Camp Let's-Terrify-Kori-and-Not-Help.
Done reading the long title? Good, 'cause I'm in a little danger right now and this story can't move forward if you don't pay attention and read.
So, as I was saying in the last chapter, the French window behind Rachel Elizabeth Dare explodes. Thankfully, the word 'explodes' as I use it here refers to just the glass breaking under stress and not an actual explosion. Thus-hence-therefore-so, we are alive as the shards start raining around us.
Dad jumps to his feet and waves his hand, using his power to (1) draw his sword to him, and (2) create a rough dome around us to deflect the falling pieces of glass. I too get to my feet, but don't do the magic bit. He calls my sword to him too, and holds it out to me. I take it and grip it like he taught me. Rachel has wisely turned a couch over and taken cover behind it.
The glass is, unbelievably, still coming, bouncing against the water hemisphere. That isn't a matter of concern in and of itself, but it's causing the liquid to ripple and distort our view of the enemy. It takes a few seconds to all fall down and then we see our enemies. It's the Stymphalian Birds.
Well, that should be easy. Anybody got a boom box with Dean Martin on? Or a boy named Lester?
"Rachel! What music system do you have in here?" Dad shouts, apparently having had the same idea as me.
"I don't know! But it's big and loud and probably expensive as Hades!" Rachel yells back. Well, I can understand that not all music lovers have to know what system they're playing on. It's loud, it's clear—good enough.
The birds have started trying to get through the flimsy shield Dad's erected, and he waves his hand again to strengthen it. "How do you play it? Are there bad songs on it?"
A bird has got its beak in, and it's trying to squeeze its full body in, violently flapping its bronze wings. As the two adults discuss how to play horrible music, I try to use my power the way Dad described it to me.
Why do I play with fire by using my brand-new and highly untamed-yet powers instead of just telling Dad there's a breacher? Because I'm a headstrong and arrogant teen, that's why. And also because the attacker is small, and progress happens in times of crisis, and I wanna test what I can do.
A cold sensation erupts at my fingertips, spreading upwards to mid-upperarm. A ten-count of 'nothing happens' and then a spirit emerges from the floor. Great, I wanted Poseidon powers and got Hades. I turn to Dad to ask him what should I do with it, but before I can get a syllable out, the ghost in question starts screaming what sounds like Adele trying to sing Eminem.
I'll never recover from this trauma, I tell you. Don't even try to imagine it.
I scramble to the couch we were sitting on and try to bury my head in it like the cartoon ostrich. I realise I'm screaming too, half-hoping to counter that God-awful noise by a wordless battle cry of my own. "AAAAAAAAAHHHH—!"
And then there's water around my head, muffling the sounds I'm hearing and the sounds I'm making. I look to Dad and, as expected, he and Rachel have blobs of water on their heads, too. Presumably Rachel's has a air inlet somewhere.
Now that the horrible music is not tormenting me anymore, I inspect my surroundings. I turn to the Stymphalian Birds, and I can't help but sympathise with them. They're thrashing about, squawking and pecking at the immaterial Bad Singer spirit, who is full of joy at the terror he's causing. Yes, I can tell that the spirit is a he and that he's happy. I'm a natural ghost-mind-reader, thank you very much.
Anyway, the birds keep flying around, futilely trying to eat the ghost's flesh. Their pain makes them fly badly and Rachel's house is gonna need some serious repairs. Fortunately, they realise midway through the first rap that they can't kill the dead, and escape through the window they broke, but not before slamming into and clawing at more things.
Once the birds are all gone, I decide to dispose the summoned spirit nicely for once. "Please fuck off," I say to him. He obliges, bowing in front of his phantom audience and catching a phantom rose before sinking into the floor. My hands come back to normal temperature a few seconds later.
"Please pretend to be innocent and non-swearing," my father says, dispelling the dome and helping Rachel up, "Not everybody needs to know that I taught you sailor-speak in all its eloquence. You okay, Rach?"
"Her home isn't," I say, surveying the damage.
"I'm fine. And believe me, I've done worse to this house on my own," Rachel says, "You have to get to the camps and get her prophecy. It's the only way you'll know what to do and what to not."
"Why were you asking if she saw us using our powers?" I ask Dad, curious enough to filter out what Rachel said for the moment.
"A final check that we aren't standing against any of the gods," he explains, "If Rachel had seen, for example, that we can't use water powers in future fights, that would have meant that Poseidon had revoked our magic, which could only happen if we were going directly against him. Same for Hades and Zeus. Because it's clear that the Big Three are on our side, we don't have to be that wary of water, air, or land transport."
I have some really cool ideas on how to use our powers to get to the camps, but Dad starts speaking again before I can interrupt. And unlike the cursing bit, this time it's a proper scolding. "Speaking of powers, Kori, why would you do that? You can't control your powers, and they're even more volatile than an ordinary demigod's! That was a lucky shot; What if you'd summoned winds and pushed all out of the window?"
An abrupt and dark ending for a fanfiction, that's what would have happened. But I'm more interested in telling him about the coldness bit. "I'm sorry about using them and not alerting you, I won't do it again. But Dad, something weird happened this time when I used my powers. You told me I'd feel a knot in my gut when I conjured water, right? Well, this time I felt a cold sensation in my fingertips spreading upwards, like I was reaching into a deep freezer! That weird, right? I don't remember it happening that time in the backyard, but maybe I just wasn't paying attention."
He thinks about it. "I don't remember feeling something like that, and I don't know what the others felt when they used their powers. It could be normal for demigods using Hades powers or just you in particular. Nonetheless, this is good news: Even if it turns out you have zero control over which power will be called up next, you can at least identify it and possibly take cover before it starts to wreck havoc."
"There's another thing," I say, "Why did it take so long? I mean, I was feeling cold for so long before it appeared!"
Dad just shrugs. "Maybe it took time to get up from ground level to penthouse level? Or maybe your brain is just getting used to the so many powers, like someone choosing what word to say next using a dictionary? I dunno; I'm just as stumped as you are when it comes to your powers."
The Oracle cuts him off. "That's why you need to get to Camp. God, you ADHD idiots! Show them something shiny and they'll forget the crucial stuff!"
Dad and I rub the back of our necks in similar embarrassment. "Sorry, Red," he says, "We'll leave right now. Unless there's more...?"
She sighs. "I got nothing. But, as I said, there's better advise elsewhere. You go straight to the Grove of Dodona, okay? No detours and no turning back 'cause you don't want to face the campers."
"This is my daughter's life, Rachel." Dad smiles sardonically. "No price is too high for me now."
"I've discovered something," I blurt out, looking at the trees whizzing by.
"And what's that, Einstein?"
I clear my throat. "Any straight or gay person can never know for sure that they're not bi."
"Care to elaborate?" Dad prompts, overtaking a van.
"Look, let's take you as the straight example. You know you like girls—or women or ladies, whatever. Females, you know you like females. But you don't know for sure that you don't like males. I mean, it may just be that you haven't found your type yet. Or, in my personal slang, you haven't found your Convertor yet. The gay version is the same: What if I just haven't yet found a guy that I'll like?"
"That's— I think Wise Girl told me something like that once. She called it the study of knowledge. What we can know and what we can pretend we know and what can just believe. Congrats, you've rediscovered something cool and its application: You can put your friends into existential crises now."
That makes me think of Vicky and Suz... and Cassie. "About that, will I have to just leave my school friends? Will I have to make new ones at the camps?"
He hums noncommittally. "Not right now, I think. This quest in search of a prophecy will probably just be me and you. The actual quest (and maybe quests) due to the prophecy, those we'll need at least one more demigod or legacy for. Might be they'll be your age. After that, you'll have to divide your time between Camp Half-Blood and home. Depending on how changed you are by then and how much your school friends remember you in your absence, you'll probably have demigods and mortals as friends."
"Dad, if this prophecy can potentially thrust me right into multiple dangerous quests, when will I get the time to practice my demigod powers?" I ask.
In response, he curses violently. "How can I forget so important a thing?! Stupid ADHD!" He turns to me. "You'll practice right now. I decided we'd practice on the way to Camp at Rachel's but forgot once we left the city. That's why we rented this pickup: You can practice on the bed. I'll Mist us from the other drivers and make a water room to mark your playpen. Give me a sec."
"But what if I can't focus properly and the hurricane or lightning or zombie or whatever doesn't appear inside the playpen? We could get hit."
"Hmm. I'll have to protect us with water too, then. I'll flood the cabin area. Worst-case scenario after doing that, you blow up the truck. We'll be safe and lose our deposit. Good enough for me." He holds out a hand toward me. "Pass me the nectar, will you?"
I have to dig around in my backpack for the flask for about a minute. When I hand it to him, he takes a few sips and caps it. Without taking his eyes off the road, he waves his left hand as if conducting an orchestra, and with a POP, the two of us are underwater.
"Float off your seat and face the bed," he instructs.
I do as asked, and the cage is already here. Approximately three inches thick and wide enough to fit snuggly in the truck, just touching the floor. "How did you know the exact size? You did this before, too— Shielding me and making a door without seeing me or it. How'd you do it?"
"Water vapor," Dad answers simply, "I can feel the humidity in the air, which has the same effect as feeling what's air and what's other things. In other words, the vapor particles bounce off the walls, and so I know where the walls are." He glances at me. "You'll be doing the same in no time."
I nod at him even though his eyes are on the road. "What do I do now?"
He summons some more water, but this water is different somehow. It's as if he relinquished his hold on it: It falls on the floor of the water-room-cage but doesn't coalesce with it, and moves like nonmagical water would, swaying when the truck turns. I think he summoned it so I could use it as normal water.
"First lesson: Control. Close your eyes," he tells me, "Pull up an image of the bed as you would see if your eyes were open. You can see the water I've let go of, yes? Imagine it coming together in a ball shape and levitating to the center of the playpen."
"I don't know where the center of the playpen is!"
"You don't have to. Eyeball it... or don't. You just need to think how it would look like to you if the water was a ball and was levitating at the center."
It takes me a few seconds to choose a spot that looks the middle. I tell him I'm done when I'm satisfied with it.
"Good, now open your eyes. You won't see what you were imagining. This should feel wrong. Order the water to obey your plans for it. Compel it!" He pauses, and then says, "And if you're feeling anything other than a tug in your gut, tell me."
I try hard, but nothing happens. The water careens to the left and then to the right. I keep trying. I'll have to master all this shit if I wanna live.
When I don't respond in a "I did it!", Dad adds, "If it doesn't happen in one go, close your eyes and go through it again. You're desperate, angry at the stupid water for being so unresponsive."
And at first I'm not, but after three repeats of careful imagining and concentrating, I am pissed off by the water. He's not exactly goading me, but I am getting frustrated with it. Fucking obey already!
And then it does.
I feel the tug in my gut, knotting like muscles straining. Slowly and steadily, my water starts rising and coming together as a ball. My first instinct is to shake Dad and show him that I did it, I did it! But that overjoy loosens my hold on the water and it falls a few inches and begins to lose its shape. I pull myself together just before it can go splat, and it continues rising and ball-ifying.
"Well done," Dad says before I can tell him, probably sensing it using the vapor and stuff.
"Why's it so hard? The bad singer just arrived late—the power was instantaneous. This time the power didn't manifest at all for so long!"
He thinks about it for a while before replying. "One reason can be that you're thinking too hard. It's mostly instinct for me, and I imagine it'd be same for most demigods. Back in Rachel's penthouse, you thought you wanted a jet of water to push the bird out, yeah? But your instincts were to get rid of the enemy, to drive off all the birds, and you knew that could only be done by loud and horrible music. That's why the ghost appeared."
"How can I not think about it before using my powers? That's the method you told me just now!"
"It's not— Ah, how do I say this? See, when I was facing a monster, I didn't think where the water would come from, or whether the monster would fall on its butt or just be pushed back or have its hand chopped off. I just thought, 'I wanna hit this smelly monster,' and the water obliged."
Yeah... I remember reading that. The bathroom scene was mostly instinctive, right? Clarisse was about to shove his head into the toilet and he didn't want that and the water drenched her and her gang and Annabeth.
"Try giving it a personality," he continues, "Maybe it's a sentient creature of Poseidon's kingdom and wants to keep you safe. I remember all the fishes being 'milord', 'your Grace' and things like that. So, whenever you want help or protection you can imagine yelling your demand and the water being 'Oh shit! The princess is in danger!' or 'The princess wants my help!'."
Huh. That can work with the other powers too. Maybe not Zeus' 'cause I'm not really related that well, but I'm the daughter of the Queen of the Underworld, a princess. If it's really that simple, I'm gonna enjoy this. "Did you give it a personality?"
He nods. "For me the water was more like the Primordial gods Pontus and Hydros themselves tagging along with me and helping me just because they didn't like the other side. Like, they wanted to tell Gaea how much they hated her china sets, or they wanted to punish that particular monster for peeing in one of their daughter nymphs, or Kronos for not sending them greeting cards. Stuff like that."
"Isn't that a little too narcissistic for you? The literal personifications of water aiding you personally?" I've always seen my dad be selfless and down-to-Earth, and I'm pretty sure I remember reading he was too selfless for his own good even back during canon events.
He's almost reluctant to answer. He's never hid even his worst from me, so I'm assuming he thinks hearing this will hurt me more than saying it will hurt him. "It helps to think you're just a piece for higher ups to push around. Most demigods say something like that to themselves. Some choose the Fates to be their pretend-controllers, others choose Lady Chaos.
"It's better to delude yourself that your suffering is meaningless. Your friends die left and right whether you get stabbed by that monster or not. Your family is in danger whether you get mauled by that evil relative or not. But, if it's all just part of a greater being's petty revenge or grand scheme... well, you can enjoy it or go nihilist, respectively."
See Reader, this is I'm so pessimistic about being a demigod all the time. The canon characters, they had tales of grandeur and valor to go by and divine intentions to assume. Me, I know all their stories—Jason, Leo and Annabeth dead, Piper and Dad broken, Hazel dead and returned, and, alkng with Frank, Nico and Thalia, orphaned. I have heard more tragedies than comedies. It ain't my fault.
There's also the fact that even if Uncle Rick's characters were logically supposed to feel hopeless all the time, he couldn't write them feeling hopeless all the time because the books were, more or less, an early readers thing. Whereas this is meant for more of a YA audience. You can see that in the later books (HoH and after), Riordan too has included hopelessness.
"Kori!" Dad's voice snaps me out of my reverie. "Don't space out now. You've got a lot to learn. Choose a story for the water and do that exercise once more, quick!"
I do; I wanna live.
When I first see the Athena Parthenos, my first thought is that it's smaller than I'd expected. Same for Half-Blood Hill. This is the site of the war against Gaea (and Octavian's brainwashed Romans), and that is the statue Dad and Annabeth fell to Tartarus because of, and the statue that stopped the second demigod civil war. It feels tiny and insignificant as I look at it. The Hill is also not as green as I'd expected. It's yellowing and rough and wild.
Dad's done parking now and he walks to beside me. "Nostalgic yet?" I ask him teasingly.
"Yep! I can almost smell the minotaur armpit fragrance."
I roll my eyes involuntarily. "Say, wasn't it raining back then? Imagine if his loincloth had slipped because of the water."
He laughs. "I'm not sure I want to imagine that. C'mon."
"Well, any last minute warning/advice?"
He has to think for a moment. "Don't be surprised," he says after he's done, and stalks up the hill with long strides.
"Hey!" I run after him when I finally interpret what he's said. "That's like the vaguest advice in the history of vague and advice!"
"It's not," he throws over his shoulder, "Pick up any prophecy and you'll know. Besides, 'Don't be surprised,' is important to keep in mind. The kids, the creatures, the in-jokes, the magic, the things. There's a lot that can shock you; Don't let it."
I've reached his side by now. The guardian tree is straight ahead, on the crest. As we walk, a few of its leaves fall off and flutter to the ground. I'm reminded, quite inexplicably, of the Golden Fleece healing it and aunt Thalia herself. "Dad, can we take uncle Nico with us on our quest if the prophecy's not here?" I want him and aunt Thalia to teach me without having to waste time at Camp. I'd try for her too, but being a Hunter, she's probably got stricter schedule and duties.
"We can ask him. If he's not already on a quest, and if his father and Will and Chiron allow it. Will won't have any problems, I think. And Chiron's cool. Hades' the deciding factor."
"Will will will Nico go, you mean to say."
"That's a good one!" He holds his hand up for a high five, too high up as always, and I jump up to reach it.
"Why would Hades not— Oh! I'm his wife's daughter..."
"Bingo. He'd kill you if he could, if you hadn't been a Prophecy Kid."
We step up to the tree and oh my God I did not expect this.
Remember the dragon that protected the Fleece? Peleus the adorable little monster? Turns out he's grown. On the other side of the hill, just inside the camp's boundary is a massive purple dragon sleeping all curled up and purring like the revving of a muscle car on the scale of an aircraft carrier. Don't be surprised, I repeat to myself.
I turn to my father to see his reaction, and see that he's approaching it. Causally. He moves to its snout-thingie and pets it. Peleus revs particularly loudly and wakes up. His eyes are yellow and reptilian. "Hello," Dad greets.
The dragon acknowledges him with a blink and stares at me.
"That's Kori," he continues, "my daughter." To me he says: "C'mon here."
I do, because apparently this is some sort of initiation. Peleus' scales are as big as my hands, and his eyes are beady and unmoving. I stand a foot away from Dad but the a lot further away from Peleus' face. He moves closer, and I force myself to hold my ground. He sniffs me. Somehow his neck is long enough that he can go all around me.
He's done sniffing and is staring at me again. I've read enough books and seen enough movies to know what happens next—either a lick or a decapitation. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for both.
He licks me all right. But his tongue. Isn't. Wet.
Seriously, it's this half-dry, cookie-dough texture that I can't really explain beyond those words. It feels weird, like batter is being rubbed across half my face. I don't exactly like it, but I assume it's better than a sloppy lick like in the books/movies. Maybe breathing fire doesn't go well with wet tongues.
I wait for a minute after the tongue leaves me before peeking. Dad is smirking. Seeing me looking, he explains, "He's seen Mrs O'Leary lick campers so many times that he's picked up on it. We begged the nature-spirits to translate that 'It's not necessary, dude,' but they enjoy the idea of new demigods being scared and shocked."
"Wh-Why didn't he lick you?"
He shrugs. "You glare at him a few times when he approaches you, and he gets the message." He pats Peleus' snout again. "But enough on the dragon, let's go to Camp."
That's when I look at the valley for the first time. It's breathtaking. The Camp sprawls lazily across half the valley. The Big House, the climbing lava wall, the training arena, the strawberry fields, the cabins, the dining pavilion, the campfire amphitheatre, the canoe lake... there's so much.
Just looking at it reboots my system with the message: 'Yer a demigod, Kori.'
Before I can be properly overwhelmed, though, Dad places a hand on my shoulder and nods at the Big House. "Don't be surprised, remember?"
"Right." I tear my eyes away from the beauty and we start down the hill. Dad points out features as we go, narrating comic anecdotes to accompany them. Maybe he knows I need cheering up, maybe he's just all happy thoughts himself. The Oracle's Cave with its Truth-or-Dare weekends. The campfire amphitheatre where once Chiron gave a thirty-minute the-birds-and-the-bees talk and the mood-colored campfire turned invisible because of the collective mortification. The volleyball court where the Hecate cabin always cheats and uses teleportation on the ball to win. The strawberry fields where there's still a clump of lemons plants courtesy of Grover's terrible panpipes. We encounter only a few demigods, and they don't stop us or question us. Apparently, it's commonplace for an adult demigod to be giving a younger one the tour.
When we reach the baby blue and white Big House, Dad doesn't narrate a happy memory. Instead, he tells me to brace myself. I tell him I have braced myself. Together, we walk in.
First observation: Chiron isn't here. Second observation: The leopard head on the wall is chewing... something. It looks at us, paused in the doorway, finishes its eating, flicks its ears, points with its eyes (widened purposefully) toward a bowl of sausages below it, imploringly like it's a life-or-death situation.
Dad walks to it and tosses him one, and the leopard snaps it up and continues its chewing. "You know, Seymour," my dad says in an admonishing tone, "you're supposed to scare off intruders, not ask them for treats."
The leopard head—Seymour, apparently—whines. It whines.
"Hey, don't be sad," he says, "Call Mr D and Chiron here and I'll give you another sausage. How's that deal?"
Seymour brightens and proceeds to do just that... somehow. It doesn't do anything, at least not visibly, but Dad throws it another sausage and goes to sit on the couch. I follow him, confused and chanting to myself his advice.
Under a minute—I know, because I counted—Chiron appears, in wheelchair form. He doesn't seem surprised to see Percy Jackson his reclusive student, nor me a teenager beside him. He shakes Dad's hand and nods to me and rolls over to across the coffee table. "Ms Dare told us to expect you," says Chiron, "Mr D will be arriving in a few moments: He likes everyone seated and quiet for his entrance. How are you, my boy?"
"In fine, Chiron. How are the kids?"
He smiles. "I'd say more of a nuisance than your generation, but we both know I don't like to lie."
Dad grins. "You probably tell every generation that same thing. I bet you tell these kids 'My previous students didn't sulk around so much,' while feeding us lies about good they are."
Chiron shrugs but doesn't withhold a smirk. "It is what teachers must do. Immortal mentors are no different. But before we descend to trivial talks, Percy, I'm waiting to be introduced."
Before Dad can reply, a flash of light blinds is all and when I can see again Dionysius is seated on the other couch. "I presume," he drawls, "that nothing of import has been discussed with me present."
"You would be correct in assuming that," Chiron answers.
Dad introduces us. "Mr D, Chiron, this is my daughter, Kori. Kori, you know them."
Mr D hmms, looking at me. "The Oracle told us about you and your lineage. Scandalous indeed, and very juicy."
We all collectively ignore that last sentence and Chiron says, "My boy, why are you here?"
I speak up. "A prophecy. Rachel Dare didn't have one for me, so we're here to get one from the Grove of Dodona."
Chiron calmly asks me, "And why do you think you need a prophecy?"
That is a good question. Most demigods and legacies get attacked by monsters and then come to Camp just like me, and don't get prophecies or quests. Nothing very different has happened to me yet. Yes I'm a strange case with the 'three powers' thing, but nothing different has occurred to me yet, has it? No godly war threatened if I didn't do something, no friend gone missing, no Oracle come to spout a prophecy about me...
"Just being cautious," I reply uncertainly, "If there is a threat, won't it be best if we know already?"
"We'll check for prophecies with the Grove and Tyson and Ella first," Dad continues, "If there's none, Kori will join Camp for training. I think a six-month crash-course will be enough."
"That would be prudent," Chiron says.
Mr D exhales loudly and says, "This is turning out to be quite boring. You'll excuse me," and teleports away, barely fixing me time to close my eyes against the binding flash.
Chiron sighs. "That would be how a god reacts to matters of human concern. You are correct in assuming there's a prophecy, Kori; I was just testing you. Like your father, you too are the subject of a prophecy glimpsed years ago, and Ms Dare's dreams confirm that it spells your fate."
"Glimpsed?" Dad asks.
He nods in response. "If the entire prophecy was known to the gods, there would have been measures to prevent it, like the Big Three pact in the Second World War. We only know a small portion of it, and understand even less." The immortal centaur turns to me. "A demigod's life is hard, I'm sure your father has informed you of that. But despair can't let you decide the fate of the world. Knowing the prophecy may help you, but not as much as you think."
Well, shit. He's never acted this mysterious in any of the books. Is something wrong here? Does the author wants to pull a George Lucas on me? "Chiron, why are you acting like Obi-Wan Kenobi? Is there a secret you're hiding? Do I have, like, a secret twin? Please, please, please tell me if that's it: I don't wanna make out with my sibling."
To his credit, Chiron doesn't call me crazy. "There's no secret twin, Kori. And no other secret of any kind. At least, not one I know. The prophecy was only glimpsed at by Lord Apollo himself, in the form of—and these are his words—'a blurry, fast paced compilation of two hundred and thirty seven possible ways a demigod with all the Big Three's powers can kill everyone.' On interrogation he belatedly added, 'Also five ways the demigod doesn't kill everyone.'"
That's better odds than against Thanos, at least. I say as much, and Dad sighs longsufferingly while Chiron just kind of stares, confused. "I'm comparing my life to movies," I clarify.
"Well," Chiron says awkwardly, "that's all we know. Unless you have other matters of urgency, I suggest we leave for the Grove of Dodona now."
And now, author, for the love of God, please insert a fucking time skip here and fast-forward to the Grove, or I swear I'll pass out just so I won't have to describe Camp Half-Blood any further
Oh, you'll do it? Thank God! It'll be good for you too, you know: It'll save you the brain cells required to imagine CHB from the eyes of a newcomer and those required to reread the canon books.
Dad glances at me, asking wordlessly if I have any objection. I nod my head and he looks at Chiron and says, "Let's go get a prophecy."
And... CUT!
"How the hell do people enjoy this?!" I furiously whisper to Dad as we get off of Chiron's back.
The centaur in question hears me despite my best efforts which, granted, are not very good in the first place. "In time horseback riding becomes less painful, or so I hear."
"And he's a really nasty ride, comparatively," Dad appends, stage-whispering to me, "Most horses are more careful."
Chiron rolls his eyes. "I'm not meant for riding." He turns to me. "Just walk cautiously for a while, Kori. The pain will fade within minutes."
Thank God! I don't wanna crabwalk to the prophecy of my life. "Is this it?" I ask, gesturing around us. "Are we there?"
Chiron doesn't answer at once and leads us past a few veils of vines and leaves before announcing dramatically, "The Grove of Dodona, the Oracle of the Titaness Rhea."
"Or its entrance, at least," Dad clarifies. And it is. A wall of bamboo stands upright in our way except for a single gap that's supposedly the doorway. Inside there are a bunch of similar trees that I'm too NYC to recognise. But I'm sure they're oaks like as written in canon.
"Before we enter," Chiron says, "The magical wind chimes have calmed the trees for the most part, but do not entertain any oak that talks of 'great' overseas investment."
"We won't," Dad assures.
I square my shoulders. "Let's go in."
The sacred trees are arranged uniformly and densely, forming a sort of hallway ending in a circular clearing where the wind chimes that Chiron mentioned hang.
All the sounds of the forest are muted here. Or rather, the outside sounds are muted. And there are no birds and animals in this Grove, none that are making any noise. The trees don't talk as we walk, and no offers of brokering is forthcoming. Chiron's hoofbeats and our footsteps are the loudest thing in here. It's too freaking quiet.
"HOWDY!"
I stumble into Chiron's flank on my right, hands going up, to shield my face. A millisecond later it clicks that I'm a demigod now, and my hands go to my sword instead.
It's an oak. One of many in this sacred, magic, godly Grove. The oak shouted 'howdy' at us. I lean against Chiron's horse body and put a hand over my heart to call down its sprint. Shit.
I look down and see we've set foot into the clearing. My first step in, actually. Maybe the talking tree was triggered by my step. That doesn't excuse the shouting, but I should've expected something dramatic to happen: This is Zeus the Drama Queen's mother we're talking about here.
"HOW ARE YOU ON THIS FINE DAY?" it continues.
"Hush, you," Chiron scolds. We walk in fully and stand in the center, facing the general direction the Grove is taking from.
"We're fine," Dad says, "We'd be better if you act normal."
The oak's voice shifts from Old Movie Cowboy to Educator YouTuber and the direction when it says, "Oh, yeah. I can do that. Hey Humans, Grove here! How's your day? But first, what is a day? The most prevalent defini—"
"We're here for a prophecy," I say to cut him off.
"OH! Why didn't you say so?" The tree shivers with excitement and enthusiasm and a few leaves flutter to the ground around us. "Prophecy, numerology, zodiac! I'm great with those things. Ten bucks each."
Wait, what?
Chiron facepalms to my right. Dad just sighs and asks Chiron, "Is this real? I mean—This isn't like the investment scam you warned us about, right?"
"It's never acted like this before," Chiron says, though he sounds only half sure.
"Let's try it." I dig out a ten and place it in front of the oak that's apparently speaking. What can a tree do with cash anyway? I take a few steps away and wait.
The speaker-oak begins to shake. And laugh maniacally. "Hey Jeff!" it calls, "JEFF! Look at me, you acorn butt, I'm rich! I told you I was rich! Can you see the tenner at my base or not?!"
Before any of us can do anything but try futilely to absorb that, one of the trees in the 'hallway' leading to the wind chimes clearing calls, "Oh Zeus you, Dan! We both know that's a dirty trick. Now shut up, or I'll tell Miranda you got superbugs and have to be cut down."
I should've found 'Zeus you' being an insult surprising, but I don't. There's bigger problems and surprises now. "Uh... Dan? My prophecy?"
"Yeah, yeah. Hang on, kid." The oak makes a sound like it's clearing its throat. "Here we go. Oh, and remember this is only the second half, so—"
Again: Wait, what? "The hell are you talking about?"
"Don't interrupt me or I won't say anything else," it says in response, "Now, where were we? Yes, the prophecy:
Olympus' thrice will wield the broken sword
And face deathless martyrs long abhorred
For her sins the halfblood must doubly atone
To defeat the poppet before the quick crone.
"And... that's it. Have fun, folks."
With that, Dan the magic oak tree of Rhea turns inanimate. Silence swallows us again.
"At least it wasn't a limerick...?" Chiron says tentatively.
"Well, we're screwed," is Dad's reply.
Surprisingly, I'm not devastated or overwhelmed or panicked or anything like that. Not even angry. "So the first part is with Ella and Tyson?"
"What the Hades is a poppet?!" my father exclaims, visibly agitated.
"Yes, Kori, that is the most probable case. And Percy, a poppet is an endearing young woman—"
Dad sighs, relieved. "Thank fuck!"
"—or a voodoo doll or something similar. So don't thank anyone yet." He looks at the trees around us. "We should head back; We'll get no more from the Grove."
I pick up my ten dollars and we walk to outside the Oracle. Dad climbs him and I do too, albeit more reluctantly. Once we're settled, Chiron starts off at a speedy gallop or trot or something. Look, I don't know jackshit about horses, okay? He does something analogous to running for humans. The green and brown blur as he 'runs'. Chiron is also using his centaur thingie to shorten distances so we get back faster, I think.
"Why does the prophecy require all three Oracles to feed us bits and pieces?" Dad asks, because apparently we are talking about my destiny on horseback with the horse participating in the convo.
"Perhaps, like the Prophecy of Seven, it is significant enough to warrant more than one Oracle."
Or perhaps the author wanted to bloat his word count by writing multiple long pre-quest chapters, because apparently word counts are like dick sizes to fanfic writers. Wha-at? You know it's true! Don't try to excuse yourself by saying that it's just meant to imply high stakes: It's a Tiny Dick Syndrome and you know it. Now shut up and write.
Asshole.
But Chiron's logic is defective beyond even that and I point it out. "That is like the opposite of what's happening here! The Project of Seven was delivered to two Oracles (or whatever) in full form and could act as redundancy. This is incomplete and even time wasting!"
"You're right, Kori. But I'm sure the Ladies of Fate have their reasons."
More like the author will retcon a flimsy reason, but yeah, okay. "Anyway, what I'm more worried about is my 'sins'. I'll have to atone for my sins, and twice. Do the Greeks have an exhaustive list of what's considered a sin? Because I'll have to check some things I did on game nights and sleepovers."
"Firstly, I'll have to keep a closer eye on you," Dad says, "Secondly, remember my Great Prophecy? Don't assume everybody in the poem is you. Some female demigod—maybe even your enemy—will sin and atone. You have to defeat a 'poppet' anyway, and I'm hoping it'll turn out to be a cute eight-something girl with family-issues."
"It can mean a doll used for witchcraft, too," Chiron warns again, "Symbolically, it can refer to a pawn or a subordinate of the enemy, or it can refer to a loved one who has been turned evil."
"Hmm."
We break through the tree line and Chiron slows down for just a moment to tell a kid to announce he's called for a Senior Counsel before starting the 'gallop' again. In another second he stops in front of the Big House and we dismount. His wheelchair was kept ready so he losses the horse legs without killing time and we go in. Chiron tells us to get settled while he checks if he has any relevant scrolls/files.
We take the guest seats at the ping-pong table in the rec room. I'm trying to guess how the campers will react to Dad returning with me and the prophecy, when he speaks up, continuing the conversation from earlier. "And Kori, remember this: If I'm brain controlled into fighting you, show whoever's controlling me that it doesn't affect you. Pretend that's it's like any normal fight. Then they'll have to resort to normal hostage tactics and hurt me to bait you, which means they'll have to remove the evil bit. Then you can rescue me. No dropping your weapons because you won't fight me, okay?"
"Not okay," I say firmly.
"But you'll do it anyway?"
I shake my head with finality. "Nope. I'll try to un-brainwash you, try to turn you back into yourself, not give them a reason to hurt you more."
He sighs resignedly, looks at the ceiling, closes his eyes. "I didn't wanna do this, but I will. I swear on the Styx that I will kill myself before capture if Kori doesn't stick to the plan I just said."
Thunder booms outside and above.
"What— Why?!"
He opens his eyes and looks at me. "Now you'll have to follow the plan. I'm gonna pretend to be optimistic and not kill myself before capture. Then, if you don't do what I said, my oath will be broken, and I'll have to spend my afterlife in the scalding waters of the Styx. I know your generation has a lot more dark jokes than mine, but I don't think you'll let my afterlife be that. Will you?"
Fuck. He knows me: I'm him. He knows if he'd forced me to swear I'd have broken it in a heartbeat. But my dad's done so much for me, been so supportive— I can't let him suffer for eternity like that, I can't. The villains will hurt him to bait me, sure, but the Styx is more permanent, more painful.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"I know."
I wipe my eyes furiously; I'm too teary for this time of the day. Hell, total strangers are doing to flood this room any minute now. My first impression can not be a sentimental girl who's crying after getting a prophecy.
He realises that too, and places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it comfortingly. "Hey c'mon now, cheer up! I'm still betting on the 'little girl' meaning. and you should too. Maybe we'll defeat her with the power of love or something."
That makes me laugh despite myself. "Make her turn from the Dark side?"
Dad smirks and is about to add a quip of his own when the door opens. A man approximately my father's age with black hair and olive skin appears in the doorway. "Hey, Not-My-Type, long time no see."
Nico di Angelo. Uncle Nico who is also technically my stepbrother. I didn't think I'd recognise him when I first met him, but the 'not my type' joke is pretty telling.
Dad gets up from his chair and goes to him. "Hey, Mythomagic-Fanboy, long time no see," he retorts.
"Piss off Jackson, it saved your ass so many times on quests. You didn't know half the monsters you faced and I had to fill it in for you."
Both men break out into laughter and embrace. "It's good to see you Neeks. What's up?"
Stepping out of the hug, Nico says, "Nothing much. Me and Will have fallen into this routine of training kids and saving kids. It's pretty boring, but it's what we needed as kids, so we do it for them." Uncle and Dad takes their seats. "Speaking of kids, who is this that you've brought here with you to a Senior Counsel?"
"Nico di Angelo, meet Kori Jackson, daughter of Persephone and legacy of Poseidon and Zeus. And the girl who's just been given one half of a Great Prophecy."
Uncle Nico somehow doesn't look as taken aback as I expect new people would be on hearing that. All he says is "You know that you're screwed, right?"
"I am well aware of it."
"And one half of a Great Prophecy? What do you mean, Percy?"
"Exactly that, Mr di Angelo," Chiron says, having returned from his information digging, "More on that in a minute, though. The other head counselors are here and about to come in; I do not wish that prophecy uttered any more times than is necessary."
Uncle Nico raises an eyebrow at Dad but doesn't press. As Chiron said, the campers start filing in at once. If they're shocked to see Percy Jackson sitting in the guest seat with a frankly awesome looking fourteen-year-old, they do not let it show. Either these campers have seen a lot of shit in their time, or they simply don't recognise him and ignore me and my awesomeness.
A few blond kids come in holding chairs for themselves and take seats behind the blond guy sitting two down from Chiron at the head on his right. I can guess that those are Athena kids come to help with understanding the prophecy. Things have improved in camp since the events of canon, it seems.
By the time chiffon starts to call for silence, the room is almost overcrowded with only five seats empty—Mr D and the counselors for Cabins 1, 2, 3 and 8. Which means Poseidon and Zeus have been faithful since Jason. Chiron nods at Dad and he moves to the Cabin 3 seat while I take my chair to beside him.
Chiron introduces us before the campers can figure our for themselves. "This is Percy Jackson, one of the Heroes of Olympus, and his daughter Kori, daughter of the goddess Persephone."
You can imagine the amount of whispers that result. The ones I hear are mostly "Son of Poseidon? *le gasp*" and "Daughter of Persephone? *le bigger gasp*"
Chiron shushes them and continues. "She is the subject of the Great Prophecy glimpsed at by Lord Apollo four years ago and Ms Rachel Dare a week ago, and the Grove of Dodona has given her half of the prophecy today."
More chaos: "The one with multiple powers?", "She has all the Big Three's powers?!", "Half of a prophecy?!", "Is the Grove acting up again?"
"Yes to all. Lady Persephone, being Queen of the Underworld, has passed her powers over the dead to Ms Kori, and Perseus has passed his Poseidon powers too. Mr Jackson and his daughter are also thirty-seventh generation legacies of Lord Zeus and for some mystically reason those powers have manifested in Ms Kori."
The room falls silent, and I can't decide if it's good or bad yet. Chiron goes on. "The Grove is acting up, Ms Gardiner. The trees that you need to check are called Jeff and Dan, apparently."
Miranda Gardiner scowls. "Dan is the absolute worst. I'll pray to Rhea to give his prophecies to some other tree."
"And finally, the half a prophecy delivered today. These are the lines:
Olympus' thrice will wield the broken sword
And face deathless martyrs long abhorred
For her sins the halfblood must doubly atone
To defeat the poppet before the quick crone.
"The sacred oak also said that this was only the second half of the prophecy. Malcolm, you can start now."
Oh, so that's who the Athena head counselor is! Malcolm Pace, once Annabeth Chase's second-in-command, doesn't start immediately. He sorta huddles with the other Athenians and discusses for a minute or two, during which the entire room fidgets, quiets, fidgets, quiets. I have a few complaints with whoever decided ADHD was a good thing to give to demigods. (I know it's Uncle Rick, and I know he meant well, but it's annoying for those who have to live it! And with so many in a confined space!)
Malcolm calls for attention and begins. "First things first, the Oracles of Delphi and Dodona combined have given half of the Great Prophecy, which means the remainder will most probably come from the Sibylline Books tattooed on General Tyson's body. Tina and Liam have started on the transport issue already.
"Next, the prophecy itself. It's not a limerick, which is good. But it's a quatrain, so it's not very good. The third line is the most clear one: Some demigoddess will sin or has already sinned and she'll atone for those sins. Next simplest is the opening line: Barring a poetic sentence structure or absence of an apostrophe, we can safely assume it refers to Kori and that she'll wield some broken sword. We're searching for what can that be right now.
"Line two: Some undead or immortal martyrs—who are also hated—are to be faced. This can mean martyrs who were misunderstood and wrongly hated, or who fell for the enemies of the gods and are rightly hated. The 'to face' verb also provides ambiguity. The final line is straightforward: Defeat the poppet, then defeat the quick crone. We're searching for who those two can be."
That's... thorough. I take back what I said in the title: Camp Half-Blood is extremely helpful. I don't know why I thought Camp would be as haphazard as in the canon books—They've matured very much, having survived two Great Prophecies, and thus perfected questing and stuff.
Also, the Athena cabin has done most of the work. If this was how this was gonna go down, why call the other cabins in the first place?
What happens next answers that question.
"Good work, Mr Pace," Chiron says, "Eric, let's get through the list. We'll discuss only the quest to get the first part of the prophecy, since we cannot predict the nature of the greater quest yet."
Malcolm turns his chair around to talk more to his cabin. As to Eric, I didn't notice it before but there's a scrawny satyr sitting behind Chiron's wheelchair, in the shadows. He looks like a meek scribe, thirteen in human years. He stands and comes to the table now and reads off from his legal pad.
"The first item on the list is to fill up the appropriate number of questers, which is three, if unspecified."
I speak up before the campers can declare their unwillingness to go on a probably-deadlier-than-usual quest. "Me and Dad are going to Camp Jupiter. I would like it if Uncle Nico would come with us to train my Underworld powers. But except that, I don't need a third quester."
"Nico with us will be mean more demigods scent to attract monsters, but training's important too. What do you say, Nico?"
Uncle Nico shrugs. "Fine by me. Best case, I'm there and back in like three days. Will?" I get the feeling that Will's opinion matters more to him than Hades', as it should, seeing as the demigod's done much more for him than the god.
Will Solace looks at me and then at him, twice, thrice, and nods. "Tell Frazel hi for me."
"So... that's decided," Eric says, "Next task is ongoing quests that may clash with the one in question."
It's Chiron who answers now. "There are none, Eric."
"Then we move onto... Plan B and C and the others. Subitems are deadline, rendezvous and communications."
"You did not think this through, Chiron," says one of the campers I haven't recognised yet.
The centaur exhales and nods. "You're right, we don't need everybody for this. Nico and Cabin 6, stay. All the others, go back to your activities."
As they start shuffling out noisily, I raise an eyebrow at Chiron and he explains, "Normally we call the entire Senior Counsel together for a pre-quest meeting. That's to make sure previous public or secret quests don't hurt the current quest, and rendezvous points and backups are more widely known. The questers are also chosen during these meetings. We also contact the Romans for such things.
"In your case, the questers are already chosen, the quest doesn't go near any ongoing ones, and the Romans are where you are headed, meaning the presence of the other head counselors and contacting the Romans are both unnecessary. And as for the deadline, communications and rendezvous points, I can simply tell you them, because campers make this journey often."
"We also need to start shoring up our defenses, Chiron," Uncle Nico says as the last of the head counselors trickle out, "If this is really a Great Prophecy, we'd better be prepared."
"I will discuss war preparation with Mr Yang once you three are safely away," he assures.
"Uh, Chiron? We're done with the transport," Malcolm says. Chiron waves him like Go on, and he details what they've calculated. "Based on previous data, the quickest and easiest way to get across the country with this particular triplet is if Nico makes three maximum shadow travel jumps carrying Percy and Kori, while Mrs O'Leary makes two of her maximum shadow travel jumps to meet them halfway and then carries them back to Camp Jupiter to the Sibylline Books in two similar jumps."
That sounds good, but... "Can't Mrs O'Leary just bring the Books—I mean, Uncle Tyson and maybe even Ella—to us midway?"
"Tyson's not a small Cyclops anymore, Kori," Chiron says, "This will be simpler and less wasteful. You need to go to the Roman camp anyway. Their libraries are more vast than ours."
"It's decided, then," Malcolm says as his half-siblings get up and start to leave, "Contact us from Camp Jupiter after you get the full prophecy. We'll figure this part out along with that one together with the Romans."
"Yeah, okay. I'll contact you and whip the Senate for extra measure. Just don't let the kids arrange a death race before you hear from us and all will be good. I know the deadlines and rendezvous points too, so don't worry."
"Besides," Dad says, "as Chiron said, this is stupid simple. There's no way we're gonna screw up seven shadow travel jumps!"
"Aaand you've jinxed it. Congrats Perce."
Shit. How much action is waiting for us in the next chapter?
This story's gonna be a healthy mix of Percy being a Good Parent, Kori being a (Badass) Sassy Teen, and monsters being naughty. Adventure, Parenting, Hurt/Comfort and minor Romance and Action. Get ready to cry and laugh and get chills.