Well, the final book is officially out! We've gotten what may very well be our last insight into the world of Percy Jackson, folks... Psh, I'm not sad at all. *wipes away a stray tear* Ah, all the BoO-headcanon fics I had planned that will never be...

Anyway, I may not have met my self-imposed deadline (let's be real, I knew I wasn't going to, heh) but it's still close-ish... Besides, I haven't started reading BoO yet, so it totally counts. :P

(No, but really, I haven't read BoO yet because [among other reasons] I'm using it as an incentive to get this story [and War and Memories] finished, and because I'm not prepared my babiiiies I don't want to have to read the last new material about you. What if one of you dies? What if many of you die oh goooooooods... Heh. Point is, STILL NO SPOILERS PLEASE. NO SPOILERS UNTIL I POST A FIC THAT CONTAINS BoO SPOILERS ITSELF [or mentions that I've finished it] BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO KNOW, AHHHH. Okay, thanks. :))

Oh, and I ended up splitting up the final battle yet again because there's just so much to get through, so there are still two chapters left after this one . . . but they really are almost finished, so expect them out shortly!

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HoO. Oh, and I may or may not have taken some creative liberties with Archimedes' death ray in this chapter . . . but hey, they're demigods, right? Anything's possible. ;)

Part XXII

Percy stared down at his sword in shock. Sure, the fourth monster was a hallucination . . . but he was used to that. The really weird part was, he'd known it was a hallucination. And—and he'd ignored it. It hadn't affected his fighting at all. But . . . how had he known? What the Hades—?

He didn't have time to think about it, though, as a hellhound came leaping up behind him. If it weren't for its reflection in Riptide, it would have taken a nasty bite out of him. Instead, Percy took it out with a quick swipe of his sword and surveyed the ranks of monsters. As he stared, he thought back to the night he'd kept watch on the Argo II and had fought off the harpies while ignoring other monsters that had appeared as hallucinations. He'd distinguished them from the harpies because of the way they hadn't quite matched up to reality. The sunlight hadn't reflected off of them correctly, or they'd looked the slightest bit fuzzy . . .

Now, Percy focused in on the monsters around him, and his ADHD kicked in, sorting hallucinations from reality with the quickest glance. That monster wasn't standing naturally. That Earthborn wasn't the same shade of brown as the dirt that he'd supposedly sprung from. That Cyclops's eye was too close to its nose. The scales on that dracaena's tail were the wrong shape. . . . For the first time, Percy was grateful for the countless monsters he'd had to fight over the years; they'd helped him become very familiar with their anatomy, personalities, and fighting styles. All that experience worked in his favor now, making it easy to figure out which monsters were real and which were figments of his diseased imagination. With renewed confidence, he plunged into the surrounding battle, taking out groups of enemies without hesitation.

Maybe his debilitating hallucinations weren't so dangerous after all.

As he twisted his way through the monsters, Percy watched Annabeth fight with Malcolm almost as seamlessly as she did with Percy himself. They alternated roles constantly—one holding Palla's attention while the other injured him from behind—without even looking at each other to confirm that they were paying attention. Percy found himself rather impressed by Malcolm's combat skills. He hadn't seen him fight for at least nine months, and the kid had improved a lot since then. He looked a lot more comfortable with his sword than Percy remembered—the last time he'd had a swordfighting activity with Cabin Six, Malcolm had looked awkward with the long weapon in his hands. Still, Percy couldn't help but be reminded how less experienced Malcolm really was, compared to Annabeth or Percy. It made him want to fight off Gaea's entire army in two seconds and then slide into place to help his girlfriend and her brother out—but even Percy Jackson, Savior of Olympus, couldn't work miracles.

So he just turned back to the monsters and continued worrying and fighting simultaneously. And he watched as the hallucinations that he'd been ashamed and terrified of for so long slowly vanished into the sunlight.

Annabeth prayed that Percy was doing all right, but she didn't have time to check. She was too busy dodging Pallas's blows and keeping an eye on Malcolm as he snuck behind the giant. "Hey, ugly!" she yelled, hoping to keep the giant's attention on her for as long as possible. "What's with the club? Are pointy weapons too dangerous for you? Worried you'll trip and impale yourself?"

Pallas growled and lunged for her, but Annabeth easily sidestepped. That caused him to lose his balance, and he actually did almost hit himself in the head with his club. It would have been funny if the look in his eyes wasn't so terrifying. "Pointy—agh, sharp weapons are . . . are too boring for me!" he proclaimed. "I don't need them to beat you up!"

"Such an original insult," Annabeth shot back, rolling her eyes and skipping backwards to avoid another swipe of his cudgel. "Your dizzying intellect is startling, even for a child of Athena such as myself."

Apparently, Pallas was too dim to understand sarcasm—because he grinned like she had actually complimented him. "You are dizzied!" he crowed. Annabeth had to fight hard not to snort at his pathetic vocabulary. "Hear that, Athena? She's dizzi—EEEEEE! WHO DID THAT?!" Annabeth cringed, realizing that Malcolm had just stabbed Pallas in the calf. Pallas spun around in search of the source, and Malcolm just barely managed to run in the opposite direction fast enough to stay hidden from view. However, his sword was still lodged in the giant.

"It was me!" Annabeth called, trying to conceal her panic. "I threw another knife when you weren't looking! Don't you want revenge? I'm standing right here!"

"It wasn't you!"

Styx. So he wasn't as stupid as she'd thought. "Fine, you're right!" she said, desperately switching tactics. Malcolm was darting around, trying to avoid Pallas without running straight into the army of monsters. "It was one of those centaurs! One tried to throw its spear at me, and it missed and hit you instead!"

Immediately, Pallas crouched down and glared at the centaurs, killing two with one hit from his club. "Why did you hit me?" he yelled. "Improve your aim, or Gaea will punish you!"

For a second, Annabeth dared to hope that her idea had worked—and then one of the remaining centaurs shook its head frantically and pointed right in Malcolm's direction. Pallas growled softly, which was somehow far more menacing than his shouts, and started to stand up and turn to follow the centaur's arm.

Annabeth shot one fearful look at Malcolm, confirming that he was still unarmed and terrified, and made up her mind. Sorry, Percy, she thought guiltily. I know you thought the worst was over after Tartarus, but we're demigods. For us, the worst is always yet to come.

And with that, she hurled her dagger at Pallas's forearm. To her surprise, it actually lodged—even though she'd never been as good at using her knife for throwing as she was when it came to hand-to-hand combat—and Pallas forgot all about the centaur's tip. "YOU!" he bellowed. "STOP ANNOYING ME!"

Annabeth thought of Percy one last time and smiled as she realized what he would say. "If you don't want me to annoy you," she retorted, "don't make it so easy!"

Then she took two steps back, wrenched a trident out of an unsuspecting dracaena's hands (it was fitting, somehow—Athena and Poseidon, together one last time), and launched herself towards Pallas. Never mind that she had no idea how the Hades she was supposed to use a trident, even after all the hours she'd spent poring over weapons books back when she was seven. Never mind that for maybe the first time in her life, the daughter of Athena didn't have a plan. Malcolm was in danger. She couldn't let her little brother get hurt. She would just have to get that idiot giant's attention once and for all and accept the consequences.

Annabeth lunged for Pallas's already-injured leg, knowing that he'd be weaker there, and experienced the smallest ounce of satisfaction when he crumpled to his knees. But stabbing his leg didn't hinder his weapons arm, and as his club whooshed down toward her head, Annabeth mentally apologized to Percy again—

And all of a sudden, there was a flash of light, and Athena was standing in front of Pallas too, ten feet tall and clad in battle armor. She had a massive spear in her hand and the shield Aegis—the real thing, not a replica like Thalia's—on her left arm, but the scariest part of her outfit was the vengeful look in her gray eyes. That, and the fact that Aegis was currently lodged under the club, keeping it from hitting Annabeth . . . which also meant that its glare was fully directed on Pallas.

He whimpered. "Athena . . . I didn't think—"

"You didn't think I'd come?" Athena asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't think I'd take this perfect opportunity to eliminate a giant, now that my children have made him especially vulnerable?"

While Pallas was still cowering, Athena yanked Annabeth's knife out of his arm and handed it to her. "Would you like to assist me in disposing of this idiotic creature?" she asked with a fierce smile.

Despite her conflicting feelings toward her mom, Annabeth couldn't help but smile back. "With pleasure."

She used Pallas's bent knee as a springboard to jump up and stab his chest. Simultaneously, Athena shoved her spear through his heart. He crumbled into dust.

Almost instantly, the monsters around them took several steps back and turned away—they didn't want to tangle with a goddess any more than Pallas had. As soon as Annabeth was sure that giant was gone for good and she wouldn't be bothered by any monsters, she picked up her knife and took a few steps away from Athena. At the same time, Malcolm ran forward, retrieved his sword, and gaped at Annabeth, shaking slightly. "Pallas . . . he turned towards me . . . and then you . . ."

Annabeth snorted and flung an arm over his shoulders affectionately. (It was surprisingly hard to do—she knew that Malcolm was practically a teenager, but did he have to get his teenage-boy growth spurt already? She couldn't stand it if her little brother grew taller than her.) "I can't believe you doubted me," she sighed dramatically, mostly to ease the worry she still saw in his eyes. "Children of Athena always have a plan. You should know that by now."

All of a sudden, she felt arms grip around her waist and pull her away from Malcolm. "Like hell you had a plan," Percy whispered in her ear. "I could read your body language, Wise Girl, even if I was on the other side of that stupid giant." He pressed his head against her hair. "You've got to stop scaring me like that."

Annabeth turned around in Percy's arms and kissed his cheek. "Like you're one to talk," she scolded without really scolding at all. "I'd say we're even, but really I think you've still scared me more."

Percy chuckled a little, even if he did still look worried about her. Annabeth couldn't help but notice that his sea-green eyes looked . . . clearer than they had the last time they'd spoken. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but before she could say a word, Percy suddenly squeezed her tighter and pressed his lips to hers hard. But it wasn't the kind of passionate, desperate kiss that meant, Our lives are insanely dangerous, and we could die at any moment, and I want to make sure you know how much I love you before that happens. This was the kind of passionate kiss that was filled with beauty and vitality, as if to say, We're alive at this moment, and I couldn't be happier about that, and I love you so much and I want to share that happiness with you. Annabeth forgot about the battle going on between gods and giants; she forgot about the monsters taking up all the free space in Athens. She forgot everything that existed beyond Percy's arms.

But before she could do more than shut her eyes and push herself even closer to him, someone coughed awkwardly behind them. Reluctantly, Annabeth opened her eyes . . . and Malcolm was the one coughing and tilting his head towards Athena, who had reverted to a human-size form by now and was staring at her. Oh, gods. Annabeth almost blushed, mortified . . . but then she decided she was done feeling her mom's omnipresent disapproval of her relationship with Percy. There was no way in hell her mom's opinion was going to drag her Seaweed Brain away from her.

So instead of blushing, Annabeth held her head high, untangled herself from Percy's grasp with one last peck on the cheek, and stepped towards her mom. Then she hesitated.

"I . . ." There were countless things Annabeth wanted to say to Athena—including a reminder that nothing her mom could say would make her want to break up with Percy—but none of them would come out. All she managed was, "Why did you come and save me?"

Athena just kept staring at her. "I can't believe you have to ask," she said. "You're my daughter, Annabeth."

All the anger Annabeth had been suppressing for months bubbled back up inside her. "Well, that's never mattered to you before, has it?" she spat. "Not when you didn't help me when I was seven years old and all alone—and of course, not when you sent me on that solo quest in Rome." She glared at her mom. "I could have died!"

Then Athena did something unimaginable. For the first time Annabeth had ever seen—and possibly for the first time in all of history—Athena hung her head. "I know," she whispered almost inaudibly. "I . . ."

But she didn't finish. Instead, Athena shook her head and straightened back up, looking hard at her daughter. As soon as Annabeth saw that, she dropped any hope of . . . well, she didn't know what she'd been hoping for, exactly. An explanation, maybe? But now all she expected was a lecture about the sacrifices needed for a success during battle and how she would be expected to be wise enough to make those hard decisions.

Then Athena surprised Annabeth once again. She reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a dark blue Yankees cap. "I believe this was hanging off of your bunk bed," she informed her. "I thought you should keep it with you for the remainder of this battle. You might find it useful."

Annabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What kind of subject change was that? "That hasn't worked in months."

Athena's gray eyes continued to stare into hers, unfazed. "Much has changed in the last few months," she answered. "I have changed in the last few months. And I owe a lot of that change to you, Annabeth." She paused for a moment, which was good because Annabeth was too shocked to take in her words. Was her mom actually . . . thanking her? Praising her, even? Where was the Athena she knew?

All of a sudden, the tiniest of smiles crossed Athena's face. "You didn't believe me last time, but I am truly proud of you. And . . . I am sorry for what I said to you, that day in the subway. I was not myself, but I should have been wiser. I am wiser. I should not have sent you on that quest. I should not have been so harsh towards you. You have only ever made me proud, and I . . . I could have been the cause of your death by handing you my mark. You did not deserve that. You could never deserve that. Forgive me, child."

Each of her words left Annabeth more confused, and she didn't bother to hide it. Her mom had actually hesitated, and then plunged forward all in a rush. She'd even apologized, and Annabeth knew her mom never apologized—she thought nobody should ever be sorry for acting wisely, even if those actions hurt others. Overall, her behavior had been reckless—and Athena abhorred reckless behavior. Annabeth couldn't believe this was actually happening.

She opened her mouth to voice her surprise, but for the second time that day, other words found their way out instead. "Why are you apologizing?" she said, harsher than she'd meant to. "My quest succeeded. I retrieved your Parthenos, and in doing so, I cured your Greco-Roman schizophrenia. Shouldn't you be pleased? Your plans worked out perfectly, didn't they? You proved that you're the goddess of wisdom for a reason."

Athena shocked Annabeth yet again by shaking her head. "I didn't even consider other alternatives before sending you on that quest," she replied, somewhat miserably. "In this case, victory came at an unforgivably high cost." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Could you ever forgive the unforgivable, Annabeth?"

She held out the Yankees cap like a peace offering. Slowly, Annabeth reached out and took it, still fighting back her shock and amazement.

When she felt composed enough, she looked up at Athena and offered a thin smile. "You're my mom," she reminded her. "I might not quite be ready to forget what you did yet . . . but families shouldn't hold grudges. It's"—she grinned in spite of herself—"not wise."

She took a deep breath. "Of course I forgive you."

Athena opened her mouth to respond, her eyes glistening with silver surprises—Annabeth never would have guessed that even the gods teared up sometimes—but before she could answer, a booming scream echoed through the battle, accompanied by a blast of flame that shot into the air. It was so huge that Annabeth felt its heat, even though she was standing over a hundred yards away.

Without hesitating, Annabeth twirled her Yankees cap in her hands and held it up to her head, winking at her mom. "Looks like you were right yet again," she said, figuring that Athena understood that what she was really saying was, You don't have to say anything else. You've done enough. Thanks for being proud of me. After all, Athena was the goddess of wisdom. She could probably puzzle it out.

"You were right," Annabeth repeated. "This cap is going to be useful. I'm going to go see what's going on." And with that, she pulled the Yankees cap down over her head and disappeared into the crowd—literally.

Styx, Leo didn't remember shooting flames to be this hard. He'd managed it easily before . . . before Tar . . . Shut up and stay focused, he scolded himself. Of course you're weaker than usual—you have countless injuries, remember? Plus you forgot to eat before you got off the Argo II. But none of that matters now. Just focus on torching this dumb giant.

He shook his head and kept pushing fire out of his hands, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the various mirrors and magnified every time it contacted a new surface. By the time the flames hit Porphyrion, they were white-hot, massive, and blazing. Still, the going wasn't exactly easy. Jake stood behind Leo, fighting off any monster that dared approach him, but he still couldn't defend Leo all by himself. Leo kept having to turn away from Porphyrion to burn a monster before it attacked him. And it didn't help that Porphyrion kept moving, even while being scorched. Leo wouldn't have believed his strength possible . . . but Porphyrion was the king of the giants, after all. Leo supposed he had the title for a reason.

"WHERE IS THIS FIRE COMING FROM?!" Porphyrion growled, twisting away from the center of Leo's blaze. Fortunately, Leo's siblings were all mechanically-minded and adjusted their mirrors accordingly, so Leo only had to tilt a bit to one side to continue focusing his fire on the king of the giants. "WHY WON'T IT STOP?!"

"A better question is, why won't you die?" Leo yelled back before he could help himself.

"WHO SAID THAT?!" Porphyrion whirled around, forcing Leo's siblings to recalibrate the mirrors yet again, more drastically this time. The major adjustment meant that Leo had to stop his flames while they angled the mirrors—which left him in full view of Porphyrion.

He cursed and clenched his fist, ready to shoot fire all by himself if he had to . . . and then Jason swooped down out of the sky and swiped at Porphyrion with his gladius. He'd flown up out of the way just before Leo's flames had slammed into Porphyrion—he'd seen Nyssa holding her mirror and figured out what was coming—but now he'd come back down just in time to give Leo the break he needed (more than he wanted to admit). "Hey, Porcupine!" Jason shouted, driving his sword through Porphyrion's shoulder before flying out of hitting range. "What's wrong? Scared of a little fire?"

"Measly demigod!" Porphyrion roared, yanking the gladius out of his body and flinging it to the ground with barely a wince. Leo couldn't stand to see how well he was doing. Porphyrion was burned pretty severely in some places, but gods-damn it, his armor was protecting him better than Leo had expected. He was exhausted, and Porphyrion only seemed annoyed. Styx.

Just then, Jason swooped down, picked up his sword, and rammed it through Porphyrion's foot. The giant howled—but he also flung his arm out and knocked Jason out of the air. He landed about twenty feet away from Leo. "Mierda," he cursed in Spanish. "Jason, are you all right?"

The son of Jupiter coughed weakly but managed to push himself onto his feet. "Yeah, I'm fine," he claimed. "Wish my sword wasn't still stuck in that idiot's foot, though."

"I don't know about that," Leo said. "It makes your nickname for him a little better—he really is a porcupine now."

Jason snorted. "Where did this burst of optimism come from?"

"I . . . you know I make jokes when I'm nervous." Leo flexed his fingers and eyed Porphyrion worriedly, who was still trying to dislodge Jason's gladius. "The fire's not affecting him as much as I hoped it would. I'm starting to think . . ." He trailed off. I'm starting to think I won't be able to pull this off.

Jason grimaced and eyed Leo worriedly. Gods, Leo hated it when Jason actually understood what people weren't saying. "Of course we'll pull this off," he said, straightening purposefully. "We just have to—"

"Watch out!" Leo leaped forward and yanked Jason to the side, just before his sword streaked past them and speared a minor monster. "Styx, Jason, pay attention to your surroundings!" As payback, Leo spun around and blasted fire at Porphyrion via death ray again, but he could feel the strength of his flames weakening. At this rate, he was only buying them time.

Meanwhile, Jason dashed towards the monsters and snatched up his sword. Then he ran back to Leo and frowned. "You look pale as Hades, Leo. Are you sure you should be doing thi—?"

"Gods, it's not like there's any other option!" Leo retorted, rolling his eyes. "It's not like there's anyone else that can shoot fi . . . re . . ." He stopped and gaped at Jason, concentrating on his hands just enough to keep the flames from dying out.

"What?" Jason shouted, barely audible over Porphyrion's agonized screams as the fire seared his skin. They'd both learned to ignore it by now, but some of the monsters around them still looked nervous. A few were even backing away. "What, Leo? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Leo refocused. "Can you manage a couple lightning strikes?" he asked.

Jason frowned. "Sure," he said. "Those have been getting easier with practice . . . but I've already hit this porcupine with lightning, and it hasn't had much effect. I'm afraid it won't be much use."

Leo grinned. "Oh, I beg to differ, Mr. Prince of the Sky. You haven't tried hitting him with lightning that's been amplified by my death ray yet."

"Our death ray!" Jake yelled from where he was still fighting monsters. "You didn't even help build the thing, Leo!"

They both ignored him. "Leo, that's brilliant!" Jason said, his eyes gleaming. "But how do I—"

Porphyrion howled and staggered out of the range of Leo's bursts of flame, batting at his still-burning skin. Leo cursed and angled the bronze mirror next to him accordingly. "Send a lightning strike down on that mirror," he explained, pointing the right one out, "and the ray'll do the rest."

Porphyrion spat out a couple insults, still patting out the rest of the flames, and turned to face them.

Jason grinned. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Clouds started to gather over Athens.

Reyna had almost cut through all the way to Leo when the first bolt of lightning arched toward the ground. She almost smiled despite her worry for Leo's health. She should've guessed that Jason was the cause of the sudden clouds forming overhead.

Still, she pulled up short when she finally made it all the way through the army (with the legion right behind her). Not only was Jason calling down lightning, but he was intensifying it somehow, using a bunch of bronze mirrors. And in-between strikes, Leo shot fire at the mirrors at well, so that the giant they were fighting—Reyna would guess that it was Porphyrion, judging by how difficult he was to beat—was hit with a constant barrage of attacks. Reyna couldn't help but be impressed by their plan. Porphyrion might not have died yet, but he was definitely starting to falter.

Reyna drew her screwdrivers and waited anxiously on Scipio, wondering how—or if—she could help them, when all of a sudden, ten monsters dropped dead for no apparent reason. A few moments later, five more fell. Reyna was about to steer Scipio towards them, worried that the invisible force was some new threat—and then Percy appeared in the midst of the monsters' ranks, cutting down monsters with every sweep of Riptide, and Reyna understood. She'd heard the stories about Annabeth's magical Yankees cap.

She watched as Percy took stock of the situation between Jason, Leo, and Porphyrion, raised his sword to join in, and then hesitated. She figured she knew what he was thinking—how could he contribute in a battle that focused on amplifying his friends' heat-related powers when his element was water? Reyna could practically see him sigh and turn away from Porphyrion, diving back into the battle to keep any monsters from reaching Leo and Jason. Next, she saw a few monsters drop dead around an unprotected bronze mirror, just before they could get their hands on it and move it or destroy it somehow. At that moment, Reyna realized how she could be useful. She whirled around and faced all five cohorts. "Each cohort needs to split into groups of ten and send each group out to a different mirror," she ordered. "Help the Hephaestus campers protect them from any monster's interference."

Two hundred and fifty campers nodded simultaneously. "But Reyna," Dakota protested, "that still leaves two mirrors unguarded."

Reyna smiled viciously. "I have a feeling Percy and Annabeth can handle protecting that one," she said, nodding her head towards the mirror where monsters were still dissolving mysteriously.

"And what about the—"

"Scipio and I will handle the one closest to Leo and Jason," Reyna interrupted firmly. "Now go!" She looked at them slowly. "And be careful."

They nodded again and split apart. Reyna nudged Scipio towards Leo and Jason. It was odd—two months ago, she would have been furious with both boys for betraying Rome in her eyes. Now she was only worried about her best friend and her . . . her Leo. They looked all right now . . . but gods, how much longer would this fighting go on? Why hadn't a god shown up to help them kill Porphyrion by now?

"Why the hell," Leo ground out, "hasn't a god shown up by now?" He dropped back, trying not to sag with exhaustion.

Jason shook his head furiously and reached up to the sky, closing his hand into a fist and pulling down like he was physically grabbing lightning. The gesture worked, and Porphyrion roared and weakened yet again . . . but no gods appeared to aid them. "I bet it's because he's the king of the giants," Jason grumbled. "My dad's the one who's supposed to face him."

Leo crossed his arms. "Then why hasn't he?"

"I'll tell you why," Jason growled. "You know how all the gods showed up about an hour ago?" Leo nodded. "Well, that's not exactly accurate. All the gods showed up . . . except for him."

Leo's mouth dropped open. "He what?"

"Stubborn dumb-ass," Jason muttered, bringing down another bolt of lightning. "You hear that, Dad?" he yelled at the sky. "Do you know what I just called you?"

Leo laughed in spite of everything. "I hope he heard you. I hope he heard you loud and cle—"

Leo cut off abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason stagger backwards with his mouth hanging open, but he didn't—he couldn't—focus on his friend. He was too busy standing there, frozen in shock. Terror flooded through his veins faster than blood.

He hadn't expected Gaea to pop up behind Porphyrion and cover him with dirt like that.

And he definitely wouldn't have guessed that the dirt would heal Porphyrion's burns completely.

Reyna gaped at Gaea's sudden appearance along with every other demigod within a hundred yards of her . . . but she also noticed the way Leo froze as soon as he saw Gaea's face. Suddenly, her feelings towards the earth goddess erupted from dull, pounding hatred to blinding anger. She spurred Scipio on without thinking, ready to murder the goddess single-handedly for causing Leo so much pain and fear over the last few weeks, if that was what it took to wipe the terror off of his face—only someone beat her to it. Before Reyna could take ten steps forward, a huge, metallic, dark gray stone slammed into Gaea's side. Even the earth goddess tilted haphazardly at an impact like that.

While she was still reeling, a dark-skinned girl with wild hair and gleaming eyes rode out from the army on a gorgeous horse. "You're finished, Gaea," she said furiously. Then she raised her spatha and charged.

A bear leaped out of the crowd behind her and raced for Gaea too, ripping out chunks of her earthen robes with swipes of his paws and staying near the wild girl protectively. At the same time, projectiles rained down from the Argo II and smashed into Gaea's face, ripping it apart. Percy noticed his chance to join in the fun, grinned dangerously, and leaped in, the whirl of a personal hurricane already starting to form around him from the humidity Jason's storm had caused. Annabeth ripped off her Yankees cap, handed it to her brother Malcolm, who had appeared at some point during the fight—Reyna hadn't noticed when he'd showed up—and jumped in at Percy's side. Malcolm smiled and pulled on the hat. Three monsters spontaneously turned into dust within the next five seconds.

Reyna twirled her screwdrivers in her hands and looked for an opening, but the rest of the seven had it covered. Dirt fell off of Gaea in clumps as she crumbled backwards, shrinking slightly as she lost more and more of her form, leaving Porphyrion alone and unprotected once again. As the seven pushed her farther and farther away from the death ray, Reyna watched the tension in Leo's face recede somewhat. He took a deep breath, straightened, and shot flames while Porphyrion was distracted. The return of his bellows of pain made Reyna grin savagely and turn around to kill some monsters. If the seven had the king of the giants and the earth goddess under control, she could at least contain an army for them.

Not that they needed much containing. While Reyna had been mindlessly slicing through monsters in her struggle to get to Leo, the seven had obviously been busy too. That was probably why they hadn't come to help Leo and Jason earlier . . . because as Reyna looked around, she couldn't see a single giant towering over the crowd (besides Porphyrion, of course). The lesser monsters had also apparently noticed the death of their leaders. They had almost all stopped fighting demigods altogether, in favor of gaping at the final demigod-giant battle unfolding in front of their eyes. Most of the demigods Reyna saw were transfixed as well, but she refused to stare uselessly at the largest battle since the invasion of Mount Orthrys. If all these monsters were going to sit around, she was going to take advantage of the opportunity to cause some carnage.

She killed twenty monsters in the space of a few minutes, constantly aware of the fighting going on just behind her. Part of her—okay, most of her—wanted to help, but deep down, Reyna knew that those demigods were the seven demigods of the prophecy for a reason. These last moments were theirs to win or lose. She would just have to help from the sidelines . . . which was more than the gods were doing.

Bitterness welled up inside Reyna as she saw the gods, Greek and Roman alike, spread out along the perimeter of the battle, watching anxiously without lifting a finger. "Why are you just standing there?" she demanded of Ceres—no, Demeter, judging by her appearance—as she spun by, attacking monsters right and left. "Leo and Jason need your help to defeat Porphyrion!"

Demeter just shook her head. "We cannot interfere," she said sadly. "We cannot fight Porphyrion. That is a job for the king of the gods only."

Reyna barely kept herself from growling at the goddess of grains before she left. It wasn't Demeter's fault, so it wasn't fair to vent her anger at her . . . but holy Styx, why hadn't Jupiter shown up yet?

"Holy Styx, why hasn't your dad shown up yet?" Leo demanded, barely staying on his feet as he staggered back to let Jason unleash some more lightning. The son of Jupiter managed it, but he looked nearly as tired as Leo—which was saying a lot, considering everything that Leo had been through. They weren't going to last much longer. Leo nearly collapsed on the spot, just because it was easier than fighting pointlessly when he was in so much pain. . . . And then Jason growled suddenly.

"My dad . . ." Jason began too angrily to voice coherent thoughts. "I don't understand why . . . I can't believe he just . . ." He trailed off, and then thunder clapped and Jason's eyes hardened.

"Oh, screw it!" he proclaimed. "Screw it, screw it, screw it!" He whirled on Porphyrion. "I don't need some deadbeat dad to defeat you!" Before Leo could call out to him, pull him back, or even give him advice, Jason pushed off the ground and flew towards the king of the giants. He struck out at Porphyrion with his gladius unrelentingly, landing blows left and right and flying away before the giant could retaliate. Porphyrion growled, but he was too massive and clumsy to avoid Jason's attacks. Still, his arms and sword often flailed inches away from Jason before he dodged, and one whack from that giant would send the son of Jupiter crashing to the ground. Leo watched worriedly, but his fire wouldn't be very effective if he had to avoid hitting Jason. Worse, the monsters had finally regained their senses and had turned back against campers from both Half-Blood and Jupiter, and Gaea was still keeping the seven busy, so no other demigods would be coming to Jason's aid very soon either—not that they'd be much help anyway, since they couldn't shoot into the air to avoid the giant's attacks. The battle between Jason and the giant was turning into a deadly stalemate, and nobody could do a thing about it.

Thanks to Jason's storm-gathering from earlier, rain started to fall, but the stalemate continued. Jason lunged for one of Porphyrion's eyes, but the giant turned his head away, and Jason accidentally stabbed him in the ear instead, and he quickly flew to the side as Porphyrion's hand came up to crush his body like a soda can, and the rain pelted the ground harder, and Porphyrion howled as the water obscured his vision, and he started swiping blindly with his sword in hopes of catching Jason somehow, and the son of Jupiter stayed as far out of the giant's way as possible, and the pounding rain thickened into a near-flood, and Leo's curly hair started frizzing into an afro as electricity tingled in the air.

And then lightning came streaking out of the sky from two dozen places at once. Leo barely had time to register the flash of searing white radiance and heat before a huge strike hit the bronze mirror right next to him . . . And that was when Leo realized that every single burst of lightning had focused onto a different mirror, and somehow the air had to be a thousand degrees but nobody was being burned, and the twenty-four lightning strikes bounced around the mirrored death ray and merged into one massive stripe of superheated energy, and Jason dove to the ground a hundred feet away, and the entire scene was like . . . well, there was nothing Leo could compare it to, but it was impossibly awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. And as if that wasn't enough to overload his senses, twenty-four booms of thunder slammed into his eardrums at the moment that massive stripe of superheated energy slammed into Porphyrion.

By the time the after-images of pure energy faded from his vision, the rain had stopped. It made it easy for Leo to see that Porphyrion hadn't just been reduced to muck or dust—there was absolutely no trace of him left. He'd either been burned into hell or out of existence completely; Leo wasn't sure which. The entire monster army was quivering with terror from the spectacle. Most of them had dropped their weapons and put up their hands—or the closest things they had to hands, anyway—and the rest were being dispatched efficiently by the hundreds of demigods that were still alive and fighting.

"Damn, Jason," Leo said shakily, gaping at his friend as he staggered to his feet. "I didn't know you had that kind of power."

To his surprise, Jason looked as perplexed as Leo felt. He frowned. "I don't. I mean, I did try to summon enough energy for one more burst of lightning, but I . . . I couldn't do that."

"Of course you couldn't," a deep voice grumbled from somewhere in the crowd. "That kind of power can only be wielded by the king of the gods."

A huge man in a pinstriped suit strode up to Jason, the crowd of monsters parting around him in their haste to stay out of his way. Jupiter inspected Jason carefully, more like a mysterious artifact than a person. "I . . . good work today, son."

Leo couldn't help but beam with pride when Jason didn't smile at the display of familial affection that had come sixteen years too late. Instead, he glared in true demigod form. "Good work today?" he repeated furiously. "You've noticed? Then where the hell have you been?"

Wonder of all wonders, Jupiter didn't fry his son for such a disobedient question. "You are right," was all he said. "I realize now that I shouldn't have closed down Olympus, and I certainly shouldn't have taken so long to get here—"

"That's not a straight answer!" Jason yelled. "I want a straight answer! Why the hell haven't you been a half-decent parent—you're even worse than the other gods!" To their credit, not a single god protested the implied accusation that they were all Styx-y parents themselves. "I'm the only member of the seven that hasn't met my parents! Hell, I've never even seen you before today! What took you so freaking long to show up?"

Jupiter tensed. "I—"

HOW DARE YOU?!

The entire battlefield froze. Jason's and Jupiter's argument cut off too.

Leo's body temperature usually ran about five degrees higher than everyone else's, but at that moment, he felt colder than Khione. Quivering like a tree in the middle of one of Jupiter's storms, Leo turned around . . . and saw five demigods lying on the ground in various dazed conditions while Gaea towered over them. She'd pushed them away from her somehow.

Leo gulped with terror.

Gaea's face was contorted into the purest expression of hatred that Leo had ever seen.