𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲.

A blessing

The Three Fates themselves took Luke's body.

They scared her-three ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn. One of them looked at her, and even though she didn't say anything, Lilia's life literally flashed before her eyes. Suddenly she was twenty. Then she was a middle-aged woman. Then she turned old and withered. All the strength left her body, and she saw her own tombstone and an open grave, a coffin being lowered into the ground. All this happened in less than a second.

It is done, she said.

The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn.

They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out
of the throne room.

"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. The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke.

She thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come home.

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, Lilia thought about the Great Prophecy. The lines now made sense to her. The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. The hero was Luke. The cursed blade was the knife he'd given Annabeth long ago cursed because Luke had broken his promise and betrayed his friends. A single choice shall end his days. Lilia's choice, to give him the knife, and to believe, as Annabeth had, that he was still capable of setting things right. Olympus to preserve or raze. By sacrificing himself, he had saved Olympus.

Lilia felt herself spiralling, she'd hated Luke for years, thinking it easier than to try and save him, but his words rang in her head, "you and Thalia were gone, everything was so unfair." And Lilia couldn't help but think part of it was all her fault, maybe if she'd never left it all could have been prevented. Her and Annabeth could have stopped him.

She watched as they carried Luke's body away and her heart sank as she thought about Ethan, somewhere below. No one seemed to care that he had changed as well. He wasn't evil, he was hurt.

And no one even gave a second thought to his bravery.

Her knees buckled, the pain inside her was getting worse and the emotional strain had caught up. Percy caught her, and she cried out in pain, he'd grabbed her broken arm.

"Oh gods," he said. "Lili, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she mumbled as her eyes began to blur and she passed out in his arms.

"She needs help!" Percy yelled.

"I've got this." Apollo stepped forward. His fiery armor was so bright it was hard to look at, and his matching Ray-Bans and perfect smile made him look like a male model for battle gear. "God of medicine, at your service."

He passed his hand over Lilia's face and spoke an incantation. Immediately the bruises faded. Her cuts and scars disappeared. Her arm straightened, and she sighed in her sleep.

Apollo grinned. "She'll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to compose a poem about our victory: 'Apollo and his friends save Olympus.' Good, eh?"

"Thanks, Apollo," Percy said. "I'll, um, let you handle the poetry."

                                            ➳