I do not own PJO universe
Prologue
In Not So Distant Future
It was a cloudless, beautiful day like any other at the camp. Safe, happy, carefree were just some of the words that could be associated with her on that heavenly day. She didn't know why Apollo was happy or was it just the magic that was present in the Camp Half-Blood that was the reason behind the pleasant weather: she just loved it and wanted it to last for long. It was on this pleasant day did it occur to her.
It started normally like any other; the call of the Oracle. It was this urgent feeling like an itch that she felt. It was beaconing for her to go over to her place of stay and paint. She knew that it wouldn't budge or leave her and would only get still worse if not imminently attended to. So she started her way back to her tent as some would call leaving her pay of visit to the resident son of Poseidon in the midway.
As soon as her skin on her fingers graced the surface of the paintbrush, she could feel the Oracle take over her body. She didn't know or couldn't feel herself of what was she doing. For anybody else that would have peeked in, would have seen her like a mad person turning her head to her side frequently while a ancient voice uttered strange sounds that nobody could understand. If looked even closer from the front view, they would clearly see that her eyes had faraway look and not concentrating or even seeing the canvas on which she was working.
She didn't know for how long she had lost herself, but when she regained her bearings, she was utterly exhausted like a marathon runner who just finished the race without even taking a break. It took her some while to regain her composure back before her eyes darted towards the canvas on which she had been working on.
What met her eyes wasn't exactly what she had expected or could have guessed in her lifetime. While the background looked like a cavern with it walls painted or smeared with blood red and pitch black colour wasn't what caught her attention. It was a large gathering of monsters converged or focused on a single point; they had formed a circle while facing the centre. If it had been this, then she would have dismissed it without a second thought. But here, they were kneeling like knights in front of their Lord, facing the centre.
In the centre, there lied a throne; made up of bones which from the size and shape, one could clearly know that they didn't belong to humans. On it was a tall well man with a swimmer's body, seated leisurely; bent back with his right arm loosely placed on the armrest while the left was placed on the hilt of a great broad sword that laid right next to him. He had himself covered with a loosely worn black jeans and a tattered red coloured jacket.
But the one thing that stood out was the pitch black untamed mop of hair that had loose bangs extend down and cover his eyes from the view, which poorly succeeded in the task of covering his sea green glowing eyes.
While taking a step back as the recognition started to seep into her, the edge of the canvas caught hell-fire. All her efforts to stop it from spreading was never attempted due to the rooting of her bearings to the same spot in shock and fear. As it reached the seated figure, she could have sworn that a crooked smile graced his face, which if possible radiated nothing but pure madness and insanity.
This time too, she didn't know for how long she stood there shivering in fright from what had transpired, but she only knew that the one that had found and brought her out of that stupor was the same person: whom she had envisioned about just a few moments ago.