“Is that why they didn’t imprison her?”

“She didn’t fight in that war either.”

“Right,” I said. At least she was consistent.

“You should get some sleep,” said James. “Busy day ahead of us.”

“You, too,” I mumbled, and for the rest of the flight, I tried to follow his advice. But sleep either meant visions and Cronus or nightmares of Titans rising up from the earth, and I couldn’t stomach either right now.

The plane landed, and I reluctantly woke Henry. Without any checked luggage, it was an easy trek through the airport to catch a cab, and once again we settled in for a drive.

Athens hadn’t been the only place affected by the aftermath of the tidal wave. Signs of devastation were everywhere: refugees huddled together in large tents on the outskirts of the airport, debris of what had once been Athens was scattered across the coast, and the towns we drove through were practically empty.

“The earthquakes, they have scared our people away,” said the cabdriver. Once again I recognized that the words he spoke weren’t English, but I understood them anyway. That ability must have developed between my summer in Greece and now. “After what has happened to Athens, many believe we have been cursed.”

“Earthquakes?” said James and I at the same time, though he spoke in what must have been Greek, while I used English.

“You have not heard?” said the driver, and for a moment James’s eyes grew distant. I couldn’t hear what he was saying or who he was saying it to, but it was obvious he was communicating with someone.

“Phillip says there have been dozens of minor earthquakes around the Aegean Sea since the attack on Athens,” said James in a hushed voice. “Two major ones.”

“He is trying to escape our barriers by going through the earth,” said Henry on my other side.

“It isn’t working, is it?” I said, and both he and James shook their heads. “Good.”

I spent the rest of the cab ride in silence. The hours slipped by as we drove through the Greek countryside, heading toward the destruction while everyone else was leaving. I couldn’t bring myself to fall asleep. I sat rigidly beside Henry, whose eyes slipped shut for long periods of time, and not even our driver seemed very chatty once he’d updated us on everything that had happened. James told him which turns to take, and despite looking annoyed at being given directions by a tourist, he didn’t argue.

At last, after I’d wondered if we would ever reach Athens, the taxi came to a stop on a road that wound up a steep hill. “I cannot go any farther,” said our driver apologetically. “There is nothing left for us to go toward, and I have barely enough fuel to make it back.”

“That’s fine,” said James, handing the man a wad of bills. “Keep the change.”

The three of us piled out of the car, and I hugged Henry’s arm as James led us down the road. It slanted upward as it circled the hill, and I didn’t see any sign of the city, but he seemed to know where he was going.

“You need to prepare yourself,” said James as we rounded the corner. “This won’t be easy.”

“I didn’t come here for easy,” I muttered. Henry didn’t say a word, but he slid his arm from my grip to wrap around my shoulders instead. Warmth spread through me, and though it wasn’t enough to make me relax, it did help. Just Henry being there did wonders.

We reached the other side of the bend. I don’t know what I’d been expecting—more green landscape, more trees, more Greece, but the moment I saw what lay before us, I stopped cold.

The ocean glittered in the distance, churning threateningly as dusk approached. Before it, where Athens had stood, was nothing. Land that had once been covered in buildings and homes and people going about their daily lives was now barren and brown. Rubble stood where skyscrapers once had, and though rescue crews were scattered across the ruins, I would have never guessed that less than a week before, this had been Athens.

“It’s gone,” whispered James, and I groped around until I found his hand. His fingers were cold. “It’s just—gone.”

On my other side, Henry met the scene in front of us with stony silence. Pulling myself away from the destruction long enough to gauge his reaction, a wave of nausea swept over me. He didn’t look any different. His expression was impassive and his eyes distant, but there was no horror in his eyes. Only the same sadness that was always there.

This was his reality. He’d surrounded himself with death for eons; why would witnessing it on the surface be any different from seeing the dead in the Underworld? From ruling over them, judging their lives, choosing the fates of those who couldn’t choose for themselves?

In spite of reason, the way he stared at the ruins with silent acceptance chilled me. I never wanted to look like that. I never wanted to feel like death was no great loss, because for the family and friends and loved ones the people of Athens had left behind, it was terrible.

I leaned against him, and the three of us stood there, linked together. How could anyone who claimed to be capable of love do this?

Cronus wasn’t mortal, though. He didn’t understand the bonds of humanity or the fear and impact of death. To him, he’d done nothing more than brush away an anthill on a sidewalk, not realizing the ripples would be felt by millions.

No, he knew. He knew exactly what he’d done. He simply didn’t care.

“Can we—can we get to the Parthenon from here?” I said. “Maybe Cronus left something or—”