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the three fates themselves took luke's body.
i'd never seen them in person before, and i hoped i'd never see them again. one of them looked at me, and i saw flashes of something. a boy picking up his baby sister for the first time. the boy and girl playing jacks. they attended a funeral. they walked through the streets with another boy. the boy was on a boat, waving, and the girl was doing the same. the girl got a letter. the girl packed her things in a trunk and left. she stitched up some wounded people. she fed them some ambrosia. she fought a hellhound. she cleaned some wounds. she fought an empousa. she got injured. the final flash showed a headstone: 1921-1961. the name was blurry.
and then it was over.
they gathered up luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.
i blinked away the spots that were starting to appear in my vision.
"wait," hermes said. the messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white greek robes, sandals, and helmet. the wings of his helm fluttered as he walked.
hermes unwrapped luke's face and kissed his forehead. he murmured some words in ancient greek — a final blessing.
"farewell," he whispered. then he nodded and allowed the fates to carry away his son's body.
as they left, i realized one thing. in the end, luke was a hero. the hero of the great prophecy.
annabeth's knees buckled and she collapsed, but grover caught her. she let out a yelp, and passed out in his arms.
following her example, i let the darkness take over as i collapsed into percy's arms.
