The Last Olympian

"Your powers drain you too much," I noted.
He nodded sleepily. "With great power . . . comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."

Because Hope survives best at the hearth,” I said. “Guard it for me, and I won’t be tempted to give up again.”

Hestia shook her head. “I am here because when all else fails, when all the other mighty gods have gone off to war, I am all that’s left. Home. Hearth. I am the last Olympian. You must remember me when you face your final decision.”

I turned, but before I could leave, Poseidon called, "Honor guard!"

Immediately the Cyclopes came forward and made two lines from the thrones to the door—an aisle for me to walk through. They came to attention.

"All hail, Perseus Jackson," Tyson said. "Hero of Olympus . . . and my big brother!"

Percy Jackson, I have had my doubts about you, but perhaps"—she glanced at Annabeth, and then spoke as if the words had a sour taste—"perhaps I was mistaken. I move that we accept the boy's plan."

The gods were glaring at me, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining. And that kind of made up for it.

"I approve as well," Athena said, though she was looking at Annabeth.

I glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet my eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I'd thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I'd been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I'd lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way.

I stared at him, stunned. "Um . . . a god?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes

And you shall have a new . . . um . . . what kind of weapon would you like? A sword? An axe?"

"Stick!"

Doesn't miss many meals, does he?"