Forgotten memories

How do we even win this?

By the time we finally made it to the street, it was already too late. The battle was over—and not in our favor. Campers and Hunters lay scattered across the pavement, groaning in pain or lying frighteningly still. Clarisse... gods, Clarisse and her chariot were entombed in a solid block of ice. She must've gone up against a Hyperborean giant and lost. Badly. There was no sign of the centaurs either. Either they'd panicked and fled, or... they'd been wiped out completely. Disintegrated.

And then I saw the Titan army.

They were everywhere, circling the building like vultures, standing maybe ten meters from the doors. The vanguard was right in front, led by none other than Kronos himself. Standing there with his scythe gleaming in the cold light, his gold eyes burning like molten metal—it was like staring straight into the heart of doom.

Beside him stood Ethan Nakamura, face hard and unreadable. The dracaena queen was there too, armored in that sickly green scale plating, and flanking them were two massive Hyperboreans, their frost-coated weapons dripping with condensation. I didn't see Prometheus anywhere. Figures. The slimy coward was probably sitting comfortably back at headquarters, congratulating himself on a job well done.

But none of that mattered. Because Kronos—Luke—was here. And he was looking right at us.

The only thing standing between him and the doors was a single figure.

"Chiron," Annabeth whispered, her voice trembling like a plucked string.

If Chiron heard us, he didn't give any sign. He was completely still, an arrow notched on his bow, aimed straight at Kronos's face. His expression was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that meant he was ready to die if he had to.

Kronos's golden eyes slid from me back to Chiron. When his gaze hit mine, every muscle in my body locked up. I couldn't move. Couldn't even breathe. Then, just as suddenly, the Titan lord turned away, dismissing me like I was nothing. His attention locked on the centaur.

"Step aside, little son," Kronos said.

Hearing Luke—no, Kronos—say that word, "son," in that voice full of venom... it was beyond unsettling. Like the word itself was an insult.

"I'm afraid not." Chiron's voice was steady, cold as iron. That was the tone he only used when he was truly, deeply angry.

I tried to move, to help him, but my feet felt like they were fused to the ground. The others were the same, straining against invisible chains, powerless.

"Chiron!" Christine shouted suddenly. "Look out!"

The dracaena queen hissed and lunged forward, her patience finally gone. Chiron's bow twanged. The arrow shot like lightning and buried itself right between her eyes. She dissolved instantly, leaving nothing but a pile of clattering armor on the pavement.

But Chiron's quiver was empty.

He dropped the bow without hesitation and drew his sword, but I knew... gods, I knew he hated swords. He'd taught us a hundred times that archery was his art, his passion. Swords were never his weapon of choice.

Kronos chuckled darkly and stepped closer. Chiron's horse half skittered nervously, hooves scraping against the stone. His tail lashed back and forth like an angry whip.

"You're a teacher," Kronos sneered, his voice thick with contempt. "Not a hero."

"Luke was a hero," Chiron replied, and his words were like a blade themselves. "He was a good one. Until you poisoned him."

"FOOL!" Kronos roared, the sound shaking the entire city like an earthquake. "You filled his head with empty lies! You told him the gods cared about me!"