Nico and Reyna now stood face to face. Nico reached out to take the sheet that Reyna now held out to him. He decided he didn't want to read it just as yet. He would have twirled his blade, but he had left it outside knowing that it was one thing Terminus was very particular about. He looked to Aurum, Argentum, and back at Reyna.
"So what exactly is this supposed to be?""I'm not too sure,Nico. Rachel just gave them to me.""And how came she by these? As far as I'm aware, prophecies have not really been available to us these days. They are working again?""No. Visions."
A single word. Nico knew about them. He had known that Rachel had had visions before she had been blessed by Apollo to take over as the new Oracle of Delphi. He knew that they tended to be quite accurate, like some demigod dreams tended to be. He looked down at the paper that he now held gingerly, read into it, and blanched.
Do not despair, daughter of warThe fire rekindled shall return from afar,A spawn of death once more consumedBy the pit whose fate is forever doomed,The foes shall return to defeat the nightWho strives to obscure the one true sight.
Multiple thoughts crossed his mind at once. Unbidden memories flickered once more. Memories of anyone's worst nightmare. Memories of Tartarus. He had no doubts that it was that pit that the prophecy referred to, if it could even be called that. Spawn of death, the lines had read. He knew of no other save himself and Hazel, but if he hoped that it wouldn't be him, he prayed ten times more fervently that it wouldn't be her. He wouldn't forgive himself if he allowed anything to happen to her. He had made the mistake of trusting Percy with Bianca once. He wouldn't leave that responsibility to anyone ever again.
Reyna's own thoughts had taken a dark turn as well. She wasn't despairing, and she wasn't prone to do so anytime soon unless something really bad happened, but what worried her was the possibility of another war. The foes would be returning, it said. Which foes? Why would they return, and when? They had fought Giants, Titans, and why, many other monsters, none of whom she was too eager to face once more. She wondered what the part about fire meant. As far as she was concerned, it had never been associated with anything good.
After a few moments of contemplation,she looked back to Nico. Their sulking would not help their camps in the least. She needed to refresh herself, and fast. The quickest way would be to spar, and she had a feeling that her opponent was standing right there.
"What say we spar for a while?""Sure. It'll do us both a hell of good beating each other up. Isn't that what they'll be trying to do soon enough?""Since when did you get a sense of humour? Anyway, we need to get our minds off this thing. Trust me, it'll help.""Well then. Let's go."
Reyna was right. It did help to vent when there was someone on the other side of the blade. For a while, the two of them exchanged blows and cuts until the were both dripping with sweat, weary and exhausted. Nico decided that it was time to leave. Camp Half-blood had to know, while Reyna had decided that she would give word to other trusted Romans too. They hoped either Chiron or Lupa would be able to guide them. Such an incidence had not occurred for many millennia, and even then, it had been a time when there had hardly been a haven for demigods. They needed help this time, and it was the truth. A bitter truth they couldn't afford to ignore.
First, he would go back to Camp and deliver the grave tidings. Then, if things went well, i.e, Will did not strangle him right away, he would leave to seek some answers in the Underworld. Despite common opinion that the dead can tell you nothing, he seemed to find them more abundant with information than the living seemed to claim. He also hoped he knew what he was doing. Tartarus had a mind of its own and the last thing he wanted to be doing was walking straight into a trap, but he decided that it would all be for the better. He had better things to do now than think of all the ways things could go wrong.
He decided to simply call for his undead chauffeur for the journey back. Hellhound were creatures of the Underworld,and he didn't feel it right to merely call for Mrs.O'Leary every time he decided to travel between the camps just because Will had forbidden him from shadow travelling for the foreseeable future. It would take a while, but now was one of the few times he could afford to take his time. It was not a matter if life and death, yet, so he still had a few hours on his hands before he had to face the campers once again. There would be questions, no doubt, and the newer campers would probably be against anything he tried to say, but there was still some time for that.
When he did arrive at Long Island, it looked unnaturally quiet, even to him. What was worse, was that he could feel it. Death was in the air, shrouding the entire camp in gloom. It had been a while, he could tell. He didn't know who it was, if it was anyone he had known, or if it was even a camper in the first place. He had been too far off to sense it. He could sense any death. It took some effort to decide which one he wanted to sense, and that had surely not been on his mind when he'd made the small trip to the other side. He walked into camp to be met with a sight he had expected, but was totally unprepared for. The burning of a shroud.