He turned around "What on earth?"
Someone... something was approaching. It was shrouded in a murky green mist, but as it got closer, the campers and Hunters gasped.
"This is impossible," Chiron said. He'd never sounded so nervous in his life. "It... she has never left the attic. Never."
And yet, the withered mummy that held the Oracle shuffled forward until she stood in the center of the group. Mist curled around feet, turning the snow a sickly shade of green.
No-one dared to move. Then her voice hissed inside everyone's head. Apparently everyone could hear it, because several clutched their hands over the ears.
I am the sprit of Delphi, the voice said. Speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python.
The Oracle regarded the man in shadows with its cold, dead eyes. Then she turned unmistakably toward Zoe Nightshade. Approach, Seeker, and ask.
Zoe swallowed. "What must I do to help my goddess?"
The Oracle's mouth opened, and green mist poured out. A vague image of a mountain, and a girl standing at the barren peak. It was Artemis, but she was wrapped in chains, fettered to the rocks. She was kneeling, her hands raised as if to fend off an attacker, and it looked like she was in pain. The Oracle spoke:
Five shall go west to the goddess in chains,
One shall be lost in the land without rain,
The globe's daughter shows the trail,
Campers and Hunters combined might prevail,
The Titan's curse must one withstand,
And vengeance should be had by night's hand.
Then, as they watched, the mist swirled and retreated like a great green serpent into the mummy's mouth. The Oracle sat down on a rock and became as still as she'd been in the attic, as if she might sit by this creek for a hundred years.