The Titan's Curse

Zoë said. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was—” She winced and held her side.
    “You’re hurt,” I said. “Let me see.”
    “No! It is nothing. I was saying . . . in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”
    “But . . . how is it here?”
    Thalia looked around cautiously as we picked our way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. “It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good.”
    “Why?”
    “This is Atlas’s mountain,” Zoë said. “Where he holds—” She froze. Her voice was ragged with despair. “Where he used to hold up the sky.”
    We had reached the summit. A few yards ahead of us, gray clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touched the mountaintop, but instead rested on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze chains. This is what I had seen in my dream. It hadn’t been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold. It was the roof of the world.
    “My lady!” Zoë rushed forward, but Artemis said, “Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now.”
    Her voice was strained. She was drenched in sweat. I had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky was clearly too much for Artemis.
    Zoë was crying. She ran forward despite Artemis’s protests, and tugged at the chains.
    A booming voice spoke behind us: “Ah, how touching.”
    We turned. The General was standing there in his brown silk suit. At his side were Luke and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. Annabeth stood at Luke’s side. She had her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke was holding the point of his sword to her throat.
    I met her eyes, trying to ask her a thousand questions. There was just one message she was sending me, though: RUN.
    “Luke,” Thalia snarled. “Let her go.”
    Luke’s smile was weak and pale. He looked even worse than he had three days ago in D.C. “That is the General’s decision, Thalia. But it’s good to see you again.”
    Thalia spat at him.
    The General chuckled. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoë. It’s been a long time. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”
    “Do not respond,” Artemis groaned. “Do not challenge him.”
    “Wait a second,” I said. “You’re Atlas?”
    The General glanced at me. “So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl.”
    “You’re not going to hurt Zoë,” I said. “I won’t let you.”
    The General sneered. “You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter.”
    I frowned. “A family matter?”
    “Yes,” Zoë said bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

SEVENTEEN

I PUT ON A FEW MILLION EXTRA POUNDS
    The horrible thing was: I could see the family resemblance. Atlas had the same regal expression as Zoë, the same cold proud look in his eyes that Zoë sometimes got when she was mad, though on him it looked a thousand times more evil. He was all the things I’d originally disliked about Zoë, with none of the good I’d come to appreciate.
    “Let Artemis go,” Zoë demanded.
    Atlas walked closer to the chained goddess. “Perhaps you’d like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest.”
    Zoë opened her mouth to speak, but Artemis said, “No! Do not offer, Zoë! I forbid you.”
    Atlas smirked. He knelt next to Artemis and tried to touch her face, but the goddess bit at him, almost taking off his fingers.
    “Hoo-hoo,” Atlas chuckled. “You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility.”
    I looked at Annabeth. She was desperately trying to tell me something. She motioned her head toward Luke. But all I could do was stare at her. I hadn’t noticed before, but something about her had changed. Her blond hair was now streaked with gray.
    “From holding the sky,” Thalia muttered, as if she’d read my mind. “The weight should’ve killed her.”
    “I don’t