OPHELIA'S BIRTHDAY WAS in four days. August fifth—she'd be seventeen. It was such a silly thing to think about, but it was all that came to her mind. In another year, she'd be eighteen. It was like she could picture her life ahead. Graduating from high school, then college. Marrying Jason in a small ceremony with just their closest friends and family, because, as selfish as it was to think, if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was them.
Tragedy had haunted Ophelia since she was four, when took her aunt and claimed her mother's sanity, leaving Ophelia little more than an orphan; when it stole her mother's life next, then Matt's, then Maren's; when it came for her and Jason, after they fought like hell against the Titans.
And now, it had come for her again to take one of her best friends, and try to take more.
When this was over, tragedy would never have a place in Ophelia's life again. She'd make sure of it.
She stood with her friends in a defensive ring, surrounded by giants, Jason and Piper on either side of her. She looked up as the clouds parted over the Acropolis. Instead of blue skies, she saw black space spangled with stars, the palaces of Mount Olympus gleaming silver and gold in the background.
And an army of gods charged down from on high.
It was too much to process. And it was probably better for her health that she didn't see it all. Only later would Ophelia be able to remember bits and pieces.
There was a supersized Jupiter—no, Zeus, his original form—riding into battle in a golden chariot, a lightning bolt the size of a telephone pole crackling in one hand. Pulling his chariot were four horses made of wind, each constantly shifting from equine to human form, trying to break free. For a split second, one took on the icy visage of Boreas. Another wore Notus's swirling crown of fire and steam. A third flashed the smug lazy smile of Zephyrus. Zeus had bound and harnessed the four wind gods themselves.
On the underbelly of the Argo II, the glass bay doors split open. The goddess Nike tumbled out, free from her golden net. She spread her glittering wings and soared to Zeus's side, taking her rightful place as his charioteer.
"MY MIND IS RESTORED!" she roared. "VICTORY TO THE GODS!"
At Zeus's left flank rode Hera, her chariot pulled by enormous peacocks, their rainbow-colored plumage bright in the afternoon sunlight.
Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered down on the back of a fire-breathing horse. His spear glistened red.
Ophelia saw her father, Hermes, riding the winds on his winged sandals, his caduceus in one hand, a golden sword gleaming in the other. He looked more carefree than he had in Rome, with a grin Ophelia had seen countless times on her half-siblings at Camp Half-Blood, and on Matt, too.
From under his winged helmet, he shot her a wink.
In the last second, before the gods reached the Parthenon, they seemed to displace themselves, like they'd jumped through hyperspace. The chariots disappeared. Suddenly Ophelia and her friends were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power.
Jason shouted and charged Porphyrion.
His friends joined in the carnage.
The fighting ranged all over the Parthenon and spilled across the Acropolis. Ophelia met her father in the air, and they charged at the giant Hippolytus together.
The messenger-giant wasn't much of a fighter, but as the bane of Hermes, he was the quickest of the giants, and he wasn't entirely helpless with a sword.
Even so, Hermes and his daughter fought him with ease.
Ophelia had never entertained the idea of fighting beside a god, much less her father. That wasn't the nature of gods—especially not their Roman forms. But fighting at her father's side, she felt as if she could take on the world—literally.
She jabbed her sword at Hippolytus's eyes, managing to pierce his right with a strength that surprised her.
"Excellent!" Hermes shouted. "Go for the eyes! Play dirty! That's my girl!"
Warmth blossomed in her chest.
"You cannot win!" a half-blind Hippolytus cried. "Gaea has ris—!"
Ophelia took out his other eye, and his words broke off into a pitiful wail.
Even blind, the giant fought fiercely. Ophelia's shoes narrowly flew her out of the way of the giant's own caduceus—though the snakes on his didn't seem to be arguing with each other, or speaking at all. Hermes intercepted the blow with his gold sword, slashing through the staff with ease.
"John!" Hippolytus wailed. "Abigail! No!"
The snakes on Hermes' staff hissed in annoyance.
Hermes slashed his sword across the giant's throat, turning his wails into disgusting gargles.
"Hey, kid," Hermes said. "Do the honors."
He held his staff out to his daughter.
She grasped the staff in her hand. The snakes hissed, but the sound was more excited than angry. She touched the tip of the caduceus to Hippolytus's head, and the giant turned into stone.
Hermes brought the hilt of blade down on the stone Hippolytus, and he crumpled into pieces, tumbling into a newly-formed cavern in the ground.
Excellent, one of the snakes hissed appreciatively. Can we get rats now? I'm hungry.
Shush, the other snake chided. This is Ophelia's moment, not yours.
Hermes ruffled her hair, and she felt like a little kid for just a moment. "Good job, kid," he said, his mischievous grin infectious. "He's not recovering from that anytime soon."
His eyes softened after a moment, a hint of grief in them. "You know, when I learned another of my children would be involved in another Great Prophecy... I was afraid. Now, I know I didn't need to be afraid—you did great, Ophelia. Made your mom and me proud."
Ophelia swallowed against the lump in her throat, handing him his staff. "Thanks, Dad."
She looked around the battlefield. The giants were gone, and her friends—all of them—were alive.
The Argo II was still aloft, barely, moored to the top of the Parthenon. Half the ship's oars were broken off or tangled. Smoke streamed from several large splits in the hull. The sails were peppered with burning holes.
Leo looked almost as bad. He stood in the midst of the temple with the other crewmembers, his face covered in soot, his clothes smoldering. But he was still alive.
For now, a horrible voice whispered into her mind.
The gods fanned out in a semicircle as Zeus and Jason approached. None of them seemed particularly joyful about their victory, save for Hermes and Ares.
Apollo and Artemis stood together in the shadow of a column, as if trying to hide. Hera and Poseidon were having an intense discussion with another goddess in green and gold robes—Demeter, maybe. Nike tried to put a golden laurel wreath on Hecate's head, but the goddess of magic swatted it away.
Hermes broke away from his daughter and sneaked close to Athena, attempting to put his arm around her. Athena turned her aegis shield his way and Hermes scuffled behind Ophelia, as if a demigod could save him from the goddess's wrath.
Then he flashed a glare at Jason as he walked over to stand next to Ophelia, trying to play the role of the overprotective father.
Ares seemed to be in the best mood by far. He laughed and pantomimed gutting an enemy while Frank listened, his expression polite and queasy.
"Brethren," Zeus said, "we are healed, thanks to the work of these demigods. The Athena Parthenos, which once stood in this temple, now stands at Camp Half-Blood. It has united our offspring, and thus our own essences."
"Lord Zeus," Piper spoke up, "is Reyna okay? And Nico and Coach Hedge?"
Zeus knitted his cloud-colored eyebrows. "They succeeded in their mission. As of this moment they are alive. Whether or not they are okay—"
"There is still work to be done," Queen Hera interrupted. She spread her arms like she wanted a group hug. "But my heroes... you have triumphed over the giants as I knew you would. My plan succeeded beautifully."
Zeus turned on his wife. Thunder shook the Acropolis. "Hera, do not dare take credit! You have caused at least as many problems as you've fixed!"
The queen of heaven blanched. "Husband, surely you see now—this was the only way."
"There is never only one way!" Zeus bellowed. "That is why there are three Fates, not one. Is this not so?"
By the ruins of the giant king's throne, the three old ladies silently bowed their heads in recognition. Ophelia noticed the other gods stayed well away from the Fates and their gleaming brass clubs.
"Please, husband." Hera tried for a smile, but she was so clearly frightened that Ophelia almost—almost—felt sorry for her. "I only did what I—"
"Silence!" Zeus snapped. "You disobeyed my orders. Nevertheless... I recognize that you acted with honest intentions. The color of these eight heroes has proven you were not entirely without wisdom."
Hera looked like she wanted to argue, but she kept her mouth shut.
"Apollo, however..." Zeus glared into the shadows where the twins were standing. "My son, come here."
Apollo inched forward like he was walking the plank. He looked so much like a teenage demigod it was unnerving—no more than seventeen, wearing jeans and a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, with a bow over his shoulder and a sword on his belt. With his tousled blond hair and blue eyes, he might've been Jason's brother on the mortal side as well as the godly side.
Ophelia wondered if Apollo had assumed this form to be inconspicuous, or to look pitiable to his father. The fear in Apollo's face certainly looked real, and also very human.
The Three Fates gathered around the god, circling him, their withered hands raised.
"Twice you have defied me," Zeus said.
Apollo moistened his lips. "My—my lord—"
"You neglected your duties. You succumbed to flattery and vanity. You encouraged your descendant Octavian to follow his dangerous path, and you prematurely revealed a prophecy that may yet destroy us all."
"But—"
"Enough!" Zeus boomed. "We will speak of your punishment later. For now, you will wait on Olympus."
Zeus flickered his hand, and Apollo turned into a cloud of glitter. The Fates swirled around him, dissolving into air, and the glittery whirlwind shot into the sky.
"What will happen to him?" Jason asked.
"It is not your concern," Zeus said. "We have other problems to address."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the Parthenon.
"Father," Jason said, "I made a vow to honor all the gods. I promised Kymopoleia that once this war is over none of the gods would be without shrines at the camps."
Zeus scowled. "That's fine. But... Kym who?"
Poseidon coughed into his fist. "She's one of mine."
"My point," Jason said, "is that blaming each other isn't going to solve anything. That's how the Romans and Greeks got divided in the first place."
The air became dangerously ionized. The hairs on Ophelia's arms raised.
"Apollo wasn't the problem," Jason continued, risking Zeus's dangerous wrath. "To punish him for Gaea waking is... unwise."
"Unwise." Zeus's voice was almost a whisper. "Before the assembled gods, you would call me unwise."
Ophelia tensed, her hand drifting to her sword. The rest of the Argo II watched on, fully alert. Percy looked like he was ready to jump in and fight the king of the gods at a moment's notice, and Ophelia was right there with him.
The crew of the Argo II watched on full alert. Percy looked like he was ready to jump in and fight the king of the gods at a moment's notice. Ophelia was right there with him.
Then Artemis stepped out of the shadows. "Father, this hero has fought long and hard for our cause. His nerves are frayed. We should take that into account."
Jason looked like he wanted to protest, but Artemis shot him a stern look.
"Surely, Father," the goddess continued, "we should attend to our more pressing problems, as you pointed out."
"Gaea," Annabeth chimed in, clearly anxious to change the topic. "She's awake, isn't she?"
Zeus turned toward her. "That is correct," he said. "The blood of Olympus was spilled. She is fully conscious."
"Oh, come on!" Percy complained. "I get a little nosebleed and I wake up the entire earth? That's not fair!"
Athena shoulder her shield. "Complaining of unfairness is like assigning blame, Percy Jackson. It does no one any good. Now you must move quickly. Gaea rises to destroy your camp."
Poseidon leaned on his trident. "For once, Athena is right."
"For once?" Athena protested.
"Why would Gaea be back at camp?" Leo asked. "Percy's nosebleed was here."
"Dude," Percy said, "first of all, you heard Athena—don't blame my nose. Second, Gaea's the earth. She can pop up anywhere she wants. Besides, she told us she was going to do this. She said the first thing on her to-do list was destroying our camp. Question is: how do we stop her?"
Frank looked at Zeus. "Um, sir, Your Majesty, can't you gods just pop over there with us? You've got the chariots and the magic powers and whatnot."
"Yes!" Hazel said. "We defeated the giants together in two seconds. Let's all go—"
"No," Zeus said flatly.
"No?" Jason asked. "But, Father—"
Zeus's eyes sparked with power. Ophelia grabbed the back of Jason's shirt, silently praying his father wouldn't smite him where he stood.
"That's the problem with prophecies," Zeus growled. "When Apollo allowed the Prophecy of Eight to be spoken, and when Hera took it upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates wove the future in such a way that it had only so many possible outcomes, so many solutions. You eight, the demigods, are destined to defeat Gaea. We, the gods, cannot."
"I don't get it," Piper said. "What's the point of being gods if you have to rely on puny mortals to do your bidding?"
All the gods exchanged dark looks. Aphrodite, however, laughed gently and kissed her daughter's forehead. "My dear Piper, don't you think we've been asking ourselves that question for thousands of years? But it is what binds us together, keeps us eternal. We need you mortals as much as you need us. Annoying as that may be, it's the truth."
Ophelia fought a sigh. "How are we supposed to get back to Camp Half-Blood in time to save it? It took us months to reach Greece."
"The winds," Jason said. "Father, can't you unleash the winds to send our ship back?"
Zeus glowered. "I could slap you back to Long Island."
Jason blinked. "Um, was that a joke, or a threat, or—"
"No," Zeus said. "I mean it quite literally. I could slap your ship back to Camp Half-Blood, but the force involved..."
Over by the ruined giant throne, the grungy god in the mechanic's uniform shook his head. "My boy Leo built a good ship, but it won't sustain that kind of stress. It would break apart as soon as it arrived, maybe sooner."
Leo straightened his tool belt. "The Argo II can make it. It only has to stay in one piece long enough to get us back home. Once there, we can abandon ship."
"Dangerous," Hephaestus warned. "Perhaps fatal."
The goddess Nike twirled a laurel wreath on her finger. "Victory is always dangerous. And it often requires sacrifice. Leo Valdez and I have discussed this." She stared pointedly at Leo.
Ophelia swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat.
"Leo," Annabeth said, "what is Nike talking about?"
Leo waved off the question. "The usual. Victory. Sacrifice. Blah, blah, blah. Doesn't matter. We can do this, guys. We have to do this."
To storm or fire, the world must fall.
Ophelia locked eyes with Leo for the briefest of seconds. She forced herself to look away as her eyes filled with tears.
"Leo's right," Jason said. "All aboard for one last trip."
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