-Harley-

As usual, the forges were the best place for him to keep his mind wandering into a zone that was full of dangerous thoughts. The usual smell of grime and oil and the heat of the furnaces just seemed to do wonders to calm him down. But he knew that he would soon be called out, so he did as much work as he could on this one project, the one project that he could work on right now.

The other kids were going to be gathering at the pavilion soon, all excited to come back, but Harley wasn't. He had been stuck here the entire school year, and though he had been trying to crack the code behind this new project, this new thing that he had in his possession, it was giving him a vibe that wasn't very pleasant. It was also making him annoyed that this completely metal item, the thing that Hephaestus kids were best at mending to their will, wouldn't do anything he wanted.

So here he was, trying to bend a shiny gold key that looked like it was able to pop right open in the middle. It was a beautiful key, and a large one, about the entire length of his massive, calloused hands. There were engravings on every bit of surface that there possibly could be, in some ancient language that his mind that was wired for Greek couldn't comprehend. At the end of the key, the engravings stopped and turned into a feather, each feather turning a different color depending on the light. It was also a thick key, about a centimeter in width on each stem of the golden beauty. But in the middle of the engravings, and on the side of the key, everything stopped and gave way to a line that circled the entire perimeter, and on the back held hinges for it to open.

Harley didn't know how he got the key, it simply appeared in his hand when he woke up one morning. There were sometimes where he thought he could open it, and his curiosity would be cured. But the metal, no matter which way it was bent, turned, pried or pushed, would not open or budge. It was really starting to get on his nerves.

What didn't help were his dreams. In his dreams were nothing but confusing anecdotes of things that didn't make any sort of sense. They were of a door in a forest, but all he could see was the bottom of it. It had some sort of mural carved into its large, gray stone, and there was a place for a key at the very bottom. All around him were sounds of beasts growling, but they didn't sound like the kind of beasts he normally encountered as a demigod. They were foreign noises to his ears, something he didn't recognize. Whatever they were, they were large, and threatening.

On top of it, in the forest was a constant humming, and a constant singing. It was a woman's voice, and it was so calming that it seemed to bring every creature that he was hearing into a low rumble of calls and pleasant purrs. Harley had no clue who was singing, what this door was, or what this forest was, but if he tried to figure anything out about it, it would simply make his head hurt.

So Harley worked on opening the key, with no luck. He worked when the forges were empty, or near empty and he had a good and quiet space to work. He was having luck with every other project since the faded from the Hephaestus cabin, but this just made him relive the days where the curse was weighing down his cabin's shoulders, messing up everything they worked on.

Harley sighed in frustration, looking down at the key that was slowly moving itself back into place after he bent it 90 degrees. Then, behind him he heard footsteps. He turned, and saw the concerned face of his sister, Nyssa. She had long, dark brown hair, and her large, calloused hands were placed on her hips, and her face obviously held concern. Her brown eyes were going through a range of emotions, and seemed to wonder what to say, and her tan skin was covered in oil and grime from working in the forges with him at a distance.

"You don't look so good, Harley," she told him.

"I don't?" he asked.

"No. Do you need help with something? You look like you're going to punch something, or like you're going to croak, I can't tell which one."

Harley, in a swift and sneaky movement, was able to get the key into his pocket, turn and face Nyssa, and run a hand through his curly hair without her noticing it. His blue eyes looked into hers, and he gave a forced smile. He couldn't have her worry about him, or the rest of his cabin. He didn't want to put them through the struggles he was going through, not after they had to go through the dreadful times of the curse and the Giants War together.

"I'll be fine, thanks for asking though."

Nyssa didn't look convinced though. She sighed and stepped forward to pat his shoulder. "Look, Harley, I know you're the youngest kid at this camp, ya know, with being ten and all. But I feel like you're putting pressures on yourself that you don't need to. What's got you so tied up in a bunch? It's like you got a circuit that's not working properly and needs fixing."

He tried to smile again, but really, he felt like spilling everything. Instead, he just said, "I'll be okay, I promise. I've just had a lot of stuff to think about, that's all."

She tried to look him over as if he was a robot that was malfunctioning and couldn't figure out how to fix. But she sighed in the end, ruffled his hair, and nodded towards the door of the forges. "C'mon, the horn for dinner called. You were too focused to notice it. Let's go."

There were tons of campers at the dining pavilion that summer. The satyrs had found tons of new demigods, and they had all been claimed almost immediately. The crowds were bustling to get towards the fire, and each person sacrificed a little of their meal for the gods. Harley stood in line, waiting, until he got to the fire. He threw in part of his steak and gave a little prayer to his father.

Dad, I know you don't talk to demigods often, but send something to explain this, please. It's driving me insane.

He returned to his seat, and while Leo, the head counselor, joked with the rest of his cabin mates, he sat at the edge of the table, staring into the fire. Something wasn't right. Why was this key here? Why was it in his hands? Why him, of all people? He wasn't especially strong, at least not as strong as his cabin mates in Cabin 9, and even he had some troubles grasping his powers. He wasn't that good. So why him?

His prayer seemed to be answered though when Connor Stoll from the Hermes Cabin got up from his table and crouched down next to him, and told him in a low whisper, "You're Harley, right?" Harley couldn't do anything but nod, both in fear and amazement. Then, he continued. "Meet me tomorrow by the edge of the woods, and come alone, got it?" And he nodded again. Some of Connor seemed to relax, and he got up and moved to the Aphrodite Cabin's table, where he seemed to say the same thing to one of their cabin mates. Near the fire, Chiron was interested, but didn't do anything.

Nyssa elbowed Harley in the side lightly, and he turned to her. "What was that all about?" she asked him. He shrugged, responsiveless. She gave him that concerned look again, a look he was starting to really hate. But either way, he was starting to get answers, whatever they were. He caught the eyes of Chiron, and he could have sworn that he gave a small nod from the centaur, a nod of encouragement.

The rest of the night went as usual, but whatever thoughts Harley had were racing. He simply played along with the sing-along, trying to make time go faster so he could go to sleep.

His dreams changed that night, which he didn't expect. He had been having the same dream for so long that this took him by surprise. The past dreams were always about the giant stone door and the forest, the forest that always seemed to sing, but wherever he was this time, this place was completely different than the forest.

It still seemed to be in the forest, since there was still the audible humming and singing, though who was singing, Harley had no clue. The place he was in this time seemed to be inside the doors, and as he looked around, he could see the footprints, or the lack of them for that matter. There were none on the dirt floor, and the tables all around - what was this, a workshop? - had massive layers of dust on them, like they hadn't been used in years. On the tables was old wood that looked like if he touched it, then it would fall apart right there. But there was also imperial gold and celestial bronze weapons laying about on the ground, broken. When he observed more, the more he found bones - human bones - littering the lining of the walls. Vines fell down from the ceiling, and if he looked up, it looked like he was in a hollow tree that went up forever, and there were flying creatures high above that he couldn't place, and didn't want to place, what they were. And directly in front of him was a corridor.

The corridor was huge, big enough for three city busses stacked on top of each other to pass through, and large enough for 15 of them side by side to pass through. But it was long, and he could smell the musty air coming from the other side. Though it was long, it was also dark, with no light at all. Simply pitch black in front of him, and the occasional wind brushing across his face. But he started to walk towards it, not knowing what was in front of him.

After what seemed like walking forever, a light started to show in front of him, and what he saw almost made him scream, but he kept his mouth shut, because he didn't know if what he was seeing would kill him in his dream.

What was curled in a space that was far too small for it was a Drakon sleeping soundly. It's dark blue scales glinted in the scattered light coming from above that was moving in different patterns because of the massive leaves of the tree in the middle that it was wrapped around. It was massive, and Harley could understand why the corridor from before was so large. But other than the Drakon's stomach moving up and down, and it breathing it and out from it's nose, there seemed like there had been no action for centuries. Even it had a thin layer of dust on its scales.

In fact, everything except for the tree had dust on it. The leaves that had fallen down from above, the swords, weapons, shields, armor and bones from the fallen heros that had tried to get past the Drakon, the cement and the massive vines and roots that crawled out from the tree, everything. Everything was old, and nothing seemed to be in pristine condition.

Except for the thing the Drakon was guarding.

She laid there like a princess in a fairytale, on a cement - was that a coffin with glass over it? - inside the tree that rose up into the air about four feet. It was simply a slab of concrete with glass over it, the glass another three feet up and over her. Vines grew over the structure, and faded Ancient Greek and Latin all around the slab translated into sloppy sentences in Harley's head, such as, "The… master… to be… eborn…", "prophecy… to… skies…", and "bewar… dangers… child… storms…", none of which making any sort of sense in his head, but he knew all of them were important.

The girl inside the glass was beautiful. Pale skin, pure white dress, and pitch black hair flowing down her sides. Her hands were laced together on her stomach, and there looked like a Roman toga, a purple one, over her white dress. She looked no more than sixteen, but if she was in here, with this Drakon protecting her, all covered in dust, how old was she really? And how was her stomach still slightly breathing? She was obviously alive, but how? And why?

So many questions were rolling through Harley's head, but he could feel himself being lifted and taken from the dream. He clawed at the dream, wanting to stay, to find out more questions, but he was being taken too quickly, and being awoken all too soon. But he knew now, his objective. He knew what he needed to do.