The Last Olympian

chest, but it did startle him. I pushed through a crowd of monsters and jumped off the side of the ship—toward the water a hundred feet below.
    I heard rumbling deep in the ship. Monsters yelled at me from above. A spear sailed past my ear. An arrow pierced my thigh, but I barely had time to register the pain. I plunged into the sea and willed the currents to take me far, far away—a hundred yards, two hundred yards.
    Even from that distance, the explosion shook the world. Heat seared the back of my head. The Princess Andromeda blew up from both sides, a massive fireball of green flame roiling into the dark sky, consuming everything.
    Beckendorf, I thought.
    Then I blacked out and sank like an anchor toward the bottom of the sea.

TWO

I MEET SOME FISHY RELATIVES
    Demigod dreams suck.
    The thing is, they’re never just dreams . They’ve got to be visions, omens, and all that other mystical stuff that makes my brain hurt.
    I dreamed I was in a dark palace at the top of a mountain. Unfortunately, I recognized it: the palace of the Titans on top of Mount Othrys, otherwise known as Mount Tamalpais, in California. The main pavilion was open to the night, ringed with black Greek columns and statues of the Titans. Torchlight glowed against the black marble floor. In the center of the room, an armored giant struggled under the weight of a swirling funnel cloud—Atlas, holding up the weight of the sky.
    Two other giant men stood nearby over a bronze brazier, studying images in the flames.
    “Quite an explosion,” one said. He wore black armor studded with silver dots like a starry night. His face was covered in a war helm with ram’s horns curling on either side.
    “It doesn’t matter,” the other said. This Titan was dressed in gold robes, with golden eyes like Kronos. His entire body glowed. He reminded me of Apollo, God of the Sun, except the Titan’s light was harsher, and his expression crueler. “The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed.”
    The images in the fire were hard to make out: storms, buildings crumbling, mortals screaming in terror.
    “I will go east to marshal our forces,” the golden Titan said. “Krios, you shall remain and guard Mount Othrys.”
    The ram horn dude grunted. “I always get the stupid jobs. Lord of the South. Lord of Constellations. Now I get to babysit Atlas while you have all the fun.”
    Under the whirlwind of clouds, Atlas bellowed in agony. “Let me out, curse you! I am your greatest warrior. Take my burden so I may fight!”
    “Quiet!” the golden Titan roared. “You had your chance, Atlas. You failed. Kronos likes you just where you are. As for you, Krios, do your duty.”
    “And if you need more warriors?” Krios asked. “Our treacherous nephew in the tuxedo will not do you much good in a fight.”
    The golden Titan laughed. “Don’t worry about him. Besides, the gods can barely handle our first little challenge. They have no idea how many others we have in store. Mark my words, in a few days’ time, Olympus will be in ruins, and we will meet here again to celebrate the dawn of the Sixth Age!”
    The golden Titan erupted into the flames and disappeared.
    “Oh, sure,” Krios grumbled. “He gets to erupt into flames. I get to wear these stupid ram’s horns.”
    The scene shifted. Now I was outside the pavilion, hiding in the shadows of a Greek column. A boy stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had dark silky hair, pale skin, and dark clothes—my friend Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades.
    He looked straight at me, his expression grim. “You see, Percy?” he whispered. “You’re running out of time. Do you really think you can beat them without my plan?”
    His words washed over me as cold as the ocean floor, and my dreams went black.
    “Percy?” a deep voice said.
    My head felt like it had been microwaved in aluminum foil. I opened my eyes and saw a large shadowy figure looming over me.
    “Beckendorf ?” I asked hopefully.
    “No, brother.”
    My eyes refocused. I was looking at a Cyclops—a misshapen face, ratty brown hair, one big brown eye full of concern. “Tyson?”
    My brother broke into a toothy grin. “Yay! Your brain works!”
    I wasn’t so sure. My body felt weightless and cold. My voice sounded wrong. I could hear Tyson, but it was more like I was hearing vibrations inside my skull, not the regular sounds.
    I sat up, and a gossamer sheet floated away. I was on a bed made of silky woven kelp, in