The Last Olympian

"Your powers drain you too much," I noted.
He nodded sleepily. "With great power . . . comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."

Because Hope survives best at the hearth,” I said. “Guard it for me, and I won’t be tempted to give up again.”

Hestia shook her head. “I am here because when all else fails, when all the other mighty gods have gone off to war, I am all that’s left. Home. Hearth. I am the last Olympian. You must remember me when you face your final decision.”

“So you owe me,” she said weakly. “What else is new?”

She removed her hand, but I kept holding it.

“The small of my back.”

“You would’ve done the same for me.”

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she muttered. “Your eyebrows get all scrunched together.”

She put her hand on my spine, and my skin tingled. I moved her fingers to the one spot that grounded me to my mortal life. A thousand volts of electricity seemed to arc through my body.

Then I leaned in close and whispered: “My Achilles spot. If you hadn’t taken that knife, I would’ve died.”