My breath caught.

  “What…?”

  Finn forced a smile. “Mark, it’s not your fault. No matter what, we’re still friends. Friends forever.”

  But my mind reeled. I had only been here for a few days. I just wanted to go home. And now, suddenly, I was the reason for my best friend’s death?

  No. No.

  I couldn’t handle this.

  Storm clouds gathered above. I barely noticed. All I could hear was Chiron’s voice, repeating over and over—for Finn’s death.

  The Fates laughed in my head.

  I ran.

  I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t stop to breathe. I didn’t stop to acknowledge the thunder crashing above me or the fact that my legs were screaming in protest. I just ran.

  Through the trees. Past the cabins. Past the training fields, where dummies stood frozen in mid-swing, enchanted for sparring, right through the dining pavilion, the climbing walls. I ran until I reached the very edge of Camp Half-Blood’s borders, where the ocean stretched infinitely before me, its waves restless under the moonlight.

  I collapsed onto my knees, gasping for air, my heart was pounding, I hit a few trees and then had a fight with their dryads, nothing could help me – or so I thought.

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  It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. The Fates were wrong—right? They had to be. No matter how powerful they were, they didn’t control everything. They had failed before. Hadn’t they?

  “Mark.”

  I flinched. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

  Finn.

  “I told you not to run.” His voice was soft, cautious. “I knew you’d react like this.”

  I dug my fingers into the sand. “How am I supposed to react?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I just thought… I don’t know.”

  Silence stretched between us. The only sound was the ocean crashing against the shore.

  “I won’t let it happen,” I said finally. My voice was hoarse, raw with desperation. “I won’t be the reason you die.”

  Finn didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was frustratingly calm. “You can’t control fate, Mark.”

  “Maybe I can’t,” I snapped. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll just let it happen.”

  I turned to face him, my pulse hammering. He was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me with the patience of someone who had already accepted the inevitable. And that was the problem.

  I hadn’t accepted it. I wouldn’t.

  “Listen to me,” I said, standing up. “I don’t care what the Fates said. They’re just three old hags with scissors. They don’t decide how we live, and they sure as hell don’t decide how we die.”

  Finn’s expression darkened. “Mark, stop.”

  “No,” I shot back. “You want me to accept this? To just sit back and wait for it to happen?” I took a step forward. “Because I won’t. I won’t let you die for me.”

  Finn clenched his jaw. “It’s not your choice.”

  “Like hell it isn’t!” I shouted. “I’d rather—”

  Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the ground beneath us. I barely had time to react before a voice—deep, ancient, and full of fury—rumbled through the air.

  “Marcus.”

  My blood turned to ice. Finn stiffened beside me.

  The sky split open with a flash of lightning, and from the storm clouds, a figure descended—tall, wreathed in shadows and crackling electricity. His presence made the air heavy, thick with power. His eyes, sharp and unforgiving, locked onto mine.

  Zeus.

  And he did not look pleased.