𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter X X I I

22
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The End To A Journey

  They arrived in Long Island just after Clarisse, thanks to the centaurs’ travel powers. Cyrus rode on Chiron’s back, but they didn’t talk much, especially not about Kronos. Cyrus knew it had been difficult for Chiron to tell them. He didn’t want to push him with more questions. I mean, he'd met plenty of embarrassing parents, but Kronos, the evil titan lord who wanted to destroy Western Civilization? Not the kind of dad you invited to school for career day.

  When they got to camp, the centaurs were anxious to meet Dionysus. They’d heard he threw some really wild parties, but they were disappointed. The wine god was in no mood to celebrate as the whole camp gathered at the top of Half-Blood Hill.

  The camp had been through a hard two weeks. The arts and crafts cabin had burned to the ground from an attack by a Draco Aionios (which Cyrus could easily get was a mixture of Latin and Greek for “Eternal Lizard”). The Big House’s rooms were overflowing with wounded. The kids in the Apollo cabin, who were the best healers, had been working overtime performing first aid. Everybody looked weary and battered as they crowded around Thalia’s tree.

  The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest bough, the moonlight seemed to brighten, turning from gray to liquid silver. A cool breeze rustled in the branches and rippled through the grass, all the way into the valley. Everything came into sharper focus—the glow of the fireflies down in the woods, the smell of the strawberry fields, the sound of the waves on the beach.

  Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green. Everybody cheered. It was happening slowly, but there could be no doubt—the Fleece’s magic was seeping into the tree, filling it with new power and expelling the poison.

  Chiron ordered a twenty-four/seven guard duty on the hilltop, at least until he could find an appropriate monster to protect the Fleece. He said he’d place an ad in Olympus Weekly right away.

  In the meantime, Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates’ shoulders down to the amphitheater, where she was honored with a laurel wreath and a lot of celebrating around the campfire.

  Nobody gave Percy, Annabeth, (y/n) or Cyrus a second look. It was as if they'd never left. In a way, Cyrus guessed that was the best thank-you anyone could give them, because if they admitted they'd snuck out of camp to do the quest, they’d have to expel them. And really, Cyrus didn’t want any more attention. It felt good to be just one of the campers for once.

  Later that night, as they were roasting s’mores and listening to the Stoll brothers tell them a ghost story about an evil king who was eaten alive by demonic breakfast pastries, Clarisse shoved Cyrus from behind and whispered in his ear, "Just because you were cool one time, Jackson, don’t think you’re off the hook with Ares. I’m still waiting for the right opportunity to pulverize you."

  Cyrus gave her a grudging smile.

  "What?" she demanded, her face flushing.

  "Nothin'," he said. "Just ... good to be home. Good to see you."

The next morning, after the party ponies headed back to Florida, Chiron made a surprise announcement: the chariot races would go ahead as scheduled. The campers all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.

  Tyson said he wasn't going to have a good time experiencing all of that, so he opted for not competing at all, though he seemed quite joyful to be his brothers' pit crew. He did add plenty of modifications to their chariot, which was a sweet addition.