Varsha

“PERCY JACKSON!" Poseidon announced. My name echoed around the chamber.
All talking died down. The room was silent except for the crackle of the hearth fire. Everyone's eyes
were on me—all the gods, the demigods, the Cyclopes, the spirits. I walked into the middle of the throne
room. Hestia smiled at me reassuringly. She was in the form of a girl now, and she seemed happy and
content to be sitting by her fire again. Her smile gave me courage to keep walking.
First I bowed to Zeus. Then I knelt at my father's feet.
"Rise, my son," Poseidon said.
I stood uneasily.
"A great hero must be rewarded," Poseidon said. "Is there anyone here who would deny that my son
is deserving?"
I waited for someone to pipe up. The gods never agreed on anything, and many of them still didn't
like me, but not a single one protested.
"The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods."
I hesitated. "Any gift?"
Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be
yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if
you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for
all time."
I stared at him, stunned. "Um . . . a god?"
Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire
Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever."
"Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep
coming back for more. I like this idea."
"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 thought about the Three Fates, and the way I'd seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No
aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and
immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life.
Who could refuse that?
Then I looked at Annabeth again. I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf,
Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many others who were now dead. I thought about Ethan Nakamura
and Luke.
And I knew what to do.
"No," I said.
The Council was silent. The gods frowned at each other like they must have misheard.
"No?" Zeus said. "You are . . . turning down our generous gift?"
There was a dangerous edge to his voice, like a thunderstorm about to erupt.
"I'm honored and everything," I said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just . . . I've got a lot of life left to live.
I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."
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.”
― Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth

“Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the god of spirits! The ghost king!"

"No." Nico drew his sword. "I am.”
― Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth

“I couldn’t speak, but I brought out Riptide and put the pen in her hand. She grasped it contentedly. ‘You spoke the truth, Percy Jackson. You are nothing like… like Hercules. I am honoured that you carry this sword.’

A shudder ran through her body.

‘Zoë –’ I said.

‘Stars,’ she whispered. ‘I can see the stars again, my lady.’

A tear trickled down Artemis’s cheek. ‘Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight.”
― Rick Riordan, The Titan’s Curse

“My dad gave me a present once,” Nico said. “It was a zombie.”
Reyna stared at him. “What?”
“His name is Jules-Albert. He’s French.” “A...French zombie?”
“Hades isn’t the greatest dad, but occasionally he has these want-to-know-my-son moments. I guess he thought the zombie was a peace offering. He said Jules-Albert could be my chauffeur.”
The corner of Reyna’s mouth twitched. “A French zombie chauffeur.”
Nico realized how ridiculous it sounded. He never told anyone about Jules-Albert—not even Hazel. But he kept talking.
"Hades had this idea that I should, you know, try to act like a modern teenager. Make friends. Get to know the twenty-first century. He vaguely understood that mortal parents drive their kids around a lot. He couldn't do that. So his solution was a zombie."
"To take you around to the mall," Reyna said. "Or the drive-through at In-N-Out Burger."
"I suppose." Nico's nerves began to settle. "Because nothing helps you make friends faster than a rotting corpse with a French accent.”
― Rick Riordan, The Blood of Olympus