I looked up as the sound of a male voice sounded down the rainbow, vibrating the surface just enough to make me notice.

"Lady Frigg!" it called, "what are you doing down there?"

Mom shook her head as we picked up speed, our legs threatening to give out under us if we walked any longer.

Maybe this was the Fates' idea of a practical joke. I imagined them popping out of nowhere and cackling their heads off.

"Haha," they would say, "we got you this time, Perseus."

Just as I thought I really couldn't go on any further the darkness of the sky grayed.

The skyline of another city rose, showing off its gleaming walls, golden gates, and behind them, the spires and domes of the gods' palaces. It was just as impressive, maybe even more so than Olympus.

Annabeth would be scribbling all kinds of notes, and telling me all sorts of facts if she were here.

Standing in front of us on the bridge, stood what I assumed to be Heimdall.

He wore a padded cloth tunic and woolly leggings, all beige from soaking up the colors of the Bifrost for far too long. His hair was white-blond and fuzzy like a sheep's fleece. His grinning face was darkly tanned, which might have been the result of standing on a radioactive bridge for thousands of years.

His only weapon was an unsheathed sword, which was almost as tall as he was, and the huge curled ram's horn slung over his left shoulder. The horn and sword looked imposing, though they were both so large they kept knocking into one another.

When he saw us, he waved enthusiastically a crash resonating throughout the distance of his weapons crashing about.

"Lady Frigg and that half-foreign dude!" he said, bowing in a deep, exaggerated manner, his horn clunking against his sword as he moved.

"Oops," he offered with a careless shrug, "Forgot that was there."

Mom gave him a patient smile, through her eyes were strained.

"We're visiting Asgard," she said.

Heimdall tilted his head in curiosity, like a dog would.

"He's changing for the better everyday, you know," he said, and I glanced at Mom, confused.

"I know," she stated, her tone emotionless, which was very unusual.

"Oh!" he said,"before I let you in, can I get a selfie? It's not every day a hálfr blóð comes to my Bifrost."

"Uh," I started before Mom interrupted, "We'd love to!" and gave me a stern look. Sometimes, I feel my mom might be a little too nice.

"Great!" he said and started to fiddle with his horn and sword.

"Need any help?" I asked.

"No, no, I'm good. Just need to–Ah!" he said proudly as his horn shifted into the largest smartphone I had ever seen.

"Your horn is a phone?" I asked, skeptically.

"Well, technically, it's a phablet. But yeah, this is Gjallar, the Horn and/or Phablet of Doomsday! I blow this baby once, the gods know there's trouble in Asgard and they come running. I blow it twice, then it's Ragnarok!" He said proudly. "But most of the time, I just use it for photos and texting and whatnot."

"Okaaay," I said slowly, wondering yet again why such a guy would be in charge of what I gathered to be the most important date in Norse Mythology.

"Yep! I'm in charge of Doomsday! Once, I accidentally dialed the apocalypse? It was, like, crazy embarrassing. I had to text everybody on my contacts list, like, False alarm! A whole lot of gods came running anyway. I made this GIF of them attempting to charge up the Bifrost in full armour and everything and then realizing there was no battle. It was epic." Heimdall laughed, shaking his head at a fond memory.

"Uh huh," I said.

He grinned and extended his arm, his burly body probably blocking is from the photo. "Say Gamalost!"

The phablet flashed as Heimdall pulled it closer to his face, squinting at it.

"Perfect! Thanks guys!" he said, letting us walk past him to Asgard.

***

Asgard was even more impressive up close. Every time I thought the architecture couldn't get more impressive, I saw a new, more perfectly designed tower. I smiled at the thought of showing this all to Annabeth someday. She'd love it.

Mom led me through beautiful gardens bigger than anything I had ever seen, even in Olympus and wonderfully paved roads but somehow, Asgard seemed to be lifeless.

There were huge, white ramparts that made the Great Wall of China look like a baby fence but ivy was growing up them, causing the stone at the bottom to start to decay, threatening to collapse the whole thing any time soon. In one shop window, rich drapes hung in tatters, covering the dust filled window. Along the streets, fire braziers stood empty and cold, obviously not in use. The statues in one garden were completely covered with overgrown thorn bushes, giving the garden a sense of mystery.

Something didn't seem quite right, like a smell of rot running through a gorgeous city. This whole city was abandoned.

We came to a huge, beautifully constructed, golden temple on a big hill. It shone brighter than everything else, yet even this glorious structure hadn't been saved from the ruinous effect something had caused to this city.

Mom took a deep breath and I realised how hard this was for her, coming back to her hometown, after over a century, and seeing it like this.

I took her hand and she smiled at me gratefully, her eyes whispering things she was too nervous to say out loud. She exhaled deeply, eyeing the big marble steps leading to Odin's temple, as we hesitantly walked through the big golden doors.

I felt like I was interrupting an important meeting. Everyone looked up and stared at us. I felt the power of over a dozen powerful eyes analysing every fault, every strand of nervousness in our veins. The room was filled with the pressure of quiet, so noise less, I felt afraid to move.

Finally, a huge barrel-chested man at the head of the table stood up. He had close-cropped gray hair, while his beard was cut square, to accentuate his hardened, weathered face. His empty left eye socket was covered by a black patch, while his right eye was a deep blue–like Mom's.

"Frigg," he said in a whisper, his voice still resonating around the room, so everyone could hear him without any excuse.

Mom didn't reply.

"Asgardians! Let us celebrate the return of my wife, Frigg and her son!" he said, with a touch of something else in his tone, something that would definitely not be described as friendly.

After a second of tense hesitation, the Asgardians broke out in forced applause.

"Vorð? Why do you show yourself now after retreating for nearly a century?" Odin asked, standing in front of Mom and ignoring me completely. He stared at Mom with a hard look in his eye, as if he were trying to intimidate her, to force her into doing what he wanted.

"I think you know why. And I am not your wife anymore," Mom said, her voice strong as she looked him square in the eye.

Odin nodded slowly.

"Yes, I understand. You want me to bless this son of yours. The little Greek hero. Even in Asgard, they tell stories of his amazing feats. Very well," Odin said, with a strand of bitterness running through his soft voice.

Mom shook her head. "That's not the reason for my return and you know it."

Odin's face hardened immediately and I knew Mom was swimming in dangerous waters.

"I do not wish to talk about... That incident. I will bless this son–" he spat the word son as if it were an insult, "and get it over with."

"What if my son does not wish to be blessed?" Mom said, voicing my question for me, as her voice rose.

Odin sighed. "Asgard... Is not what it was once. The Norns tell many stories of this boy and if anyone could return my home to the glorious place it once was, he can."

"I think I'll leave that to Magnus," I said and Mom smiled, with an almost tired look in her eyes.

Odin looked disappointed.

"You could be a great asset to the Norse world if you only accepted the fact."

I shook my head.

"You have an entire ensemble of great heroes, yet you refuse to acknowledge them. Show them you care, that you are still alive. Then, perhaps, I may come to your aid."

Odin's expression did not change, but for a split second, I thought I saw respect painted in his dark blue eye.

"You are wiser than you look, young hero."

"Uhh, thanks?"

He gave me a short, sharp nod, filled with acknowledgement.

"We'll be going now," Mom said, with the slightest tinge of sadness in her wonderful, sunny voice.

"Won't you stay for the party?" Odin asked hopefully but Mom shook her head.

"I think Percy and I need to get back now. People are expecting us."

Odin nodded, his face once more set with unreadability.

"Come and visit soon. You and your son will always be welcome in Asgard," he said, almost out of politeness, as we turned and walked out of Asgard, not missing the uncomfortable feast we had left behind.