Nero was finally gone.

I wanted to feel joy and relief, but all I felt was exhaustion.

“Is it over?” Lu asked.

Rachel stood next to me, but her voice seemed to come from very far away: “Not yet. Not even close.”

My consciousness was dimming, but I knew she was right. I understood the real threat now. I had to get going. There was no time to waste.

Instead, I toppled into Rachel’s arms and passed out.

I found myself hovering over a different throne room—the Council of the Gods on Mount Olympus. Thrones curved around Hestia’s great hearth, forming a U. My family, such as they were, sat watching a holographic image that floated above the flames. It was me, lying passed out in Rachel’s arms in Nero’s tower.

So…I was watching them watch me watch them.…Nope. Too meta.

“This is the most critical time,” Athena said. She was dressed in her usual armor and oversize helmet, which I’m pretty sure she stole from Marvin the Martian in Looney Tunes. “He is perilously close to failure.”

“Hmph.” Ares sat back and crossed his arms. “I wish he’d get on with it, then. I have twenty golden drachma riding on this.”

“That is so callous,” Hermes chided. “Besides, it’s thirty drachmas, and I gave you very good odds.” He pulled out a leather-bound notepad and a pencil. “Any final bets, people?”

“Stop,” Zeus rumbled. He was dressed in a somber black three-piece suit, as if on his way to my funeral. His shaggy black beard was freshly combed and oiled. His eyes flickered with subdued lightning. He almost looked concerned for my situation.

Then again, he was as good an actor as Nero.

“We must wait for the final battle,” he announced. “The worst is yet to come.”

“Hasn’t he proved himself already?” Artemis demanded. My heart ached, seeing my sister again. “He’s suffered more in these last few months than even you could have expected! Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him, dear Father, he’s learned it!”

Zeus glowered. “You do not understand all the forces at work here, Daughter. Apollo must face the final challenge, for all our sakes.”

Hephaestus sat forward in his mechanical recliner, adjusting his leg braces. “And if he fails, what then? Eleven Olympian gods? That’s a terribly unbalanced number.”

“It could work,” Aphrodite said.

“Don’t you start!” Artemis snapped.

Aphrodite batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence. “What? I’m just saying some pantheons have way less than twelve. Or we could elect a new twelfth.”

“A god of climate disasters!” Ares suggested. “That would be awesome. He and I could work well together!”

“Stop it, all of you.” Queen Hera had been sitting back with a dark veil over her face. Now she lifted it. To my surprise, her eyes were red and swollen. She had been crying. “This has gone on long enough. Too much loss. Too much pain. But if my husband insists on seeing it through, the least you all can do is not talk about Apollo as if he’s already dead!”

Wow, I thought. Who is this woman and what has she done with my stepmother?

“Nonexistent,” Athena amended. “If he fails, his fate will be much worse than death. But whatever happens, it begins now.”

They all leaned forward, staring at the vision in the flames as my body began to stir.

Then I was back in my mortal form, looking up not at the Olympians, but at the faces of my friends.

“I WAS DREAMING…” I POINTED WEAKLY at Meg. “And you weren’t there. Neither were you, Lu. Or Nico and Will…”

Will and Nico exchanged worried looks, no doubt wondering if I had suffered brain damage.

“We need to get you to camp,” Will said. “I’ll get one of the pegasi—”

“No.” I struggled to sit up. “I—I have to leave.”

Lu snorted. “Look at yourself, buddy. You’re in worse shape than I am.”

She was right, of course. At the moment, I doubted my hands were working as well as Lu’s dagger attachments. My whole body shook with exhaustion. My muscles felt like worn-out tension cords. I had more cuts and bruises than the average rugby team. Nevertheless…

“I have no choice,” I said. “Nectar, please? And supplies. More arrows. My bow.”

“He’s right, unfortunately,” Rachel said. “Python…” She clenched her jaw as if forcing down a belch of serpent prophecy gas. “Python is getting stronger by the second.”

Everyone looked grim, but no one argued. After all we’d been through, why would they? My confrontation with Python was just another impossible task in a day of impossible tasks.

“I’ll gather some supplies.” Rachel kissed my forehead, then dashed off.

“Bow and quiver coming up,” Nico said.

“And ukulele,” Will added.

Nico winced. “Do we really hate Python that much?”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” Nico dashed off without kissing me on the forehead, which was just as well. He couldn’t have reached my forehead with the massive brim of his cowboy hat.

Lu glowered at me. “You did good, cellmate.”

Was I crying? Had there been any point in the last twenty-four hours when I hadn’t been crying? “Lu…You’re good people. I’m sorry I mistrusted you.”

“Eh.” She waved one of her daggers. “That’s okay. I thought you were pretty useless, too.”

“I—I didn’t say useless.…”

“I should go check on the former imperial family,” she said. “They’re looking a little lost without General Sapling.” She winked at Meg, then lumbered off.

Will pressed a vial of nectar into my hands. “Drink this. And this.” He passed me a Mountain Dew. “And here’s some salve for those wounds.” He handed the jar to Meg. “Could you do the honors? I have to find more bandages. I used up my supply outfitting Luguselwa Dagger-Hands.”

He hurried away, leaving me alone with Meg.

She sat next to me, cross-legged, and started finger-painting my ouchies with healing ointment. She had plenty of ouchies to choose from. I alternated drinking my nectar and Mountain Dew, which was sort of like alternating between premium gasoline and regular gasoline.

Meg had thrown away her sandals, braving bare feet despite the arrows, rubble, bones, and discarded blades that littered the floor. Someone had given her an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, which she’d put on over her dress, making her allegiance clear. She still looked older and more sophisticated, but she also looked like my Meg.

“I’m so proud of you,” I said. I definitely was not weeping like a baby. “You were so strong. So brilliant. So— OW!”

She poked the dagger wound in my side, effectively silencing my compliments. “Yeah, I know. I had to be. For them.”

She chin-pointed to her wayward foster siblings, who had broken down in the wake of Nero’s death. A couple of them stormed around the room, throwing things and screaming hateful comments while Luguselwa and some of our demigods stood by, giving them space, watching to make sure the imperials didn’t hurt themselves or anyone else. Another child of Nero was curled up and sobbing between two Aphrodite campers who’d been pressed into service as grief counselors. Nearby, one of the youngest imperials appeared catatonic in the arms of a Hypnos camper, who rocked the child back and forth while singing lullabies.