Jason hurried into the ship following Luke's call, and Cassian retreated to the bench beside Rowan, taking her head into his lap, forcing down his concern at her fluttering eyelids and thin breaths the way he might force down vomit, riveting his attention upon the interaction that played out before him. Beside him, crouched low upon the seat, his muscles quivering too violently to mask the fact that he wasn't at all seated, Morpheus's eyes darted from Rowan's pale face to Jason and Luke.

Despite the urgency of Jason's movements, they greeted each other with a strange stiffness, the emotion Rowan had shown at meeting Luke absent in Jason's eyes, replaced with some subtle distrust glinting deep within even as he fell into the ship, his legs struggling to remember the feel of solid ground underfoot, his stumbling broken only by Luke's steadying arms.

He nodded his greeting to the demigod, opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips when his gaze fell upon Rowan's feverish and shivering form. Cassian met his eyes, momentarily raised to him, with a quiet desperation, and Jason looked back to Luke.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"She was exiled," Luke explained. "Do you have ambrosia? It'll hold her over till she can be pardoned."

Jason's mouth tightened into a frown though he breathed heavily, the stench of war radiating from him, the beads of sweat pouring down his features. With tunnel-vision focus, he absentmindedly sheathed his sword, clenched his jaw, glanced over his shoulder before looking back to Luke.

"Not on me," he answered, and Luke's eyes flashed, shaking his head in a barely perceptible protestation as he realized what Jason meant. "But there'll be some at HQ."

"HQ?" The question came from Morpheus, and all eyes fell to him. He smirked with a meek amusement, and Jason began to scan the inhabitants of the ship, noting the old faces, once enemies, and the new ones, all clueless but set and defiant of the dangers they were yet unaware of.

Jason nodded heavily. "The last refuge," he elaborated. "It's our only line of defense against Ouranos."

Morpheus fell silent and his face darkened. Attention returned to Jason and Luke, the former's trembling limbs now somewhat steadied, the gravity of the ship seeming to center upon him and his hardened eyes that met Luke's in a firm, unwavering command.

"We'll need to get to the beach," he told him. "But Typhon's in the way. He's making a steady approach from the East, and he's close. We've already deployed our last asset." Jason winced at the word, the movement barely perceptible, but Luke didn't miss it, and his eyes narrowed, dread sinking his gut.

"Last asset?" he asked.

Jason's mouth twisted into a grimace. He seemed to age infinitely in the moment, and his eyes hardened, growing dark and grave as he opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by a shout from outside the ship, the source out of view of the open door, but not out of Clover's. The satyr let out a cry of surprise, and Luke spun on his heels, hurrying toward the cockpit. Jason furrowed his brow, but remained where he was, his gaze falling then upon Romulus, who leaned against the wall, hand on his sheathed blade, examining silently the Roman demigod before him with a curious expression.

"Leo?" the question fell with a heavy incredulity from Luke's lips, and then he was hurrying back to the ship's belly, to the door, where he took hold of a handle at its side and leaned out, waving madly in the direction of what had appeared before Clover.

There was a reverberating pounding in the air, the greeting shout of a voice, and then, to Cassian's great surprise, there appeared in the opening of the door a massive metal dragon, a man and a woman astride it. Cassian let out a short breath of stunned amusement, remembering Rowan's tales of Leo and Festus and who he could only assume to be Calypso.

"Luke!" Leo was laughing madly, brilliantly, a brightness to his features that he had grown unaccustomed to. In answer, Luke simply reached out for Leo's hand, gesturing him inward. Leo glanced to Calypso, who gave him a soft smile and nodded in the direction of the doorway. With a grin, Leo turned back to Luke and stretched himself out, reaching for the demigod, who was now precariously situated in the doorway. Romulus had straightened, ready to grab hold of Luke, but all went well, and the werewolf relaxed against the wall once more when Leo was safely secured in the ship, bent over and brushing off the dust of his journey.

There seemed a profound relief in the man as he straightened, and, in a subtler form, it was in Calypso, too, her hard features letting up some in a strange form of puzzled calm. It wasn't lost on Luke, who had fixed the demigod with a strange expression.

"What're you doing?" Luke's expression was dark.

The smile on Leo's face faltered, turned grim. "We're the last asset."

Luke glanced to Jason, who had fixed him with an intent, heavy gaze, waiting for the reaction. Pulling his eyes from Jason, Luke turned to Festus, and noted finally the crates of Greek Fire strapped to the dragon. Horror disfigured his features and he jerked his gaze back to Leo, incredulity etched into every line of his face. He seemed to wrestle with the words, searching for them, fighting them till finally his mouth fell open, and he muttered one word.

"Kamikaze."

Leo's lips twisted in a grimace, and he nodded.

Luke stumbled a step back, a rush of emotion exploding across his features. Disgust welled up within him, and he ran a hand across his face, leaving it over his eyes for a moment as he breathed deep, stilling himself, exhaling a curse as he straightened and met Jason's eyes, reading the hardness there. His own flashed, and he did his best to mirror the son of Zeus's self-control.

"How far is Typhon?" he asked, his voice holding a note of resignation that Cassian found both comforting and disturbing at once.

"Not fifteen minutes," Leo answered, and Luke nodded resolutely in turn.

"It's enough," he said, and then a smirk flashed across his lips. He met Leo's confused gaze. "We're taking a page out of your book."

With a mischievous smile that resembled strongly his sister, Luke moved swiftly to the cockpit.

"Turn up the thrusters," he commanded Clover, leaning over the satyr's shoulder, a long finger extended as he pointed out the coast far below, the massive titan, represented only by a thunderous, swirling storm, seeming inches from the beach. "Hit the bastard with all we have." His tone was dark, invigorated, and he felt the blood pumping through his veins once more as he glanced back over his shoulder to Leo.

"You're probably gonna want to get Calypso in here," he told him.

- - -

As Typhon approached, the beach shack, though only the entrance to the large underground headquarters, was rattled violently. Not that there was anyone inside to experience the creaking of the planks and the dangerous trembling of the glass. Rather, the demigods had gathered in a tattered group on the beach. Those too wounded to fight had been secured deep inside what parts of the Labyrinth they'd been able to tame, and those able to even simply stand, had found themselves standing tall, using what courage they had to fight against the shivering in their bones.

Percy joined Reyna at their head, his hands at his sides, fingers trembling with a restrained energy. He glanced from the approaching storm to Reyna, her grey eyes mirroring the raging ferocity and cold strength of the titan.

She noticed the movement, and her expression softened for a moment. She looked to him, a sad smile slipping across her thin lips.

"You should have gone to Annabeth," she told him.

Percy raised his eyebrows, and a wry smile disfigured his features. He looked back to Typhon, and the bitterness in his expression fell away, replaced with a gentle resignation, a remembrance flickering to life within his exhausted, harrowed eyes.

"No," he shook his head slowly. "She'd do the same."

Reyna nodded in agreement, satisfied, though she'd never say so much to him. The conversation fell to silence, broken only by the howling wind and the voices of the demigods behind, joined together with their brethren in what they could only imagine to be the last fight of their lives. There was a profound pride that burst through the cold in Reyna's heart then, and she glanced over her shoulder, taking in the clustered demigods. If she were to die today, she told herself then, there would be no better company to die with. Her mouth fell open to speak such a sentiment, but meeting their eyes one by one, she only smiled sadly and turned back to the titan, steadying herself in the shifting sands. Such a sentiment didn't need to be uttered. They all knew it already.

Beside her, Percy stiffened, leaning into his heels, raising his hands, fixing his gaze upon the churning sea, remembering the tug of power deep within. He sucked in a deep breath, tasted the familiar salt on his tongue, let his eyes slide closed, found the peace deep within, and his eyes flickered to attention, fixing themselves with a violent, brilliant fire upon the titan. He glanced to Reyna, read there the same strange peace. She met his gaze and nodded.

Raising high her spear, glinting maliciously in the cold light, she let loose a roar, and, as one, the demigods began their advance down the beach, kicking up sand as they moved in a herd, her solitary cry joined by dozens of others, all raised in one common goal: vengeance for the lost, the desperation of the living.

They hurtled toward the water's edge, headed now by the violence of the sea, Percy concentrating all his power on somehow destabilizing the titan, ripping the sea from beneath Typhon, and he was joined by the various chants and cries of the demigods about him, all bent on the same enemy.

And then, with a strange sort of horror, they watch the head of the great titan explode in a brilliant light.

Percy stumbled and slid to a halt, scrambling against his own momentum and Reyna's as he grabbed hold of her upper arm and dragged her back from the waves and the crumbling titan. Chunks of him fell from the sky, and suddenly the demigods that had been in a wholehearted charge found themselves running for cover, struggling back up the beach. Percy cursed when he finally turned, skidding to a stop, pulling Reyna behind him, now sprinting back toward headquarters.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a flicker of fiery movement, and he turned then, watching with growing confusion as a massive object fell from the sky, flames streaming down its sides, looking like a spaceship from an old alien movie tumbling out of the atmosphere. He slowed as it plummeted, having broken through the titan's head, rattling and shaking as it seemed to barely hold itself together, and suddenly Percy's retreat turned into a slow jog. Beside him, Reyna, too, had paused, her eyes fixed upon it, her lips a tight frown.

The ship seemed unable to stop, still hurtling toward the beach, growing dangerously close, and Percy's breath caught in his throat.

"It's not gonna stop," he muttered, then turned to Reyna, eyes flashing. "They can't stop."

But she was already moving, her flowing tunic brushing past him as she sprinted along the sands through the raining debris toward the ship. Cursing again, Percy followed close on her heels, and they left behind the demigods, now standing in frozen shock halfway up the beach.

"No, no, no," Percy begged as the ship neared the earth, still in free-fall, seventy feet above the sands. There was a shout behind him, and he glanced back to see that Grover had broken free of the demigods and was now flying after them. Percy looked back to the ship. Fifty feet.

The side of it opened suddenly with a crash and Percy saw a figure emerge, heaving, holding tight to the doorway, its face hidden by the smog and the ash smeared across it, mixed with glistening sweat. And then it disappeared back within, and above the thunderous rattling of the ship, Percy heard a human cry out, and then watched in horror as another figure emerged into the fresh air, and threw themselves without hesitation from the doorway.

"What the hell?" The roar came from Grover, who'd caught up to Percy, pumping his arms, fighting against the sand and the wind toward the ship. Together, they redoubled their pace, lungs heaving for air, limbs lost in a blur of adrenaline and heart pounding.

Grover cursed as more figures emerged, throwing themselves from the ship with the same abandon, landing in heaps upon the beach before stumbling to their feet, helping one another as they moved en masse from the descending ship. Suddenly one of them caught sight of Reyna, Grover, and Percy, and began sprinting toward them, waving their arms wildly, roaring, the words caught on the breeze and carried toward them.

"Get back!" The figure seemed desperate, but Reyna only sped up, reaching him as the ship emptied, the last of the escapees leaping from the flaming wreckage. She stumbled into the man, for it was a man, shot him a glare, and continued forward to the others, all still struggling, dragging one another from the trajectory with desperate cries.

Percy and Grover reached the man, and Percy nearly stopped dead in his tracks when they did, for the man was none other than Jason. His heart nearly stopping, he stumbled into the sooty man, and they tumbled across the beach, clutching at one another for stability.

"Jason?" Percy gasped when they'd finally found their footing, but Jason had none of Percy's astonishment, merely nodding with a grim expression, his eyes meeting his friend's.

"Unfortunately," he said, before they looked to the group before them struggling, and of one mind began to sprint once more. With growing incredulity, Percy began to recognize a few others of the group as they scrambled to their feet, moving toward him. There was Leo and Calypso, and Morpheus, an old face, and then Clover, who spotted Grover and let out a shout of greeting even in the midst of the chaos.

And then a voice Percy had never expected to hear again, so lost was it to time and memory, broke through the tumult. It was Luke Castellan, and even through his profound wonder, Percy could recognize the note of panic there. He was calling for ambrosia, and he soon saw why.

Emerging from the shadow of the descending ship, he and an unfamiliar man were half-carrying, half-dragging Rowan, her body limp in their arms, her face contorted in a grimace of pain as she struggled to assist them, taking weak and failing steps, the rest of the group following on their heels, faces and arms singed by the flames, Reyna right behind, supporting yet another unfamiliar face. At the sight of Rowan, Percy leapt into action, springing forward, flying toward them, joined by Grover.

"We'll take her!" Percy roared over the screaming descent of the ship. "Go, go, go!"

The two didn't need to be told twice, surrendering her weak form to Percy and Grover's shoulders, slowing with the relief when they found they were out of range of the ship's crash, watching with panicked eyes as Grover and Percy hefted Rowan off the sands, carrying her with an adrenaline-induced effortlessness toward the group of demigods gathered on the beach. At the sight of the approaching survivors, and spurred on by Grover's roared commands for a medic, they leapt into action, but the explosion of noise was drowned out by a much louder one, and far behind, Cassian and Luke, both slowing and breathless, turned back, their faces lit by the brilliant light of the ship's crash.

Time seemed to slow as the U-Wing went up in flames, and Cassian hissed in pain, clutching at his ribs when the billowing smoke filled his lungs and sent him into a fit of choking. Beside him, Luke slipped an arm beneath his, helping him straighten, and, together, they turned, limping from the wreckage that smoldered behind.

Reyna soon joined them, taking hold of Cassian's other side, his head hanging low between them, his eyes blurred and darkening, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Through the fog of pain, he heard their voices, low and distinct in the thunderous chaos about him.

"There's another prophecy," Luke managed to tell her through his struggle to regain his breath.

"A what?" Reyna's voice was harsh, and Cassian jerked his head from her in the direction of Luke, wincing in pain. She merely glanced to him, compassion in her eyes for a moment before they hardened once more.

"A- another prophecy," Luke gasped and hissed at the same time. He looked to Reyna, his eyes squinted in pain, his expression worn and drawn. Silently, she nodded, her eyes not betraying the pondering in her heart.

"Where's Festus?" she asked, changing the subject as they drew closer to the demigods before them.

"Getting Zeus," Luke answered.

"Why?" Reyna's voice turned harsh once more, biting through the wind, bringing yet another grimace to Cassian's features.

"Rowan was exiled. He needs to pardon her. We loose her if he doesn't," he grunted as Cassian grew heavier.

"We're not loosing her," Cassian's voice was low, grating from disuse, but firm, and Reyna looked to him with a new fascination. She slipped into silence for a moment, then nodded, glancing back to the skies, then to the man that hung his head beside her, blood leaking from his lips.

"We won't," she promised, and they were enveloped by the clutching attentions of the waiting medics.