Rachel stared at the fire.

 

"Percy Jackson," Hestia said. "Rachel has told you all she can. Her moment is

coming, but your decision approaches even more rapidly. Are you prepared?"

 

I wanted to complain that no, I wasn't even close to prepared.

 

I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I had an urge to open it. Hope

seemed pretty useless to me right now. So many of my friends were dead. Rachel

was cutting me off. Annabeth was angry with me. My parents were asleep down in

the streets somewhere while a monster army surrounded the building. Olympus was

on the verge of failing, and I'd seen so many cruel things the gods had done:

Zeus destroying Maria di Angelo, Hades cursing the last Oracle, Hermes turning

his back on Luke even when he knew his son would become evil.

 

Surrender, Prometheus's voice whispered in my ear. Other-wise your home will be

destroyed. Your precious camp will burn.

 

Then I looked at Hestia. Her red eyes glowed warmly. I remembered the images I'd

seen in her hearth — friends and family, everyone I cared about.

 

I remembered something Chris Rodriguez had said: There's no point in defending

camp if you guys die. All our friends are here. And Nico, standing up to his

father, Hades: If Olympus falls, he said, your own palace's safety doesn't

matter.