·˚ ༘₊·➳ 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋
༊*·˚ {𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍}
❝𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂.❞
Guided by prophecies and driven by the fate of the world, the daughter of the sun and the son of the sea uncover the...
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THE THREE FATES THEMSELVES TOOK LUKE'S BODY. Percy hadn't seen the old ladies in years, since he'd witnessed them snip a life thread at a roadside fruit stand when he was twelve. They'd scared him then, and they scared him now – three ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn.
One of them looked at Percy and, even though she didn't say anything, his life literally flashed before his eyes. Suddenly he was twenty. Then he was a middle-aged man. Then he turned old and withered. All the strength left his body, and Percy saw his own tombstone and an open grave, a coffin being lowered into the ground. All this happened in less than a second.
It is done, she said.
The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn– and Percy knew it was the same one he'd seen four years ago, the lifeline he'd watched them snip. Percy had thought it was his life. Now he realized it was Luke's.
They'd been showing Percy the life that would have to be sacrificed to set things right.
They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.
"Wait," Hermes said.
The messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white Greek robes, sandals, and helmet. The wings of his helm fluttered as he walked.
The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke.
Percy thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come home.
Hermes unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured some words in Ancient Greek – a final blessing.
"Farewell," he whispered, then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body.
As they left, Percy thought about the Great Prophecy. The lines now made sense to him.
The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. The hero was Luke. The cursed blade was the knife he'd given both Aurora and Annabeth long ago – cursed because Luke had broken his promise and betrayed his friends.
A single choice shall end his days. Percy's choice – to give Luke the knife, and to believe as Aurora and Annabeth had, that he was still capable of setting things right. Olympus to preserve or raze. By sacrificing himself, Luke had saved Olympus.
Rachel was right. In the end, Percy wasn't really the hero. Luke was. And Percy understood something else: when Luke had descended into the River Styx, he would've had to focus on something important that would hold him to his mortal life. Otherwise, he would've dissolved.
