2
Reyna
As much as she would have liked to claim otherwise, Reyna did not, in fact, stay alert like she wanted to. In fact, it wasn't until she crawled into the fresh bedsheets that she realized just how tired she really was, and not but a few seconds later, she was asleep.
Of course, sleep and rest did not always go hand in hand for demigods. For whatever terrible reason permitted by the gods or some other celestial force, dreams were a regular occurrence for them. Not just any dreams, like dreaming of flying or of your mother transforming into a squirrel in the middle of school. Demigod dreams were worse. Usually because they actually meant something.
Thankfully, the first dream was just a memory. Even if it wasn't a particularly good one.
She was back at Camp Half-Blood, at the Big House. Sitting beside her was the Apollo kid, Will Solace, currently leant over a cot. Laying down was a young demigod Reyna didn't know, a boy of perhaps fifteen years or so, with short blond hair and a lean frame. Though, right now, he was even more thin, his body malnourished and weak. Reyna tried not to cringe as she looked at his face, pale and writhing in pain. The boy clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as Will probed around his chest and made various observations. At the time, Reyna had briefly noted how useful it was to have children of a medicine god around for situations like this, but also how tragic it was that their skills were best utilized during times of suffering.
She glanced around the room. The large infirmary had multiple cots laid out around the room. All of them were occupied. At least a dozen demigod campers were all incapacitated, in various states of pain or sleep. There were a handful of healthy campers from the Apollo cabin either running around the room delivering supplies or tending to specific patients. A couple of satyrs and nymphs were also present, helping as well. One of the satyrs was lightly playing a tune on his pan flute, trying to work some healing magic. However, nothing seemed to be helping much more than temporarily easing the pain, and the aura in the room was consequently one of somber seriousness.
Reyna's chest was heavy as she looked at the various campers suffering. There were a couple she didn't recognize, as it had only been a few weeks since the end of the war on Gaea. But she did see plenty of faces that she did recognize. Clarisse La Rue. Travis Stoll. Even Annabeth Chase. All pale, sickly, and wincing in pain. They all seemed to have slightly different symptoms, with specific pains and bruises in their side, or head, or leg, or chest. Nobody could figure out what was actually wrong, or how to fix it. Chiron wasn't allowing any non-essential campers inside the infirmary, which the other campers did not take well. They even had to station Argus and a couple of satyrs outside the room to make sure no campers tried to sneak in to see their friends or partners. Though, Reyna did notice Percy kneeling in the corner beside Annabeth's cot, gripping her hand and looking intently at her face. The workers were pretending not to notice. No one had the heart to kick him out. If anyone deserved some slack, it was the two of them.
She heard Will sigh beside her and she turned back to him. He leaned back to fall on his chair. "Gods, this isn't like anything else I've seen before."
Reyna's eyebrows furrowed. She wasn't an expert of medicine, but she knew it wasn't a good sign when someone who was an expert said something like that. "What do you mean?"
Will's eyes were wide in confusion and concern. "I mean that I don't think this is an ordinary sickness. It's either something brand new that even the mortal world hasn't faced yet, or…"
"Or what?"
He looked up at her. "It's way more than just some sickness. It's a curse."
[^]
Reyna was immediately drawn away from the scene at Camp Half-Blood, finding herself in the familiar space of the Principia at Camp Jupiter: the wide-open hall, the marble floor, the trophies of war. She glanced around before settling her eyes to the center, where the main table was. As usual, it was a cluttered mess of paper, weapons, and other assorted items. Standing on one side of the desk was her fellow Praetor Frank Zhang, hands flat on the table and staring down. He was wearing his Roman armor over his Camp Jupiter t-shirt and had a tired look on his face. On the other side of the table was Michael Kahale, Centurion of the First Cohort, standing with arms crossed and looking towards Frank.
"Look," she heard Michael say. "I know that the Greeks are struggling, but what good is it going to do if she's the only one of us there? It's not as if we sent a team over to help with this, she just happened to be there when this all started. She's our leader! She should be here where-"
"I am your leader just as much as she is," Frank snapped, his eyes now trained on Michael's. Reyna remembered now just how much Frank had stepped into his role as Praetor, and the respect he now commanded. Seeing as she was one of the only people to not be on the receiving end of his authority, she felt more pride than trepidation at it.
She saw Michael gulp. "Yes, I know. But still, you know we need her. The Legion is set to march on Tahoe in just ten days. She needs to be here, to lead our people!"
Frank continued glaring. "Camp Half-Blood is our people, Michael. I shouldn't need to remind you of that. And besides, I agree with you. We need her. I need her." Reyna sensed the slightest break in Frank's resolve as he averted his eyes downward. She knew him well enough to know he was stressed. Regardless of his experience with the Seven and stopping Gaea, he still hadn't had the mantle of such immense leadership for that long. If anyone could handle it, he could. But even demigods had their limits.
Frank looked back up. "But she's made it clear that she can't come back right now. And I trust her enough to believe her. If what she says is true about what's happening at Camp Half-Blood, and that she has a role to play that no one else can, then all we can do is believe she will do what she needs to do, and do what we need to do in the meantime. She didn't become a Praetor so she could do everything for us. She's the Praetor because she strengthens us and brings us together. And that includes Camp Half-Blood."
He leaned back to a straight posture. "So, if you don't think we can manage without her, that's fine. You may have immense faith in her, but I have faith in both her and every other member of our Legion. And that means we carry on. Do you have any other questions, Centurion?"
Michael stood in stunned silence for one second, then muttered "No, sir," and turned to walk out of the room.
Once he was gone, Reyna watched Frank sit down and let out a long, shaky breath. He lifted his head to stare at the mosaics of Romulus and Remus on the ceiling. "Reyna," she heard him say softly. "If you're out there… if you can hear me… just know that I'm doing everything I can."
She believed him.
[^]
(music: about time – EDEN)
Reyna's dream warped and shifted, rapidly flickering between multiple scenes now. The sounds of stressed voices echoed through the Big House, fluid and hard to pin down through the fog of memory and dream.
…have to do something about…
…no idea where to start, how would we…
…will not allow you to endanger yourself by…
…going! I'm not going to sit around and wait…
…talk to her first, she may have something…
Her consciousness lurched forward as if stopped dead in its tracks, and she found herself standing in a cave, warmly furnished in contrast with the rocky walls themselves. A girl sat on a bed before her, staring up at her. They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation.
"Look, Percy, I know how you feel, but I'm not getting anything right now. I don't know what else to say-"
Reyna recognized the girl as Rachel, the camp's Oracle. Then she heard a familiar voice beside her, and saw Percy, glaring with clenched fists.
"Do you? Do you get how I feel? Because I'm not sure you do. Annabeth is dying in there! Hades, they all are! And I don't care if Chiron or Will or even Annabeth herself tells me I can't go, if I can't-"
His voice faltered as she saw him turn his head away, clearly trying to hold his emotions in. "If I can't help fix this, what am I supposed to do?" he whispered, looking askingly towards Rachel.
Rachel's eyes glanced downward, away from his gaze. "I don't know. Trust me, normally I would, and I would have told you. Both of you. But I don't feel anything coming. It's quiet. And I hate that. But there's only so much I can do."
Her eyes finally looked up towards Reyna and Percy, and Reyna saw a single tear dripping down her cheek. Sometimes it was easy to forget that they were all still human. And human teenagers, at that. The Oracle of Delphi, the world-saving son of Poseidon, and the Praetor of the Roman Legion, with all the scared hopelessness and confusion of any group of friends during a crisis. It was humbling, to say the least.
Reyna turned to Percy, half-expecting him to lash out. Instead, she saw the rare hint of acknowledgement in his eyes as he met Rachel's gaze. "Well, if you do get anything, let me know. I'll be with Annabeth. If they let me."
As he turned to leave, he met Reyna's eyes. He held them for a moment before saying "Thanks for being here, it means a lot," and then he walked out of the cave.
She kept her eyes on the cave entrance for a moment, watching him leave. It was odd seeing him so defeated. It was difficult, though. There was no monster or Titan to slay to solve their problems this time. At least, not that they knew of. The lack of any prophecies from Rachel or guidance from any god were the real problems. So, with no leads to go off of for two days now, the whole camp felt stuck. They had tried normal medicine, nature magic from the satyrs and nymphs, and even the Golden Fleece. Everything either didn't work or only offered temporary relief. The lack of ideas was beginning to be a heavier burden than the sickness itself.
"He's right, you know."
Reyna turned, confused. "Right about what?"
Rachel looked back at her, no smile on her face. "About you being here meaning a lot."
A beat passed, then Rachel blinked, shaking her head slightly. "Weird… almost like…"
Her eyes widened. "Come here, quick."
Reyna stared in concern, but walked over to the bed where she was sitting. "What is-"
She was interrupted when Rachel bolted up from the bed, standing straight and stiff. Reyna stumbled back a step as she looked up to Rachel's face, which was now staring straight ahead with burning emerald eyes. Then she spoke, but it was like three Rachels speaking at once, surrounding her from all sides.
"Destruction's daughter fights alone,
Strength given to save two homes,
The bladeless sword will rend the curse,
And single flame, to more disperse."
When the last word was spoken, Rachel's eyes closed, and she fell back onto the bed, catching herself in a seated position before she could fall back further. When her eyes opened, they were back to normal. She blinked.
"That was it, wasn't it?" she said softly, mostly to herself.
Reyna stared back, processing the words in her mind. They echoed through her skull, threatening to grow in intensity, and as she stared into the dazed eyes of the red-headed Oracle, she felt a wave of distortion hit her as her dream faltered.
She could still see the cave, and the sunlight from the cave entrance, and Rachel, but her vision blurred as new voices entered her head. Unfortunately, they were familiar voices.
As she staggered away and out of the cave, the voices coalesced, their words becoming discernible. They filled every corner of her mind, like invaders looking for a way into a fortress.
Traitor.
She stumbled down the hill, lifting her hand to block the blinding sun.
Murderer.
Her eyes blinked rapidly, looking for the Big House. When she spotted it, it wasn't the camp's Big House, but instead her old home, her father's hideous skeleton of a house. She stumbled backwards again.
Murderer.
Traitor.
You'd be executed.
You can never flee your crime.
She was on her back, staring up at the tall walls of her father's house, which were growing taller and taller, until they reached the looming height of a skyscraper, blocking out the sun.
You will never find respite from us.
Her vision began to blacken as the voices grew louder and louder in her mind. She let out a scream.
YOU WILL NEVER FIND RESPITE FROM YOURSELF.
The last thing she saw was a figure on the house's balcony. Her father.
Then she fell into the freezing abyss.