patch of blond hair still smoldered. "Strike them down! They deserve to suffer."

 

"You said your mom is the goddess of balance," I reminded him. "The minor gods

deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn't balance. Kronos doesn't

build. He only destroys."

 

Ethan looked at the sizzling throne of Hephaestus. Grover's music kept playing,

and Ethan swayed to it, as if the song were filling him with nostalgia — a wish

to see a beautiful day, to be anywhere but here.

 

His good eye blinked.

 

Then he charged . . . but not at me.

 

While Kronos was still on his knees, Ethan brought down his sword on the Titan

lord's neck. It should have killed him instantly, but the blade shattered. Ethan

fell back, grasping his stomach. A shard of his own blade had ricocheted and

pierced his armor.

 

Kronos rose unsteadily, towering over his servant. "Treason," he snarled.

 

Grover's music kept playing, and grass grew around Ethan's body. Ethan stared at

me, his face tight with pain.

 

"Deserve better," he gasped. "If they just . . . had thrones — "