the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

My father, Jason thought in disbelief.
Porphyrion didn’t give him much chance to savour the moment. The giant used his spear in a
whirlwind of swipes, jabs and slashes. It was all Jason could do to stay alive.
Still … Zeus’s presence felt reassuringly familiar. Even though Jason had never met his father, he
was reminded of all his happiest moments – his birthday picnic with Piper in Rome; the day Lupa
showed him Camp Jupiter for the first time; his games of hide-and-seek with Thalia in their apartment
when he was tiny; an afternoon on the beach when his mother had picked him up, kissed him and
showed him an oncoming storm. Never be afraid of a thunderstorm, Jason. That is your father,
letting you know he loves you.
Zeus smelled of rain and clean wind. He made the air burn with energy. Up close, his lightning bolt
appeared as a bronze rod a metre long, pointed on both ends, with blades of energy extending from
both sides to form a javelin of white electricity. He slashed across the giant’s path and Porphyrion
collapsed into his makeshift throne, which crumbled under the giant’s weight.
‘No throne for you,’ Zeus growled. ‘Not here. Not ever.’
‘You cannot stop us!’ the giant yelled. ‘It is done! The Earth Mother is awake!’
In answer, Zeus blasted the throne to rubble. The giant king flew backwards out of the temple and
Jason ran after him, his father at his heels.
They backed Porphyrion to the edge of the cliffs, the whole of modern Athens spread out below.
Lightning had melted all the weapons in the giant’s hair. Molten Celestial bronze dripped through his
dreadlocks like caramel. His skin steamed and blistered.
Porphyrion snarled and raised his spear. ‘Your cause is lost, Zeus. Even if you defeat me, the Earth
Mother shall simply raise me again!’
‘Then perhaps,’ Zeus said, ‘you should not die in the embrace of Gaia. Jason, my son …’
Jason had never felt so good, so recognized, as when he father said his name. It was like last
winter at Camp Half-Blood, when his erased memories had finally returned. Jason suddenly
understood another layer of his existence – a part of his identity that had been cloudy before.
Now he had no doubt: he was the son of Jupiter, god of the sky. He was his father’s child.
Jason advanced.
Porphyrion lashed out wildly with his spear, but Jason cut it in half with his gladius. He charged
in, jabbing his sword through the giant’s breastplate, then summoned the winds and blasted
Porphyrion off the edge of the cliff.
As the giant fell, screaming, Zeus pointed his lightning bolt. An arc of pure white heat vaporized
Porphyrion in midair. His ashes drifted down in a gentle cloud, dusting the tops of the olive trees on
the slopes of the Acropolis.
Zeus turned to Jason. His lightning bolt flickered off, and Zeus clipped the Celestial bronze rod to
his belt. The god’s eyes were stormy grey. His salt-and-pepper hair and his beard looked like stratus
clouds. Jason found it strange that the lord of the universe, king of Olympus, was only a few inches
taller than he was.
‘My son.’ Zeus clasped Jason’s shoulder. ‘There is so much I would like to tell you …’
The god took a heavy breath, making the air crackle and Jason’s new glasses fog up. ‘Alas, as king