The water was dark and foreboding. So much like a gaping void, waiting for some unsuspecting fool to step into its open maw. They all stayed far from it with only the occasional one of the ranks toeing the line, never daring to step into its depths.

But it was a choice. To do so had always been theirs to decide. No one could force them, no one but themselves.


"My son, come here."

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 flicked 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.

...

My name is Apollo. I used to be a god.

I'm not even sure how it happened.

I simply woke up falling.


It was cold, painfully frigid, even to him. Part of him hesitated, recoiling out of a discomfort born from being somewhere unfamiliar, a place many had deemed off-limits. This water, murky yet clear, had no voice but it called to him now with a loudness he couldn't ignore.

A tiny part of himself, long forgotten but crucial, had heeded its silent whispers whenever he had passed before. The call must have grown stronger over time. But none could respond. No one, except for him. And try as he might, he couldn't resist the pull.

Deep down, that tiny shard of him urged forward, as though it were caged and saw hope of an escape. As if it could see a path to freedom.

The larger part of him still voiced its wariness. So, he lingered along the shore where the water only just touched his feet. Waiting, thinking, deciding…


Now Kayla scooted towards me.

"What did you guys talk about in the Big House? Chiron told you about the disappearances…?"

"Yes." I tried to avoid looking in the direction of the woods. "We discussed the situation."

"And?" Austin spread his fingers on the table. "What's going on?"

I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want them to see my fear.

"I need time to think about it," I said. "Perhaps in the morning I'll have some of my godly powers back."

Austin leaned forward. "Is that how it works? Your strength comes back over time?"

"I- I think so." I tried to remember my years of servitude with Admetus and Laomedon, but I could barely conjure their names and faces. My contracting memory terrified me.

"I have to get stronger," I decided. "I must."

...

"There's no more we." Meg's voice was as acrid as the volcanic gas of Delphi. "Do what you need to do. That's my final order."

...

I heaved a sigh. "Athena, what would you do in my place? Something wise and practical, I suppose."

Athena offered no response. She stared calmly at the horizon, taking the long view, as always.

I didn't need the wisdom goddess to tell me what I must do. I should leave Camp Half-Blood immediately, before the campers woke. They had taken me in to protect me, and I had nearly got them all killed. I couldn't bear to endanger them any longer.

Leave, I told myself. Hurry.

Because I was a coward, I waited too long.


Regret and second thoughts were rampant, moments upon wading further into the water. It felt more chilling and heavy. He thought it was trying to drag him down, to drown him in its depths. Perhaps that was what this seemingly calm place intended to do, in order to preserve the warning of danger. However, again, that quiet voice inside him - so deeply buried and old yet so painfully familiar - spoke assurances and encouragement. It asked questions that sounded kind yet piercing, but not once did it demand as the other did.

Like the water, it offered a choice.

Are you sure you want to do this? Is this the path you wish to take?

With each answer, the small inklings of thought from that tiny fragment were almost gentle, seeming almost like bits of wisdom from within.

Once you begin, there will be no turning back. Everything will change.

The loud voice, so loud and strong in recent times, almost seemed to falter compared to the other. It protested and screamed at him to return to the safety he had known for so long. But that was fine, his decision had already been made.

Perhaps he had always known it, deep down where that small voice dwelled.

He was filled with fear yet certainty as the water pulled him further and deeper into itself.


"The other Oracles must be found and secured," I said. "I cannot do that unless I leave Camp Half-Blood. And I cannot risk anyone else's life."

Rachel sat on my other side. "You sound certain. Did you get a prophecy from the grove?"

I shuddered. "I fear so."

...

"I must leave the camp. The Triumvirate means to possess all the ancient Oracles. I have to stop them. Once I have defeated the former emperors… only then will I be able to face my old enemy Python and free the Oracle of Delphi. After that… if I survive… Zeus will restore me to Olympus."

Rachel tugged at a strand of her hair. "You know it's too dangerous to do all that alone, right?"

There once was a god named Apollo

Who plunged in a cave blue and hollow

Upon a three-seater

The bronze fire-eater

Was forced death and madness to swallow.

"I'm sorry about this." I pinched Meg's nose and clamped my mouth over hers. A slimy, unpleasant sensation.

I could not be deterred. Instead of exhaling, I inhaled, sucking the darkness from Meg's lungs.

...

I knelt next to Meg.

"Stay with me, Meg," I pleaded. "You're among friends now. You're in the Throne of Mnemosyne. Speak your prophecy!"

Meg lurched upright. Her hands gripped the sides of the chair as if a strong electric current had taken hold of her.

When she spoke, it was thankfully not in Trophonius' voice - just a deep neutral monotone worthy of Delphi itself:

The words that memory wrought are set to fire,

Ere new moon rises o'er the Devil's Mount.

The changeling lord shall face a challenge dire,

Till bodies fill the Tiber beyond count.

Yet southward must the sun now trace its course,

Through mazes dark to lands of scorching death

To find the master of the swift white horse

And wrest from him the crossword speaker's breath.

To westward palace must the Lester go;

Demeter's daughter finds her ancient roots.

The cloven guide alone the way does know,

To walk the path in thine own enemy's boots.

When three are known and Tiber reached alive,

'Tis only then Apollo starts to jive.

The prophecy had been exorcised.


Darkness was all around. A constant companion he had grown accustomed to, one that always followed him as he continued on. The water, so heavy and rigid at first, now flowed through his fingers as his body swam through its depths. Resistance that had him questioning the choice he had made now felt more like a growing recollection, a disguised knowledge he sought to ignore before this.

Images and sounds floated by, his eyes and ears catching the bursts of colour and movement. Voices, both new and old, whispered to him. So many different tones, whispers and shouts and songs and cries. To each and every being - he knew them to be living - that called, the core of his essence called out in kind. It yearned to reach them, to do something even as his body ignored them.


Meg's knuckles turned white on the grips of her swords. "What does she mean?" she muttered. "Hey, Magic Lady, what do you mean?"

The sorceress smiled. She no longer wore the crown of her birthright as a princess of Colchis, but at her throat a golden pendant still gleamed - the crossed torches of Hecate. "Shall I tell her, Apollo, or should you? Surely you know why I've brought you here."

She was the most brutal and power-hungry of Hecate's followers, and also the most formidable. Not only that but she was a demigod of ancient blood, the granddaughter of Helios himself, former Titan of the sun.

Which meant…

It all came to me at once, a realisation so horrible my knees buckled.

"Caligula's always had the same goal," I croaked. "He wants to be the centre of creation, the new god of the sun. He wants to supplant me, the way I supplanted Helios."

Medea smiled. "And it really couldn't happen to a nicer god."

...

Jason took me by the shoulders - not out of anger, or in a clinging way, but as a brother. "Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you're a god again, remember. Remember what it's like to be human."

"I promise."

...

He beamed at me. "Oh, Lester. What a gift Jupiter has given me!"

"Not much left of your godliness, is there?" he said. "Don't worry. Medea will coax it out of you. Then I'll take revenge on Zeus for you. Have some comfort in that."

"I- I don't want revenge."

"Of course you do! It will be wonderful, just wait and see… Well, actually, you'll be dead, but you'll have to trust me. I'll make you proud."

"Caesar," Medea called from her side of the dais, "perhaps we could begin soon?"

Annoyance flickered across Caligula's face. "Yes, yes, Medea. In a moment."


For the weeping, he wanted to dry their tears. For the wounded, he wanted to ease away their pain. For the angered, he wanted to soothe their hurt. For the joyful, he wished to join them as an equal.


As the former praetor and the emperor charged past each other, Jason met my eyes across the ruined throne room. His expression told me his plan with perfect clarity. Like me, he had decided that Piper McLean would not die tonight. For some reason, he had decided that I must live too.

He yelled again, "GO! Remember!"

I was slow, dumbstruck. Jason held my gaze a fraction of a second too long, perhaps to make sure that last word sank in: remember…

While Jason's back was turned, Caligula wheeled about. He threw his spear, driving its point between Jason's shoulder blades. Piper screamed. Jason stiffened, his blue eyes wide in shock.

...

Jason toppled from his steed. He hit the deck facedown, the spear still in his back, his gladius clattering from his hand.

...

Caligula stared at me across the chasm - giving me the same displeased scowl my father used to before inflicting one of his punishments: Now look what you've made me do.

"I warned you," Caligula said.

...

I watched as Caligula plucked out his spear, then drove it again into Jason's back, removing any last hope that our friend might still be alive.

"Fix him."

The force of the command pulled me forward, made me kneel at Jason's side. I put my hand on Jason's cold forehead, which only confirmed the obvious. "Meg, I cannot fix death. I wish I could."

"There's always a way," Piper said. "The physician's cure! Leo took it!"

I shook my head. "Leo had the cure ready at the moment he died," I said gently. "He went through many hardships in advance to get the ingredients. Even then, he needed Asclepius to make it. That wouldn't work here, not for Jason. I'm so sorry, Piper. It's too late."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "You don't care because you're a god. You'll go back to Olympus after you free the Oracles, so what does it matter? You're using us to get what you want, like all the other gods."

Piper pressed a hand on Jason's chest "What did he die for, Apollo? A pair of shoes ?"

Piper looked up, her eyes swollen and red. "And, Apollo? Don't come back. You hear me? Just- just go."

"Pipes," her father said. "It's not their-"

"GO!" she screamed.

...

All the way to the house, I heard Piper's sobs echoing off the dark cliffs.


That selfish part of him, once demanding and resistant, was smaller now. As he swam along, coming closer and closer to what could only be the final destination, the kind and gentle voice was stronger than before.

It felt... right. Like it was the voice he should have been listening to all along, his own voice.


"I will not be dissolved," I growled.

"Oh, Lester," she said. "You kind of will ."

...

The chains tightened further, forcing me to all fours.

...

"Let it begin!" Medea cried.

She began to chant.

...

I screamed.

...

I was Apollo, wasn't I? I… I was beautiful and people loved me. The world needed me!

Who needed old gods? Who cared about Apollo? Caligula was much more interesting! He was better suited to this modern world. He fitted. I did not. Why didn't I just let go? Then I could be at peace.

...

Pain is an interesting thing. You think you have reached your limit and you can't possibly feel more tortured. Then you discover there is still another level of agony. And another level after that.

I lost track of who I was, why I was fighting to stay alive. I wanted so badly to give up, just so the pain would stop.

Bronze upon gold.

East meets west.

Legions are redeemed.

Light the depths;

One against many,

Never spirit defeated.

Ancient words spoken,

Shaking old foundations.

Destroy the tyrant.

Aid the winged.

Under golden hills,

Great stallion's foal.

Harken the trumpets,

Turn red tides.

Enter stranger's home,

Regain lost glory.

"Hey." Meg turned in the seat in front of me. "We're going to make everything right."

I shook my head miserably. "What does that even mean? Caligula is heading north. Nero is still out there. We've faced three emperors, and defeated none of them. And Python-"

She bopped me on the nose, much harder than she had Baby Chuck.

"Ow!"

"Got your attention?"

"I- Yes."

"Then listen: You will get to the Tiber alive. You will start to jive. That's what the prophecy said, back in Indiana, right? It will make sense once we get there. You're going to beat the Triumvirate."

I blinked. "Is that an order?"

"It's a promise."

...

Meg was right.

I would defeat the emperors. I would free Delphi from Python's grasp. I would not allow those who had sacrificed themselves to do so for nothing.

Perhaps this quest had ended on a suspended fourth chord. We still had much to do.

But from now on I would be more than Lester. I would be more than an observer.

I would be Apollo.

I would remember.

Apollo faces death in Tarquin's tomb unless the doorway to the soundless god is opened by Bellona's daughter.


He was so close now, the thickness and weight of the water told him so. That hidden something inside, now just below the surface, was moments away from bursting free. To discover it was crucial to him. He had to know. Turning back would be a fool's choice at this point. He could only dive deeper.


Hazel spoke, calm and steady. "Guys, we fought these things in the battle. Don't let them scratch you."

"No scratches," I agreed. "Meg, hold them at bay. I'm going to try a song."

As soon as I announced my intentions, they howled and charged.

...

The eurynomos raked its hand across my midsection, just below my ukulele. The tip of its middle finger - barely, just barely - found flesh. Its claw sliced through my shirt and across my belly like a dull razor.

...

I wasn't a charmspeaker like Piper. But I was a musician, and surely Jason deserved a tribute.

After what had happened with the eurynomoi, I felt skittish about my ukulele, so I began to sing a capella.

The song wasn't really about me at all. It was 'The Fall of Jason Grace'.

I'm not sure how long I sang. When I finished the last line, the sky was fully dark.

...

Frank took my arm gently. "One foot in front of the other. That's the only way to do it."

...

"Well, Apollo," said Tarquin, purple coils of mist slithering from his eye sockets and into his mouth. "Neither of us have aged well, have we?"

...

Meg picked up her swords. "Fight or run, guys?"

"Oh, child," Tarquin said. "You can try to run, but soon enough you'll be fighting at my side with those wonderful blades of yours. As for Apollo… he's not going anywhere."

He curled his fingers. He was nowhere close to me, but my gut wound convulsed.

...

I screamed.

...

"Stop it!" Lavinia shrieked. She dropped from the balcony and landed at my side. "What are you doing to him?"

"Why, Lavinia," the king said, "I'm calling Apollo home!"

He grinned.

"Poor Lester would've been compelled to seek me out eventually, once the poison took hold of his brain. But getting him here so soon - this is a special treat!"

He clenched his bony fist tighter.

...

Harpocrates was unmoved. He bent his will towards me, burying me in hatred.

Alright! I pleaded. Kill me if you must. But I am sorry! I have changed!

...

If you let us destroy the fasces, I thought, that will free you. It will also hurt the emperors, yes?

I showed him a vision of Reyna and Meg cutting through the fasces with their swords, the ceremonial axes exploding.

Yes, Harpocrates thought back, adding a brilliant red tint to the vision.

I had offered him something he wanted.

...

I studied the soundless god.

Do what you want with me, I thought to him. Just spare my friends. Please.

...

They had left me with the starkest of choices: run away, let the Triumvirate win, and watch my mortal friends be destroyed, or free two bitter enemies and face the same fate as Jason Grace.

It was an easy decision.

I turned to Reyna and Meg and thought as clearly as I could: Destroy the fasces. Cut him free.

O son of Zeus the final challenge face

The tow'r of Nero two alone ascend

Dislodge the beast that hast usurped thy place

The son of Hades, cavern-runner's friend,

Must show the way unto the throne.

On Nero's own your lives now depend.


There was a mirror, embedded deep into the bottom of the depths - he had not thought there to be an end to this seemingly bottomless pit of water - where a coarse surface sat. It was unnaturally clear and shimmered with a light that didn't, couldn't, exist so far down. And in it, he saw himself.

Dirt and filth, a sort of muddy coat that seemed to be a dull red, clung to his body. It startled him and he tried to brush it off. Scratching and rubbing at the muck did nothing. No matter what he did, to no avail, he remained as darkened and filthy in the reflective glass. Yet when he averted his eyes to himself, there was not a trace of the inky substance on him.

A sliver of revelation steadily grew into comprehension as he returned his gaze to the mirror. His fingers brushed against the glass, drinking in the sight of an immaculate hand reflected as soiled and ruined. But the eyes, ones he had avoided looking at, were closed. His own were open but in the mirror, they had hidden themselves.

The figure, seeming nothing like his own and so weighed down by the dark coat covering them, almost appeared to be sleeping.


Lupa stood before the altar.

It is your time, she told me.

"My time," I said. "For what, exactly?"

She nipped the air in annoyance. To be Apollo. The pack needs you.

...

The pack is weak, she signalled with a glance towards the funeral pyre. Too many have died. When the enemy surrounds this place, you must show strength. You must summon help.

...

My eyes snapped open. "Help. As in godly help. You mean if I survive the tomb and- and defeat the soundless whatever-it-is, I might be able to summon godly help?"

Lupa made a rumbling sound deep in her chest. Finally, he understands. This will be the beginning. The first step to rejoining your own pack.

...

Rejoin the feast, she ordered. Tell them you have my blessing. Continue to act strong. It is how we start.

...

"I appreciate a good boon as much as the next person. But, if I'm going to contribute to this quest and not just cower in the corner, I need to know how -" my voice cracked - "how to be me again."

The vibration of the arrow felt almost like a cat purring, trying to soothe an ill human. ART THOU SURE THAT IS THY WISH?

...

The soundless god sent me one last image: me at an altar, making a sacrifice to the heavens. I interpreted that as an order: Make this worth it. Don't fail.

...

There had only ever been one choice. Deep down, I'd always known which god I had to call.

"Follow me," I told Ella and Tyson.

I ran for the temple of Diana.


Part of him remembered this, remembered it because he had been the one to lock it away himself.


Beware. Lupa brought me back to reality with a low snarl. The way is hard. You will face more sacrifices. Death. Blood.

"No." I met her eyes - a dangerous sign of challenge that surprised me as much as it did her. "No, I will succeed. I won't allow any more losses. There has to be a way."

...

I rose unsteadily. My hopelessness turned into boiling anger.

I howled, "NO!"

My cry echoed through the ravine. The emperors' retinue clattered to a stop. Hundreds of faces turned upward, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. I clambered down the hill, lost my footing, somersaulted, banged into a tree, staggered to my feet and kept going.

...

Commodus laughed.

"Single combat?" He grinned. "I love this idea!"

"I'll take you both," Frank offered. "You and Caligula against me. You win and make it through the tunnel, the camp is yours."

...

"Two against two!" I yelped, surprising even myself. "I'll fight!"

...

Frank looked horror-stricken.

...

"Apollo, no," he said. "I can handle this. Clear off!"

...

"Sorry, Frank," I said. "You won't face this alone."

...

Commodus punched me square in the chest. I staggered backwards and collapsed. A hit like that should have killed me.

...

While Commodus tried to tug his sword free, I charged and slammed into him.

...

Commodus tugged his own sword free of the tarmac. "All right, Apollo. This has been fun. But you need to die now."

He howled and charged, his voice booming back at him from the depths of the tunnel.

Echoes, I thought.

I ran for the Caldecott.

...

My first punch left a fist-size crater in the emperor's gold breastplate.

...

Off-balance, Commodus slashed wildly. I blocked his arm and punched him in the nose.

...

He barrelled towards me. I ducked underneath his arm and kicked him in the back, propelling him into a guardrail on the side of the tunnel. His forehead hit the metal with the clarity of a triangle.

...

Frank materialised in human form right next to me.

"If you really want to help," he said in a low voice, "hobble Commodus. I don't think I can hold them both."

...

Commodus charged at me once more. This time he was smart enough not to announce himself by howling. By the time I noticed him bearing down on me, it was too late.

He slammed his fist into my gut, the exact spot I didn't want to be hit. I collapsed in a moaning, boneless heap.

...

My line of vision was reduced to a blurry red cone, but I focused on Commodus' calves as he paced in front of me, thanking his adoring fans.

Strapped to the inside of his calf was a sheathed dagger.

...

My body screamed in protest as I stretched out my hand and grabbed the dagger. It slipped easily from its sheath - kept well oiled for a quick draw. Commodus didn't even notice. I stabbed him in the back of the left knee, then the right before he had even registered the pain.

...

Incredibly, Commodus struggled to his feet.

...

"SHIPS!" he croaked.

...

"FIRE!" Commodus groaned.

...

I only understood his order a heartbeat later, when Gregorix yelled, "SIGNAL THE YACHTS!"

...

Commodus gave me a ghastly smile. His eyes glittered with hatred.

I don't know where I found the strength, but I charged and tackled him. We hit the tarmac, my legs straddling his chest, my hands wrapped around his throat as they had been thousands of years before, the first time I killed him. This time, I felt no bittersweet regret, no lingering sense of love. Commodus fought, but his fists were like paper.

I let loose a guttural roar - a song with only one note: pure rage, and only one volume: maximum.

Under the onslaught of sound, Commodus crumbled to ash.

My voice faltered. I stared at my empty palms. I stood and backed away, horrified.

...

What had I done?

...

In my thousands of years of life, I'd never destroyed someone with my voice.


He knew not how much time had passed, only that this felt right.

Swimming back, along the path he thought he had come from, the voices steadily returned. And this time, their calls were heeded. This time, he allowed himself to reach them.

The wails of grief were soothed. Moans and groans of suffering grew silent. Anger was appeased with calm taking its place. Songs continued on and he joined them, listened wholeheartedly to them.


I rested my hand on Will's shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll be back by dawn."

His mouth trembled ever so slightly. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm the sun god," I said, trying to muster more confidence than I felt. "I always return at dawn."

...

Her eyes were puffy from crying. I assumed she was frightened, possibly in pain, but, when I knelt next to her, her first words were, "I'm so sorry."

I brushed a tear from the tip of her nose. "Why, dear Meg? You did nothing wrong. I failed you."

A sob caught in her throat. "You don't understand. That song you were singing. Oh, gods… Apollo, if I'd known-"

"Hush, now." My throat was so raw I could barely talk. The song had almost destroyed my voice. "You're just reacting to the grief in the music. Let's get you free."

...

Before we left, Josephine pulled me aside.

"Wish I was going with you, Sunny. I'll do my best to train your friend Calypso this morning, see if she can regain control over her magic. While you're gone, I'll feel better if you wear this."

She handed me an iron shackle.

"This is a griffin manacle," I said.

"No! I would never make a griffin wear a manacle."

"Yet you're giving me one. Don't prisoners wear these for house arrest?"

"That's not what it's for. This is the tracking device I've been working on."

...

"The idea was to make two ankle bracelets, but I didn't have time. I was going to send them off to -" she paused, clearly trying to control her emotions - "to find Georgina and bring her home. Since I can't do that, if you get in trouble, if you find her…" Jo pointed to a second indentation on the manacle. "This activates the homing beacon. It'll tell me where you are, and you'd better believe we'll send reinforcements."

...

"Very well." I fastened the shackle around my ankle. It fit snugly, but at least that way I could hide it under the hem of my jeans.

"Thank you." Jo pressed her forehead against mine. "Don't die."

...

"Wait!" I screamed, pulling an arrow from my quiver.

I didn't draw my bow. I didn't attack Caligula. Instead, I turned the arrow inward and pressed the point against my chest.

Caligula's smile evaporated. He examined me with thinly veiled contempt. "Lester… what are you doing?"

"Let my friends go," I said. "All of them. Then you can have me."

The emperor's eyes gleamed like a strix's. "And if I don't?"

I summoned my courage, and issued a threat I never could have imagined in my previous four thousand years of life.

"I'll kill myself."

...

Caligula narrowed his eyes. "You would never. You don't have a self-sacrificing bone in your body!"

"Let them go." I pressed the arrow against my skin, hard enough to draw blood. "Or you'll never be the sun god."

...

"Now, Lester, we both know you're not going to-"

He lunged with blinding speed, making a grab for the arrow. I'd been anticipating that. Before he could stop me, I plunged the arrow into my chest.

My bone marrow turned to lava. My lungs filled with hot wet sand. Blood soaked my shirt and I fell to my knees, gasping and dizzy. The world spun around me.

...

I knelt at the edge of the platform and stared into the fiery ichor.

"Helios," I murmured, "your imprisonment is over. Medea is dead."

The ichor churned and flashed. I felt the Titan's half-conscious anger.

...

"You have a right to be angry," I said. "But I remember you - your brilliance, your warmth. I remember your friendship with the gods and the mortals of the earth. I can never be as great a sun deity as you were, but every day I try to honour your memory - to remember your best qualities."

The ichor bubbled more rapidly.

"I will endure," I told him. "I will regain the sun chariot. As long as I drive it, you will be remembered. I will keep your old path across the sky steady and true. But you know, more than anyone, that the fires of the sun don't belong on the earth. They weren't meant to destroy the land, but to warm it! Caligula and Medea have twisted you into a weapon. Don't allow them to win! All you have to do is rest. Return to the ether of Chaos, my old friend. Be at peace."

The ichor turned white-hot.

Then the fiery essence fluttered and shimmered like a pool full of moth wings - and the ichor vanished. The heat dissipated.

...

"Meg." I sat up, trying not to wince. "Meg, you're not responsible for me getting hurt."

She twisted the ring on her right hand, then the one on her left, as if they'd become too small for her fingers, "I just thought… if I could kill him…" She wiped her nose. "Like in some stories. You kill the master, and you can free the people he's turned."

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

"You're talking about Tarquin," I said. "You jumped into the throne room because… you wanted to save me?"

"Duh," she muttered, without any heat.

...

"Oh, Meg." I shook my head. "That was a crazy, senseless stunt, and I love you for it. But don't beat yourself up. Pranjal's medicine bought me some extra time. And you did, too, of course, with your cheese-grating skills and your magical chickweed. You've done everything you could. When we summon godly help, I can ask for complete healing. I'm sure I'll be as good as new. Or at least as good as a Lester can be."

Meg tilted her head. "How can you know? Is this god going to give us three wishes or something?"

...

"I don't know, Meg," I confessed. "You're right. I can't be sure everything will be okay. But I can promise you I'm not giving up. We've come this far. I'm not going to let a belly scratch stop us from defeating the Triumvirate."

She sniffled, wiping her upper lip with her knuckle. "I don't want to lose somebody else."

...

"Come here." I held out my arms. "Please?"

Meg hesitated. Still sniffling, she rose from her bed and trudged towards me. She fell into my hug like I was a comfy mattress. I grunted, surprised by how solid and heavy she was. But I didn't mind.

...

I glanced up through a haze of pain.

In front of me, Reyna and Meg stood shoulder to shoulder, facing down the god.

They sent him their own flurry of images.

Reyna pictured me singing 'The Fall of Jason Grace' to the legion, officiating at Jason's funeral pyre with tears in my eyes, then looking goofy and awkward and clueless as I offered to be her boyfriend, giving her the best, most cleansing laugh she'd had in years.

Meg pictured the way I'd saved her in the myrmekes' lair at Camp Half-Blood, singing about my romantic failures with such honesty it rendered giant ants catatonic with depression. She envisioned my kindness to Livia the elephant, to Crest, and especially to her, when I'd given her a hug in our room at the café and told her I would never give up trying.

In all their memories, I looked so human… but in the best possible ways.

...

"A large-scale assault would be suicide. Nero is expecting one. He's hoping for one. He's prepared to cause massive collateral damage."

...

As much as I distrusted Luguselwa, I believed what she said.

...

He liked drama. He would welcome chaos, screaming crowds, countless civilian deaths. This was a man who burned people alive to illuminate his garden parties.

"There has to be another way," I decided. "I won't let any more innocents suffer on my account."

Sally Jackson crossed her arms. In spite of the grim matters we were discussing, she smiled. "You've grown up."

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "The last time you were here, you were so lost. So… well, if you don't mind me saying-"

"Pathetic," I blurted out. "Whiny, entitled, selfish. I felt terribly sorry for myself."

...

"But now," Sally said, sitting back again, "you're more… human, I suppose."

...

Sally Jackson meant the term in the same way Jason had - as something worth aspiring to.

"Thank you," I managed.

...

Next to me, Austin fingered the keys of his saxophone. I could tell he, too, was worried about the soundtrack.

"Wish it was Miles Davis," he said.

"That would be nice."

"Hey, if we don't get out of this-"

"None of that talk," I chided.

"Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I'm glad we had some time together. Like… time time."

I knew what he meant.

I smiled and squeezed his shoulder, not trusting myself to speak.

...

"Meg," I said. "There's only one person here you need to listen to: yourself. Trust yourself."

I pulled her gold rings from my pocket. She recoiled when she saw them, but I pressed them into her hands. "You're stronger than he is."

...

"I…" My voice failed me. "Meg, I have to-"

"I know." She looked away long enough to wipe her cheek. "You have to do this next part on your own, huh?"

...

"I must do this alone," I agreed.

"How?"

I shook my head, wishing I had an unquestionable answer. "I guess I have to trust that… that I won't screw up."

...

She forced a smile. After a few more moments of putting salve on my wounds, she said, "So… this is goodbye?" She swallowed that last word.

I tried to find my voice. "I- I will find you, Meg. Afterwards. Assuming…"

"No screw-ups."

I made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "Yes. But either way…"

She nodded.

"Just come back to me, dummy. That's an order."


His core, his heart and soul, filled with a warmth he could not describe. A sense of completeness grew to fill the void he had never realised was there.

Beneath all the lies he had buried himself under, this was what he had always known inside to be true.

That shining, golden figure who cared for naught but himself... It was but a mask. One had no need for, not anymore. Fear, a kind that he had been chafing under for so long, began to fade. Slowly but surely, those burdens weighing upon him fell away, one by one.

As he swam further upward, his reflection in the mirror - yet to fade away after he had left - began to wake and cracks in the dark covering grew. With the slightest twitch of stirring, bits of hardened dirt crumbled and revealed the glimmerings of a precious gold beneath.


I began to chant, invoking my old powers as the god of plagues. This time, the words came to me. I didn't know why.

I felt an itchy sensation of sickness curling from my own fingers and into the projectile.

I could feel the magic taking hold.

I finished chanting. Odious green mist now wreathed the arrow.

...

"The plague arrow is ready!" I announced. "We need to shoot it into the Colossus' ear!"

...

Once the crowd had dispersed, Chiron gave me his bow. "Make the shot."

I stared at the massive composite recursive, which probably had a draw weight of a hundred pounds. "This is meant for the strength of a centaur, not a teen mortal!"

"You created the arrow," he said. "Only you can shoot it without succumbing to the disease. Only you can hit such a target."

...

"Apollo," Chiron said, "you must do this. You are the lord of archery and illness."

...

I ran down the beach until I had a line of sight on the statue's left ear.

...

I pulled the plague arrow from my quiver and nocked it in the bowstring.

...

I drew the bow. My muscles burned as if boiling water was being poured over my shoulders. The plague arrow did not make me pass out, but its fumes were disorientating. The warp of the shaft made my calculations impossible. The wind was against me. The arc of the shot would be too high.

Yet I aimed, exhaled and released the bowstring.

...

Light…

A shiver rolled down my back. I remembered something Marcus Aurelius used to tell his son, a quote that later became famous in his Meditations book: Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what's left and live it properly. What doesn't transmit light creates its own darkness.

Commodus hated that piece of advice. He found it suffocating, self-righteous, impossible. Commodus intended to live forever. He would drive away the darkness with the roar of crowds and the glitter of spectacle.

But he generated no light.

Not like the Waystation. Emmie and Josephine lived properly with what time they had left, creating light for everyone who came here. No wonder Commodus hated them. No wonder he was so bent on destroying this threat to his power.

And, Apollo, above all, was the god of light.

"Commodus." I drew myself up to my full height. "This is the only deal. You will let your hostages go. You will leave here empty-handed and never return."

The emperor laughed. "That would sound more intimidating coming from a god, not a zitty adolescent."

...

They didn't fear me. Right now, that was fine.

...

"I am still Apollo." I spread my arms. "Last chance to leave of your own accord."

I detected a flicker of doubt in the emperor's eyes. "What will you do - kill me? Unlike you, Lester, I am immortal. I cannot die."

"I don't need to kill you." I stepped forward to the edge of the dining table. "Look at me closely. Don't you recognise my divine nature, old friend?"

...

"My friends," I told the others, "I want you to avert your eyes. I am about to reveal my true godly form."

...

Commodus scoffed. "You're a pathetic child who has been dragged through the darkness. That darkness is still in your mind. I see the fear in your eyes. This is your true form, Apollo! You're a fraud!"

Apollo. He had called me by my name.

I saw the terror he was trying to hide, and also his sense of awe. I remembered what Trophonius told me: Commodus would send servants into the caverns for answers, but he would never go himself.

I had survived a journey he would never dare take.

"Behold," I said.

Commodus and his men could have looked away. They didn't.

...

I became pure light.

...

"Resist!" Herophile knelt at my side. "Apollo, you must resist!"

"You have taken my place," she said. "Use that!"

...

I gazed across the rows and columns of stone blocks, now all blank, as if waiting for a new challenge. The prophecy wasn't complete.

Maybe if I could find a way to finish it… would it make a difference?

It had to. Jason had given his life so I could make it this far. My friends had risked everything. I could not simply give up. To free the Oracle, to free Helios from this Burning Maze… I had to finish what we'd started.

...

I was Apollo, the god of prophecy. It was time for me to be my own Oracle.

...

Larry reached the rostrum and set down the duffel bag. He rummaged out the first gift and handed it to me with a grin. "It's a new bow!"

My first thought: Oh, cool. I need a new bow.

Then I looked more carefully at the weapon in my hands, and I squealed in disbelief. "This is mine!"

Meg snorted. "Of course it is. They just gave it to you."

"No, I mean it's mine mine! Originally mine, from when I was a god!"

...

I drew the string with no trouble at all. Either my strength was godlier than I realised, or the bow recognised me as its rightful owner. Oh, yes. I could do some damage with this beauty.

"Thank you," I said.

...

I worked as fast as I could. My hands were surprisingly steady. The medical knowledge came back out of instinct. I didn't think about the grave injuries I was looking at, nor the amount of blood… I just did the work.

Tourniquet. Sterilise.

"Cauterise," I mumbled to myself. "I need-"

My right hand burst into flame.

...

I sealed the stumps of Lu's poor wrists, slathered them with healing ointment, then rebandaged them properly.

...

From the floor above me, two Germani rushed into the stairwell and charged me with spears levelled.

Now lacking even Gunther's sword, I thrust out my free hand, shut my eyes and screamed.

My fingers burned. Flames roared. The two Germani yelled in terror, then were silent.

When I opened my eyes, my hand was smoking but unharmed. Flames licked at the peeling paint on the walls. On the steps above me were two piles of ash where the Germani had been.

...

I gasped for breath, making a grabby-hand gesture at Rachel. "Give me the fasces."

...

Lu scowled. "Apollo, are you sure you can destroy it? I mean, without killing yourself?"

"No and no," I said.

Rachel stared into the air, as if reading a prophecy written in the dancing lights of the disco ball. "I can't see the outcome," she said. "But he has to try."

I took the fasces, struggling not to collapse under its weight.

...

"Cover me," I told the ladies.

...

I gripped the fasces with both hands and tried to prise it apart. The golden bundle of rods gloves brighter and warmer, illuminating the bones and red flesh of my fingers, but it didn't budge.

"Come on," I muttered, trying again, hoping for a burst of godly strength. "If you need another immortal life as a sacrifice, I'm right here!"

...

A thought came to me - or maybe something deeper than a thought, a sort of instinctive recognition. Like Caligula, Nero had always wanted to be the new sun god. He'd designed his giant golden Colossus to look like my body with his head on it. This fasces wasn't just his symbol of power and immortality - it was his claim to godhood.

What had he asked me earlier…? Are you worthy of being a god?

That was the central question. He believed he made a better deity than I did. Perhaps he was right, or perhaps neither of us was worthy. There was one way to find out. If I couldn't destroy the fasces myself, maybe with a little godly help…


She was waiting for him just ahead, his sister. Not once did she fail to find him, though she clearly hadn't gone after him. He could hardly fault her for staying on the shore, as the water was still somewhere she would rather not be.

But he wasn't sure if she would welcome him back with a sigh or an admonishment. This alone made him linger just short of the shallows, where his head would breach the surface for the first time since the beginning of his dive so long ago. Still, she waited there, as though she could convince him to show himself just by staring into the water. And evidently, she very well could do just that. His sister was fierce after all.


"O protector of Rome! O Diana, goddess of the hunt! Hear our plea and accept our offering!"

...

In the doorway, stood a girl who looked about twelve, her eyes silver-yellow, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed for the hunt in a shimmering grey frock and leggings, a white bow in her hand. Her face was beautiful, serene and as cold as the winter moon.

She nocked a silver arrow. The young girl aimed at Tarquin.

"Foul undead thing," she said, her voice hard and bright with power. "When a good woman puts you down, you had best stay down."

Her arrow lodged in the centre of Tarquin's forehead, splitting his frontal bone. The tendrils of purple gas sputtered and dissipated. His gold crown, the silver arrow and Hazel's sword all dropped to the floor.

...

I grinned at the newcomer. "Hey, Sis."

...

"Oh, no, you don't." My sister's voice woke me.

Life surged back into me. Diana's face came into focus.

"H-how long was I out?" I croaked.

"Roughly three seconds," she said. "Now, get up, drama queen."


Rising with water running over his hair and face, he greeted her. Those sharp and cold eyes had widened upon his emergence, lips parted from the stern smile into something softer, something like shock. No, not shock, it was surprise bordering on awe. He stood, still submerged from the waist down, water now lapping gently at him rather than pulling him deeper. His mind hadn't registered how it was no longer unnaturally heavy or stiff, that it was now as fluid to the touch as it always looked from afar.


"We must wait for the final battle," he announced. "The worst is yet to come."

"Hasn't he proved himself already?" Artemis demanded. "He's suffered more in these last few months than even you could have expected! Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him, dear Father, he's learned it!"

Zeus glowered. "You do not understand all the forces at work here, Daughter. Apollo must face the final challenge, for all our sakes."

...

My first surprise: I woke.

People who have been dissolved into Chaos typically don't do that.

Second surprise: my sister Artemis was leaning over me, her smile as bright as the harvest moon. "Took you long enough," she said.

I rose with a sob and hugged her tight.


His sister, with her now softer and awed eyes, beckoned him closer. He obeyed and stepped with ease out of the water's grasp, small rivers of it flowing off as though breaking through a thin mist. She placed her hands upon his shoulders, gaze focused and almost glowing. He felt she was examining him in some way, staring and taking in every detail she deemed important. After a silent moment, she seemed satisfied. More than satisfied, judging by that small but beaming smile on her lips.

Her voice was a warm whisper, almost a figment of something on the wind, but he heard it. A smile of his own appeared on his face and - with a gentle but heartfelt glow that hadn't come from him in so long - he wholeheartedly embraced her.

There you are, Brother.

Those words… His sister, his dearest sister, had known all along. She had been waiting for him to return, even when he had not known he had been lost himself. For all those years of hiding behind the facade of a stranger, she waited for him to face her as himself once again.


The emperor stopped in front of me, his eyes flickering with power.

"You lose," he said. "Give it to me."

"Take it if you can." I began to glow myself.

Radiance intensified around me, as it had months ago in Indianapolis, but slower this time, building to a crescendo. The fasces pulsed in sympathy, beginning to superheat. Nero snarled and grabbed the handle of the axe.

To our mutual surprise, the strength of my grip was equal to his. We played tug-of-war, swinging the blade back and forth, trying to kill each other, but neither of us could win. The glow around us increased like a feedback loop - bleaching the carpet under our feet, whitening the black marble columns.

...

"You - cannot - take - it, Lester!" Nero said through clenched teeth, pulling with all his might.

"I am Apollo," I said, tugging the other direction. "God of the sun. And I - revoke - your - divinity!"

The fasces cracked in two - the shaft shattering, the rods and golden blade exploding like a firebomb. A tsunami of flames washed over me, along with thousands of years of Nero's pent-up rage, fear and insatiable hunger - the twisted source of his power.

...

I stood my ground, but Nero hurtled backwards and landed on the carpet, his clothes smouldering, his skin mottled with burns.

My glow started to fade.

...

The crawl space ended abruptly. I found myself peering down from the lip of a small crevice, like an air vent. Below me spread an enormous cavern - the lair of Python.

...

I had to hurry. I had one shot at defeating my old enemy.

...

Deep breath. This was for Meg. This was for Jason. This was for everyone who had fought and sacrificed to drag my sorry mortal butt from quest to quest for the last six months, just to get me this chance at redemption.

I kicked forward, spilling head first out of the crack in the ceiling. I flipped in mid-air, aimed… and fired my arrow at Python's head.

...

"And here we are." His voice came from all around me, each word a drill bit set against my joints.

...

I nocked another arrow. "Slither away, snake. While you still can."

...

Getting humiliated is only the beginning, not the end. Sometimes you need a second shot, and a third, and a fourth.

...

"I see," he grumbled. "Won't go quietly. That's fine. We can make this hurt."

...

"Ah… Delphi speaks. Would you like to know your future, Lester? It's very short."

I watched, too horrified to move, as Python breathed in the spirit of Delphi, twisting and poisoning its ancient power until he spoke in a booming voice, his words carrying the inescapable weight of destiny:

"Apollo will fall-"

"NO!" Rage filled my body. My arms steamed. My hands glowed. I fired my fourth arrow and pierced Python's hide just above his new right leg.

The monster stumbled, his concentration broken. Clouds of gas dissipated around him.

He roared, "NEVER INTERRUPT A PROPHECY!"

Then he barrelled towards me like a hungry freight train.

...

"You cannot escape your destiny!" Python gloated. "I have spoken, so must it be!"

...

"I won't hide," I muttered. "I won't cower. That's not who I will be."

...

Zeus didn't work that way. He would not save me any more than Nero had saved Meg. I had to let go of that fantasy.

I had to save myself.

...

DIEST THOU NOT! the Arrow of Dodona implored me. THE TIME HAS COME!

"Wh-?" I tried to wheeze out a question, but I had too little air in my lungs.

THE PROPHECY WHICH PYTHON SPAKE, said the arrow. IF THOU MUST FALL, THEN SO YOU SHALL, BUT FIRST, USETH THOU ME.

The arrow tilted in my hand, pointing towards Python's enormous face.

...

I can't, I thought. No.

THOU MUST. The arrow sounded resigned, determined.

"No," I croaked, possibly the last word I would ever be able to speak.

...

FARE THEE WELL, FRIEND, said the arrow. APOLLO WILL FALL, BUT APOLLO MUST RISE AGAIN.

With those last words, conveying all the power of his ancient grove, the arrow closed the reptile's prophecy.

Python came within range, and with a sob of despair, I jabbed the Arrow of Dodona up to its fletching in his enormous eye.

...

I struggled to my feet.

...

I knew what I had to do.

...

"PYTHON!"

My voice shook the cavern.

Stalactites crashed around us. I imagined, somewhere far above us, Greek villagers, freezing in their tracks as my voice echoed from the ruins of the holy site, olive trees shuddering and losing their fruit.

The Lord of Delphi had awoken.

...

"You will not live."

"I'm fine with that," I said. "As long as you die, too."

...

My body shone with brilliant light. With one final defiant shout, I pulled my enemy past the point of no return. The bulk of his coils spilled into the crevasse.

The prophecy came true.

Apollo fell, and Python fell with me.

...

We fell even further, into the Grand Canyon crevasse of this horror world - to the deepest point of the deepest realm of creation.

...

By that point, I was no longer Lester Papadopoulos. I was not Apollo. I'm not sure who or what I was.

...

With a combination of horror and fascination, I realised I was standing on the brink of Chaos.

...

He stumbled towards me, hissing and half-blind. "Destroy you!"

He charged, bit me around the waist and barrelled forward, intent on pushing me into oblivion. I couldn't stop his momentum. I could only shuffle and twist so that when we hit the edge, Python tumbled over first. I clawed desperately at the rock, grabbing the rim as Python's full weight almost yanked me in half.

We hung there, suspended over the void by nothing but my trembling fingers, Python's maw clamped around my waist.

I could feel myself being torn in two, but I couldn't let go.

...

Somehow, I managed to bend one leg. I kneed Python in the chin.

He grunted. I kneed him again, harder. Python groaned. He tried to say something, but his mouth was full of Apollo. I struck him once more, so hard I felt his lower jaw crack.

He lost his grip and fell.

He had no final words - just a look of half-blind reptilian horror as he plummeted into Chaos and burst into a cloud of purple fizz.


He could not help but reply.

Thank you.

Nothing more needed to be said. She already knew. They both did.


"Have you learned?" she asked.

"Yes," I said miserably. "Too late, but I get it now."

Styx's dark eyes studied me.

"Hold on to that, then," she said.

"What, the rock?" I murmured. "Or the lesson?"

Styx made a sound that did not belong at the brink of Chaos: she chuckled with genuine amusement.

"I suppose you'll have decide," With that, she dissolved into smoke, which drifted upward towards the airy climes of Erebos.

...

It wasn't about how loudly you swore your oath, or what sacred words you used. It was about whether or not you meant it. And whether your promise was worth making.

...

Hold on, I told myself. To both the rock and the lesson.

My arms seemed to become more substantial. My body felt more real. The lines of light wove together until my form was a mesh of solid gold.

Was it just a last hopeful hallucination, or did I actually pull myself up?


In the mirror, far below the surface of the water, the dark figure was no longer so. Sun-kissed golden hair cascaded like a silken curtain down the back of a slender body, ends flickering back and forth, almost akin to the tips of flames. Unblemished skin was beaming with health, undoubtedly soft to the touch. Despite the years of filth that had clung to him, the boy was gorgeous and shone with what many would have called innocence.

His eyes were open, now awake from the long slumber of being forgotten. They were beautiful and bright, as precious as a crystal, with light shining from within.


The gods awaited.

...

They had all turned to look at me standing in the doorway.

...

I caught Artemis' eye. She nodded.

That gave me just the shot of confidence I needed. I strode into the room. To my great relief, my stature grew with every step. Just the right size, I took my old throne, directly across the hearth from my sister, with Ares on my right and Hephaestus on my left.

I met the eyes of each god in turn.

...

Zeus simply studied me, his eyes stormy under his bushy black eyebrows.

...

"You have returned," he noted.

"Yes, Father." I mustered a smile and scanned the other gods. "So, who won the betting pool?"

Next to me, Hephaestus at least had the good manners to shift uncomfortably in his seat, though of course he was always uncomfortable. Athena shot a withering look at Hermes as if to say, I told you that was a bad idea.

"Hey, man," Hermes said. "That was just something to keep our nerves under control. We were worried about you!"

Ares snorted. "Especially because of the way you were fumbling along down there. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did." His face turned red, as if he'd just realised he was speaking aloud. "Uh… I mean, good job, man. You came through."

"So you lost a bundle," I summed up.

Ares cursed under his breath.

"Athena won the pot." Hermes rubbed his back pocket, as if his wallet were still hurting.

"Really?" I asked.

Athena shrugged. "Wisdom. It comes in handy."

...

"So…" I spread my hands, signalling that I was ready to hear whatever: compliments, insults, constructive criticism.

On the other side of the room, Dionysus drummed his fingers on his leopard-skin-patterned armrests. Dionysus was still in his slovenly Mr D guise, which annoyed Aphrodite, who sat next to him. I could tell from her body language that she wanted to squirm out of her Oscar de la Renta midi.

Given Dionysus' exile at Camp Half-Blood, he was rarely allowed to visit Olympus. When he did, he was usually careful not to speak unless spoken to. Today he surprised me.

"Well, I think you did a marvellous job," he offered. "I think, in your honour, any god who is currently being punished with a stint on Earth ought to be pardoned immediately -"

"No," Zeus snapped.

Dionysus slumped back with a dejected sigh.

I couldn't blame him for trying.

...

Demeter had been weaving wheat stalks into new drought-resistant varieties, as she often did while listening to our deliberations, but now she set aside her basket. "I agree with Dionysus. Apollo should be commended."

Her smile was warm.

...

"He made a wonderful slave to my daughter," Demeter continued. "True, it took him a while to adjust, but I can forgive that. If any of you need a slave in the future for your demigod children, I recommend Apollo without hesitation."

...

"Thanks?" I said.

She blew me a kiss.

...

Queen Hera lifted her veil. As I'd seen in my dream, her eyes were red and swollen from crying, but when she spoke, her tone was as hard as bronze.

She glared at her husband. "At least Apollo did something."

"Not this again," Zeus rumbled.

"My chosen," Hera said. "Jason Grace. Your son. And you-"

"I didn't kill him, woman!" Zeus thundered. "That was Caligula!"

"Yes," Hera snapped. "And at least Apollo grieved. At least he got vengeance."

Much to my shock, when Hera met my eyes, her gaze wasn't hostile. She seemed to be looking for solidarity, sympathy, even.

...

"Whatever the case," Zeus grumbled, "it does appear that after two weeks, Apollo's fix is permanent. Python is truly gone. The Oracles are free. The Fates are once again able to spin their thread without encumbrance."

...

He had said it appeared my fix was permanent. That implied Zeus wasn't sure. I suspected that when I fell to the edge of Chaos, Zeus had not been able to watch. There were limits to even his far sight. He did not know exactly what had happened, how I had defeated Python, how I'd come back from the brink.

I caught a look from Athena, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, Father," I said. "Python is gone. The Oracles are free. I hope that meets your approval."

...

"I am satisfied," Zeus pronounced.

The gods let out a collective sigh.

...

Somehow, though, I didn't feel relieved to be off Zeus' hook. In fact, I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Super," I said.

"Yes," Zeus agreed. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Welcome back to godhood, my son. All has gone according to my plan. You have done admirably. You are forgiven and restored to your throne!"

There followed a smattering of polite applause from the other deities.

Artemis was the only one who looked genuinely happy. She even winked at me. Wow.

...

"Well, then." Zeus scanned the room. "Council is dismissed."

The Olympians popped out of existence one after the other - back to whatever godly mischief they'd been managing. Artemis gave me a reassuring nod, then dissolved into silvery light.

That left only Zeus and me.

My father coughed into his fist. "I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo."

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

"But you must understand," Zeus continued, "only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way… regrettable, but necessary. You have done me proud."

Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt.

...

You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out ugly him. Meg could never have changed Nero, any more than I could change Zeus. I could only try to be different from him. Better. More… human. And to limit the time I spent around him to as little as possible.

I nodded. "I understand, Father."

Zeus seemed to understand that what I understood was not perhaps the same thing he understood, but he accepted the gesture, I suppose because he had little choice.

"Very well. So… welcome home."

I rose from my throne. "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

I dissolved into golden light.

...

The welcome I received at Camp Half-Blood was uproarious and beautiful.

"LESTER!" the campers chanted.

"LESTER!"

"LESTER?!"

"LESTER!"

...

"Hello!" I cried, accepting group hugs that threatened to deteriorate into stampedes. "Yes, it's me! Yep, I made it back to Olympus!"

...

Chiron looked enormously proud of his trainees - and of me, as if I were one of them.

"You did well, Apollo," he said, gripping my shoulder like the affectionate father I'd never had. "You are always welcome here at camp."

Ugly weeping would not have been appropriate for a major Olympian god, so that's exactly what I did.

...

I found Dionysus sitting glumly on the porch of the Big House, sipping a Diet Coke. I sat down across from him at the pinochle table.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "it appears some of us do get happy endings."

...

"You will have your happy ending, Brother." I told Dionysus.

He studied me. "You speak as the god of prophecy?"

"No." I smiled. "Just as someone with faith."

"Surely not faith in our father's wisdom."

I laughed. "Faith in our ability to write our own stories, regardless of what the Fates throw at us. Faith that you will find a way to make wine out of your sour grapes."

"How deep," Dionysus muttered, though I detected a faint smile at the corners of his mouth. He gestured to his game table. "Pinochle, perhaps? At that, at least, I know I can dominate you."

I stayed with him that afternoon, and he won six games. He only cheated a little.

...

Leo was teaching homeless kids shop skills at a local shelter.

That's amazing," I said.

He grinned. "Yeah. Bunch of kids like me, you know? They never had much. Least I can show them somebody cares. Plus, some of them are excellent mechanics."

"Festus!" Leo said. "A bronze dragon makes the best mobile shop. Most of the kids just see him as a truck, with the Mist and all, but a few of them… they know what's up."

...

For Frank Zhang, like the rest of us, the future was open for business.

He brightened. "Oh, and check this out, Apollo!"

He swirled his purple praetor's cloak like he was about to turn into a vampire bat (which Frank was fully capable of doing). Instead, the cloak simply turned into an oversize sweater wrap. "I figured it out!"

...

"Piper is a tough young lady," I said. "But yes… Jason. He was the best of us."

No one argued with that.

"By the way," I said, "your mother is doing well, Percy. I just saw her and Paul. Your little sister is entirely too adorable. She never stops laughing."

He brightened. "I know, right? Estelle is awesome. I just miss my mom's baking."

"I might be able to help with that." As I had promised Sally Jackson, I teleported a plate of her fresh-baked blue cookies straight into my hands.

"Dude!"

...

I told her what had happened with Nero. I told her about Jason's funeral.

She hugged her arms.

"That's good," she said. "I'm glad Camp Jupiter did right by him. You did right by him."

"I don't know about that," I said.

She laid a hand on my arm. "You haven't forgotten. I can tell."

...

"No," I said. "I won't forget. The memory is part of me now."

...

Meg did a double take when she saw me. Her face split in a grin.

"You're back," she noted.

I smiled. "You're sunburned."

"Come here," she ordered.

Her commands no longer held force, but I went to her anyway. She hugged me tight.

...

"Hey, cellmate!" Lu grinned.

She got up and wrapped me in a bear hug.

"You look well," I said, pulling away.

Lu laughed. "I've got my Sapling here. I've got a home. I'm a regular old mortal again, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

...

I looked over at Meg, who was wiping a tear from her eye. "You can't stay, I guess," she said.

I took her hand. "Dear Meg."

...

"I cannot solve mortal problems with a snap of my fingers. I see that you don't want a reward. But you will always be my friend. And if you ever need me, even just to talk, I'll be here."

Her mouth twitched. "Thanks. That's good. But… actually, I would be okay with a unicorn."

I laughed, snapping my fingers, and a unicorn appeared on the hillside below us, whinnying and scratching the ground with its gold-and-pearl hooves.

She threw her arms around me. "Thanks. You'll still be my friend, too, right?"

"As long as you'll still be mine," I said.

She thought about this. "Yeah. I can do that."

...

At last, as the sun went down, Meg seemed to understand it was time for me to leave.

"You'll come back?" she asked.

"Always," I promised. "The sun always comes back."


As his image began to fade, glass of the mirror becoming a blank slate once more, a small yet beaming smile came upon a gentle face, golden eyes turned up towards the surface where she had found him again.


Any time you take aim and prepare to fire your best shot, any time you seek to put your emotions into a song or poem, know that I am smiling on you.

We are friends now.

Call on me. I will be there for you.


References/Credits:

Section 1: Blood of Olympus, Chapter 51; The Hidden Oracle, Chapter 1.

Section 2: The Hidden Oracle, Chapters 12, 33 & 38.

Section 3: The Hidden Oracle, Chapter 38; The Dark Prophecy, Chapters 35 & 40.

Section 4: The Burning Maze, Chapters 16, 23 & 31.

Section 5: The Burning Maze, Chapters 33 & 34.

Section 6: The Burning Maze, Chapters 41, 42 & 47.

Section 7: The Tyrant's Tomb, Chapters 4, 5, 7, 17 & 29.

Section 8: The Tyrant's Tomb, Chapters 10, 14, 30 & 34.

Section 9: The Tyrant's Tomb, Chapter 10, 35, 36 & 37.

Section 10: The Hidden Oracle, Chapters 22 & 27; The Dark Prophecy, Chapter 20; The Burning Maze, Chapters 31, 32 & 44; The Tyrant's Tomb, Chapters 20 & 30; The Tower of Nero, Chapters 5, 27, 29 & 32.

Section 11: The Hidden Oracle, Chapter 37; The Dark Prophecy, Chapter 39; The Burning Maze, Chapter 42; The Tyrant's Tomb, Chapter 42; The Tower of Nero, Chapter 21, 24 & 31.

Section 12: The Tyrant's Tomb Chapters 34 & 39.

Section 13: The Tower of Nero, Chapters 31 & 35.

Section 14: The Tower of Nero, Chapters 31, 32, 33, 34 & 35.

Section 15: The Tower of Nero, Chapters 35, 36, 37, 38 & 39.

Section 16: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 39.