god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I

would've made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him . . .

that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

 

"You had to let him find his own path," I said, "and play his part in saving

Olympus."

 

Hermes sighed. "I should not have gotten mad at Annabeth. When Luke visited her

in San Francisco . . . well, I knew she would have a part to play in his fate. I

foresaw that much. I thought perhaps she could do what I could not and save him.

When she refused to go with him, I could barely contain my rage. I should have

known better. I was really angry with myself."

 

"Annabeth did save him," I said. "Luke died a hero. He sacrificed himself to

kill Kronos."

 

"I appreciate your words, Percy. But Kronos isn't dead. You can't kill a Titan."

 

"Then—"

 

"I don't know," Hermes grumbled. "None of us do. Blown to dust. Scattered to the

wind. With luck, he's spread so thin that he'll never be able to form a

consciousness again, much less a body. But don't mistake him for dead, Percy."

 

My stomach did a queasy somersault. "What about the other Titans?"