“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 understand,” I said. “Why can’t Artemis just let go of the sky?”

Atlas laughed. “How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape.” Atlas smiled. “Unless someone else takes it from you.”

He approached us, studying Thalia and me. “So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge.”

“Fight us,” I said. “And let’s see.”

“Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead.”

“So you’re another coward,” I said.

Atlas’s eyes glowed with hatred. With difficulty, he turned his attention to Thalia.

“As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you.”

“I wasn’t wrong,” Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. If I didn’t hate his guts so much, I almost would’ve felt sorry for him. “Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!”

He waved his hand, and next to us a pool of water appeared: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus. I could imagine Bessie in that pool. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I could hear Bessie mooing.

Don’t think about him! Suddenly Grover’s voice was inside my mind—the empathy link. I could feel his emotions. He was on the verge of panic. I’m losing Bessie. Block the thoughts!

I tried to make my mind go blank. I tried to think about basketball players, skateboards, the different kinds of candy in my mom’s shop. Anything but Bessie.

“Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus,” Luke persisted. “And you will be more powerful than the gods.”

“Luke . . .” Her voice was full of pain. “What happened to you?”

“Don’t you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods? Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!”

Thalia shook her head. “Free Annabeth. Let her go.”

“If you join me,” Luke promised, “it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don’t agree . . .”

His voice faltered. “It’s my last chance. He will use the other way if you don’t agree. Please.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but the fear in his voice sounded real enough. I believed that Luke was in danger.

His life depended on Thalia’s joining his cause. And I was afraid Thalia might believe it, too.

“Do not, Thalia,” Zoë warned. “We must fight them.”

Luke waved his hand again, and a fire appeared. A bronze brazier, just like the one at camp. A sacrificial flame.

“Thalia,” I said. “No.”

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus began to glow. As it did, I saw images in the mist all around us: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful palace rising around us, made of fear and shadow.

“We will raise Mount Othrys right here,” Luke promised, in a voice so strained it was hardly his. “Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak.”

He pointed toward the ocean, and my heart fell. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, was a great army. Dracaenae and Laestrygonians, monsters and half-bloods, hell hounds, harpies, and other things I couldn’t even name. The whole ship must’ve been emptied, because there were hundreds, many more than I’d seen on board last summer. And they were marching toward us. In a few minutes, they would be here.