Chapter Summary: Switching to a new POV and a focus on the happenings on the west coast, we discover that the peace from the past two years of skipped time will not last much longer.
Voices In the Dark
Rachel
Rachel arches her spine, her head thrown back on the mattress, her thighs parted, knees up, hamstrings working overtime to steady her, and Reyna between them. Rachel cards her fingers through Reyna's hair, her heart races, close to bursting. It's been so long, too long … but now that Reyna has joined her at Berkeley, they won't have long months apart any longer.
Rachel's close, so close, shivering until cold is her primary sensation. The pleasure she chases is gone, her connection to Reyna sparking out like a blown fuse. She opens her eyes, her breath like smoke in the dark.
What the hell?
She's standing in a long windowless corridor, the walls made up of dark stone. Black flame torches illuminate the path at regular intervals, each casting purplish light upon altars of bones beneath them. An ancient voice, a familiar one, whispers in her mind.
It's a prophetic dream. Pay attention.
She looks up as the ceiling creaks, showering dust into the air and clouding her sight as it catches in the light from the torches. She takes slow steps forward, kicking up more dust with each footfall, wondering where this corridor leads and why she's here.
Her spine prickles and every hair on her body stands on end as she senses a malevolent presence looming behind her. The shadows of the bone altars grow and stretch, an inky darkness expanding, and when she turns back, filling the corridor behind her until she can't see through it. She runs from it. Faster down the corridor, the shadows chase her toward a huge set of doors standing open. Skeletons in combat fatigues and carrying assault rifles guard them. Raised voices issuing from within the room become more distinct the closer she gets.
The skeletons stiffen, making her jump, then fall into battle positions, their rifles aimed. They seem to be aiming at the force behind her, and she races past them, seemingly invisible for all the notice they give her. She finds herself in a giant cavern filled with clouds of dust so thick it's hard to see through. Reaching blindly with her hands outstretched, she follows the voices.
"I know that it is not something you are comfortable with! Do you take me for a fool? But I see no other option. If we remain here, the palace will come down on top of us. It's taking all of my will to keep the infrastructure from falling apart. Do you want to imagine the world with the souls of the dead unbound?"
She moves closer to the voice. It's deep, powerful, and though it has a sharp edge to it, she trusts what it says.
She holds her breath when two figures come into view through the dust fog. The low glow lighting the room seems to emanate from them.
The one she heard speak is tall, lean, and dressed all in black, his robes billowing around his lithe frame and undulating with anguished faces barely discernible in the dark fabric. He can only be Hades, which means she's in the Underworld and behind him, rising from a raised platform stands his black throne of bones, a smaller throne, gilded with gold sits beside it, both piled with dust.
The other figure hovers in mid-air, his face smudged and caked with ash and grime. Hermes, she thinks he must be, judging by the golden winged sandals and helmet he wears. He's dressed like a businessman stripped to his shirtsleeves, his shirt open at the front and undershirt showing. It clings to his chest and smeared with dried golden ichor. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw twitching, and then a sound like crunching bones echoes from the corridor. The gods turn as one to face the doors. Hades pulls a long black sword from thin air, his helm of darkness tucked under his other arm while Hermes lands on his feet, his caduceus transmorphing into a giant iron cattle prod sparking with electric currents.
Neither of the gods take any notice of Rachel and she sprints past them, reaching the thrones and turning around to see what it is that has the gods ready for battle. She freezes, her mind screaming as pure inky darkness spills through the open doors like the tentacles of a gigantic octopus. They rise, pulling together into a massive shape that fills half the space in the throne room and towering upward toward the cavern ceiling over forty feet high.
The Oracle hisses in her mind, wrapping her in its dusty rasp and strangely, comforting her. Observe, child. You must learn. Arm yourself with knowledge. Phoebus Apollo must be enlightened and it is your task to bear these events to him.
Her panic recedes. She reminds herself she's in a dream. She's not physically present in the room, though from what Hazel has told her, some goddesses can kill a person even in a dream.
She forces herself to look up as the darkness solidifies, its features indistinct, but the form is that of an enormous woman, humanoid, though very much not human.
It is Nyx, the Oracle whispers. Primordial goddess of Night.
Nyx turns her face toward the gods, her eyes like stars, like solar systems, winking out and brightening again as she blinks.
"Nyx!" Hades bellows, his powerful voice tampered by the overwhelming darkness. "You should not be here. What is the point of a treaty if …"
"Ahhh," Nyx says, her voice surprisingly soft, though the power behind it overpowers the sound of Hades's voice, cutting off the end of his sentence. "But the borderlands between our realms have crumbled and as our realms meld, the treaty is void. Now listen to me; our time is short."
Hades stares up at her, his eyes burning with the same dark fire that lights the torches behind the thrones. Hermes remains at Hades's side, his cattle prod fizzling a blue electric pulse between its forked tines, his eyes wide, his face tight, almost masklike.
Nyx speaks again, soft as satin, her voice slithering into Rachel's ears like the tongue of death. "We must unite our forces before they are all lost. Tartarus rises. I have sent my children to secure him, but he is formidable in battle. He has consumed all in his path, his own children included, but for the two holding him fast. When they weaken past the point they can restrain him, the whole of the Underworld will be sucked into chaos and he will rise to the overlands, consuming them as well. The balance of the universe will be on the brink of collapse."
Hades looks to Hermes, who gives a stiff nod, and then turns back to Nyx, lowering his sword. "I agree. I accept. If my foolish brothers were capable of seeing past the measure of their fragile privilege we might stand a chance. As it is, even combining our forces we will only slow the inevitable."
The responsibility is yours, Rachel, the Oracle whispers, as faint and fragile as the rustling of tissue paper. You must relay this news to Apollo. The rustling grows louder, turning into a loud whoosh in Rachel's ears, and then the world spins, her eyes unable to track in the dizzying whirl of light and dark.
She sits bolt upright, dragging in air as if she's never used her lungs before, green smoke swirling and her consciousness tied to her body as if by a thread. She watches herself rise from bed and shuffle on stiff legs down the hall of the apartment she shares with Piper. The whooshing sound grows louder until she stands before the open bathroom door. Inside, Piper blow dries her hair.
She spots Rachel and turns off the blow dryer, her eyes going wide. Green mist and the smell of snakeskin fill the room from Rachel's body.
"A prophecy? Now?" Piper says, and Rachel wants to explain, to tell her she has no control over the timing, but she can only watch, half-aware as the spirit of Delphi borrows her voice box.
The prophecy isn't new, but Rachel understands. It is happening now, and the scene she witnessed in the Underworld is what will bring it to pass.
"The fall of the sun, the final verse
inoculate the source, to fate – reverse.
The wretched one must make a stand,
topple the head, draw a line in the sand.
When a lion crows and the vortex spews
forth the daughter he never knew,
Then Lethe ease a fallen pride
and truth unveil a broken bride.
The early three will join no more
and two in one reset the score.
XxxX
When Rachel comes to hours later, she's back in bed, her head throbbing and fuzzy. Piper sits in a chair next to her, staring at her phone and texting. She looks up when Rachel reaches for her.
"Oh! You're awake! I let Reyna know what happened and told her we'll be late, though she won't be able to delay the ceremony."
The ceremony. Rachel groans, hating her job as the Oracle's vessel for the first time. The ceremony at Camp Jupiter is to be Reyna's final act as praetor, passing the mantle to her successor, Hazel. Rachel's vision and the repeated prophecy lets down not only her partner, but also her friends, Hazel and Piper.
She can't stop the tears from springing to her eyes. Piper frowns at her. "Hey, it's alright. We'll still get to see everybody. And just think about it, Reyna coming back with us. We'll rule this campus!"
Rachel nods, choking up. Her throat is sore. Piper helps her to sit up, and then hands her a glass of water. Despite Piper's comforting words, their rule over Berkeley campus is not going to last long if Rachel doesn't fulfil her duty and effectively draft her friends into another godly battle. She swallows the water though it tastes bitter. What a crappy job it is, being the bearer of bad news.