The Last Olympian

TWENTY

WE WIN FABULOUS PRIZES

The Three Fates themselves took Luke's body.

I hadn't seen the old ladies in years, since I'd witnessed them snip a life thread at a roadside fruit stand when I was twelve. They'd scared me then, and they scared me now—three ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn.

One of them looked at me, and even though she didn't say anything, my life literally flashed before my eyes. Suddenly I was twenty. Then I was a middle-aged man. Then I turned old and withered. All the strength left my body, and I saw my own tombstone and an open grave, a coffin being lowered into the ground. All this happened in less than a second.

It is done, she said.

The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn—and I knew it was the same one I'd seen four years ago, the lifeline I'd watched them snip. I had thought it was my life. Now I realized it was Luke's. They'd been showing me the life that would have to be sacrificed to set things right.

They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.

"Wait," Hermes said.

The messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white Greek robes, sandals, and helmet. The wings of his helm fluttered as he walked. The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke.

I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come home.

Hermes unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured some words in Ancient Greek—a final blessing.

"Farewell," he whispered. Then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body.

As they left, I thought about the Great Prophecy. The lines now made sense to me. The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. The hero was Luke. The cursed blade was the knife he'd given A

And I understood something else: When Luke had descended into the River Styx, he would've had to focus on something important that would hold him to his mortal life. Otherwise he would've dissolved. I had seen A

Next to me, A

"Oh gods," I said. "A

"It's all right," she said as she passed out in my arms.

"She needs help!" I yelled.

"I've got this." Apollo stepped forward. His fiery armor was so bright it was hard to look at, and his matching Ray-Bans and perfect smile made him look like a male model for battle gear. "God of medicine, at your service."

He passed his hand over A

Apollo gri

"Thanks, Apollo," I said. "I'll, um, let you handle the poetry."

The next few hours were a blur. I remembered my promise to my mother. Zeus didn't even blink an eye when I told him my strange request. He snapped his fingers and informed me that the top of the Empire State Building was now lit up blue. Most mortals would just have to wonder what it meant, but my mom would know: I had survived, Olympus was saved.

The gods set about repairing the throne room, which went surprisingly fast with twelve superpowerful beings at work. Grover and I cared for the wounded, and once the sky bridge re-formed, we greeted our friends who had survived. The Cyclopes had saved Thalia from the fallen statue. She was on crutches, but otherwise she was okay. Co

Nico di Angelo came into Olympus to a hero's welcome, his father right behind him, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus on winter solstice. The god of the dead looked stu

Clarisse marched in, still shivering from her time in the ice block, and Ares bellowed, "There's my girl!"

The god of war ruffled her hair and pounded her on the back, calling her the best warrior he'd ever seen. "That drakon-slaying? THAT'S what I'm talking about!"

She looked pretty overwhelmed. All she could do was nod and blink, like she was afraid he'd start hitting her, but eventually she began to smile.

Hera and Hephaestus passed me, and while Hephaestus was a little grumpy about my jumping on his throne, he thought I'd done "a pretty bang-up job, mostly."

Hera sniffed in disdain. "I suppose I won't destroy you and that little girl now."

"A

"Hmm," Hera whirled away in a huff, but I figured our lives would be safe, at least for a little while.

Dionysus's head was still wrapped in a bandage. He looked me up and down and said, "Well, Percy Jackson. I see Pollux made it through, so I suppose you aren't completely inept. It's all thanks to my training, I suppose."

"Urn, yes, sir," I said.

Mr. D nodded. "As thanks for my bravery, Zeus has cut my probation at that miserable camp in half. I now have only fifty years left instead of one hundred."

"Fifty years, huh?" I tried to imagine putting up with Dionysus until I was an old man, assuming I lived that long.

"Don't get so excited, Jackson," he said, and I realized he was saying my name correctly. "I still plan on making your life miserable."

I couldn't help smiling. "Naturally."

"Just so we understand each other." He turned and began repairing his grapevine throne, which had been singed by fire.

Grover stayed at my side. From time to time he would break down in tears. "So many nature spirits dead, Percy. So many."

I put my arm around his shoulders and gave him a rag to blow his nose. "You did a great job, G-man. We will come back from this. We'll plant new trees. We'll clean up the parks. Your friends will be reincarnated into a better world."

He sniffled dejectedly. "I . . . I suppose. But it was hard enough to rally them before. I'm still an outcast. I could barely get anyone to listen to me about Pan. Now will they ever listen to me again? I led them into a slaughter."

"They will listen," I promised. "Because you care about them. You care about the Wild more than anyone."

He tried for a smile. "Thanks, Percy. I hope . . . I hope you know I'm really proud to be your friend."