Silver Tears - Ethan Nakamura

Fifty-eight: Astra has made her decision and I get a sneak peak of my death

IF YOU HAD TOLD FOURTEEN YEAR OLD ME THAT HE WOULD PROBABLY DIE IN FOUR YEARS HE WOULD LAUGH AT YOU.

Demigod dreams suck.

The thing is, they're never just dreams. They've got to be visions, omens, and all that other mystical stuff that makes my brain hurt.

I dreamed I was in a dark palace at the top of a mountain. Unfortunately, I recognized it: the palace of the Titans on top of Mount Othrys, otherwise known as Mount Tamalpais, in California. The main pavilion was open to the night, ringed with black Greek columns and statues of the Titans. Torchlight glowed against the black marble floor. In the center of the room, an armored giant struggled under the weight of a swirling funnel cloud—Atlas, holding up the sky.

Two other giant men stood nearby over a bronze brazier, studying images in the flames.

"Quite an explosion," one said. He wore black armor studded with silver dots like a starry night. His face was covered in a war helm with a ram's horn curling on either side.

"It doesn't matter," the other said. This Titan was dressed in gold robes, with golden eyes like Kronos. His entire body glowed. He reminded me of Apollo, God of the Sun, except the Titan's light was harsher, and his expression crueler. "The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed."

The images in the fire were hard to make out: storms, buildings crumbling, mortals screaming in terror.

"I will go east to marshal our forces," the golden Titan said. "Krios, you shall remain and guard Mount Othrys."

The ram horn dude grunted. "I always get the stupid jobs. Lord of the South. Lord of Constellations. Now I get to babysit Atlas while you have all the fun. Hopefully that child of Asteria is destroyed along side the gods, just like her brother defeated me once."

Under the whirlwind of clouds, Atlas bellowed in agony, "Let me out, curse you! I am your greatest warrior. Take my burden so I may fight!"

"Quiet!" the golden Titan roared. "You had your chance, Atlas. You failed. Kronos likes you just where you are. As for you, Krios, do your duty."

"And if you need more warriors?" Krios asked. "Our treacherous nephew in the tuxedo will not do you much good in a fight."

The golden Titan laughed. "Don't worry about him. Besides, the gods can barely handle our first little challenge. They have no idea how many others we have in store. Mark my words, in a few days' time, Olympus will be in ruins, and we will meet here again to celebrate the dawn of the Sixth Age!"

The golden Titan erupted into flames and disappeared.

"Oh, sure," Krios grumbled. "He gets to erupt into flames. I get to wear these stupid ram's horns."

The scene shifted. Now I was outside the pavilion, hiding in the shadows of a Greek column. A boy stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had dark silky hair, pale skin, and dark clothes—my friend Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades.