The Last Olympian

“Tell my brother Hyperion to move our main force south into Central Park. The half-bloods will be in such disarray they will not be able to defend themselves. Go now, Ethan. Work on improving your memory. We will talk again when we have taken Manhattan.”
    Ethan bowed, and my dreams shifted one last time. I saw the Big House at camp, but it was a different era. The house was painted red instead of blue. The campers down at the volleyball pit had early ’90s hairstyles, which were probably good for keeping monsters away.
    Chiron stood by the porch, talking to Hermes and a woman holding a baby. Chiron’s hair was shorter and darker. Hermes wore his usual jogging suit with his winged high-tops. The woman was tall and pretty. She had blond hair, shining eyes and a friendly smile. The baby in her arms squirmed in his blue blanket like Camp Half-Blood was the last place he wanted to be.
    “It’s an honor to have you here,” Chiron told the woman, though he sounded nervous. “It’s been a long time since a mortal was allowed at camp.”
    “Don’t encourage her,” Hermes grumbled. “May, you can’t do this.”
    With a shock, I realized I was seeing May Castellan. She looked nothing like the old woman I’d met. She seemed full of life—the kind of person who could smile and make everyone around her feel good.
    “Oh, don’t worry so much,” May said, rocking the baby. “You need an Oracle, don’t you? The old one’s been dead for, what, twenty years?”
    “Longer,” Chiron said gravely.
    Hermes raised his arms in exasperation. “I didn’t tell you that story so you could apply . It’s dangerous. Chiron, tell her.”
    “It is,” Chiron warned. “For many years, I have forbidden anyone from trying. We don’t know exactly what’s happened. Humanity seems to have lost the ability to host the Oracle.”
    “We’ve been through that,” May said. “And I know I can do it. Hermes, this is my chance to do something good. I’ve been given the gift of sight for a reason.”
    I wanted to yell at May Castellan to stop. I knew what was about to happen. I finally understood how her life had been destroyed. But I couldn’t move or speak.
    Hermes looked more hurt than worried. “You couldn’t marry if you became the Oracle,” he complained. “You couldn’t see me anymore.”
    May put her hand on his arm. “I can’t have you forever, can I? You’ll move on soon. You’re immortal.”
    He started to protest, but she put her hand on his chest. “You know it’s true! Don’t try to spare my feelings. Besides, we have a wonderful child. I can still raise Luke if I’m the Oracle, right?”
    Chiron coughed. “Yes, but in all fairness, I don’t know how that will affect the spirit of the Oracle. A woman who has already borne a child—as far as I know, this has never been done before. If the spirit does not take—”
    “It will,” May insisted.
    No , I wanted to shout. It won’t.
    May Castellan kissed her baby and handed the bundle to Hermes. “I’ll be right back.”
    She gave them one last confident smile and climbed the steps.
    Chiron and Hermes paced in silence. The baby squirmed.
    A green glow lit the windows of the house. The campers stopped playing volleyball and stared up at the attic. A cold wind rushed through the strawberry fields.
    Hermes must’ve felt it too. He cried, “No! NO!”
    He shoved the baby into Chiron’s arms and ran for the porch. Before he reached the door, the sunny afternoon was shattered by May Castellan’s terrified scream.
    I sat up so fast I banged my head on somebody’s shield.
    “Ow!”
    “Sorry, Percy.” Annabeth was standing over me. “I was just about to wake you.”
    I rubbed my head, trying to clear the disturbing visions. Suddenly a lot of things made sense to me: May Castellan had tried to become the Oracle. She hadn’t known about Hades’s curse preventing the spirit of Delphi from taking another host. Neither had Chiron or Hermes. They hadn’t realized that by trying to take the job, May would be driven mad, plagued with fits in which her eyes would glow green and she would have shattered glimpses of her child’s future.
    “Percy?” Annabeth asked. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,” I lied. “What . . . what are you doing in armor? You should be resting.”
    “Oh, I’m fine,” she said, though she still looked pale. She was barely moving her right arm. “That nectar and ambrosia fixed me up.”
    “Uh-huh. You can’t seriously