Wildfires, Heroes of Olympus ₂

079, in the parthenon we all fam

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
SILVIANA               DUVALL

Sylvie had heard of someone's life flashing before their eyes.

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

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

She was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a house near the coast. Percy was somehow failing to make lemonade. His hair was grey. Deep lines etched the corners of his eyes, but he was still as gorgeous as ever. Sylvie's grandchildren sat around her feet, and she was trying to explain to them what had happened on this day in Athens.

No, I'm serious, she said. Just eight demigods on the ground, and one more in the 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!

Grandma, the kids said, you are full of it.

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

Her grandkids laughed at her. And Percy glanced over, smiling, like Would you believe it, if you hadn't been there?

But Sylvie was there. She looked up as the clouds parted over the Acropolis, and she almost assumed she needed to be wearing Jason's new glasses. Instead of blue skies, she 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 her health that she didn't see it all. Only later would Sylvie be able to remember bits and pieces.

There was Zeus riding into battle in a golden chariot, 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. Another wore Notus's swirling crown of fire and steam. A third flashed the smug lazy smile of Zephyrus. 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-colored plumage so bright it gave Sylvie 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 Sylvie and her friends were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power.