0.8
They say that jealousy leaves the soul to burn, acting as a malicious way of the universe tearing you apart, cell by cell, atom by atom. It takes the little things first so that you only feel a nagging sensation, but then it's in chunks and chunks and chunks until there's nothing left.
And it's a sensation that Jaekwan know especially well.
Jaekwan could feel their stares as he walks past the cohorts sitting by in low chairs. Usually, Jaekwan didn't mind the attention. In fact, he actually loves it. If he's in any other position, he would be revelling in it and bathing in it, utilising it to be the incorrigible flirt he naturally is but this is one of the few moments he wishes the other campers didn't notice him too much. He wants them to be too absorbed into their own conversations to even realise he's there but their eyes follow him as he joins his fellow prisoners by the table at the end of the mess hall.
"That's Percy brother," one of them hiss, "A son of Neptune."
"Not Neptune, you nitwit! He's a Graceus. It's Poseidon."
"So he's like Percy evil twin or something?"
"Clearly…"
Jaekwan bristles at the mention of his older and definitely more renowned famous brother. It's been years since the war and they're still spreading hot gossip on their lips like it's hot potato. Nonetheless, Jaekwan doesn't give a shit about what they're talking about, hold his head high and walk past- not before he turns to glare at the people conversing about him and imagining how nice they'll look with their heads on a pike. The campers immediately shut up when they feel the heat of his dagger-spiked gaze- for a son of Poseidon, the God of the sea, he could definitely hold a flame of his own.
Despite his initial confidence, Jaekwan does wish he's wearing something a little more fashionable rather than the orange polyester uniform he's currently donning. Jaekwan misses the feeling of wearing normal clothes and breathing in the vanilla softener of his soft, wide-necked sweaters and his comfortable skinny jeans. He misses sporting on a pair of converses instead of clunky prison gumboots. At least with those clothes on, he could blend in with the scenario a little more and not be so obvious in the crowds as his neon orange polyester uniform prevents him from assimilating.
"Hello, losers," he greets cheerfully as he flops down to the chair next to Roman, feeling even more exhausted than the night before he collapses into his bed. Evelyn, bless her kind and slightly unstable soul, had prepared him a cup of coffee.
"Oh my God," he gasps, lapping at the creamy bitter taste, "It's coffee. Do you know how long it's been? Fuck, it's so good."
"Would you like to get a room?" Roman arches his eyebrows at him. "It seems like you might need some privacy with your coffee."
"Hey guys, want to hear a joke?" James brightens up considerably. The son of Aphrodite still looks too cute in his orange uniform but Jaekwan knows that James' playboy nature is something to beware of and Jaekwan doesn't know if he could deal with the reputation of being part of James's very long list of conquests. Jaekwan might be a vengeful murderer and a Traitor of Olympus but he doesn't hate himself. Please, James wishes he could that this ass, Jaekwan thinks.
Marisol rolls her eyes. She's at the edge of the table and tears at the pizza on the plate, putting piece by piece into her mouth- ironically, that's how she killed most of her victims. "What?"
"What do you call a coffee with cum in it?"
"Bitch, I'm eating," Adrian Dusk mutters, looking positively green.
"EJACULATTE!" James delivers the punch line with a proud expression. Everybody stare at him as if he's gone mad. As if we need any more 'insane' kids stereotype.
Nadia's face is blank, infinitesimally amused. "Do you think that's funny?"
"Of course," James boasts, infectiously grinning. His personality didn't even dull after years of incarceration, which is a nice, cosy notion that settles at the bottom of Jaekwan's stomach. "I'm very, very funny."
"What put you in a good mood?"Jaekwan smirks at him, "Did you already fucked somebody in this camp?"
"Babe, I don't kiss and tell," James acquiesces, mischief painting his tone.
"We've got here, like, fifteen minutes ago."
"Which means he probably had five minutes to do it," Roman is trying his best to hold back his laughter as he cuts open his steak, "And dude, that's kinda sad. Thought you had more stamina than your reputation precedes you."
"Children," sniffs Nadia boisterously, as if this conversation is beneath her. It probably is. "Honestly, can we please have more class than this conversation? And Marisol, darling, there's a reason why a fork is given! At least eat your carbs with some form of dignity. People are already staring at us as if we're a freak show."
Marisol continues to tear her pizza into tiny pieces. "Um, obviously. Besides, didn't you kill some of them at Mount Othyrs during the Titan War?"
Nadia checks her reflection in her butter knife before twiddling it in her hand idly. While Nadia might come off as a bit of a vain bitch, there's no denying how dangerous and duplicitous she can be- Jaekwan's sure of it. He met Nadia before- way back when he was that pathetic son of Poseidon who was always in Percy's shadow, his dear legendary brother. He hates those memories- because they make him clench his fists and leave an acidic metallic taste in his mouth. Poseidon has never appeared to talk to him and while Percy often took leisure trips under the sea to visit his father, Jaekwan had never been spared that luxury. Everybody in Camp Half-Blood adored Percy so he realised nobody would miss him when he left on his own mission to perform his own sense of justice- the murder of his dear ex and his stepfather. In any case, at least Jaekwan was predictable in his story. The unloved and unnoticed son of Poseidon becomes vengeful and murderous and attempts to kill his own father as well? Yes, Jaekwan respects that he's a cliche in its own sense. But Nadia? She is the definition of unpredictable.
You look at her and her shiny dark hair and soft green eyes and vaguely attractive face, you'll never think she's the girl who aligns herself with the Titans and cut down scores of demigods at Othyrs. The idea of composed, proper Nadia Williams as a bloodthirsty, man-killing machine seems so baffling until you actually see her in action. Despite prison, the orange jumpsuit and bags under her eyes, Nadia appears the most put-together. Her hair is combed and the shackles on her arms and legs glisten. She sits with grace and poise and eats with proper etiquette. She seems like a relatively well-rounded person who would never end up in a place like Katadiki.
But appearances can be deceiving.
Before he left Camp Half-Blood, he was even part of her team for Capture the Flag. She seemed trustworthy and acted like a typical do-gooder; she carried and said all the Roman mottos they engraved in her mind to say and she joked and laughed with her fellow campers. He never thought the ambitious, overachieving daughter of Fortuna could ever become a traitor to Camp Jupiter until he caught the news of how she tried to kill her own cohort members on a quest.
"Please, that was so four years ago. They're over it."
"What do you want for lunch?" interrupts a wind spirit, emerging from the kitchen with her hair intact. She seems relatively neutral to the fact that the table is mired with a bunch of prisoners, who are all traitors to the Olympian Gods and murderers. She attentively searches his gaze as she asks for orders. "Pizza? Tacos?"
"No thanks. I'm not hungry," Nadia says.
"More pizza," Roman nods vigorously.
James shakes his head virulently. "No, tacos!"
Jaekwan could hear the bickering from Roman and James in attempted muted tones but forces himself to focus on the approaching figure arriving from the Fifth Cohort, where the moody son of Hephaestus was assigned to stay.
"S'up, Emmett," Jaekwan waves at him and perceiving the foul's expression upon Emmett's face: "Or not."
Stretching, James whispers to Jaekwan, inaudible for everyone to hear but them: "Probably not in the mood for it, Kwannie."
Marisol continues to stab her pizza with a butter knife, attracting even more stares at the commotion as cheese and tomato sauce starts to splatter everywhere. It douses Nadia on her chin, who makes a sound of indignation at the back of her throat.
"What has that poor bread ever done to you?" asks Jaekwan suddenly, "You tore it apart and now you're stabbing it? Are you, like, the most inefficient murderer on this table?"
Roman choke on his Diet coke and James shakes his head. He's dead James mouth at Roman, who remains amusingly silent to watch the exchange."Fuck off, Jaekwan," Marisol growls and levels her butter knife to his eye, "Before I take one off."
Jaekwan holds out his both hand in surrender but continues to smirk, knowing this will further irritate the daughter of Mania. Troublemaking is always part of Jaekwan's speciality. "Okay, ma'am. Got it. Jeez, someone's on her period."
That's when Marisol snap.
"Are you kidding me?" Marisol's Inner Third-Wave feminist appears like a beast finally unleashed from its chains, "How dare you assume that just because I'm mad that I'm on my-"
"Ahem." All the while, they have become unaware of a figure standing in front of their table with a pair of fresh brown eyes trained upon them. It's a girl. She's a little bit on the short side but she has dark hair that frames her face quite nicely and half-lidded dark brown eyes. She dresses like how most of the campers dress. There's no official uniform—except for the legendary purple t-shirt—but Jaekwan can notice the same outfit of Seven jeans, gray New Balance sneakers or Doc Martens combat boots, the occasional Jansport fleece if it's cold out (but it's California so it's not too bad) and bits and pieces of armour strapped on nine out of ten campers. Even the guys and the girls dress the same, except the girls' jeans are tighter and they blow their hair out every day. It's funny how Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood swears that they're so different from each other but their campers dress the same way.
That's not to say that the camp did not have their distinctions—it does—but while Camp Half-Blood have their distinctions by godly parent (kids of Demeter are all eco-freaks with their vegan diets, animal-cruelty free clothes and their locally sourced juice and the Ares bunch are all meatheads with their protein powders and their constant need to spar anyone), Camp Jupiter had their distinctions through cohorts. The First Cohort is the best of all- they had the shiniest armours and even designer items because they come from rich Roman families in New Rome and outside in the mortal world. The Second are the next in league- they suck up to the First Cohort and emulate everything the First Cohort do, except with less flash. The third cohort and the fourth kind of blend into each other, like a massive middle class. They wear things actual teenagers wear in regular high schools while the Fifth Cohort obviously stuck out with the rustiest sword or the slightly broken quiver and they walk around with permanently nervous expressions like they're just waiting for somebody to yell, "Boo!"
She seems slightly hesitant as she scans their faces for any signs of prepubescent violence before she steps up to address them. "Hi, I'm Larissa," she fidgets with her fingers- a tool or two that flickers and appears in the sunlight as she speaks quickly, like she's trying to keep up with a freight train: "An emergency assembly will be starting soon and while prisoners are usually not welcomed in these gatherings, Nico Di Angelo had requested your presence to be there most especially so I'm the camper that's supposed to be escorting you to your seats. By the way, we will have some Greeks coming over from the other camp so please don't try to kill anyone. I'd hate to ruin my day by watching you guys get eaten by lions at the Colosseum."
"I don't even know if those prisoners should be in an assembly with us," Leila mutters, staring at the line of shackled prisoners being escorted by Larissa Ros of the Fourth Cohort to the security docks where Terminus was assessing everybody for weapons by sticking up prodding metal rods into people's armpits. "I mean, like, they're dangerous and violent and highly unpredictable."
Leila turns to Santiago for his input and stares at him expectantly. "They're shackled," Santiago says, feeling a panicky jump in his stomach. He hopes his stutter doesn't appear. "What's the worse they can do?"
"Famous last words," Daewon replies under his breath. His eyes seem to be transfixed at the prisoners, specifically at one of the girls. Does he like one of them? Santiago wonders briefly before their eyes met- the girl's green pale ones and Daewon's soft brown ones clash through the air but then Daewon grits his teeth and turn his head. Maybe not. "I can't believe she has the nerve to show her face here."
Leila's gaze follows Daewon's. She stiffens and bites the corner of her lips, hands flying to her neck. There's a thin, red scar in the patch of skin on the delicate curve of her neck. "Don't take it so personally," she laughs but the strained expression on her face indicates otherwise. "I'm over it. It was years ago."
"Still," Daewon mumbles, "She was your best friend and she tried to behead you in your sleep when we went on a quest together."
"So? She also killed a lot of our friends and our cohort members." Leila's face appears serene. As a daughter of Ceres, Leila's temper is like her mother. It hardly ever happens unless it is necessary. That's one of the things Santiago appreciates about Leila. And maybe because Leila stood for him when he came to Camp Jupiter, helping him obtain his probatio and the fact that they are sons and daughters of nature Gods and they are the only few vegans in the camp. "There's no use dwelling in the past. Anyway, this line is taking forever. We should get some coffee. Coming, Ralph?" Leila is using his 'English' name. Americans, Santiago muses to himself.
Santiago shakes his head.
"You mind holding our spots for us?" Daewon asks politely.
He nods.
When they left him for La Coffea- arguably one of the best hot chocolates in the world, Santiago lets out a deep breath of relief and inches his way down the line.
He just needs to settle his nerves. To take the anxiety he feels like black static behind his eyes and an extra heart in his throat, and shove it all back down to his stomach where it belonged—where he could at least tie it into a nice knot and work around it.
He looks on forward, where the line is way too slowly due to Terminus being extra-OCD and arguing with a son of Mercury about whether his nerf gun classifies as a deadly weapon. Usually, in Senate meetings and assemblies like this, Santiago tries his best to avoid them by skipping out into the Californian redwood forests but he knows that since it's an 'emergency' assembly he can't miss out. Kind vegan or not, Leila would've sewn him into a sack of weasels and throw him into the River Tiber.
So he forces himself to go, despite how much the thought of being packed into a crowded room full of armed demigods with Imperial Gold swords and cleats makes him want to run away. His eyes skirt at the people around him- the boy in front of him is wearing earbuds and self-consciously bobbing his head. The girl behind him keeps flipping her hair from one shoulder to the other as she chats animatedly with her Venus siblings. Santiago could feel their hearts beating and their legs tapping. He could smell their deodorant. Just knowing they are there made him feel tight and cornered.
When Daewon and Leila return, they come back with two iced hot chocolates, one ice coffee and a bag full of vegan caramel croissants (courtesy of Leila). Santiago thank the Gods that Daewon and Leila take the hot day into account. California during the summer is an absolute horror as the humidity of a new day had already caused the sweat to pool at his neck. He fans himself as strands from his side fringe clung needily on his damp forehead.
"We got you one," Leila says, her smile reaching her eyes. Her long hair is now looped into a messy bun.
"Oh thank you," Santiago blushes at the gesture and graciously accepts the hot chocolate. They sip on their drinks and nibble on their food as Terminus asks them to turn out their pockets and place their weapons in the mounting pile by the corner of the Senate's entrance.
"What do you think it's going to be about?" Daewon ask.
It takes a second for Santiago to realise he's talking to him. "I don't know," he admits shyly, feeling slightly awkward that Daewon's engaging conversation within. It's not that they have never spoken- it's more like they hardly ever. Santiago doesn't really know what to make of him. Six months in the same cohort is not enough to make a decision. "Maybe something to do with the prisoners."
"But then why are the Greeks here?" Leila point over to the edge of New Rome, where Temple Hill is located. The praetor, Frank Zhang, is leading two demigods and a centaur down towards the Senate House. Frank appears regal, decked out in official Praetor uniform. His toga signals the formality of the event and the purple cloak flying behind him dance in the wind as if it's some sort of cape. The eagle necklace on his neck glints in the sunlight as he shakes hands with the two demigods and hugs the centaur.
"I don't know," Santiago admits before they filter into the Senate House.
Marisol stares in awe of the Senate House.
She's never really been to Camp Jupiter so it's her first time seeing everything. She gapes, her mouth falling open as she secretly wishes she had eight eyes to drink in every sight.
The Senate House in itself is a structure to behold- the elliptical stadium is monumentally palatial as it is a five story tall Roman-style Colosseum, just like the famous amphitheatre in Italy. The only difference is instead of being made out of concrete and stone, it's a contemporary steel structure with glass windows and doors between the arches.
Outside the Colosseum is a field of campers, ghosts, fauns and Camp Jupiter veterans alike, bustling with activity. There is hardcore bargaining by the market stalls, shouting and fights exploding over some of the item ("Only two denarii for this beautiful shield! Only two!" "Get your demigod-efficient iPhone here! Charmed to function like a normal iPhone, except no monsters!") as they shuffle into the stadium to fill up the seats.
The sunlight penetrates down from the skylight, washing the arena in this brilliant glow as if it's been shoved inside a washing machine under bleach detergent and the option of super strong, coming back out looking cleaner and brighter than ever. Shackled hand over her face, Marisol obscure her eyes to protect the sun from grilling the holy hell out of her. The arena has been modelled after an Ancient Roman senate but with a contemporary, futuristic twist. It's organised into a semi-circle with tiered seats facing an elevated platform and a dais podium where the Praetors will address the audience. The front layer is brimming with all the important members- ten of the senators and ten centurions from each cohort.
Feathers scatter in the atmosphere as eagles- Camp Jupiter's emblem- zoom across the stadium above their heads. Almost every aspect had Marisol breathless: the influx of different creatures mingling, colours of different goat tails, floating ghosts, armed battalions, purple cloaks- the sight of it all is so impressive and so surreal after being enclosed in a prison cell for years that Marisol almost stand and gawk for a good five minutes. There's even a centaur! He's a white stallion from the waist-down but the waist-up, Marisol is reminded of a middle-aged history teacher with thick bushy eyebrows and thinning brown hair- almot like an overworked investment banker. Despite this, the centaur seems to be a highly regarded creature with many of the campers milling their way towards him to shake his hand.
She wonders if that's the same case about Camp Half-Blood and if it's just as visually stunning. Maybe more. She's never been to Camp Half-Blood.
Marisol wonders what would've happened if she didn't join the Hunters- if she was found by a regular satyr or whatever and was taken to Camp Half-Blood. Would she have been different? Would her life be better or worse? Would she had ever ended up at Katadiki? Would Elizabeth still be alive?
The memory of the panic and the slick feeling of blood coating her fingers after accidentally killing one of her fellow Hunters buoy up into the surface of her mind before she abruptly pushes it out of her mind.
"Move," Larissa jabs her in the shoulder with the butt of her scimitar; Larissa, at first appearance, harmless and kind of dodgy but when push comes to shove, Larissa is stormy and stern. "You're holding up a line."
"I can walk, thanks," Marisol spits out fiercely.
They head over and sit on the right side of the semicircle. A massive group of kids, roughly around the number of thirty to forty, range from various ages march concisely in a single file line and occupy the seats right next to them. Their backs are ramrod straight, their posture never slack, their faces palpable with no emotions.
"The First Cohort," Larissa's muscles tighten. "Ugh."
Marisol has never seen a bunch of kids so well-behaved and disciplined before. Talk about a nightmare.
Footsteps thunder on stage. It's a boy striding towards the podium. His extravagant black toga billow behind him. Silence fall between the crowd- not utter silence, with some whispers managing to surreptitiously sneak in. It took her a few moments for her to suddenly realise the boy is actually Nico Di Angelo, the son of Hades, the Ambassador of Pluto and her warden.
He taps on the microphone and looks rather awkward as he registers the crowd uncertainly, "Um hello," he coughs out. The black toga looks as if it's going to consume him in its silken material. "I mean- uh, hi. So as you notice, I have declared an emergency meeting regarding the recent arrival of prisoners in Katadiki."
Murmurs break out and soon, Marisol is aware of all the eyes on her. Marisol forces herself to look ahead, ignoring the daggers and glares shot her way. Marisol is glad that the fragnos shackles are being placed around her ankles and her wrists to prevent her powers from destabilising her. The metal prevents her powers from acting up, which means she's in more control of her abilities and her emotions and therefore allows her to seem aloof and unaffected by their judgement. She rolls her eyes. It's cliche- of course. She had expected this kind of treatment. You slap a label that says 'convict' or 'prisoner' on somebody and people immediately judge you without even having a conversation with them.
"As of recently, we've been having a series of attacks by a certain group called the Celestials. This group has been responsible for the Houston church beheading and the terrorist attacks in Paris and Belgium. They've also been behind the hackings of several governmental agencies across the world and the funding of ISIS. It wasn't a matter of major concern before as this group of demigods had only performed attacks on mortals. That changed last night. Yesterday's destruction of Katadiki penitentiary had led to its immediate closure, which is why the prisoners are being sent here to Camp Jupiter temporarily until Katadiki is seen fit to host these prisoners again. However, the release of these prisoners and Katadiki's reconstruction is the least of our problems. This brand new demigod group were regarded as a nuisance before but this recent attack had led us to take them more seriously. My father had been gaining intel on them since last year and-"
He falls unexpectedly silent. Marisol frowns, wondering why until she heard the clattering blades that signal the approach of a helicopter. The sound grows louder and louder until the crystal chandelier begins to buzz and vibrate.
"Everybody, out!" Reyna yell, brandishing her sparkling Imperial Gold spear. The daughter of Bellona, even at age twenty-two, is fearsome and powerful as the power of her mother sizzle around her. "Go down to Senate's basement! NOW!"
"Shit," Larissa swears. Marisol and the others look at her for instructions. "Okay, you guys have to follow me."
But as people rush to the exit, everybody notices the sight of a small parachute drifting lazily down past the steel panelled window of the Senate's skylight. As it settles its payload in a hedge of emerald cedars, the helicopter noise becomes fainter and finally disappears.
The whole Senate is stunned. There is a deafening silence. Nobody moves a muscle. When the campers finally found their voices, the frightened questions bombard in a cascade:
"How did they get through our borders?"
"Was that a helicopter?"
"Holy podex, is it a bomb?"
"Everybody settle down," Nico order, his voice amplified over the din through the microphone. "If they wanted to kill us, they would've snuck it into the Senate."
"I'm going to get it," Reyna says briskly. She fled outside with the other praetor close behind her. The campers watch in quiet awe and fascination as Reyna's new Pegasus, Marmalade (obviously in conjunction with Reyna's old Pegasus, Scipio or better known as Skippy), help her fly her up to the skyline when she carefully extracts the package from the roof. Within five minutes, she comes back in with the package in hand. Everybody clamber and lean in forward to get a better look. Marisol narrow her eyes.
The package is about the size of half a shoe box, a canvas bag wrapped in waterproof plastic. Reyna detaches it from the chute by cutting the strings with her the tip of her spear. Then she removes the plastic cover and unfurls the canvas. Out tumbles a wad of bubble wrap. Nico caught it before it hit the ground and begin to remove the tape and unwind the plastic.
"A phone?" Frank query, his voice loud enough to carry through the Senate without a microphone. The campers begin to murmur disappointingly at each other at the lack of suspense as the disappointing revelation of such a mundane item.
Reyna frown. "It doesn't look like any phone I've ever seen." She registers the audience: "Can we have a child of Vulcan up here, please?"
A girl- no younger than fifteen- rises from her seat and promptly ignore the stares following her as she stepped up to the podium to examine the phone. She's brown-haired with child-like grey eyes. Reyna hands her the phone, where the girl takes out the battery out of its cartridge and fiddle with a few of the phone's equipment. "Larissa, I need your help."
Larissa stands from her seat, shyly aware of the attention of her. She quickly makes her way to the podium, where Leilani is scratching her head as she fidgets with the phone. Larissa is mumbling under her breath as she produces an Imperial Gold knife to slice it open and examine the insides more carefully. After a few minutes, Larissa announces: "There's no brand name or model number." Everybody is still relatively confused until Larissa sighs and explains: "Nothing that can be traced. But it's fine. I'll take this in, open it up even further and maybe I can figure out something from the way it's wired. And the chip might be stamped with an identifier —"
"No." The centaur interrupts her unexpectedly, but not unkindly from the far end of the Senate. While the centaur, in general, appear taller and a much more formidable figure than the rest of the campers, the sudden diverted attention place upon the centaur seem to elevate him further. "If somebody takes the trouble to parachute a cell phone down on our front lawn, it's because they're going to call."
"He's right," Nico agrees tersely. Nico presses the power switch and the device light up, booting itself to life. There's a chime, and a text message appears on the small screen.
Greetings, demigods of Camp Jupiter!
I'd hoped to meet you in person, but perhaps it's better this way.
As you've noticed, the remaining prisoners who had failed to escape from your clutches after I had granted them the brilliant opportunity to do so sits before your very eyes. For that, I presume these are failings.
I am Isaiah Wallace. Who I am is nothing of your concern but what I am is a question that's simply burning in all your mortal loins. I am the leader of the Celestials and I'm aware that after my little neat trick at Katadiki Prison, I will be the number one on your Hit List.
You want me?
Very well.
Why don't we play a game? A nice little game of hide-and-seek. If you manage to find this particular artefact before my team, I'm all yours. But if I manage to find it first, well…let's not think about it.
Now let's even out the playing field. After all, you don't even know what you're supposed to find. Let me give you a riddle:
"shrouded in crimes too many,
find order of the n_"
What is that? Well, it's all I can give you for now. And if you're thinking, how will I keep my word if you did find this artefact before my team? Will I just surrender or will I double-cross you? Who knows?
In that case, I suppose you'll just have to trust me.
Won't you?
The Celestials.
AND THERE IT IS! Now there's definitely less character and more plot, but hey! I'm just getting things started- the plot- or the quest will definitely be centered around this fun little hide-and-seek game between Isaiah's team and the AntiHeroes. You see, Isaiah is looking for a priceless artefact. And the demigods are looking for Isaiah. So the challenge is to find it before Isaiah and hope it doesn't fall into Isaiah's hands. If it does, Isaiah obviously wins. If it doesn't, I suppose Isaiah hands himself in. Or is Isaiah the type to double-cross?
Hehe, only time will tell!
BELOW IS THE FULLY UPDATED CAST LIST!
MAIN CHARACTERS, OFFICIALLY DECIDED:
Evelyn Clearwater, 16, Greek, Daughter of Morpheus, Female, Incarcerated for: Dangerous, Mental Instability.
Nadia Marie Williams, 19, Roman, Daughter of Fortuna, Female, Incarcerated for: Treason.
Marisol Clarice Hunt, 19, Greek, Daughter of Mania, Female, Incarcerated for: Murder.
James Silas Moretti, 18, Greek, Son of Aphrodite, Male, Incarcerated for: Treason.
Jaekwan Lee, 19, Roman, Son of Neptune, Male, Incarcerated for: Treason and Attempted Murder.
Roman Daniel Sokolov, 17, Roman, Son of Victoria, Male, Incarcerated for Drugs and Murder.
SUPERVISORS:
Christopher Michael Johnson, 18, Greek, Male, Son of Hermes.
Santiago Rafael Nieves-Linde, 20, Roman, Son of Sylvanus, Male.
Juliana Greer, 18, Greek, Daughter of Ares, Female.
Larissa Samnang Ros, 19, Roman, Daughter of Vulcan, Female.
SUPPORTING CASTS:
Emmet Grayson Blake, 15, Greek, Son of Hephaestus, Male, Incarcerated for: Attempted Murder.
Adrian Ulysses Dusk, 17 (going on 18), Roman, Son of Apollo, Male, Incarcerated for: The Dusk Plagues, Murder.
Carmen Santanico Alverez, 16, Greek, Son of Dionysus, Male, Incarcerated for: Treason [Gaea's Side]
Kaisu Suzuki Takakuro, 15, Greek, Son of Apate, Male, Incarcerated for: Treason.
Ries Edward Duncan, 18, Greek, Son of Ares, Male, Incarcerated for: Abuse of Power
Malina Maruska, 18, Greek, Daughter of Aphrodite, Female, Incarcerated for: Treason.
Matthew James Cardinal, 20, Greek, Son of Thantos, Male, Incarcerated for: Murder.
Chelsia Elizabeth Noxley, 17, Greek, Daughter of Aphrodite, Female, Incarcerated for: Murder.
Dean Alex Johnson, 17, Greek, Son of Lycan, Male, Incarcerated for: Treason.
Ajax Uriel Walker, 21, Greek, Son of Thantos, Male, Incarcerated for: Treason and Murder.
SUPPORTING CASTS [FOR CAMPS]:
Kathryn Huang, 16, Greek, Daughter of Hecate, Female.
Leilani Shay Kahala, 14, Roman, Daughter of Vulcan, Female.
Samantha Tamaguchi, 17, Greek, Daughter of Ares, Female.
Abigale Rebecca Saunders, 16, Greek, Daughter of Khione, Female.
Daewon Kim, 20, Roman, Son of Mars, Male.
POSSIBLE ENEMIES:
Inner Circle:
Finnic Theodore Macduff, 19, Greek, Son of Poseidon, Male
Erika Freeman, 17, Greek, Daughter of Tychon, Female.
Jack Landon, 18, Greek, Son of Eris, Male.
Mckenzie Cordell, 19, Roman, Daughter of Mars, Female.
Casvel Samuel Springfield, 27, Greek, Son of Hypnos, Male.
Jason Drake, 18, Greek, Son of Nemesis, Male.
Coven of Hecate:
Will Adler, 19, Greek, Son of Hecate, Male.
Lyra Burke, 17, Greek, Daughter of Hecate, Female.
Asta Vik, 18, Roman, Daughter of Somnus, Female.
Winslow 'Winnie' March, 18, Roman, Legacy of Trivia, Female.