“You, my dear, have the makings of a sorceress. Like me.” Annabeth took a step back. “A sorceress?” “Yes, my dear.” C.C. held up her hand. A flame appeared in her palm and danced across her fingertips. “My mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic. I know a daughter of Athena when I see one. We are not so different, you and I. We both seek knowledge. We both admire greatness. Neither of us needs to stand in the shadow of men.” “I—I don’t understand.”
