Moonlight was soft against her skin, a soft sigh ringing out in the still air before the sound of a bow singing shattered that stillness with the grace and force of a sledgehammer. Gold eyes focused, staring at the two arrows fired in a single shot. One of them was perfect, hitting one target dead centre, whilst the second arrow was ever so slightly off – a consequence of trying to split her focus and her power between them equally. "Ugh," she grumbled, scowling and pouting in a single breath. It wasn't even a fraction of what she had seen her father do in her few visions of him. It wasn't enough, and Harriet didn't think it would ever be enough. Two arrows was her limit. Right then, at least. Three arrows were both hard to hold on a bow designed to hold one single arrow, and they went everywhere other than where she was aiming.
Though archery was probably one of the safer talents given to her by her father's blood. Photokinesis was probably the most immediately destructive of her abilities, what with its propensity for causing fire and razing forests to the ground. Plague was undeniably the next destructive, what with the amount of lives she had already claimed with its misuse. Her stomach twisted at the reminder, guilt feeling as though it ought to be eating her alive as she stood there, desperately reminding herself that she wasn't Tom Riddle and she never would be.
Surely she just had to save as many people from ghastly fates to make up for that? That had to be why she was cursed with prophecy. Though perhaps in that respect, it was a gift.
Harriet swallowed, a lump in her throat at that. She wished that there was some easy, simple way to control her powers. She wished she had a sibling or a father to teach her how to do so safely. Yet as far as she could see there were currently only two beings with control over plague – herself and her father, the latter being someone she could not go to.
Chewing on her lip, she scowled, wishing then for a vision which gave her step by step instructions for how to tone down her plague ability. No visions came, fickle as her control over them currently was, and she flopped back against the soft grass, knowing then that she might have to take a short break from her archery practice sessions. Moonlight might have been her friend when it came to avoiding her father's attention, but her visions had given her an inkling that someone else was beginning to take notice of her regular nightly archery practice.
Her father wasn't the only divine being out there, and his twin sister's domain involved the moon. Her apparent aunt was taking an interest in her, fleeting and fickle as it was. Harriet had never associated an aunt's interest with anything good. The very thought sent shivers down her spine. She had never met the Hunters of Artemis before, but she knew if she didn't stop then that would soon change. Holding the interest of a god or a goddess was never a good thing – indeed, Harriet thought a sensible person would run for the hills. She wasn't a sensible person, though the interest of Artemis was arguably slightly kinder than most.
Yet Harriet knew – eventually – she would hold the interest of her father. Why wouldn't the most ridiculously powerful child of his earn his attention? Her stomach twisted nervously at the thought, the knowledge that all secrets eventually were unearthed. Knowledge and reason were his domains, after all.
A sigh escaped her, even as she teleported back home. It was strange not to think of apparition as apparition. Witches and Wizards didn't exist there. She let out a shaky breath at that reminder, freezing as a vision slammed into sight. An arrow notched to a bowstring, whisperings of illness as it struck its target, guided by her father's hand. Harriet frowned, wondering then about it and what it meant.
"Harriet?" Her mother appeared in her periphery.
She smiled at that. "I'm back," she called, almost skipping to the sofa and plonking down on the soft cushions. "Though I probably won't be going out again anytime soon. My… aunt looks like she might begin to take interest otherwise," she murmured, heedless of the worried look her mother sent her and the way her fingers clutched at her as though she were a passing dream which might otherwise vanish into nothingness. It wasn't like her mother could stop her from going out when she could teleport. Yet that hadn't quite stopped her from compromising with a curfew, lest she stay out too late when she had to be up for school the next day.
Gold tinted her vision, the edge of nothingness spreading out beneath her feet, a cliff where only a myriad of dark swirling colours waited. A snake fell down into it, vanishing in a flurry of purple fizz, its existence snuffed out with a final seething hiss. Pain wracked her head, dark scales gleaming in dim light, lamp-like yellow eyes peering at her.
"Do you not yet understand?"
Dimly, Harriet felt blood trickle from her nose, even as she remained stuck in that vision, too many images flickering past as that odd, raspy voice spoke to her in the darkness of her own mind.
"We're bound – you and I."
"Harriet," her mother called, and she blinked then, head throbbing as she emerged from that vision – an important one too, if the way she was gushing blood was any indicator. Usually it took multiple visions to get her in such a state or, on the rare occasion, one vision which was so very important somehow. A vision she probably wasn't ready to see just yet. Harriet wasn't entirely sure. She had been trying not to overexert herself as of late.
"Mn," she mumbled, blinking blearily up at her mother. "'m fine," she grumbled, taking over holding the tissue to her nose. "Vision," she added, not that such an elaboration was necessary by such a point. Her mother was well aware exactly what caused nosebleeds even when she wasn't visibly using any of her strange demigodly powers.
"I know," her mother whispered, running her fingers through her golden locks. "What did you see this time?" she asked, enfolding her in that warm, soft embrace she so loved. Yet the same embrace which made her feel as though she was supposed to be something soft, fragile, and protected. Yet she had grown up far too swiftly in that life and the one before to be something like that. Soft, fragile things there died far too young.
Gold flickered in her vision, an image of a large wolf and her pack ripping into a demigod deemed too weak. Her fingers curled, tense like a bowstring, wishing she could rip such fates into shreds. Perhaps some would call it survival of the fittest. She thought it wasn't fair. It wasn't like it was a crime to be weak. All it meant was that she needed to be stronger – so the ones she loved had a choice between weakness and strength.
"The so-called archetypal hero," a voice like rasping sands whispered in a world tinted with gold, eyes of the brightest green peering into her own. "Divinity burns in your bones."
The vision shifted like the tides, and swept up on it, she succumbed to the next visage brought to her sight. "Heed my words, Daughter of the Sun," a lady with eyes the colour of a storm looked at her from above. "Those who play with fire are burnt, and within you lies a flame far too great for the mortal shell you wear."
"Oh," Harriet mumbled, feeling her eyes start to burn. The vision changed yet again, the scenery nothing but an afterthought as she stared at the figure before her. A soft smile played on her lips, a bouquet of yellow blooms held in her arms which glowed a colour closer to white. Golden hair fell past her knees, glowing golden eyes searching her own matching ones.
"Better to burn and live brightly than to fade in shadows and despair," she said, and Harriet felt something trickle from her eyes, almost blinded by the glowing, burning radiance which was consumed by golden flames, leaving nothing bar ash behind.
"Oh," she murmured again, the ceiling coming into view, her mother's terrified, worried face blurring into sight.
"Harriet," she said, mopping at her tears with a fresh tissue which was quickly stained red. "Stop," she begged, tears in her own eyes. "Stop trying to look!" Fingers dug into her bony shoulders, tears dripping down her cheeks. "Please."
A smile curled at her lips, heedless of the way blood leaked from her eyes and nose. "'m fine, mom," she mumbled, frowning at the way a fresh wave of tears poured down her face. "I just… can't control it… yet," she added, wondering whether she'd ever be able to stop the relentless tsunami of visions which always bombarded her.
As if on cue, her vision tinged with gold again, the ceiling and her mother vanishing in an instant, sights of the future deciding to bombard her once more. Harriet wasn't entirely sure when, but she had to have passed out, what with how her vision was no longer tinted gold. She was dreaming – vividly so, but dreaming nonetheless. That was the only time she wasn't plagued with visions. Besides, unless her mother had decided to miraculously take her on holiday to a sunny beach in a matter of hours without waking her, then she was undeniably dreaming. Golden sands shifted beneath her bare feet, the sea lapping at the shores as she stood there, staring out at the odd, peaceful visage before her.
She was used to nightmares, the occasional nice dream, and that dark train. A beach was something new and novel, and perhaps, she mused, feeling a whisper of power brush against her skin, something to be nervous of.
"A shame," a familiar voice spoke, and Harriet froze, not even daring to take a breath. "I owe Hypnos a favour for…" Blue eyes fixed on her golden ones, and then Harriet could no longer hear the soft waves lapping at the shores. "How odd," he murmured, stepping closer to her then, heedless of the way her heart thrummed in her chest like the beats of a hummingbird's wings. "I can't quite see you clearly." His tongue clicked. "I had suspected as much, but it's still… irritating to know that someone is concealing one of my children from me…" Flecks of gold crept into his irises. "I think it time you went to Camp Halfblood, child mine."
Harriet blinked, thinking on what she needed to do that coming summer. Perhaps the summer after she'd go to camp and try and figure things out? She swallowed back her apprehension, nerves making her mouth move without a thought. "I'm busy this summer," she said, stomach twisting at the displeased expression which flitted across his face. She didn't want to compare him to Uncle Vernon. He was probably far more terrifying and dangerous than her once-uncle.
A snort of laughter escaped him. "It wasn't a suggestion, child mine." Gold flared that much brighter in his eyes. "You will attend camp, as you should, seeing as how you already know exactly what I speak of."
Her fingers twisted in the material of the vaguely Greek dress she wore in that strange place. "I'm busy," she repeated, thinking then of the two deaths she had to prevent. The two other children of his destined to die. She was hardly going to let those lives slip through her fingers, no matter how angry that made her father.
"Child mine," his voice changed, the tone something she was intimately familiar with yet hadn't heard for quite some time.
Mine.
The word rang in her head, loud and clear, and triggering a vision or several. Her vision turned, the sinking realisation that she was having a vision in a dream – a place she had once been safe from those damning golden visions. That sense of safety was ripped away. Harriet didn't know why she'd thought otherwise. Safety was ever a fickle thing for her, or so it seemed.
"Silly girl," the unfamiliar, feminine voice almost purred in her ear. "You'd think you'd know by now – gods are prideful, vain creatures—"
"Child mine," her father whispered, the sound sending shivers rolling down her spine.
"—you're far more alike your father than you know—"
Blue eyes flared gold, head turning, golden locks shifting in the wind, dark pupils looking to the side in pure, undilute rage which sent chills racing down her back, the hairs on her neck standing up on end.
A face superimposed itself over her father's, the similarities breath-taking, the sight taking her breath away because she knew who that face belonged to, older as it was. Her face. The face of her teenaged self, golden eyes burning as they looked sideways in their rage.
"Place a mirror before your father and he would happily admire himself within," the voice continued, dark glee in its tone. "Place a child so reminiscent of him in power and temperament… and what do you suppose will happen?"
Her hands went to her head, as if she could pry away the ache from beneath her temples, her father's confused face flashing before her before numerous snapshots of the future flashed in her mind. Lips moved without her say so, caught up by the maelstrom of power so similar to her own which gushed around her like water from a fountain. "Seven half-bloods shall answer the call—The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap—" Her eyes burnt, an all too familiar pain in her head and nose consuming her as her lips continued to move of their own accord. "Wisdom's daughter walks alone—With candle guided through hollow—The giants' revenge the seven shall birth—Fail without Apollo's strongest daughter—The Titan's curse must one withstand—"
"Oh, silly girl," that voice purred. "Even a father's adoration can be such a cruelty…"
"My…" Golden eyes glowed, only mere centimetres away from her matching ones, a promise of rage and wrath buried deep within them. "Not only do they dare to conceal my flesh and blood, but a baby oracle as well…"
"—a god with notorious mood swings, your father is—"
Pain pulsed in her skull, two opposing powers feeling as though they were playing tug-of-war with her mind. It felt as though her skull was about to split in two. The pain was something far more exquisite than anything she'd felt before in both of her lives. A scream rang out, her eyes snapping open in the eerie darkness. "Harriet," her mother spoke, and she could only whimper as cool night air slid over her almost feverish skin.
"Ngh," she mumbled, frowning then as she spied the oodles of shattered glass littering the apartment around them. "Huh?"
"Rest, Harriet," her mother whispered, stroking at her brow as she sat there in her mother's arms, staring at the shattered windows and shattered glass bulbs lying in the wake of… A frown marred her brow, the power pulsing beneath her skin making her feel so very warm. "Looks like I might have to take Josephine up on that offer," she mumbled, and Harriet had the vaguest of recollections that Josephine was the twins' mother.
"Wha—?" Her throat ached, her words cracking before she could finish. Hands went to her throat, feeling tender skin there and a dry, aching throat beneath. It took all of a matter of minutes of eerie silence for her to put things together. She had seen it, after all – others of her father's children gifted in audiokinesis. Even her father himself. A croaky sigh escaped her before she realised it, part of her feeling numb at the admission that she had yet another destructive gift.
Harriet could only wonder if destruction was part of her nature as she closed her eyes, snuggling into her mother as tiredness pulled her eyelids shut and left her oblivious to the waking world.
::
A familiar train greeted her sight, and Harriet could only blink and curl up in the black leathery seats. Something soft and fluffy settled over her shoulders; a blanket. "You will have to forgive me for that," her usual visitor said, his usual smile no longer on his face. "Your father was just a bit more resourceful than I expected," he explained, reaching out to pat at her and her aching head. "I must admit, I didn't expect him to trade a favour to reach out to you in your dreams."
"He wants me to go to camp," she mumbled, already knowing that he knew that much. It was just something to fill up that eerie silence. Harriet was beginning to hate eerie silences. Eerie stillness had all too often been a prelude to monster attacks.
"But you won't be, will you?" He tilted his head. "You have other things to worry about, and now I have to worry about lightning brat's kid – that sunny fetus – poking around in places he shouldn't." He sighed deeply, sinking back in his own seat opposite her. "Not that he would stand a chance of finding me if I didn't want to be found…" A smirk curled at his lips, wide and cunning. Harriet looked away, sighing for herself then.
"Of course," Harriet mumbled listlessly, not really paying attention to her usual dream guest. The sudden appearance of her father had thrown her. Part of her wondered if he'd smite her the minute she walked into camp, at the very second who she was came to be revealed.
She was cursed with the gift of prophecy.
She was cursed to see both future, present and past.
She knew about Halcyon Green.
There was a beat of silence before the very gift which had damned both her and him stirred, a voice greeting her ears as she sat there upon the train, thinking on her fate. Thinking on what it meant to go against her father's wishes and whether there was any way of coming back into her father's good graces. It was, she knew, rather advisable to be in them rather than out.
"Silly girl. There's a fine line between love and hatred…"
::
Laurel all but bounced around her room, the slit in the drawn curtains shedding light on the fact that it was rather late in the evening. "You're finally over for a sleepover!" she all but crowed with delight, and Harriet found herself abruptly nervous at the amount of excitement gleaming in those big blue eyes.
"She's staying until their windows get fixed," Alexander chimed in, seated on the fluffy rug on their floor, playing with the remote for the small TV in their room. "That's what Aunt Celeste said, anyway."
"What movie do you wanna watch?" Laurel asked, going then to the tall, thin bookshelf in their room which was occupied with books, CDs, and films. "Mom's making popcorn, and if we're lucky we might get chocolate and sweets too!"
Alexander hummed, an almost devilish smile curving at his lips. "Or we could raid the kitchen once mom and Harriet's mom go to sleep…" he trailed off, and Harriet could only watch as an unholy gleam entered the twins' eyes. Quietly, she wondered if there was something about twins and trouble which just seemed to attach the other. Her thoughts didn't linger long on red hair and freckles. It had been too long since she had lived in England. Since she had died in an England now estranged to her.
"Good idea!" Laurel declared, and Harriet supposed she might as well help her out in their mischief, nostalgic as it made her. It would give her a good excuse to practice using her abilities once more. Somehow she doubted her aunt would be all that interested in her ability to turn herself, and hopefully others invisible.
The night-time raid was a success with her helping – though they might have forgotten to clean up the evidence before they fell asleep that night on pillows and blankets with the credits rolling on the TV. Maybe that was why they woke up to their unamused mothers standing over them.
It was a nice few days spent with the twins.
The lull before the storm.
::
"Harriet," her mother said, trembling hands holding her own as the entrance loomed above them. Camp Lagoon, the sign read, carved into dark wood which arched above the large set of stairs which led to the aforementioned camp. It wasn't Camp Halfblood – something her father was probably displeased by, but he could go stuff it for all Harriet currently cared. Saving lives was more important than bending to the whims of her father, no matter what happened.
"You know I'd come either way," she murmured, smiling even as her mother looked at her, nervous and terrified for her. Truly, she was probably a terrible daughter, worrying her mother as she always did. Yet it wasn't like she could let them die. Their strings were destined to be snipped far too soon, and only she – an arbiter of fate – could stop that much and change fate.
Fingers curled around her celestial bronze scissors tucked in her pocket, the cool metal giving her some small form of comfort as she stood there, ready to face whatever monster decided to come out and play that summer.
She could change fate – she would change fate, no matter what trouble it wrought her.
The knowledge of what would happen if she failed weighed heavy on her shoulders as she stood there, suitcase in her mother's hand as they ascended the stairs together, bumping into the twins themselves at the very top.
Laurel grinned at her, oblivious to the tragedy which would soon have unfolded had she not been there. "Harry! There you are!" she called, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her forwards. "Come on! We need to go and see what cabin you've been put in!"
"Cabin…?" she trailed off, gold flitting across her vision, the sight of a cabin which looked to be made out of solid gold when the light hit it flashing before her eyes.
"I'm in Cabin Sparrow," Alex called from where he stood by the board which had all the information relevant posted up. "Laur, you're in Cabin Owl, and Harry's in Cabin Hawk…" he trailed off, lips pursing. "We're all split up…" he grumbled, folding his arms with a pout.
Nearby, Josephine smiled almost solemnly. "Well, I did say they'd probably split you by gender and age…" she said matter-of-factly, ruffling her son's hair. "That doesn't mean you won't be seeing each other though. Maybe you should enjoy your time apart. As they say – absence makes the heart grow fonder."
Laurel and Alexander both made a face at that.
Harriet only smiled, not quite able to break out into laughter, ever the reminder of what would have happened in that future she saw lingering over her like a storm cloud about to erupt in rain and thunder. "Cabin Hawk," she murmured, almost testing the word on her tongue. She thought Cabin Owl might have fit her better.
Even years later she could never forget Hedwig.
::
Her eye twitched as she sat on her bed in the aforementioned 'Cabin Hawk', listening to the other girls her age talk without her. Ever was she reminded that she was strange and her social skills were practically non-existent. How was she supposed to talk with literal children who thought that boys were gross and thought the worst thing to happen was being made to eat vegetables? Harriet didn't know, and everyone else there already thought her odd because of that.
Yet she wasn't there to make friends – rather, she was there to save her friends' lives. Her siblings' lives. Maybe that was why she couldn't be carefree, like the others seemingly were. Fingers curled in the blanket she had brought from home, nerves suddenly rising in full force as she sat there, trapped in her own worries and doubts.
She had been preparing herself for those days, yet now that those days were upon her, she felt like what she'd done wasn't enough. Time had slipped through her fingers like the sands of an hourglass, and now the twins' potential deaths were looming before her. Fingers curled into fists, and she shook her head. There was no other choice for her to be ready. She couldn't afford to fail.
Blood and death would be the only things to await her if she did.
The door slammed open with a loud bang, Laurel's grinning face appearing as if by magic to save her from her own strangeness. "Harry!" she called, earning looks for calling out the boyish name.
Harriet found herself moving without much thought, jumping down from her bed like a cat and running to meet her… She paused in her thoughts, wondering then whether Laurel was more of her sibling or her friend. They were only half-siblings, after all. Though she had lived once before without any family, and that meant each and every member of her new family were all the more precious, no matter the exact relation. "Laurel," she mumbled in lieu of greeting.
"C'mon, my cabin are making s'mores!" she said, grabbing her by the hand and all but dragging her away from her own cabin which felt much too small. It wasn't the domain of her father, with pale walls, bunk beds, and cheery yellow blooms. It was odd to think of that place which she knew had to be at camp.
Cabin Seven. Apollo's Cabin.
She wondered why it almost felt like home even though she had never set foot there.
"I've never had s'mores before," Harriet mumbled absentmindedly. Her and her mother had never really gone camping before – not with her health being what it was and the possibilities of a monster attack around almost every corner.
Laurel gasped like it was a crime against the earth herself. Her vision turned gold, the image of a veiled, smiling, sleeping lady flashing before her eyes. Mother of All. Shivers ran down her spine, even as Laurel dragged her over to the campfire which crackled almost merrily in the middle of the pavilion. A shudder passed through her, memories of the archery range and that hand around her neck, choking and squeezing the life out of her. Memory was ever a problem for her – she could never forget the moments sometimes she all too often wished she could. A soft sigh escaped her, even as she sat down beside Laurel, thinking then on whether flames would be the answer to whatever creature lurked out there, waiting and watching.
"Here," Laurel declared, pushing a s'more into her hands. "Eat it while its warm – tastes better," she said matter-of-factly, before digging in to her own marshmallow-chocolate-cracker sandwich.
Harriet tilted her head, watching as Laurel gave her a pointed look before acquiescing to the silent demand and digging into her snack. It tasted surprisingly nice, and she could only lick her fingers clean and smile, trying to ignore the way she was ever so sensitive to the sounds of rustling leaves and breaking twigs.
Paranoia, it seemed, was going to be a theme for her while she was there. "I bet I could smuggle you into our cabin," Laurel said, folding her arms. "'s not fair that we have to be separated just because you're a bit younger and smaller…"
Harriet felt her eye twitch, ever reminded of her lacking height – but that was fine because she was a child and she would grow taller and taller. She hoped. She had been short enough the first time around, thank you malnutrition. "Mn. I'll grow," she stated, thinking then on how she could very easily sneak into their cabin far better than Laurel could smuggle her in. She could literally turn invisible, after all, and that was rather stealthy, dare she say so herself.
Laurel frowned for a moment before her face gave way to a grin. "Yeah!" she said. "You sure will!"
"Aunt Celeste's a bit short though, isn't she?" a familiar voice sounded, Alexander materialising and plonking himself down next to Laurel on the log repurposed as a bench. "Mom says we usually grow up as tall as our parents. Though we've got to drink our milk…"
A cup of water found its way into her hands, and Harriet drank greedily from it, listening as Alexander began talking about his own cabin and some of the tentative friends he'd already made. She wondered what they'd think when they saw that golden cabin at camp. They would have to go there. They were going to live beyond that week, after all.
"You met your cabin counsellors yet?" Alexander asked, tilting his head. "Mine seems pretty cool… though he said we'd need to go back to our cabin soon. We've got a lot to do before bedtime, I think…"
"Uh, no." Laurel shook her head. "But her name was on the board. I think it was… Luna, or something?"
Harriet blinked, thinking then on radish earrings, blonde hair, and pale blue eyes. She had yet to meet anyone with the name Hermione as of yet. Part of her almost wondered if it was as popular of a name as Harriet there.
"Mine's this guy called Fred," Alexander said, smiling even as Harriet froze – because that name was eerily familiar. A shiver of foreboding slunk down her spine, and she took a sip of water and pondered pointedly on when she was going to vanish back to Cabin Hawk. She did not try to think about who Fred was—
Gold flashed across her vision, the sight of familiar blue eyes which had all too recently been flecked with gold meandered by, long blonde hair leaving her little doubt as to exactly what she was suspecting.
"Alex!" the familiar voice which had been taut with anger the last time sounded, ringing out across the pavilion. "We've got to head back inside now!" the voice singsonged, and Harriet spat her water back out into her cup as her father waltzed across the grounds to collect his son. His son by who all rights he should not have been interacting with.
Brilliant. She was going to have to kill a monster, save the twins, all the while keeping her true identity under wraps with a literal god a few feet away in a cabin. Harriet resisted the urge to flop back on the ground and scream about the chaos and difficulty of her life. It was like she was stuck in a game which some sadistic imbecile had dialled up to super hard mode. It wasn't like it could get any harder than that.
"Brother," another voice which she had heard only a few times before sounded, addressing Fred then.
"Oh," Laurel said, even as Harriet wanted to punch herself for daring to even think that tiptoeing around one god was difficult. Tiptoeing around a god and a goddess would be even harder. "I think that's Luna," she declared. "My cabin's counsellor, or whatever its called."
Harriet snorted. That name was far too on-the-nose. "Mn," she mumbled, finally giving into the urge to lie on her back and stare up at the stars and lament the utter train wreck which was her existence there. Things could never be easy for her, but oh – oh how she wished they could be. To have an easy, normal life would be a dream come true. "Why," she muttered with the airs of an incredibly exasperated person so done with their lot in life, "is this my life?"
Then again, the terrifying git in her dreams was probably getting such entertainment from her predicament.
"My," he murmured in her ear, a phantom of his presence curling down her spine like ice, ever a reminder that he was watching her and concealing from her father who was a matter of metres away, oblivious as to just whose daughter she was. "How ever did you guess?"
::
There was a spider in the corner of the room above her bed.
Harriet named it Bobby, glad all the while it was a spider rather than a snake. Spiders were familiar things to her by such a point, and unlike some of the other kids, she wasn't nearly as freaked out by the eight-legged arachnids which skuttled about in the darkness.
Gold flared in her vision, even as she tried to drift off peacefully to sleep. As if anything was ever 'peaceful' for her. A forest came into view, moonlight piercing through the veil of leaves which looked almost black in the diminished lighting. Leaves stirred, the sounds of the forest eerily subdued and still.
It was there.
Harriet wasn't entirely sure of how she knew – maybe it was her prophecy abilities, or maybe she had just developed instincts after watching so many demigods die in such ways. A rasping hissing noise met her ears, and she played with the idea that it was a basilisk awaiting her in the forest. It would have been both terrifying and terribly ironic in some ways, but thankfully it wasn't a gigantic snake awaiting her.
Rather the thing which slunk out from the shadows of the underbrush was quadrupedal, and looked like a weird mismatch of a tiger or other similar feline and a lizard. Harriet had no idea what sort of Greek monster it was, but it was the thing which was planning on murdering her siblings. Her teeth bared, a frission of fear sliding down her spine at the elegant grace the creature moved with, sharp claws clacking against stone and sinking into mulch, forked tongue dancing out behind jagged fangs designed to rip and tear.
"Sun's twins tread in forest beneath the moon,
Twilight's hour within the fated lagoon,
A sister and brother's final breath,
The scissors snip to a certain death."
Her eyes snapped back open from where they'd closed, the familiar ceiling of Cabin Hawk coming into view. A low breath escaped her in the stillness of the night, knowing already that it wasn't that night. It wasn't that night, yet it would be one of the next. All she needed to do was figure out which, arm herself as best as she was capable, and defeat that creature.
She wondered how many more creatures she would need to kill like that one lingering outside just then.
Gold consumed her vision, a glint of something like mirrors flashing before her eyes, before she was there, in her own vision, a cold smile on her lips as her eyes glowed gold. "You can die now," she declared in a tone which scared even her. The same one who would apparently say those callous words to someone.
"—How adorable," that strange, possible, near future version of her said. "You really thought you would have a painless death after—"
"Silly girl," a familiar voice came, the image of a train carriage coming into view all too quickly. Dark eyes glinted with something like pride and affection, fingers caressing her face in an almost loving manner. "I told you your wrath would be something to behold."
The vision released her, and she sat up in bed in a flurry of blankets and bed sheets, breathing heavily. Hands were already reaching for the tissue pack she had brought with her, the taste of copper lingering in the back of her throat as her nose bled.
Stealthily, she climbed out of bed, instincts making her tuck her celestial bronze scissors into her pocket, feeling her blood soak through the tissue at an almost alarming rate – or it would have been alarming, had she not already been used to it. Her heart beat in her chest, nervousness filling her at the memory of that creature which lurked in the shadows of the night in that very forest. Hands curled into fists, even as she cracked open the door and peered out at the pavilion lit by the faint lighting. The toilets were in the main building, and Harriet supposed she could have woken her cabin counsellor – thankfully not a god or goddess, unlike Laurel's and Alexander's – if she was truly that scared about walking across the pavilion in the near dark.
She stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her as she wandered out into the night, the moon high in the sky above her.
Her vision flared gold, shivering as the sight of the pavilion came into sight, quiet and eerie, and much too familiar to a previous vision she had. Breath caught in her throat, panic surging unbidden in her veins as she remembered the minotaur. A leathery hand wrapped around her throat, choking and squeezing.
It was only a possibility that the monster in the shadows wouldn't have attacked that night, she realised belatedly. Not a guarantee. It was a possibility she had seen, and something had changed. What exactly had changed—Harriet froze, staring then at the bloody tissue in her hands, feeling a sluggish drop of blood drip down from her nose. Oh. She let go of the tissue, knowing in an instant that she was the reason it had changed. If she hadn't decided to go out into the night, that monster would have stayed well away until the twins went off into the forest late in the day for one reason or another.
Instead, she had walked out, smelling like bleeding prey, and then the hunt was on.
Fingers went to her pocket, feeling the cool metal of the scissors before reaching for her wrist and the tiny dagger she wasn't to use unless there wasn't any other choice. "Dammit," Harriet muttered. She needed a longer range weapon. Or maybe a sword would have done – so the fight could be less up close and personal. It wouldn't be a leathery, strong hand closing around her throat if she made a mistake, rather it would be jaws closing around her neck to rip her throat out in a shower of blood and gore.
Her vision flared gold, an archery range at the top of some stairs coming into view, and with it, a storage shed of bows and arrows.
"Oh," Harriet muttered, eyeing to bottom of the stairs in question, surrounded by dark forest on either side. "Brilliant," she said, feeling her mouth move without her consent once more, speaking yet another prophecy.
"Sun's daughter treads in forest beneath the moon,
Midnight's hour within the fated lagoon,
A sister and brother's continual breaths,
The scissors snip to certain deaths."
It was an altered version of her original prophecy, she came to realise after wasting a few precious moments of time just standing there. Because she had changed fate. A smile curled at her lips, fear pulsing through her at that last line. Deaths. Plural. Her heart thudded in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. Was she going to die along with the monster? Harriet swallowed, taking comfort then in the reminder that she was an arbiter of fate. She could change fate, and she sure as hell wasn't going to die.
Her mother had made her promise to come home, and Harriet wasn't about to break that promise she had made to put her mother at ease. Feet pounded against stone paving slabs, slamming onto mulch and wood as she charged up the stairs towards the archery range like all the monsters of Tartarus was on her tail.
Gold flashed across her vision, her view not changing, and Harriet could only presume the hunt was close behind her. She was grateful in that respect – because it meant the twins were no longer in danger. Only she was. Harriet was used to such a thing. Better for her to be in danger, than the twins. She, after all, could defend herself.
A black shape flashed in her gold vision, and Harriet slammed a hand to the stair in front of her as she lowered herself to all fours to duck under the swipe of the monster hunting her, gritting her teeth as she felt the rush of air above her. The top of the stairs came into view, Harriet shooting past it and sprinting towards the shed where she could arm herself beyond the two small weapons she carried on her. Dimly, she wondered on how valid she was in calling scissors a weapon, but she had to work with what she had to hand.
Her eyes widened as she spied the digit lock, gold flashing across her eyes, the passcode coming to mind, and she grinned. Sometimes prophecy came in handy when it wasn't too busy traumatising her with death and blood. She slammed the light on as she went in, shutting the door behind her and taking a breath as she spied the shed of bows, arrows, and quivers.
Screeching metal sounds grated on her ears, the thin door warping as claws scratched the surface, and Harriet knew she didn't have long to find a bow of a high enough poundage and enough arrows to take down the thing which had decided that she was prey to be hunted.
Well. She'd show them.
