Well," Luke said, spreading his arms proudly. "A little nicer than Cabin Eleven, huh?" He'd changed since the last summer. Instead of Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt, khaki pants, and leather loafers. His sandy hair, which used to be so unruly, was now clipped short. He looked like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year. He still had the scar under his eye—a jagged white line from his battle with a dragon. And propped against the sofa was his magical sword, Backbiter, glinting strangely with its half-steel, half-Celestial bronze blade that could kill both mortals and monsters. "Sit," he told Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson. He waved his hand and three dining chairs scooted themselves into the center of the room. None of them sat.