The Fall of Olympus

The End

Demigods cheered as word spread that Kronos was gone. The monsters had stopped attacking, and the battlefield emptied almost comically quickly. I watched Clarisse as the Cyclops she was fighting stepped back and left, something gleaming maliciously in its eyes as it fled.

Typhon was defeated, and the Gods were here - here to help, here to console, here to mourn. Olympus was wounded, but like a hydra, it'd grow back to power, and be stronger than it was before.

Hope spread numbly through my body. There was a high price paid, but we overcame this.

The cheers died when people saw Luke's body. Annabeth's knife was dug straight through his arm, the bloodied edge of the bronze blade pointing out of the darkened flesh. Painful burn marks wrapped around his body, as if he'd been burnt from the inside out in his dying moments.

It hadn't been a painless death.

I know I looked worse for the wear, exhausted but unscratched, although my clothes were in tatters. If I weren't meant to lead the demigods, if I were anyone else, I'd be bawling my eyes out on the street. This was too much. There was so much blood - so, so much. Too many bodies, too many corpses, nameless corpses. Bodies hacked and stabbed beyond recognition. It broke my heart.

Annabeth wiped at her tears, unable to take her eyes off from Luke's deformed body. I couldn't find it in me to care about her. Not in this moment. His body was moved until we reached the memorial for demigods. The shrouds and pyres were already made.We were prepared for the losses. Not these many, but we were prepared. Luke died a hero. There was no question, no argument, no refuting it. He died a hero.

Somehow, looking at all this destruction, I understood why he did it. Maybe in another life I'd do it too. The Gods only cared now, after being beaten into the ground. It was their egos which caused this - which made so many demigods join Kronos. I would've joined Kronos if I were Luke too.

The forty demigods had dwindled down to only around two dozen. Tears weren't uncommon; no one here hadn't lost someone who was important to them.

Satyrs, centaurs, demigods, nymphs, naiads. The deaths were too many.

All the remaining survivors were here. At the memorial. We'd won against the might of the Titans. We'd fought our hardest, and we come out barely alive.

And yet fighting hard doesn't mean we fought well.

Hestia grabbed my arm, looking frightened. "Percy, you must wear your armour, get ready to fight."

Anger bubbled under my skin. "Again?"

A tear slipped out of her eye, and she wiped it away, taking a shaky breath. "Luke's body was a sign, a threat. Immortals burn through mortal flesh when they are in their true form. There was no fire in the throne room when you were fighting, Percy."

Oh. Oh.

Shit.

It finally sunk in what Hestia meant. If Kronos had the control to burn through Luke's flesh, it meant he was either not powerful enough, or was immensely powerful and chose to leave a threat. It started making horrible sense that out of all the thrones that were damaged, Zeus' was suspiciously unscathed. It was a show of power; a message to the Gods; a threat in plain sight.

Kronos was here. And he wouldn't hesitate to attack.

He was alive, and the Titans were still at large. They were still powerful and ready for war, while Olympus was ripe for the taking, still licking its wounds.

Hestia's eyes widened and she moved to call the Olympians, reaching out in their mental connection, but it was too late. Screams sounded from outside the Olympians' palace, and the remaining fighters dropped like flies.