Where You Go ― Jason Grace

xi. all aboard for one last trip

OPHELIA'S BIRTHDAY WAS in four days. August fifth—she'd be seventeen. It was such a silly thing to think about, but it was all that came to her mind. In another year, she'd be eighteen. It was like she could picture her life ahead. Graduating from high school, then college. Marrying Jason in a small ceremony with just their closest friends and family, because, as selfish as it was to think, if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was them. 

Tragedy had haunted Ophelia since she was four, when took her aunt and claimed her mother's sanity, leaving Ophelia little more than an orphan; when it stole her mother's life next, then Matt's, then Maren's; when it came for her and Jason, after they fought like hell against the Titans.

And now, it had come for her again to take one of her best friends, and try to take more. 

When this was over, tragedy would never have a place in Ophelia's life again. She'd make sure of it.

She stood with her friends in a defensive ring, surrounded by giants, Jason and Piper on either side of her. She looked up as the clouds parted over the Acropolis. 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 Ophelia be able to remember bits and pieces. 

There was a supersized Jupiter—no, Zeus, his original form—riding into battle in a golden chariot, a 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 bright in the afternoon sunlight. 

Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered down on the back of a fire-breathing horse. His spear glistened red. 

Ophelia saw her father, Hermes, riding the winds on his winged sandals, his caduceus in one hand, a golden sword gleaming in the other. He looked more carefree than he had in Rome, with a grin Ophelia had seen countless times on her half-siblings at Camp Half-Blood, and on Matt, too. 

From under his winged helmet, he shot her a wink. 

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 Ophelia and her friends were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power. 

Jason shouted and charged Porphyrion. 

His friends joined in the carnage. 

The fighting ranged all over the Parthenon and spilled across the Acropolis. Ophelia met her father in the air, and they charged at the giant Hippolytus together. 

The messenger-giant wasn't much of a fighter, but as the bane of Hermes, he was the quickest of the giants, and he wasn't entirely helpless with a sword.