- Using the Golden Fleece to resurrect Kronos's body.
- Almost dying in Daedalus's Labyrinth when Kronos was angry with him.
- And finally... becoming Kronos's host. He allowed the Titan to take his body to lead the final assault on Mount Olympus. And the end... The end they told you about. A stab. A dagger in his weak spot, the only place he lacked magical armor. Annabeth Chase was there. Percy Jackson was there. They killed him. It doesn't matter if Luke had a moment of lucidity at the end, if he sacrificed himself. Luke died because of them, because of the war they forced, because of the defense of the gods your brother so detested. You clench your fists against the mattress, your knuckles turning white. The rage bubbles up, soaring, so violent you feel the air around you crackle. You can hear the rhythm of the song in your head, the promise of retribution. —How foolish they are I have not forgotten I will not forgive Nor show any mercy The wrath in me will not fade away. Luke hadn't asked you to stop. He had asked you to believe. He had asked you to continue the work he started: the downfall of Percy Jackson and the destruction of Olympus. There is nothing left to do But to watch them burn You stand up, walking towards the window. The city below is a blur of lights, a swarm of ignorant mortals. But now, you only see a battlefield. There is still a mission to fulfill Only a traitor would leave it here Only a fool would leave it here You are not a traitor. You are a Castellan. The last one. For what he took from us And the damage he caused I will make him pay, brother You look at your hands, feeling the latent power. It is not the power of Hermes, nor the thunder of Zeus. It is something more... primordial. The promise of vengeance. The pain that will become a weapon. The storm will soon arrive This time nothing will save you You will see it rain with brutal force Like gravity Percy Jackson, you think with an intensity that could shatter the glass. You and your stupid handful of hero friends. You think you won. You think the world is safe. You are wrong. You have only sealed the death sentence...
You are in your room. It is not a home; it is a hideout. A borrowed cubicle in some sordid motel in Texas, or maybe North Carolina. It doesn't even matter anymore. Two weeks have passed since you found out. Two weeks of that icy emptiness that has solidified into a destructive, searing rage. Your brother. Luke. To you, he was not the traitor they claimed. He was the leader, the only person who truly saw you. He was the one who ran away from home to protect you from your mother, May, from the Mist and the madness that came with it. He traveled alone, grew stronger, then found Thalia, the daughter of Zeus, and later little Annabeth. He protected them. He was the hero. The gods? They allowed Thalia to be turned into a pine tree. They left Annabeth without a real family. They left Luke with resentment growing, the frustration of being ignored by your father, Hermes. You saw everything in the dreams he sent you, or at least, the version he wanted you to see. You saw how he felt when Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon, suddenly appeared, stealing all the attention, the focus of the new Great Prophecy. Luke believed Percy was just another tool of the gods. A spoiled child with a powerful father. You believed it too. You saw how he joined Kronos, the Lord of Time. Luke didn't do it out of pure malice; he did it because he believed it was the only way to tear down the rotten Olympian system that had ruined so many demigod lives, including his own. To take vengeance on parents who only caused pain. You shared his hatred. He was the one who stole the Master Bolt of Zeus and the Helm of Darkness of Hades in Percy's first summer. He was the one who recruited you, who gave you a mission: to help him on the Princess Andromeda, the cruise ship that became Kronos's center of operations. You were just a kid then, but you felt important. You felt part of your brother's cause. You saw him take risks again and again: