NOTHING WAS LEFT of the giants except heaps of ash, a few spears and some burning dreadlocks.

The Argo II was still aloft, barely, moored to the top of the Parthenon. Half the ship's oars were broken off or tangled. Smoke streamed from several large splits in the hull. The sails were peppered with burning holes.

Leo looked almost as bad. He stood in the midst of the temple with the other crewmembers, his face covered in soot, his clothes smoldering.

Percy made eye contact with Brooklyn as she came in, brightened, but it faded when he saw her expression. "What's up?" he asked.

She shook her head as she heard the footsteps of her father approaching. The gods fanned out in a semicircle. None of them seemed particularly joyful about their victory.

Apollo and Artemis stood together in the shadow of a column, as if trying to hide. Hera and Poseidon were having an intense discussion with Demeter. Nike tried to put a golden laurel wreath on Hecate's head, but the goddess of magic swatted it away. Hermes sneaked close to Athena, attempting to put his arm around her. Athena turned her aegis shield his way and Hermes scuffled off.

The only Olympian who seemed in a good mood was Ares. He laughed and pantomimed gutting an enemy while Frank listened, his expression polite but queasy.

"Brethren," Zeus said, "we are healed, thanks to the work of these demigods." Brooklyn scrunched up her nose, but at least he was giving credit where it was fucking due. "The Athena Parthenos, which once stood in this temple, now stands at Camp Half-Blood. It has united our offspring, and thus our own essences."

"Lord Zeus," Piper spoke up, "is Reyna okay? Nico and Coach Hedge?"

Zeus knitted his cloud-colored eyebrows. "They succeeded in their mission. As of this moment they are alive. Whether or not they are okay—"

"There is still work to be done," interrupted Hera. She spread her arms like she wanted a group hug. "But my heroes . . . you have triumphed over the giants as I knew you would. My plan succeeded beautifully."

Zeus turned on his wife. Thunder shook the Acropolis. "Hera, do not dare take credit! You have caused at least as many problems as you've fixed!"

The queen of fucking shit blanched. "Husband, surely you see now — this was the only way."

"There is never only one way!" Zeus bellowed. "That is why there are three Fates, not one. Is this not so?"

By the ruins of the giant king's throne, the three old ladies silently bowed their heads in recognition. Brooklyn noticed that the other gods stayed well away from the Fates and their gleaming brass clubs.

"Please, husband." Hera tried for a smile, but she was so clearly frightened that Brooklyn almost felt sorry for her — but then she remembered the shit Hera's done to her, and she threw those feelings in the dump. "I only did what I—"

"Silence!" Zeus snapped. "You disobeyed my orders. Nevertheless . . . I recognize that you acted with honest intentions. The valor of these eight heroes has proven that you were not entirely without wisdom."

Hera looked like she wanted to argue, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Apollo, however . . ." Zeus glared into the shadows where the twins were standing. "My son, come here."

Apollo inched forward like he was walking the plank. He looked so much like a teenage demigod it was unnerving — no more than seventeen, wearing jeans and a Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, with a bow over his shoulder and a sword at his belt. With his tousled blond hair and blue eyes, he might've been Brooklyn's brother on the mortal side as well as the godly side.

Brooklyn wondered if Apollo had assumed this form to be inconspicuous, or to look pitiable to their father. The fear in Apollo's face certainly looked real, and also very human.

The Three Fates gathered around the god, circling him, their withered hands raised.

"Twice you have defied me," said Zeus.

Apollo moistened his lips. "My — my lord—"

"You neglected your duties. You succumbed to flattery and vanity. You encouraged your descendant Octavian to follow his dangerous path, and you prematurely revealed a prophecy that may yet destroy us all."

"But—"

"Enough!" Zeus boomed. "We will speak of your punishment later. For now, you will wait on Olympus."

Zeus flicked his hand, and Apollo turned into a cloud of glitter. The Fates swirled around him, dissolving into air, and the glittery whirlwind shot into the sky.

"What'll happen to him?" asked Brooklyn.

The gods stared at her, but she didn't care. Her father wouldn't kill her. He hasn't yet.

"It is not your concern," Zeus said. "We have other problems to address."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Parthenon. Brooklyn raised her eyebrows. Okay, boomer.

"Father," said Jason, "I made a vow to honor all the gods. I promised Kymopoleia that once this war is over none of the gods would be without shrines at the camps."

Zeus scowled. "That's fine. But . . . Kym who?"

Poseidon coughed into his fist. "She's one of mine."

"My point," Jason said, "Is that blaming each other isn't going solve anything. That's how the Romans and Greeks got divided in the first place."

The air became dangerously ionized. Brooklyn felt a smirk growing on her face.

Jason kept talking. "Apollo wasn't the problem. To punish him for Gaia waking is—" he cut himself off — "unwise."

"Unwise." Zeus's voice was almost a whisper. "Before the assembled gods, you would call me unwise."

Brooklyn smirked at Jason, very proud of her little brother. He was learning! Next to her, Percy looked like he was ready to jump in and fight at his side.

Then Artemis stepped out of the shadows. "Father, this hero has fought long and hard for our cause. His nerves are frayed. We should take that into account."

Jason started to protest, but Artemis stopped him with a glance. Badass.

"Surely, Father," the goddess continued, "we should attend to our more pressing problems, as you pointed out."

"Gaia," Annabeth chimed in, clearly anxious to change the topic. "She's awake, isn't she?"

Zeus turned towards her.

"That is correct," he said. "The blood of Olympus was spilled. She is fully conscious."

"Oh, come on!" Percy complained. "I get a little nosebleed and I wake up the entire earth? That's not fair!"

Athena shouldered her aegis. "Complaining of unfairness is like assigning blame, Percy Jackson. It does no one any good." She gave Jason an approving glance. "Now you must move quickly. Gaia rises to destroy your camp."

Poseidon leaned on his trident. "For once, Athena is right."

"For once?" Athena protested.

"Why would Gaia be back at camp?" asked Leo. "Percy's nosebleed was here."

"Dude," Percy said, "first off, you heard Athena — don't blame my nose. Second, Gaia's the earth. She can pop up anywhere she wants. Besides, she told us she was going to do this. She said the first thing on her to-do list was destroying our camp. Question is: how do we stop her?"

Frank looked at Zeus. "Um, sir, Your Majesty, can't you gods just pop over there with us? You've got the chariots and the magic powers and whatnot."

"Yes!" Hazel said. "We defeated the giants together in two seconds. Let's all go—"

"No," Zeus said flatly.

"No?" repeated Jason. "But, Father—"

Zeus's eyes sparked with power, and Jason's words died on his tongue.

"That's the problem with prophecies," Zeus growled. "When Apollo allowed the Prophecy of Eight to be spoken, and when Hera took it upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates wove the future in such a way that it had only so many possible outcomes, so many solutions. You eight, the demigods, are destined to defeat Gaia. We, the gods, cannot."

"I don't get it," Piper's eyebrows furrowed. "What's the point of being gods if you have to rely on puny mortals to do your bidding?"

All the gods exchanged dark looks. Aphrodite, however, laughed gently and kissed her daughter. "My dear Piper, don't you think we've been asking ourselves that question for thousands of years? But it is what binds us together, keeps us eternal. We need you mortals as much as you need us. Annoying as that may be, it's the truth."

Frank shuffled uncomfortably, like he missed being an elephant. "So how can we possibly get to Camp Half-Blood in time to save it? It took us months to reach Greece."

"The winds," Jason said. "Father, can't you unleash the winds to send our ship back?"

Zeus glowered. "I could slap you back to Long Island."

"Um, was that a joke, or a threat, or—"

"No," Zeus said, "I mean it quite literally. I could slap your ship back to Camp Half-Blood, but the force involved . . ."

Over by the ruined giant throne, the grungy god in the mechanic's uniform shook his head. "My boy Leo built a good ship, but it won't sustain that kind of stress. It would break apart as soon as it arrived, maybe sooner."

Leo straightened his tool belt. "The Argo II can make it. It only has to stay in one piece long enough to get us back home. Once there, we can abandon ship."

"Dangerous," warned Hephaestus. "Perhaps fatal."

The goddess Nike twirled a laurel wreath on her finger. "Victory is always dangerous. And it often requires sacrifice. Leo Valdez and I have discussed this." She stared pointedly at Leo.

"Leo," Annabeth said, "what is Nike talking about?"

Leo waved off the question. "The usual. Victory. Sacrifice. Blah, blah, blah. Doesn't matter. We can do this, guys. We have to do this."

Jason nodded. "Leo's right. All aboard for one last trip."