It was silent for a long time.

 

When I opened my eyes, I saw Luke sprawled at the hearth. On the floor around

him was a blackened circle of ash. Kronos's scythe had liquefied into molten

metal and was trickling into the coals of the hearth, which now glowed like a

blacksmith's furnace.

 

Luke's left side was bloody. His eyes were open — blue eyes, the way they used

to be. His breath was a deep rattle.

 

"Good . . . blade," he croaked.

 

I knelt next to him. Annabeth limped over with Grover's support. They both had

tears in their eyes.

 

Luke gazed at Annabeth. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew . . ."

 

"Shhh." Her voice trembled. "You were a hero at the end, Luke. You'll go to

Elysium."

 

He shook his head weakly. "Think . . . rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of

the Blest."

 

Annabeth sniffled. "You always pushed yourself too hard."