The Last Olympian

making a rainbow in the fluorescent lights. Chiron fished a golden drachma out of his pouch, tossed it through the mist, and muttered, “O Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show us the threat.”
    The mist shimmered. I saw the familiar image of a smoldering volcano—Mount St. Helens. As I watched, the side of the mountain exploded. Fire, ash, and lava rolled out. A newscaster’s voice was saying “—even larger than last year’s eruption, and geologists warn that the mountain may not be done.”
    I knew all about last year’s eruption. I’d caused it. But this explosion was much worse. The mountain tore itself apart, collapsing inward, and an enormous form rose out of the smoke and lava like it was emerging from a manhole. I hoped the Mist would keep the humans from seeing it clearly, because what I saw would’ve caused panic and riots across the entire United States.
    The giant was bigger than anything I’d ever encountered. Even my demigod eyes couldn’t make out its exact form through the ash and fire, but it was vaguely humanoid and so huge it could’ve used the Chrysler Building as a baseball bat. The mountain shook with a horrible rumbling, as if the monster were laughing.
    “It’s him,” I said. “Typhon.”
    I was seriously hoping Chiron would say something good, like No, that’s our huge friend Leroy! He’s going to help us! But no such luck. He simply nodded. “The most horrible monster of all, the biggest single threat the gods ever faced. He has been freed from under the mountain at last. But this scene is from two days ago. Here is what is happening today.”
    Chiron waved his hand and the image changed. I saw a bank of storm clouds rolling across the Midwest plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed everything in their path—ripping up houses and trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys.
    “Monumental floods,” an announcer was saying. “Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction.” The cameras zoomed in on a column of storm bearing down on some Midwest city. I couldn’t tell which one. Inside the storm I could see the giant—just small glimpses of his true form: a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast. Other smaller forms darted through the clouds, circling the monster. I saw flashes of light, and I realized the giant was trying to swat them. I squinted and thought I saw a golden chariot flying into the blackness. Then some kind of huge bird—a monstrous owl—dived in to attack the giant.
    “Are those . . . the gods?” I said.
    “Yes, Percy,” Chiron said. “They have been fighting him for days now, trying to slow him down. But Typhon is marching forward—toward New York. Toward Olympus.”
    I let that sink in. “How long until he gets here?”
    “Unless the gods can stop him? Perhaps five days. Most of the Olympians are there . . . except your father, who has a war of his own to fight.”
    “But then who’s guarding Olympus?”
    Connor Stoll shook his head. “If Typhon gets to New York, it won’t matter who’s guarding Olympus.”
    I thought about Kronos’s words on the ship: I would love to see the terror in your eyes when you realize how I will destroy Olympus.
    Was this what he was talking about: an attack by Typhon? It was sure terrifying enough. But Kronos was always fooling us, misdirecting our attention. This seemed too obvious for him. And in my dream, the golden Titan had talked about several more challenges to come, as if Typhon were only the first.
    “It’s a trick,” I said. “We have to warn the gods. Something else is going to happen.”
    Chiron looked at me gravely. “Something worse than Typhon? I hope not.”
    “We have to defend Olympus,” I insisted. “Kronos has another attack planned.”
    “He did,” Travis Stoll reminded me. “But you sunk his ship.”
    Everyone was looking at me. They wanted some good news. They wanted to believe that at least I’d given them a little bit of hope.
    I glanced at Annabeth. I could tell we were thinking the same thing: What if the Princess Andromeda was a ploy? What if Kronos let us blow up that ship so we’d lower our guard?
    But I wasn’t going to say that in front of Silena. Her boyfriend had sacrificed himself for that mission.
    “Maybe you’re right,” I said, though I didn’t believe it.
    I tried to imagine how things