Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter fifty-five ☄︎. *. ⋆
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
COMPARED TO MOUNT OLYMPUS, Manhattan was peaceful. It was the Friday before Christmas, but early in the morning, so last-minute shoppers were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the days slipping away from them and rendering them unable to buy presents in time for Christmas day. Argus, our hundred-eyed security from camp, was the only person on Fifth Avenue. He picked up Grover, Percy, Annabeth, and me at the bottom of the Empire State Building and ferried us back to camp through a light snowstorm. The Long Island Expressway was almost deserted.
As we trudged back up Half-Blood Hill to the pine tree where the Golden Fleece glittered, I half expected to see Thalia there, waiting for us. But she wasn't. She was long gone with Artemis and the rest of the Hunters, off on their next adventure.
Chiron greeted us at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about our strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within an hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.
Annabeth, Percy, and I sat with Chiron and some of the other senior campers—Beckendorf, Silena Beauregard, and the Stoll brothers (though I noticed Connor sat on the other side of Annabeth, so he wasn't next to me—maybe Hermes had already said something to him...) Even Clarisse was there, back from her secretive scouting mission. I knew she must've had a difficult quest, because she didn't even try to pulverize us. She had a new scar on her chin, and her dark brown hair had been cut short and ragged, like someone had attacked it with a pair of safety scissors.
"I got news," she mumbled uneasily. "Bad news."
"I'll fill you in later," Chiron said to us with forced cheerfulness. "The important thing is you have prevailed. And you saved Annabeth!"
"Luke is alive," Percy said suddenly. "Annabeth was right."
The blondie in question sat up instantly. "How do you know?"
I ignored her blatant interest and instead focused on Percy. He told us what his father had said about the Princess Andromeda—how he can feel it, even now, working its way across the ocean. Poseidon knew Luke was on board. And it wasn't good.
"Well," I said, exhaling a heavy sigh, "at least the final battle won't come until Percy is eighteen."
"That gives us two more years to figure something out," Annabeth said hopefully.
I caught Percy's eye, and both of us knew that by "figure something out," Annabeth meant "get Luke to change his mind."
Chiron's expression was gloomy. Sitting by the fire in his wheelchair, he looked really old. I mean... he was really old, but he usually didn't look it.
