𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

101

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 flashing before his eyes.

But he didn't think it would be like this.

Standing with his friends in a defensive ring, surrounded by giants, then looking up at an impossible vision in the sky— Jason could very clearly picture himself fifty years in the future.

He was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a house on the California coast. Dante was teasing him about something. His hair was grey. The crows feet he already had around his eyes when he smiled were more prominent. But those different colored eyes never changed. One blue and one brown. The only constant Jason could think of.

Their grandchildren sat around his feet, and he was trying to explain to them what had happened on this day in Athens. It seemed almost impossible to imagine. Him and Dante. Years in the future. Would Dante even want kids? Jason didn't think of the specifics. Just that they were happy, decades from now, surrounded by family.

No, I'm serious, he said. Just seven demigods on the ground and one more in a burning ship above the Acropolis. We were surrounded by thirty-foot-tall giants who were about to kill us. Then the sky opened up and the gods descended!

Granddad, the kids said, you are full of schist.

Shit. Dante said. If you're going to curse, at least do it right.

I'm not kidding! he protested. The Olympian gods came charging out of the heavens on their war chariots, trumpets blaring, swords flaming. And your great-grandfather, the king of the gods, led the charge, a javelin of pure electricity crackling in his hand!

His grandkids laughed at him. And Dante glanced over, smiling, like Would you believe it, if you hadn't been there?

But Jason was there. He looked up as the clouds parted over the Acropolis, and he almost doubted the new prescription lenses Asclepius had given him. Instead of blue skies, he saw black space spangled with stars, the palaces of Mount Olympus gleaming silver and gold in the background. And an army of gods charged down from on high.

It was too much to process. And it was probably better for his health that he didn't see it all. Only later would Jason be able to remember bits and pieces.

There was supersized Jupiter— no, this was Zeus, his original form— riding into battle in a golden chariot, a lightning bolt the size of a telephone pole crackling in one hand. Pulling his chariot were four horses made of wind, each constantly shifting from equine to human form, trying to break free. For a split second, one took on the icy visage of Boreas. Zeus had bound and harnessed the four wind gods themselves.

On the underbelly of the Argo II, the glass bay doors split open. The goddess Nike tumbled out, free from her golden net. She spread her glittering wings and soared to Zeus's side, taking her rightful place as his charioteer.

"MY MIND IS RESTORED!" she roared. "VICTORY TO THE GODS!"

At Zeus's left flank rode Hera, her chariot pulled by enormous peacocks, their rainbow-coloured plumage so bright it gave Jason the spins.

Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered down on the back of a fire-breathing horse. His spear glistened red.

In the last second, before the gods reached the Parthenon, they seemed to displace themselves, like they'd jumped through hyperspace. The chariots disappeared. Suddenly Jason and his friends were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power.