"Stop fidgeting," Hades said, his tone sharp but weary, like this wasn't the first—or even the hundredth—time he'd told me.
He leaned against the elevator wall, fixing me with a stare.
"Swear to my dear old pops, kid, I've felt your foot tapping since we stepped in here.
"I immediately stopped, pulling my foot away from the carpet like it had betrayed me. "Sorry, Uncle."
"Relax," he said, "Four of the gods in that room are already on your side." His eyes flicked back to me, and his voice softened. "You did good, nephew. It'll be fine. Trust me."
I nodded back at him. [Gamer's Mind] kept me from feeling most of the brunt of my nervousness, but a bit of it still slipped through. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, surprisingly. For all the fear, anxiety, and dread someone in my position probably should've been feeling, the only sign of my nerves was some light foot-tapping.
I shook my head, marveling at the sheer absurdity of my life. Just an hour ago, I'd been facing certain death on the sandy shores of Santa Monica Beach. Now, I was standing in an elevator with my uncle, who had casually informed me that this thing allegedly went all the way up to Olympus. Meanwhile, Piper was downstairs, out cold in the lobby. Hades swore she was fine, but she hadn't woken up after the whole helm incident. He'd just scooped her up, dropped her onto a chair next to the security desk, and ushered me into the elevator like we were running late for a meeting.
My uncle said something about less mortal eyes seeing Olympus, but I was willing to bet he just didn't want to deal with the headache of her having a full-on meltdown in front of all of the twelve Olympians.
Understandable.
Sort of.
A part of me still thought she deserved something for the trauma she'd been through in the last week, so I convinced my uncle to get her a Dunkin's gift card and a shirt from the lobby that read: I visited the Empire State Building and all I got was this stupid shirt!
The doors slid open. I stepped out and almost had a heart attack. I take back the allegedly I'd tacked on before—the elevator really did lead to Olympus. I was standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air. Below me was Manhattan, from the height of an airplane. In front of me, white marble steps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky. My eyes followed the stairway to its end, where my brain just couldn't accept what I saw. From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces—a city of mansions—all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires.
Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rose bushes. I could make out an open-air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome, and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new and clean, and colorful, the way Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago.
The most overwhelming part was what I was seeing with [Mana Detection]. Olympus wasn't just shining—it was drowning in color. Every temple radiated its own signature hue, the gardens pulsed with life, and even the "people" glowed in ways that made it hard to call them people at all. Through [Observe], I could see them for what they really were: divine attendants, minor deities, fragments of godhood dressed up in mortal form.
Water nymphs danced in silver-blue streams, lesser gods drifted through the crowd, vacing to their occupation, little baby with wings and bows could not be mistaken for anything else than the servant of Eros, and then there was Ganymede. The cupbearer of the gods stood out like a beacon, every bit as beautiful as the myths claimed. Honestly, it didn't even surprise me. One glance at his [CHA] stat told me everything—easily the highest number I'd ever seen on anyone.
"First time's always the best," Hades said as he stepped out behind me, his gaze fixed wistfully on Olympus. His expression was unreadable, a mix of nostalgia and something darker. The warm brown color in his eyes distilled, giving way to a pitch black. His eyes circled the entire place before coming back to me. "Don't look that much at Ganymede before my little brother decides to smite you."
"I-I wasn't looking."
"The way you are blushing tells me otherwise."
"I am not blushing," although I was definitely blushing.
"yeah, yeah, say what you want, but as I say, don't look too much—you never know who you could anger," Hades said with a serious face.
"I- I don't even know what to say."
"Don't say anything, kid. Just take out all in and enjoy it while you can," He placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "Once you know everyone's dirty laundry, though…the place starts to look a whole lot different." He gave a small, humorless chuckle, his eyes glinting. "Let's just say, the prettiest places usually have the most to hide."
My first trip through Olympus went by in a daze. We passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at me from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell me ambrosia-on-a-stick, a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV.
The nine muses were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered—there were satyrs, naiads, and a bunch of good-looking teenagers who might've been minor gods and goddesses. A few pointed at Ares and laughed. Several of them turned to watch me pass and whispered to themselves.
Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that was what Hades told me was the throne room. Room really wasn't the right word. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with moving constellations. Twelve thrones, built for beings the size of the statue of liberty, were arranged in an inverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood.
An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit, where I saw Hestia sitting. She waved at me when I walked in. The thrones were almost all filled. Ignoring the immense pressure of the room—it felt like I was walking into a wall of pure mana—I took a deep breath. I didn't have to be told what to do. I came toward the throne all the way in the center and knelt.
Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like a storm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy gray.