The Last Olympian

the mosaic—little tile explosions destroying tile monsters. It seemed so easy when it was just a picture.
    Tyson put his arm around me. If anybody else had tried that, I would’ve pushed him away, but Tyson was too big and stubborn. He hugged me whether I wanted it or not. “Not your fault, brother. Kronos does not explode good. Next time we will use a big stick.”
    “Percy,” my father said. “Beckendorf’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain. You have scattered the invasion force. New York will be safe for a time, which frees the other Olympians to deal with the bigger threat.”
    “The bigger threat?” I thought about what the golden Titan had said in my dream: The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed.
    A shadow passed over my father’s face. “You’ve had enough sorrow for one day. Ask Chiron when you return to camp.”
    “Return to camp? But you’re in trouble here. I want to help!”
    “You can’t, Percy. Your job is elsewhere.”
    I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. I looked at Tyson for backup.
    My brother chewed his lip. “Daddy . . . Percy can fight with a sword. He is good.”
    “I know that,” Poseidon said gently.
    “Dad, I can help,” I said. “I know I can. You’re not going to hold out here much longer.”
    A fireball launched into the sky from behind the enemy lines. I thought Poseidon would deflect it or something, but it landed on the outer corner of the yard and exploded, sending mermen tumbling through the water. Poseidon winced as if he’d just been stabbed.
    “Return to camp,” he insisted. “And tell Chiron it is time.”
    “For what?”
    “You must hear the prophecy. The entire prophecy.”
    I didn’t need to ask him which prophecy. I’d been hearing about the “Great Prophecy” for years, but nobody would ever tell me the whole thing. All I knew was that I was supposed to make a decision that would decide the fate of the world—but no pressure.
    “What if this is the decision?” I said. “Staying here to fight, or leaving? What if I leave and you . . .”
    I couldn’t say die . Gods weren’t supposed to die, but I’d seen it happen. Even if they didn’t die, they could be reduced to nearly nothing, exiled, imprisoned in the depths of Tartarus like Kronos had been.
    “Percy, you must go,” Poseidon insisted. “I don’t know what your final decision will be, but your fight lies in the world above. If nothing else, you must warn your friends at camp. Kronos knew your plans. You have a spy. We will hold here. We have no choice.”
    Tyson gripped my hand desperately. “I will miss you, brother!”
    Watching us, our father seemed to age another ten years. “Tyson, you have work to do as well, my son. They need you in the armory.”
    Tyson pouted some more.
    “I will go,” he sniffled. He hugged me so hard he almost cracked my ribs. “Percy, be careful! Do not let monsters kill you dead!”
    I tried to nod confidently, but it was too much for the big guy. He sobbed and swam away toward the armory, where his cousins were fixing spears and swords.
    “You should let him fight,” I told my father. “He hates being stuck in the armory. Can’t you tell?”
    Poseidon shook his head. “It is bad enough I must send you into danger. Tyson is too young. I must protect him.”
    “You should trust him,” I said. “Not try to protect him.”
    Poseidon’s eyes flared. I thought I’d gone too far, but then he looked down at the mosaic and his shoulders sagged. On the tiles, the mermaid guy in the crawfish chariot was coming closer to the palace.
    “Oceanus approaches,” my father said. “I must meet him in battle.”
    I’d never been scared for a god before, but I didn’t see how my dad could face this Titan and win.
    “I will hold,” Poseidon promised. “I will not give up my domain. Just tell me, Percy, do you still have the birthday gift I gave you last summer?”
    I nodded and pulled out my camp necklace. It had a bead for every summer I’d been at Camp Half-Blood, but since last year I’d also kept a sand dollar on the cord. My father had given it to me for my fifteenth birthday. He’d told me I would know when to “spend it,” but so far I hadn’t figured out what he meant. All I knew was that it didn’t fit the vending machines in the school cafeteria.
    “The time is coming,” he promised. “With luck, I will see you for your birthday next week, and we will have a proper celebration.”
    He smiled, and for a