrupted him abruptly.
"Very well," Clarisse conceded, turning towards Silena. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to involve you in this, especially during your time of loss. Anyway, my apologies are directed solely towards you. No one else."
Silena appeared distant, seemingly unaffected by Clarisse's words.
With a frustrated gesture, Clarisse slammed her knife onto the Ping-Pong table. "You all can wage this war without Ares. Until I receive the resolution I seek, no one from my cabin will lift a finger to assist. Enjoy facing your challenges alone."
The stunned counsellors remained speechless as Clarisse stormed out of the room.
"Good riddance," Michael Yew muttered finally, breaking the silence.
Katie Gardner protested, "Are you serious? This is disastrous!"
Travis said, "She couldn't possibly be serious, could she?"
Chiron sighed heavily. "Her pride has been wounded. She will come to her senses eventually," he remarked, though his tone betrayed his uncertainty.
"Now," Chiron continued, "if you please, counsellors. Percy has brought something I think you should hear. Percy—the Great Prophecy."
Annabeth handed Percy the parchment; his fingers fumbled with the string.
Then he uncurled the paper, trying not to rip it, and began to read: "A half-blood of the eldest dogs . . ."
"Er, Percy?" Annabeth interrupted. "That's gods. Not dogs."
"Oh, right," I said. "A half-blood of the eldest gods . . . shall reach sixteen against all odds . . ."
Percy hesitated, staring at the next lines, "And see the world in endless sleep, The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."
"Percy," Chiron urged. "Read the rest."
"A single choice shall. . . shall end his days. Olympus to per—pursue—"
"Preserve," Annabeth said gently. "It means to save."
"I know what it means," Percy grumbled.
"Olympus to preserve or raze."
The room was silent.
Finally, Connor Stoll said, "Raise is good, isn't it?"
"Not raise," Silena said. Her voice was hollow, but I was startled to hear her speak. "R-a-z-emeans destroy."
"Obliterate," Annabeth said. "Annihilate. Turn to rubble."
"Got it," Connor mumbled, "Thanks."
Everybody looked at Percy—with concern, pity, or maybe a little fear.
Chiron closed his eyes as if he were saying a prayer. In horse form, his head almost brushed the lights in the rec room.
"You see now, Percy, why we thought it best not to tell you the whole prophecy. You've had enough on your shoulders—"
"Realizing I'm destined to die anyway," Percy sighed. "Yeah, I understand."
Chiron regarded him with a sorrowful expression. After all, with three thousand years under his belt, he'd witnessed the demise of countless heroes. He may not have liked it, but he had grown accustomed to such fates. Perhaps he refrained from offering reassurances, knowing they'd likely fall on deaf ears.
"Percy," Annabeth interjected gently. "You know prophecies often carry double meanings. It may not necessarily imply your literal demise."
"Sure," Oskar replied sarcastically. "Because 'a single choice shall end his days' could mean a hundred different things, right?"
Annabeth shot him a disapproving glare, but Oskar was preoccupied with gazing out the window.
Jake Mason chimed in optimistically, "Maybe we can prevent it. 'The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.' Perhaps we could locate this cursed blade and destroy it. Sounds reminiscent of Kronos's scythe, doesn't it?"
"Perhaps we should let Percy think about these lines," Chiron said. "He needs time—"
"No." Percy folded up the prophecy and shoved it into his pocket. "I don't need time. If I die, I die. I can't worry about that, right?"
Annabeth's hands were shaking a little. She wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Let's move on," Oskar interjected, "We've got other pressing matters to address. We have a spy among us."
Michael Yew's expression darkened. "A spy?" he echoed, his voice heavy with disbelief.
Oskar recounted the events aboard Princess Andromeda, including the unsettling revelation that Kronos had prior knowledge of our arrival and used a silver scythe pendant to communicate with someone within our camp.
Silena's tears resumed, and Annabeth offered her comforting embrace.
"Well," Connor Stoll spoke up, visibly uneasy. "We've long suspected the existence of a spy, haven't we? Someone has been feeding information to Luke for years—like when he discovered the location of the Golden Fleece a couple of years back. It must be someone close to him."
Perhaps unconsciously, his gaze flickered towards Annabeth. It was no secret that she had a deep connection with Luke, but Connor quickly averted his eyes. "Um, I mean, it could be anyone."
"Indeed," Katie Gardner interjected, her disapproval evident as she eyed the Stoll brothers. She had held a grudge against them since they decorated the Demeter cabin's grass roof with chocolate Easter bunnies. "Such betrayal could even come from one of Luke's siblings."
Travis and Connor immediately leapt to their defence, arguing with Katie in a heated argument.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes; despite our status as children of gods and seasoned warriors who had faced battles just a year ago, these half-bloods could still be remarkably childish and exhausting. As always, my gaze shifted to Oskar, who observed the argument with a bored expression.
"Stop!" Silena slammed her hand on the table so violently that her hot chocolate spilt, cascading onto the Ping-Pong table. "Charlie's gone, and here we are, bickering like children!"
With a heavy heart, she buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely.
As the hot chocolate trickled off the table, a sense of shame washed over everyone in the room.
Pollux broke the silence. "She's right," he declared solemnly. "Pointing fingers won't solve anything. We need to remain vigilant and be on the lookout for a silver necklace with a scythe charm. If Kronos possessed one, it's likely the spy does too."
Michael Yew grunted in agreement. "We must uncover this traitor before proceeding with our next move. Destroying Princess Andromeda won't put an end to Kronos's schemes forever."
Chiron nodded gravely. "Indeed," he affirmed. "His next assault is underway, and we must be prepared."
Percy scowled. "You mean the 'bigger threat' Poseidon mentioned?"
"Percy," Chiron began, his tone grave. We withheld this information until your return to camp. You needed a respite with your mortal friends."
Annabeth's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, mirroring Percy's reddening complexion. The reason behind their embarrassment remained elusive to me. Maybe Annabeth was contemplating Percy's recent interactions with Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the mortal girl who guided us through the labyrinth. It seemed evident that Annabeth felt a twinge of jealousy toward their companionship, or at least what appeared to be friendship.
"Tell me what's happened," Percy insisted.
Chiron reached for a bronze goblet from the nearby snack table and tossed water onto the hot plate where we typically melted nacho cheese. Steam billowed up, casting a rainbow in the fluorescent lights. Retrieving a golden drachma from his pouch, Chiron tossed it through the mist and invoked, "O Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, reveal the threat."
The mist shimmered, revealing a familiar sight—a smouldering Mount St. Helens. As I watched, the mountain erupted in an explosion, spewing fire, ash, and lava. A newscaster's voice echoed in the background, reporting the catastrophic event.
Oskar winced as he watched the report, seemingly recalling his involvement in last year's eruption. But this eruption was far worse. The mountain crumbled inward, revealing an enormous figure rising from the smoke and lava—a massive giant.
"It's him," Percy muttered grimly. "Typhon."
"The most dreadful monster of all, the greatest threat the gods have ever faced," Chiron explained solemnly. "He has been freed from beneath the mountain. However, this footage is from two days ago. Here is what is happening today."
With a wave of his hand, the image shifted, revealing a bank of storm clouds engulfing the Midwest plains. Lightning flashed, and tornadoes tore through the landscape, leaving destruction in their wake.
"Monumental floods," echoed the announcer's voice. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction."
The cameras panned to a column of storm clouds descending upon a city in the Midwest, though it was difficult to discern which one. Within the tempest, glimpses of the giant's colossal form emerged—a smoky arm, a dark-clawed hand spanning the size of a city block. His enraged roar echoed across the plains like a nuclear explosion. Smaller forms darted around him within the clouds, and I realized the giant was attempting to swat them away. Amidst the chaos, I squinted and caught sight of a golden chariot soaring into the darkness, followed by a massive owl-like creature diving in to confront the giant.
"Are those... the gods?" Percy murmured, disbelief colouring his voice.
"Yes, Percy," Chiron confirmed gravely. "They've been engaged in battle with him for days, attempting to impede his progress. However, Typhon is advancing—toward New York. Toward Olympus."
Percy absorbed this information, and the gravity of the situation sank in. "How long until he arrives?"
"Unless the gods can halt him? Perhaps five days. Most of the Olympians are there... except your father, who is preoccupied with his conflict."
"Then who's protecting Olympus?" Percy pressed anxiously.
Connor Stoll shook his head somberly. "If Typhon reaches New York, it won't matter who's guarding Olympus."
"It's a ruse," Percy asserted. "We must alert the gods. There's another threat looming."
Chiron regarded Percy with a solemn expression. "Something more dire than Typhon? I dread to think."
"We must protect Olympus," Percy urged. "Kronos is plotting another assault."
"He was," Travis Stoll interjected as a stark reminder. "But you sunk his vessel."
All eyes were on Percy, hopeful for a glimmer of positivity. They yearned for a shred of hope in our bleak situation.
I exchanged a glance with Annabeth, sensing that we shared the same concern: What if the destruction of Princess Andromeda was a diversion? What if Kronos orchestrated its demise to lull us into a false sense of security?
But we weren't going to say that in front of Silena. Her boyfriend had sacrificed himself for that mission.
Percy obviously thought so too, as he said, "Maybe you're right," though he didn't look like he believed it.
I couldn't wrap my head around how things could get worse. The gods were duking it out with a huge monster in the Midwest, a monster that had almost taken them down. Poseidon was locked in a losing battle against the sea Titan Oceanus. Kronos was still out there, somewhere. And Olympus? It was practically defenceless. Here at Camp Half-Blood, we were alone, dealing with a sneaky spy.
"Alright," Chiron declared, "I reckon that's plenty for tonight."
With a wave of his hand, the steam cleared, and the tumultuous clash between Typhon and the gods vanished.
"You could say that again," Percy grumbled.
And with that, the war council came to an end.