Chapter 64 - Jason - The Best Battle Ever

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The Saving Grace of Rome speaks. And clearly, I've learnt a thing or two from Piper. 

I had heard of someone's life flashing before his eyes.

But I didn't think it would be like this.

Standing with my friends in a defensive ring, surrounded by giants, then looking up at an impossible vision in the sky – I could very clearly picture myself fifty years in the future.

I was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a house on the California coast. Piper was serving lemonade. Her hair was grey. Deep lines etched the corners of her eyes, but she was still as beautiful as ever. Our grandchildren sat around my feet, and he was trying to explain to them what had happened on this day in Athens.

No, I'm serious, I said. Just six demigods on the ground and one more in a burning ship above the Acropolis. We were surrounded by thirty-foot-tall giants who were about to kill us. Then the sky opened up and the gods descended!

Granddad, the kids said, you are full of schist.

I'm not kidding! I protested. The Olympian gods came charging out of the heavens on their war chariots, trumpets blaring, swords flaming. And your great-grandfather, the king of the gods, was charging proudly, following the golden goddess, a javelin of pure electricity crackling in his hand!

Our grandkids laughed at me. And Piper glanced over, smiling, like 'Would you believe it, if you hadn't been there?'

But I was there. I looked up as the clouds parted over the Acropolis, and I almost doubted the new prescription lenses Asclepius had given me. 

The air filled with a distant blowing of a conch. Although it sounded small, it was terrifying. Monsters around us took a step back, frowning, and looked up.

Instead of blue skies, I saw black space spangled with stars, the palaces of Mount Olympus gleaming silver and gold in the background. And an army of gods charged down from on high.

It was too much to process. And it was probably better for my health that I didn't see it all. Only later would I be able to remember bits and pieces.

There was supersized Jupiter – no, this was Zeus, his original form – riding into battle in a golden chariot, a lightning bolt the size of a telephone pole crackling in one hand. Pulling his chariot were four horses made of wind, each constantly shifting from equine to human form, trying to break free. For a split second, one took on the icy visage of Boreas. Another wore Notus's swirling crown of fire and steam. A third flashed the smug lazy smile of Zephyrus. Zeus had bound and harnessed the four wind gods themselves.

On the underbelly of the Argo II, the glass bay doors split open. The goddess Nike tumbled out, free from her golden net. She spread her glittering wings and soared to Zeus's side, taking her rightful place as his charioteer.

"MY MIND IS RESTORED!" she roared. "VICTORY TO THE GODS!"

At Zeus's left flank rode Hera, her chariot pulled by enormous peacocks, their rainbow-colored plumage so bright it gave me the spins.

Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered down on the back of a fire-breathing horse. His spear glistened red.

And leading them all, in full glowing glamour was a woman in orange and blue armor, her golden chariot pulled by four golden lions. In her hand was a large glowing golden trident, and a conch. Her armor swirled with designs of battle and power, and her form glowed royally purple.

"Alexandra," Percy muttered. 

In the last second, before the gods reached the Parthenon, they seemed to displace themselves, like they'd jumped through hyperspace. The chariots disappeared. Suddenly my friends and I were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power.

The Forgotten Olympian |BOOK 1| PJO X HP | Alexandra MarineWhere stories live. Discover now