A/N
The chapters are beginning to lengthen, and the story picks up soon. Thanks for bearing with me thus far, and review!
Chapter 9 - This Is Home
Aaron was sick of the quest before it started. He was heading to the forest with Aurum to meet up with Grover. She was watching him oddly, and he didn't have a fondness for it. He couldn't help but notice how young she was. Thirteen, he thought, but he wasn't one to hypothesize. "How old are you, Aurum?"
She didn't respond for a moment, just looked up at him with a glimmering in her eye. "I'm thirteen. What about you?"
Aurum found Aaron different. Many people were humorous to distract from darker souls, but not Aaron. He was genuine in his altruism and kindness. It was inspiring, if she were to be honest with herself. He wasn't like her sibling. Both were facade-less beings of light and dark. "I'm sixteen," he said. "Turning seventeen soon," he grinned.
Aurum decided that he was the guy in your class that bent over backwards to get your pencil for you, just because it was nice. "Do you drive? We'll probably need to on the quest, and I'm not sure if I trust Rex to do it."
"Oh, yeah, his grand entrance. That's how it's done. So they said that Big Three kids were ultra powerful. What can you do?"
She couldn't help but confide in him, his friendly and relatable grin. "I can't do anything like the Ghost King." She looked down and kicked a pinecone across the carpet of soft dirt and twigs. "I get sorts of feelings about people and things. It's not really useful, but it's something. More than I deserve, for sure." She cursed herself for sharing so much.
Aaron grinned wider, "That's a super cool power. Me? I just go through stuff. I'd kill to know what people are feeling," he chuckled, "I'm oblivious. As for deserving, demigods don't deserve the hell they get. Things aren't in our control, for Pete's sake, we've got gods sitting around with the world on strings and Fate is in the basement weaving. It's not fair for us to blame ourselves, we can't control what happens to us." He saw her hopeful gaze and pieced together her story, and his voice softened. "Or the people we care about."
Aurum hadn't sensed that. She was in awe, not expecting such wisdom from him.
But he didn't expect depreciation from her.
They continued in silence for a moment while Aaron began to regret opening up and sharing his thoughts like that. She nearly whispered when she finally spoke. "Thank you."
He wanted to apply his lesson to the wretched, taboo prophecy. His jaw set when he thought of it. It said two Ghosts, right? He and May had to survive. It also said that Aurum and the Deathspawn, Rex, would prevail. He couldn't make sense of it, they were all subject to death, no matter their role in the prophecy. Aaron was overcome with dread and a hum in his throat and chest. Aurum sensed this emotional confliction in him.
"You okay?" It was amazing how one conversation could unite people.
"What do you think the prophecy means?"
Aurum could tell he was afraid. "I think we'll be fine. They said Percy Jackson made a habit out of proving prophecies wrong. I don't see why we can't." Aaron smiled and they came upon a grove. The noon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting lively emerald shadows on the ground and projected onto Aaron's and Aurum's faces. A satyr was sitting in solitude on a rock, pan pipes in hand. He wore a green Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, which Aaron decided he wanted way more than the orange one. The satyr sniffed the air, and he turned to peer at them with an uneasy gaze with an unrelated emptiness in his eyes.
Aaron noticed this, and cracked a smile. The satyrs hated the smell of the Underworld, but he would try to soothe their worries. The satyr wiped away his mask of worry to reveal a friendly demeanor. "Hi! I'm Grover. I'm not really sure what I can do to help you on your quest, but Percy is in danger. It's gonna be scary, difficult, and it'll bring you guys together. You have to trust each other completely, or it won't end well. I know you can do it. Wait, where is everyone else?"
"Training with Clarisse. The taxi guy is talking to Chiron," Aaron said.
Grover nodded. "Okay, cool. So you're the son of Melinoe, and you're the daughter of Hades?"
Aaron grinned with a, "Yep!" and Aurum nodded.
"I've met your dad. And Percy's met your mom, Aaron. Hades is really different from the other gods, really dignified and honorable. A pretty good dude, if you ask me. Percy and Thals didn't have much nice to say about Melinoe, but a lot of gods are misunderstood. I used to think they were just jerks, but that's not always the case."
"Are you not a god?" Aurum inquired. "You're the Lord of the Wild."
"I wouldn't say a god," Grover smiled sheepishly, "I just have Pan's power. We all do, nature lives and thrives in all of us. It's pretty cool. I actually found him on one of our quests, in the labyrinth, but you're not here so I can tell you about my quests, you're here so that I can prepare you for what's to come. What's your plan?"
"We're going to Yellowstone park, first, because we're not sure where the prophecy is telling us to go," Aaron explained, "and if that's not it, we're going to Hawaii, where we'll find Percy."
Grover nodded in approval. "It sounds pretty straightforward."
"We have to find Nico DiAngelo," Aurum said softly.
The satyr's eyes widened, "Oh. That complicates a lot of things. D-Do you know where Nico is?"
"Not a clue. Chiron just told us he's the 'Ghost King'," Aaron said.
Grover stroked his wispy beard, "Demigods have a lot of prophetic dreams. You'll definitely find each other eventually. I suppose we could Iris Message him? Maybe we could find him now. There's a spring in Per-er, the Poseidon Cabin that we could use."
Aaron kept his bright grin up, "Lead the way!"
As they began the long walk, Aurum mused on what she would say to Nico DiAngelo. One of the campers say that he was the real MVP of Manhattan. He convinced the armies of the Underworld and Hades himself to aid Camp Half-Blood, a monument to the power of his Olympian family that ostracized him. She disregarded that, she didn't like to think of Camp Half-Blood as a monument. Should a person be defined by their being a demigod? They're often defined by their godly parent alone. It's not like it's an escapable label, dyslexia, monster attraction, and ADHD will still haunt them. She decided that who was she to question such things, let alone answer them. They arrived at the cabin, that looked like a stone and coral bunker. Grover stared at the door for a moment while the salty sea breeze tugged at the trio.
Grover closed his eyes tight and grabbed the door handle. "Poseidon, please don't turn me into a puffer fish," he mumbled and pulled the door open. The smell of the beach wafted into their nostrils, gentle, but carrying the promise of power. Bunk beds lined one wall, and windows filled with aquatic plants and corals lined the other. The Minotaur horn was mounted on the wall over Percy's bed. The walls shone abalone, swirling and jagged hues of green, blue, orange, white, and purple. A dented shield, depicting adventures in the Sea of Monsters, lay on Percy's messy bed. A saltwater spring carved from gray stone was set in the wall at the far end, with the soothing sound of trickling water and a misty rainbow.
"Anybody got a drachma?" Grover asked. "Oh, wait, there are some in here." He gingerly reached into the warm water and fished out a golden coin. Aurum was excited at the thought of seeing her legendary brother. Grover gripped the drachma in a balled fist and said, "O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Nico DiAngelo." He flipped the coin into the mist and it broke into a thin veil, depicting a foggy morning in a coniferous forest. Mist rolled off of the trees and spears of sunlight danced through the veil. A deafening rumble and whine, almost identical to a jumbo jet taking off, pierced the silent dawn. A dark man fell from the sky, obliterating trees. The dark clad figure stood, clothed in a dark brown aviator jacket and wielding a long, Stygian blade. He rolled his shoulders as hell hounds and demons burst from the trees on all sides. A hell hound landed on his back, and he hurled it into the wreckage of trees. After that, he danced through the army of monsters, leaving clouds of drained essences and dark blood behind him. The monster that had thrown him lumbered through the trees, a massive cyclops as tall as a typical McDonald's sign and holding a bronze club.
Nico pulled his sword out of a smoky demon, and turned to the cyclops. Without losing momentum, he spun and hurled his sword at the cyclops. It tumbled end over end until it squelched into the creature's eye to the hilt. As soon as the sword left his grip, the bronze club came crashing down. Nico crouched to the the ground, digging his fingers into the empty monster dust and wet dirt, searching for strength. The club crashed into the ground at the same moment the sword stuck in its eye.
Aurum yelped and Aaron stared, wide-eyed. Grover was slack jawed. Through the misty screen, they could hear a grunting noise above the cyclops' shouts of pain and agony. Nico was slowly pushing the club off himself, trembling. With a final shout he shoved the gargantuan weapon to the side. The cyclops swung his meaty fist through the thick trees, smashing them. He made contact with Nico, and sent him flying backwards directly through the vapor screen, causing the visage to shatter and dissipate. There was stunned silence before the mist spoke cheerfully, "The recipient is unavailable at this time. Try again later!"
Grover pulled himself together first, "He's busy, I think."
Aaron let out a bellowing laugh, "I'd say so! That was insane!"
Aurum noticed Grover's eyes were even emptier. "You want to call him, don't you? Wasn't he your friend?"
Grover stared at her for a moment, and mumbled, "Yes. He was my best friend."
Even Aaron had fallen into silence. Aurum continued with her unwavering gaze into Grover's heart. "Call him," she whispered.
Grover's already dripping hand found its way back to the fountain. He didn't break eye contact until he found a drachma and half-heartedly threw it into the mist. "O, Iris.… Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Percy Jackson." The mist, instead of forming a docile sheet, spiraled and jabbed outward chaotically. The vapor filled dark red like blood and the spring water bubbled and boiled. The red fog poured from the fountain and covered the carpeted floor. Sporadic pulses and howls and screams erupted from the fountain, and the gray stone cracked, straight down the middle and the mist was sucked back in as if a giant had sharply inhaled. Where water should have flowed from the break, thick, red blood oozed from the crevice.
Absolute silence suppressed the air. The voice tore the silence, shaking. "The recipient is… is unavailable at th-the time."
"We need to leave," Grover said, rapidly backing to the exit. He turned and stormed out of the cabin. Aaron and Aurum followed him to the mess hall for lunch. As they pedaled down the emerald hills, Grover told them, "The fountain was a gift. It was a gift from his father. And Percy... Percy is somewhere awful. You guys go to lunch, relax and chill this mess off. I need to talk to Chiron." He trotted off, leaving Aaron and Aurum to contemplate what they had just seen. They'd witnessed Tartarus.
Chiron felt like he was looking at Achilles. Granted, Achilles had pale blue eyes, and Rex' were covered by black, reflective, aviator sunglasses. Greasy black hair, check. Affinity and love of death, check. In fact, the similarities were slightly concerning. The temper, for sure, would cause issue, but Chiron couldn't help but be concerned that his fate would be similar. Or was Rex even meant to follow the path of Achilles? Chiron despised the ancient histories that rise and threaten these children. The past should have been left alone, too many perished and lost for war to just repeat itself.
They were seated across from each other in the Rec room, the ping pong table between them. The jaguar head on the wall whimpered away from the teenager.
"Do you know where you are, Rex?"
Rex was leaned back in his chair, gaze frozen and voice monotone. "Magic camp."
Chiron had never met a son of Thanatos. He truly wasn't sure what to expect, but he was quickly piecing together the type of person Rex was.
"While magic is integral to the camp, I believe you'll find Camp Half-Blood's purpose far more riveting. This is a not only a shelter, but preparation for the lives ahead of demigods. Sometimes, ah, they go on to be great things, presidents, celebrities, or even lead normal lives. You, however, are not so fortunate."
Rex inclined his head and leaned forward. "I never expect to be."
Chiron smiled in his usual, polite demeanor. "Occasionally, there are quests. They were forbidden for quite some time because of hazardous outcomes, but became almost annual around six years ago, the year Percy Jackson arrived. He was more of a leader in this camp than I was, and I have little shame in admitting it. Do you recall anything odd a couple years ago around Manhattan?"
"What, like the weird time things? Conspiracy theorists went wild with it. Something about aliens altered time so they could survey Manhattan. I don't buy into it, but with all this stuff I've seen lately, I'd say something went on."
"Something certainly happened. The demigods of Camp Half-Blood stood against an army of monsters and Titans, the cruel immortals that preceded the Olympian gods-"
"Hold up," Rex gestured, "So all this polytheistic stuff, it's… true?"
"The Greeks, yes. You mentioned you met one?"
"Said his name was Plutus. What does that mean?"
"Plutus is the minor god of wealth, I'm fairly sure he sided against Olympus in the war, but… he is considered a Cthonic god."
"Meaning?"
"Every quest has a prophecy. Yours begins, 'The Children of the Cthonic gods shall rise together against all odds. A lethal quest they will embark upon, To free the sole savior of gods.' Cthonic gods are those that make their home in the Underworld."
"So where we're supposed to go and what we'll do is laid out by this prophecy?"
"Indeed." Chiron was intrigued to see exactly how cunning Rex was.
"Against all odds, right? It wasn't exactly easy, I suppose. I can't imagine Underworld kids are liked. Who is the savior of gods?"
Chiron smiled sadly. "The greatest of all the heroes I've trained. Percy Jackson not only had the power, but the true heart of a hero. If you desire to know more, the campers speak of him with awe and high regard. He is trapped in the hell that is Tartarus, a place of unimaginable horrors."
"So he's in trouble. What's a Gaea?"
"She is the protogenos, a primordial goddess, of earth."
"And that's where we find this Percy Jackson. It sounds pretty simple."
"I hope it will be. Unfortunately, I… It may be a harmless quest, but I'm almost certain it's something very, very bad." Chiron coughed in a manner meant to change the subject. "What can you do, Rex? I've never met a son of Thanatos, and I'm quite curious of your gifts."
"I've never really thought about it. I can feel death, and suffering. I can feel it in and on people, and I can sense things in people, like the capacity for death or chunks of emotion or personality. Then there's the high. When I killed stuff, like the monsters, I was more focused and had more energy and… I wanted to do it again."
Achilles for sure, Chiron thought. "I see. And you've run away from home, I assume?"
"Don't have one. I lived off the streets in Chicago."
"And your mortal mother?"
"Dead."
The boy had nobody. "Many children find this place to be both rich in family and the home they've desired. Take a walk around, make a friend, enjoy the camp. There's a shower upstairs, second door on the left, I think I can find a son of Nemesis to give you clothes. Or considering your size, you may want to pay the Hercules cabin a visit before you leave for the quest tonight. If you miss lunch at the mess hall just come by here and I'll have something for you, and you can pick a team at Capture the Flag tonight." Chiron wheeled backward and turned. "I have several matters to attend to before you all leave. Rose will be more than apt to teach you about the Olympians."
Rex nods. He went to leave, swinging his blood red backpack over his shoulder. Chiron noticed the hilt protruding from the bag. His face fell grave. "Rex. Where did you get that sword?"
"It was given to me by a hysminae named Clara."
"Neither that blade nor the hysminae should exist. They have been extinct since the American Revolution, and even then they only appeared to those destined to soon die in battle. And as for that sword... I cannot speak of it."
"If there was real danger in the weapon, you would tell me. Obviously it's not as dangerous as you make it to be, and Clara saved my life, she didn't put it at risk."
Chiron sunk, defeated by Fate's will. He recognized its vindictive hand after seeing it strangle the life of so many heroes. Rex felt more than noticed the sad, quiet disposition. "I'll try not to use it or anything. I mean, I've been using it and nothing has happened so far. And for Clara, I don't believe in destiny. The hope it gives has no place in my life. I won't die in battle, because my fate is my own."
Chiron smiled. The boy was not defeated. The boy was strong. "Perhaps my concerns are misplaced. Good luck to you, Rex Haze. I believe you'll take interest in the armory or the climbing wall, after your shower." Chiron rolled out of the Rec Room, and Rex staggered his exit by examining the room. It was thick with violence from a dark time. As per usual with such sensation, he shrugged it off and left.
Rex found his way to creaking, wooden stairs and followed Chiron's instructions. A bathroom bathed in white and shades of yellow lay before him, and he switched the shower on immediately. The last time he'd had a real shower, he'd broken into a motel room over a month ago. The room smelled of a sweet vanilla and felt so cozy. It was weird for Rex. He tugged his filthy, torn shirt over his head, jostling his sunglasses. His jeans were constantly stiff with sweat, having rarely been changed. He pulled them and his undergarments from his legs, and looked into the mirror. He faced himself, and stroked a finger across the wire rim of his congenial eyewear. His glasses had been stationary on his face for months. Gingerly, with both hands, he pinched the hinges and pulled them from his face.
Liquid silver irises peered back at him through adjusting eyes. They reflected light, almost luminous. He hated the light in them, it was too inviting. He didn't want anyone invited. This face was so unfamiliar to him, he'd seen himself in passing reflections, face obscured with smudges of dirt and sunglasses. His square jaw and the sparse, awkward facial hair of a genetic oddity and vagrant was unfamiliar. His eyes were unfamiliar. He laid his glasses down on the sink and stepped into the shower. The sheer pleasure of hot water washing away stench and filth from his broad back nearly had him on the floor. He inhaled sharply and turned around to let the water pour across his face and forehead. His hands found their way to a bottle of shampoo. He made quick use of it by cleansing his thick hair of dirt and oil. It felt surprisingly soft under his fingers, of course, he hadn't had it so clean since his last foster home, he mused as he grasped a bar of soap. When he thought about it, home wasn't the right word. Or was a home nothing more than the place he put his feet up? A problem for another day, he decided.
Faintly, he detected the door gliding on inaudible hinges. Demigod-brand fighting instinct kicked in. There was silence, then a shift of fabric. His sword was in his bag. Approximately two yards away. His muscles tensed and he shifted his weight. He dove through the shower curtain, and rolled across the floor. In a fluent movement, he snatched the black hilt and halted on one knee. At the end of his blade was a startled camper with clothes in his arms. Rex knelt and the camper stood, frozen and breathless. Water dripped from Rex' muscular arms and shoulders. The camper was frozen in a liquid silver gaze.
"My bad." Rex stood.
"Jus bringin' clothes, mate." He set the bundle down, grabbed Rex' old clothes to wash, and exited, leaving Rex with chills and twitching muscles. He decided he was clean and shut the shower off. He grabbed a towel, dried himself, and dressed in the clothes brought to him. The bright orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt stretched over his large, athletic body. He pulled on white shorts and socks and examined the sink. He found a razor and hoped it was magic. After a few minutes of putting it to use, he evaluated his appearance.
He mistook himself for an average, happy, bright teenager. Light shined in his eyes and off his clean, tanned face. His black hair was soft and thick now, and swept across his forehead and ears. Uncomfortable with the image, he put his sunglasses back on. Great, now he looked like an average, happy, bright teenager at the beach. His glasses had lost their intimidating aura but not their functionality.
He scowled at seeing the shoes given to him: bright orange and pearl white Nike tennis shoes to match his shirt. He sighed and pulled them on. He was surprised at their comfort. Maybe he could get used to them. He shrugged his backpack on and left the room. The first thing that crossed his mind was the girl that sat by his side when he woke up. The girl with cyan eyes. That was a good start, he thought, but he decided not to feed his impulsive infatuation. It would lead to little good. He descended the stairs, but the house was empty except for a satyr or two. Rex double taked at the legs. One brayed at him with hostility. Rex only had to flare his nostrils in response for the goat to shrink.
He stepped out onto the porch, where a voice like a smooth ray of sunshine called for him. "Requiem Haze?"
Rex halted and turned, "Rex."
"Wilhelm Solace. We all got weird names, bro. I prefer Will."
Rex took a liking to Will. While he was a bit sunny, there was a dark, hidden edge. The pink-red stained bandages wrapped around his knuckles were indicative. Neat, light blond hair sat atop a handsome face and sky blue eyes. He wore his usual striped red muscle shirt and khaki shorts. "I'm the guy that brought you back from the dead."
Rex saw opportunity for banter. Chiron said to make a friend. "Thanks for that. My dad's a dick."
Will smiled widely, with trademark Apollo teeth. "Aren't they all?" The Sun's light seemed to grow harsher. Will scowled at the sky. "Anyway, I'm supposed to rank you on combat and fitness. So Arena or climbing wall, bro?"
Rex looked out at crimson and emerald strawberry fields tangled until the azure sea. "Climbing wall, yeah."
"Excellent. Maybe if we push that then I can get Chiron to shift your combat test to Capture the Flag. Sun's gonna set in a couple of hours and then we'll play."
Rex and Will hiked across grassy hills until they reach the climbing wall. If they were in public, they'd appear as painfully normal, falsely content teens. They arrived at the climbing wall, where only an agility class of five was being taught. Will and Rex ignored them. "Tips," Will said, "Don't look down. Stay to the left side to avoid the lava. Don't extend your legs so you don't get stuck."
"Did you say *lava*?"
Will just grinned with blinding teeth and slapped him on the back. "Have fun, bro."
Rex tensed himself and lept up the wall. He climbed quickly and relentlessly, before he tired. Halfway up, lava spurted from the wall and seared his forearm. His weight dropped and jerked at his shoulder. He was clinging to the wall by one arm. He quickly found footholds, but his extended legs were useless. Pain pierced his arms, and he pulled himself higher, elbow under tremendous pressure. With a heave, he pushed himself up. Climbing one handed was more difficult. His left arm wasn't his dominant one anyway, but now it was his only functional one. He climbed in short jumps, planting his feet on the wall and quickly grabbing another handhold before he fell too far back. Will was on the ground, in awe. When Rex finally made it to the top, the Sun was below the clouds but hovering over the horizon. He rolled himself onto the peak and lay gasping for air for a minute. He finally sat up, looking over the entirety of the camp.
Jade forests laid like lively carpet across one half, and rolling hills, Greek buildings, and scarlet strawberry fields covered the rest. Beyond that, the dark sea extended to the periwinkle sky and orange sun, to the pink and yellow streaked clouds above. Not a bad sunset, Rex thought. Maybe, he thought, maybe this could be home.
He stood, the winds gently ruffling him at such a height. He stood strong, looking over a camp he was destined to fight for. Yes, he thought. This is home.
A couple moments passed before he peered over the edge. "SOLACE! How the hell do I get down from here?!"
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