CHAPTER 1

The day was December 17th. The year-round campers and I all remember it as the day Michael decided to nearly get himself killed in a freak-summoning accident that had nearly wiped out half the camp. Rhea (a child of Hecate who had grown to see her mid-twenties), one of the minion-summoning instructors soon came to the conclusion to pick her pupils wisely, rather than let any demi-god try his or her hand at making deals with certain monsters.

It was also the day he had asked me out on our first date.

Quite a contrast, no?

I woke up early, and sat upright in my bunk, inside my cabin filled with all my other half siblings. The few of us that were still here, were all still fast asleep, as they claimed to need "beauty rest", although I really doubt that has anything to do with one's over all appearance.

I slid out of my bunk, and checked a small, digital clock on the nightstand next to Drew's and my bunk.

5:30 a.m.

During the summer, it would be considered pretty taboo to wake up at that ungodly hour, but fortunately during off-season camping, and especially the winter months when demi-god nightmares seemed to be at their worst—You were allowed to be up, just as long as you weren't too loud or anything crazy like summoning minions (Cough cough, Michael).

As I slipped myself into a pair of joggers, a silky, soft t-shirt and white slip-on tennis shoes, I felt my heart grow heavy. It almost seemed to weigh me down.

I looked into the mirror, and at my reflection. I didn't feel like brushing my hair—Besides, it would only get poofy, frizzy, and nasty. I reached for my distinct make up bag (It was a pastel pink bag, adorned with white stars and the occasional eyeliner smudge here and there) and pulled out my mascara and eyelash curler, and went about a simple morning routine I had made a ritual since I was about 13.

As I finished, I looked in the mirror, and attempted a small smile. It didn't look genuine, but it was a start.

Quietly, I walked out of my mother's cabin, and closed the door shut. I was greeted eagerly by the biting New York cold—Although Dionysus could moderate the temperature in our little haven, he still liked to keep the authenticity of the winter months. I assumed he liked it because it meant that he was soon allowed to revisit Olympus again, and see his wife—A tale I had been told since I had got here. Aphrodite kids love their godly gossip.

It almost seemed unreal to me, that the Winter Solstice Council was coming up in just a matter of days. It almost seemed as if it was just yesterday, we were getting off the battle field, covered in sweat, blood and grime—licking our wounds from our war against Gaia.

Now it was mid-December, and things seemed to be patching themselves up once again.

Well, almost.

I jogged past the strawberry fields, lightly frosted in the cool, winter weather. I normally didn't like to run, but in this weather I could afford to spare the extra energy to warm myself up.

I slowed myself down to a brisk walking pace, as I reached the sparring arena. Usually, Rhea was awake at this time too. Her story was one I lamented ever since it had reached my ears.

Her mother, Hecate, had only stuck around to bear her boyfriend at the time, Curtis, a beautiful baby girl named Rhea. Her father was an unstable drunkard, who couldn't take Hecate's absence in his life—So in return, he blamed Rhea for everything that had happened.

That was all I knew, but there were a lot of whispers about Rhea being kidnapped by a traveling circus or something. Even more whispers about her lover, who apparently, had never been seen before by demi-god eye. The Aphrodite kids ate it up like hot macaroni and cheese, as did I. She was a beautiful woman—It was hard to imagine she'd stay single for very long.

As I entered the arena, I saw her there. She was humming to herself, while sticking back together a battered practice dummy. Sometimes, for fun, one of the senior campers like Percy or Jason would come down and teach the rookies a move or two, causing the poor mannequin to end up in pieces. Rhea, had sort of developed an estranged relationship and loyalty to that beat-up sack, and she stitched together it's wounds, almost tenderly, as if she were working on something living.

I smiled warmly. "Hello, Rhea."

The sorceress turned around, her eyes wide, much like a doll's. She grinned brightly. "Hello, Penelope. How was your night?"

"Good, good.. How's Martyr holding up?" I teased, sitting down on a bench near the dummy, who we'd affectionately nicknamed "Martyr".

Her lips pulled back into one dazzling, white smile. Affectionate, and yet foxy, and very cunning. "Oh, he's holding up—Although I pity the poor thing. Annabeth tore him to little pieces last night with her daggers." She lamented, her voice dipping into a more serious tone.

I raised an eyebrow, not sure how to react to her change of tone. "Is... Uh, 'he' okay?"

Rhea's face lightened up once more. "Oh, for sure. Isn't that right, Martyr?" She turned to the puppet-ish looking thing. It just stood there, silent.

Propelling a laugh, if not a bit awkwardly, I managed to keep the conversation out of weirder waters. Sometimes, I really couldn't understand Rhea, although our stories are similar.

Like her, my mom had fallen for someone charming, but not the best father figure. Though the difference was she had taken the extra measure to make sure I found a safe home with my mom, Diana, an ex-model with extremely humble roots—Not like those beauty queens you see on TV.

We even looked a bit similar, too. If it wasn't for my knowledge of who my real dad was, I would maybe go as far as to assume we were from the same sire. We both had very dark, brown hair, and fair skin. We had small, button noses, with full, pink lips. The only difference is that she had a dancer's body, very short and skinny, and these interesting eyes, like kaleidoscopes—Never landing on a single color, always shifting and changing like our lives as demi-gods. My eyes were a simple, dark olive green.

I was tall, and while I was lean, Rhea was muscular and toned. I was just skinny.

She finished patching up Martyr, and turned to me. "Did you hear about clean-up duty?"

"Clean up duty?" I repeated, almost out of habit.

She sat down beside me, putting away her needles and thread into a small, painted box. "Yeah. Apparently there's some stray monsters here in there, kind of wandering idly throughout the areas in which we battled the giants. And while, they don't pose much of a threat, we don't want to risk anything."

I snorted. "Sounds like busy work."

Rhea smiled. "Perhaps, but Chiron and the others are as paranoid as ever. We wouldn't want history repeating itself," She paused, and held her hands up as if motioning to a grand display. "Stray monsters join forces to crush demi-god oppressors, resurrect monster lord from Tartarus for ultimate revenge!"

Rolling my eyes, exhaled, hard. "I get it, I get it. Who's got 'clean-up duty'?"

"That's to be decided at breakfast… Though I wouldn't hold your breath. They'll probably have some of the Seven take care of that."

The Seven were what us regular ol' demi-gods used to refer to the ones chosen by the prophecy. And let me make clear, there is no jealousy in my tone while I write this. The last thing any demi-god could want, is to be tied up in some old poem dictating whether you fail or succeed, live or die, and so forth. It wasn't something to be proud of, most of the time.

I laughed a bit nervously. "Well, that's a relief for the rest of us."

Rhea cocked an eyebrow, if not a bit incredulously. "Is it really, though?"

Rhea was always one to play the devil's advocate, and always one to make me rethink something I may have felt strongly about. She had that sort of persuasion about her, where she could turn night into day, black into white, wrong into right. Or maybe it was the charm speak.

"I…" Faltering, I cleared my throat. "Well, I mean, sure, it would be great to get as much recognition and respect from Aphrodite as Piper has, or to be as popular as Jason or Percy, or to be regarded as a certified bad ass like Annabeth and things like that… But I'm not really sure if it's for me." I looked down at my white shoes, swinging my feet back and forth a bit nervously.

Rhea's voice took on a more nurturing dictation. "You won't know unless you see for yourself. After all, life is all about experie-"

She was abruptly cut off by the sound of an echoing, billowing horn. Breakfast time.

I stood up, and waited for her to finish, but she simply brushed herself off, and grinned again.

"Hungry?"