Chapter 7
I MEET NYX
After Capture-The-Flag, we had a little party. Apparently, the air-fleet usually flew overhead, in Red Arrow formation spewing coloured streaks, led by the Argo II. 16 massive Greek Triremes were flying around above the camp. The Mist would probably make mortals mistake the whole performance for a Red Arrow air-show and just wonder why it was being held at Dusk.
The massive camp-fire was like a mood ring (apart from the fact that mood-rings are based on temperature – the camp-fire was magical). Everybody was having a great time – even the Ares cabin who didn't seem to care whether they'd lost or not and they seemed to be drinking a lot of the punch – and the camp-fire flared a bright violet blue in response. I noticed a little grey dot shimmering in the lower part of the massive fire – from my knowledge of mood rings, grey was anxious. I noticed someone sitting in a curled position by the fire. I walked over. He was wearing the standard clothing of Camp Half-Blood – orange CHB shirt, choice pants –. Once he noticed me, the little spot in the fire turned a little blue.
"Hi." I said nervously, sitting down beside him.
"Hi." he replied. "I suppose I don't really need to ask who you are. Everyone knows who you are"
I arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I mean... Come on," He began. "first slayer of the Phoenix (ever), first confronter of Dionysius without getting turned into a grape for 17 years, single-handedly won..."
"All right, I get it. What's your name?"
He studied me for a moment and he must have given up trying to read my abnormal eyes because he shrugged and held out his hand. "Thomas Thracian."
I shook it. "Lizzie Chase."
"I said I already knew..."
"I felt the need. Who's your godly parent?"
His expression turned sad. "Undetermined."
"Oh." I said. "You're about my age – 13 – so shouldn't you be claimed?"
He nodded to agree. "I should be claimed. That's the thing. My father hasn't claimed me, yet."
I nodded in understanding. Some bully victims felt the same way, just put differently. I was usually picked on at schools and I defended most other victims of the "Sam Privett" I hated. So I understood what he meant somewhat: Some bully victims wanted the teachers or their parents to help and sometimes they did but they never to care. It seemed most people at Camp felt the same way.
A Norfolk-accented voice interrupted my thoughts: "Well, hello, Mr. Thracian."
I looked up and saw a man with grey hair, the rest covered under a large British navy hat and his blue British navy uniform, heavily decorated with medals and promotion stars. He had one arm, one milky-white eye, and gold brushes on his shoulders indicating a very high navy rank indeed. He was the last person I ever expected to see. It was...
"Admiral Nelson?"
The Admiral huffed and seemed to shimmer. "Dear young lady, I am a Mementa! I am a mere memory of Admiral Horatio Nelson."
Tom sighed. "Nelson, I told you not to introduce yourself as Admiral Nelson. True, you have taken up the memory of him, but you must introduce yourself as 'Nelson', not 'Admiral Horatio Nelson'." he looked at me and saw my confused look. "This is Nelson, a Mementa, a memory spirit. He's one of the few Mementae we have around here." He explained
"Who are the others?" I asked, curious.
"Oh, none other than Play-writer William Shakespeare, President George Washington, Relativity-Scientist Albert Einstein and Sir Isaac Newton." Nelson replied before Tom could say anything. My eyes widened. Some of the most famous people in history were at Camp.
"Referred to as Shakespeare, Washington, Einstein and Newton." Tom finished.
Before I could say anything else, however, the night darkened even more and the colours turned unnaturally black and blue darkness. The fires quick froze and turned into orange ice-fires, no longer flickering. The cool night became the frozen darkness.
The fire, which was flickering an icy black, sent black lightning arcing around, and from the fire, there emerged a woman dressed in dark navy-blue robes, three stars embroidered on the chest. Night seemed to emanate from her.
"YOU!" Chiron bellowed, running forward, drawing a bow and several interesting arrows from his quiver. "You are not welcome here!" He shouted, aiming his arrow at the Woman's chest.
The Woman merely smiled coldly, and said, "Amusing. A Centaur telling me I am not welcome here... I am welcome where I wish, if it is night-time. My stupid father, Chaos, snoozing in that silly little tent he calls home, will never know I broke my promise until the next millennium. And by then, this world will be under the Milky Way."
"Who are you?" I asked, stepping forward.
She observed me, "Ah... You. Daughter of Perseus, lord of time. Soon, time will not matter." She waved a hand as if to dismiss a silly comment. "But I suppose introductions are in order, do you think, Chiron? All these people look much too perplexed." She said, gesturing to the Campers, who had looks of ultimate puzzlement.
Chiron lowered his bow, but still looked wary. "Very well. You introduce your-self, then leave."
"I'm afraid not. I have business after my introduction. Hello, children. I am Nyx, the night, predecessor to the those idiots you call gods, mother to the Fates, daughter of Chaos." She spat her father's name. "Happy? Of course I already know who you are."
"Evidently." Chiron said in a horribly calm voice which meant he was angry as Hades on a sugar rush. "Now what's this business you spoke of?"
She smiled dangerously. "Oh you shouldn't have reminded me. I had almost forgotten it. I wish to destroy the gods' army."
Uh-oh. That was us.
…
That couldn't be good.
Lizzie: And next chapter is the chapter in which Tom is claimed by...
Me (warningly): *Cough* Lizzie *cough*.
Serena: Yeah... Maybe you shouldn't make spoiler alerts, Lizzie?
Me: I'll give you lot a clue of Tom's parentage, though: Bifrost. There, you knowledge-hungry battle-monkeys.
Serena: Knowledge-hungry battle-... what? And what do you mean by Bifrost... Oh. Right. Thunder or King?
Me: Thunder.
Lizzie: What are you two talking about?
Anyways, love it? Hate it?
Please review, either praise or flame.
Anyways, goodbye from HMS Columbia!
*retires to HMS Columbia's gravity ring*
P.S.: I'm using my review and PM goodbye thing. Clever, huh? (not really)
