𝑿𝑳𝑰𝑰...𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆

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𖥔 ݁ ˖    ⭑       ‧₊˚ ⋅   જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

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𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑
‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

Elara Harlow was tired.

She wanted to go to sleep, and find comfort in Morpheus' arms. Bianca, Zoe, and her brother were dead. She had to break the news to a child about his sister's death, and her arms still ached from bearing the weight of the world. All she wanted was to go home.

Mount Olympus was... interesting. In the early morning darkness, torches and fires cast a myriad of colors across the mountainside palaces, from bloodred to indigo. It seemed no one ever slept on Olympus. The winding streets were filled with demigods, nature spirits, and minor gods bustling about, riding chariots or being carried in sedan chairs by Cyclopes. Winter didn't exist here. Music floated through the air from many windows, the gentle melodies of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the grandest palace of all, the gleaming white hall of the gods. Their pegasi landed them in the outer courtyard, in front of massive silver gates. Before anyone could knock, the gates opened on their own. Blackjack and his friends flew off, leaving them alone. For a moment, they stood there, contemplating the palace, just as they had stood before Westover Hall, which now felt like a lifetime ago.

Then, side by side, they walked in.

The interior resembled the twelve cabins at camp, with twelve thrones arranged in a U-shape around a central hearth. Each throne was occupied by a god or goddess, towering at about fifteen feet tall. Suddenly, the monstrous army they had faced earlier seemed less intimidating. The ceiling above shimmered with stars and constellations, including the new one of Zoe the Huntress, forever running with her bow.

"Welcome, heroes," Artemis greeted them.

Mooo!

That was when they noticed Grover and the Ophiotaurus.

In the center of the room, a sphere of water hovered above the ground beside the hearth fire. Inside the magical bubble, the creature swam happily, swishing its tail and poking its head out of the sides. Grover knelt at Zeus's throne, seemingly giving a report, but when he saw his friends, he cried out, "You made it!"

He started to run towards them but halted abruptly, realizing he was turning his back on Zeus. "Go on," the god nodded, and Grover sprinted forward.

None of the gods spoke. The only sound was the clacking of Grover's hooves against the ground and the crackling of the hearth. Thalia and Percy glanced at their fathers; Annabeth locked eyes with her mother.

Elara felt a sudden overwhelming sense of loneliness. She had no parent here to seek comfort from under the scrutinizing gazes of the Olympians. It was winter; Persephone was in the Underworld.

Grover gave the girls big hugs when he reached them and then grasped Percy's arms. "Percy, Bessie and I made it! But you have to convince them! They can't do it!"

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