allowed his mortal conscience to take over again, and defeat Kronos. His weak

spot — his Achilles heel — had saved us all.

 

Next to me, Annabeth's knees buckled. I caught her, but she cried out in pain,

and I realized I'd grabbed her broken arm.

 

"Oh gods," I said. "Annabeth, I'm sorry."

 

"It's all right," she said as she passed out in my arms.

 

"She needs help!" I yelled.

 

"I've got this." Apollo stepped forward. His fiery armor was so bright it was

hard to look at, and his matching Ray-Bans and perfect smile made him look like

a male model for battle gear. "God of medicine, at your service."

 

He passed his hand over Annabeth's face and spoke an incantation. Immediately

the bruises faded.

 

Her cuts and scars disappeared. Her arm straightened, and she sighed in her

sleep.

 

Apollo grinned. "She'll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to

compose a poem about our victory: 'Apollo and his friends save Olympus.' Good,

eh?"