June 2006
Walking over to Cabin three felt strange. For years the cabin sat empty, only dares bringing young campers to the door. The blue paint was faded and worn. The foreboding feeling that chased anyone who neared the cabin was gone. The wind chimes by the door sang with joy. It was as if the walls had been waiting for their occupant. Kiara knocked on the door hefting her bag higher.
"Come in," Percy's voice sounded strangely muffled.
The inside looked less empty than the aged exterior. Empty beds lined the room. Except for the one at the end. A duffle was dumped at the foot of the bed and a teen was trying to smother himself in pillows and blankets. Fine dust swayed in the air, pulling a sneeze out of Kiara.
"Bless you."
"Percy?" A grunt was his only answer. "Chiron asked me to check on you." A similar noise came from the blankets.
A piece of crumpled paper sat across from the bed. Kiara smoothed out paper and skimmed it. Kiara glared at the circled number. Whoever sent this would be having a very difficult time soon.
Kiara sat by the lump on the bed. "Is something wrong?"
The blankets shifted to reveal a frustrated Percy. He kept the blankets wrapped around his body leaving his face the only thing exposed to the air.
"I'm fine," he grumbled. His hair was messed up from the static under the blankets and his eyes looked red.
"Are you sure?"
"It doesn't matter."
"If you're-"
"It's fine." Percy glared at her then burrowed back into his cave.
Kiara let out a breath. And sneezed. Once, twice. Three times.
The huddle beneath the blankets let out a snort.
"Sure, laugh at my misery." Kiara rolled her eyes. "Maybe clean the room while you're at it." She sneezed again.
"What's wrong with you?" Percy asked with the tact of a twelve year old.
The bed shook as he shifted around. Kiara turned back to him. The blankets were pooled around his knees. His blotchy cheeks dimpled as he laughed at her.
"Not everyone can magically heal with water. Some of us get annoying side effects instead of cool powers."
Percy sent a wary glance at her. "Why are you here?"
"I heard you had a tiring training. I thought some bruise cream wouldn't be unwanted." Kiara held the little tub out to him.
"Um, thanks?" He picked it up like it was an offering from a cat.
Kiara scooted closer. "Like this, Duckie."
She scooped out a dollop of the arnica paste and reached out a hand for his reddish arm.
"It's cold!" Percy tried to pull away.
"It's supposed to be."
He squinted at her but let her continue. Kiara winced at the mark on his forearm. Luke had hit him with the flat of his blade, probably knocking him to the ground as well. She carefully smoothed out the cream against the skin but Percy still flinched at touch.
"Couldn't you just use the weird magic thing?" Percy's other hand fiddled with a loose thread from his blanket.
"We have a limited supply of ambrosia and nectar. Hebe only sends down a batch every few weeks. Fortunately your bruises are not life threatening enough to need them."
Percy seemed satisfied with that answer. Kiara moved on to the next one peaking out of his sleeve. She hummed a slight hymn under her breath. It would not fix broken bones or mend torn tissue but speeding up the healing of a bruise was easy. The sun through the window grew warm on her skin as it fed off her song. The edges of the red bruises receded.
"I saw the news clipping, Percy." Kiara kept her eyes on her task even when he tensed. "It's not your fault-"
Percy interrupted, "You don't know that-"
"There was nothing anyone could do. Your mom knew that. She made sure you could make it to camp."
"You don't know that!" He pulled away.
"I do, Percy. How many of us here do you think lost someone on the way? It's not safe out there. Not for us. Will only gets to see his mom once or twice a year. Annabeth hasn't seen her parents since she was six. Clarisse showed up at camp alone. Richard, a satyr, had been protecting her and another. I can't live with my mom. I can't see her for more than a day without something coming after us. We lose people, Percy. It's a part of life. We have to live for the ones who gave theirs for us. Your mom brought you here to keep you safe. Don't waste that. You aren't alone. We are here for you and your mom would want you to keep trying." Kiara stood up and placed the cream on his bedside table. "Dinner's at six. Don't be late."
-o-
She floated in nothingness. It was not dark, nor light. She could not tell the difference when her eyes were open or closed. Her chest heaved but no air entered her lungs. She opened her mouth but no scream came out. No sound reached her ears. Her fingers could not touch her palm for it was not there—she couldn't feel anything of herself at all.
Her blood did not pulse to the beat of a heart. There was none. There was no cold or heat. The hollowness inside her was as silent as the void outside. Her toes reached for the ground beneath her and she was hit with the realization that up and down had no meaning. There was no meaning in this strange inbetween world.
Nothing.
She could do nothing but wait. Wait and hope she would be freed from this prison.
The wait was almost as bad as the endlessness. She had no idea if it was mere seconds or years that passed. There were no breaths to count. No sign on the nothingness that anything was happening. Time was meaningless in this world. Was it seconds or years passing? She felt each heartbeat that should have been, her body cried out in an agony of absence, but there was no rhythm, no anchor. She was adrift, sinking deeper, until her own mind was the only tether left.
Then something changed.
Not sight or touch but a buzz in her ears. It grew louder and louder until the static shifted into words, bringing with it a taste of something bitter, metallic, and unfamiliar.
"They're on their way," a familiar voice said. "You've lost."
"I haven't even started." This one was different—older, harsh, ready to rip the world to shreds for their goals.
Then, light, faint and flickering, pushed its way into her senses. She stumbled forward, her legs suddenly finding purchase on smooth, cold marble beneath her. The disfigured mosaic of the gods stared at her, their faces frozen in terror, screaming with lungs that would never work. Smoke smothered the sky, fires twisting and jumping in the chaos around her.
And over the crumbling hearth stood a man. His skin glowed from within, golden light spilling from every pore and reaching towards the sky
"I understand now. You have to trust me."
A girl struggled under the weight of a heavy sword, blood trickling down her face—a face Kiara knew but could no longer place.
"She saw your fate."
"This is my fate."
Kiara's heart ached with the certainty that she had to reach them. Her body felt bound by invisible chains, a weight pressing on her chest as though to suffocate her. Kiara strained against unseen chains, desperation clawing at her. Something would happen if she didn't. The man pressed the sword down harder. Tears streamed from Kiara's eyes. She needed to stop this.
"You promised. You're holding him back even now."
With one final pull, the chains broke. The sound shattered the silence like a scream, reverberating through the hall. Her legs shook as she stumbled forward, the shards of celestial bronze digging into her skin, blood running down her legs. She ran, but the distance never seemed to lessen. Always out of reach. Never close enough.
Her breath grew ragged as her outstretched hand brushed his arm—only for something to stop her cold.
"Cease this useless fighting, child," one whispered.
"Fate can not be stopped," warned the other, hand pressing Kiara's away
"The strings have already been cut," the last finished.
The Moirai stood before her: Clotho cradling flax, Lachesis holding a basket of threads, Atropos wielding her shears. Behind them, the hall faded. Kiara was back in the nothingness.
The man turned to them. Molten tears of gold rolled down his face. His hair was drenched with color, his skin glowing from the inside. Everything about him was too much, unnaturally flawless. Only a familiar scar, running jagged down the side of his face, marred the perfection.
"Luke?"
The man fell to his knees, steam rising from his body in thick coils. The glow inside him brightened, pushing against his skin, straining until it began to split. He writhed, reaching out, desperate.
"Luke!"
Kiara ran to him but with each step her feet sunk down into the earth beneath them. It felt like wading through molten lava; every movement brought fire and pain, shocks sparking up her body as she sank lower. The ground reached her chest by the time she made it to his side. Her hands shook as she tried to help him.
"Luke. Luke! Stop!"
He froze, just for a moment, his eyes clearing. Blue stared back at her, pleading.
"Help me," he whispered, "please."
And then she fell.
Back into the endless void, alone once more. The burns vanished like they'd never been, and Kiara was left trembling.
"Girl."
The voice tore at Kiara's mind, tearing past her thoughts, battering against every barrier she'd ever built. It was like a blade cutting through her defenses, prying into every hidden corner of her consciousness. She felt the words pressing in, so loud and invasive that she could barely breathe.
"Do not fear me." The voice softened, but its command lingered, weaving itself through her senses like a venom. "You'd do well serving in my army. A Fate's Keeper is always welcome in my home."
Something–definitely something–was close. It was not human. She could feel it tower over her. She knelt, frozen, every instinct screaming at her not to look. The air thrummed with a resonant hum as it circled her, a predator waiting for any sign of weakness.
"Oh, my child." It crooned, the voice wrapping around her like smoke, thick and cloying. "The world has been harsh to you. They have let you behind." It came to a stop in front of her. "Your work would be better appreciated with us."
Kiara kept her eyes clenched tight, her hands tight around her head. Some part of her warned that if she looked, if she dared meet the gaze of this thing, she would never open her eyes again. It's not-eyes burned down on her daring her to look, just a peak, just a glance to satisfy her curiosity.
"Ah." It chuckled, low and knowing. "A smart one, I see..."
Its voice sank to a whisper, each word slithering through her mind, leaving an oily residue behind. "What will it take to open your eyes to the truth?" It paused, full of unheard promises. "I will wait."
The presence leaned closer, and she could feel its not-breath, hot as the desert's sand, stirring the air around her. The words came soft and conspiratorial, yet unyielding.
"Remember to watch over the champion. He must meet me."
"No..." Kiara's voice was barely a whisper, a small ember in the vast darkness.
"Child, you are mistaken," the voice responded smoothly, almost amused. "This is your only option." It lingered, pooling around her. "I willwait."
"No."
There was a long, chilling silence. The figure seemed to relish it, as if savoring her resistance. Finally, it spoke, the words woven with cold certainty.
"I have time." Its voice lowered, resonating with a quiet, terrible promise. "You will bend. I will wait."
-o-
Kiara woke before dawn, before the sky thickened with dark clouds. Only a faint trickle of moonlight guided her as she approached the door of the big house, leaning against the frame to steady her pounding heart. Thunder rumbled in the distance, an echo to the relentless thud in her chest. Fragments of the nightmare flickered through her mind. Each one was colder than the last. A chill ran down her spine despite her brother's oversized sweatshirt that hung to her knees. The whispering voice from the dream lingered in her thoughts. Its words clinging like shadows. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she tried to shake the feeling, as if the presence might still be lurking just beyond the edges of the waking world.
"Who's there?" Chiron opened the door and with one look at her wide eyes and shaking frame ushered her inside.
With a warm cup of tea in her hands and a blanket around her shoulders, Kiara finally relaxed on the couch. Across from her, Chiron sat in his wheelchair. His glasses low on his nose, hair curlers perched somewhat precariously in his mane. Next to him, Mr. D was sprawled in an armchair, bleary-eyed and half-asleep.
Kiara traced the ripples in her mug as she explained what she remembered from her nightmare. The warmth from the tea chased away the chill that lingered from the dream. She could feel her magic tingling in her fingers on watch for the presence's return. The morning came as she explained but the sky remained as dark as night. As her story unfolded, Chiron's face grew more tense, each detail drawing his brows a bit lower.
She took a breath clutching the cold tea tighter around herself.
Chiron said, "Kiara..."
"Tell no one of this." Mr. D's eyes were hard as he leaned forward in his seat forgoing his facade. "Not one word will pass your lips, by order of Zeus." Thunder rumbled in warning. "Understand, girl?" His voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "You will not start a panic over your half-forgotten nightmare. Until this dream proves itself, it means nothing."
Chiron gave the god a cautious look. "Mr. D-"
"No, Chiron, this is not up for debate. Answer me, Kiara Diana Hope," he ordered.
"Yes, Lord Dionysus." Kiare pulled her blanket tighter against his glare. "I won't tell a soul, I swear on the Styx." Thunder rang out once more, sealing her fate. "What about the man? He was familiar. I knew him."
"If the Fates did not let you remember there is a reason you forgot," Chiron cautioned.
"Go collect, Parker Jensen." And with that Mr. D settled back into his chair, a magazine popping into his hands. "That brat is wrapped up in this and I need to know how."
"Parker-Oh Percy." Kiara gave him a small nod and picked herself up from the couch. "Is there anything or anyone else you would like?"
"Grover Underwood. This is his last chance."
-o-
The clouds rolled overhead as Kiara made her way to the edge of the border. The shield protected the half-bloods. It also had the plus of keeping the stocked monsters away from the satyrs' camp. The shield was almost invisible except for the occasional ripple on the border. Pushing through the border always felt strange like stepping out into the snow without a coat on. The safety and warmth of camp waited at her back and the world out in front of her.
Kiara stepped over tangling roots and small shrubs. This close to the satyrs' home one could never be more careful of what was just an ordinary plant or a sensitive dryad.
"Hello? Who's there?" a tentative voice asked off the trail.
Kiara spun, her heartbeat quickening. "Juniper?"
"Kiara! What are you doing out here?" Juniper melted out of the forest, her feet silent against the ground.
"Chiron and Mr. D want to talk with Grover about the camper he guided."
"Oh no!" Juniper's cheeks turned a darker green at Grover's name as she kept up with Kiara. "He hasn't done anything. He just wants his searcher's license."
The forest reacted to the dryad's distress leaning towards her. A few flowers seemed to try and glare at Kiara for Juniper's distraught.
"I know that and so do they," Kiara tried to calm Juniper before the forest decided to strangle her. "This is something else."
"Like a quest?" Juniper perked up. "If he goes on a quest he can get his license!"
Kiara pulled her arms tighter around herself. "Hopefully there won't be a need for a quest."
Juniper looked sheepish. "I mean of course. They're dangerous and scary. Who would want to go on one of those?" She hesitated, then added brightly, "They probably just want to congratulate him for getting that boy here in one piece. I'm sure of it. Give him a medal and everything for finding one of the Big Three's kids. No one has done that in decades. He found two of them at that."
Kiara shook her head at Juniper's attempt to distract her. "Thanks, Juni."
Pale light streamed down from the canopy as the forest opened up to a natural clearing. Houses tucked into branches and cabins grown from trees greeted them. As the closest homes to camp these were filled with the Guides and their families. Juniper waved at the satyrs wandering around in the strange light. Kiara walked the familiar path to Grover's home tucked into the base of a birch.
She knocked on the door. No answer. Juniper shrugged as Kiara knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.
"Grover? Are you in there?" She called into the house.
"Oh honey, Grover stayed up late last night planning something again," an aurae apologized, passing them with a baby satyr against her hip.
"Thanks, Cleo."
Kiara turned back and pounded on the door. "Grover Underwood! Don't make me come in there."
A loud thump and a string of curses followed. Kiara smirked as Juniper giggled. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a very disheveled Grover.
"Good morning, Grover," Kiara chirped.
"Kiara! It's six!" Grover bemoaned leaning on his door like it was the one thing that was holding him together. His hair stuck in every which way and his eyes kept drooping shut.
Juniper greeted, her voice soft, "Hi, Grover."
And it was like his whole existence lit up. "Oh-um-hi-hello-I mean-Good morning, Juniper, how are you? You-your hair is very beautiful today."
"Thank you," Juniper's cheeks flushed and they both averted their eyes. "I'm well and you?"
"Perfect-" Grover smiled. "-now that you're here-I mean-um–"
Kiara cleared her throat. "Grover."
He jumped, startled out of their moment. "What?"
"Mr. D and Chiron need to talk to you and Percy. Now."
"Oh..." Grover's face went pale. "I guess we'd better head over."
"You aren't in trouble," Kiara assured him.
He didn't look convinced, his nervous sway disappearing as his posture stiffened. "Sure. Of course. Not in trouble. Just a formal trip before they send me to strawberry duty for life."
"They aren't. Trust me, please."
Grover managed a weak smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you're sure..."
-o-
"Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity."
Kiara looked away from her losing hand. A green Grover had told her he would retrieve Percy himself and it did not look like he was panicking any less. Percy, on the other hand, just looked bewildered, his expression one of perpetual confusion. He had worn that same lost-puppy look since arriving at camp.
"Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."
A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house. Kiara warily looked up at the dark clouds, threatening a storm.
"Blah, blah, blah," Mr. D said.
Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.
"If I had my way," Mr. D said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."
"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm," Chiron put in.
"It's on the restricted list," Kiara added.
"Nonsense," Mr. D said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."
"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.
"Oh, all right," Mr. D relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Mr. D rose, and the invisible player next to Kiara ceased to exist. Kiara looked over at the cards wincing at her horrible luck. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."
Dionysus picked up an ace of diamonds, twisted it, and it became a security pass. He snapped his fingers and rippled away.
Chiron stared at the spot where Mr. D had vanished like he was trying to puzzle out the mysteries of the universe. "Sit, Percy, please. And Grover."
Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use. "Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"
Kiara tucked her leg against her chest as she tried to suppress a shudder at the memory of red eyes and heavy fur.
"It scared me," Percy said, looking down at his chest like he could see the fading scars through his shirt. "If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."
"You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done."
"Done . . . with what?"
"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?" Kiara felt sick to her stomach.
How could Chiron want to send a new half-blood on a quest? Percy had barely any training. The monsters he would meet would be twice as strong as any beast locked in the forest.
"Um, sir," Percy said, "you haven't told me what it is yet."
Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details." Thunder rumbled across the valley.
"Poseidon and Zeus," Percy said. "They're fighting over something valuable . . . something that was stolen, aren't they?"
Chiron and Grover exchanged looks. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"
Percy's face flushed. "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she overheard something about a theft. And . . . I've also been having these dreams."
"I knew it," Grover said.
"Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered.
"Dreams are important for demigods, Percy," Kiara warned. "Our souls aren't great at sticking to our bodies when we sleep. They like to wander, and they can get into some really dangerous places."
"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!"
"Quests aren't field trips, Grover," snapped Kiara. "They're dangerous. There's a reason so many heroes never made it back home after their quests."
"Only the Oracle can determine a quest. No matter the danger or the need, the Oracle decides." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."
Percy laughed nervously, looking at Chiron like he was joking. "A what?"
"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."
"Oh."
"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."
"And it's missing?"
"Stolen," Chiron said. "By who?"
"By whom," Chiron corrected. "By you."
"At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."
"But I didn't—"
Kiara stopped him. "We know you didn't, Percy. But the gods are different. Their pride can change the fate of wars. Zeus has accused Poseidon, who now conveniently claimed his son, born of a broken oath. Neither Zeus or Posiden can't back down. Zeus has demanded his lightning bolt back by the twenty first and he thinks you have it."
"I'm just a kid! Poseidon didn't steal it right?"
Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?"
"Bad?" Percy guessed.
"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."
"Bad," Percy repeated.
"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."
A droplet hit the roof of the patio, followed by another and another until rain pounded against the Big House. Kiara's gaze followed Lee as he scooped up Charlotte. His steady voice was edged with urgency as he called the other kids indoors.
Stepping closer to the railing, Kiara extended her hand into the rain. The cold shocked her—it wasn't the crisp relief of summer rain but something sharper, unnerving. Kiara pulled her damp hand back as the campers fled inside. Everyone's eyes lingered on the impossible storm raging through the border.
"So I have to find the stupid bolt." Percy stood up from the table glaring at the sky. "And return it to Zeus."
"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"
"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?"
"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago . . . well, some of the lines make sense to me now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."
"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"
"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."
Percy lost some of his steam. "Good reason."
"You agree then?"
"All right," Percy said. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."
"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle." Chiron beckoned Kiara back. "Kiara please take Percy to the attic. And Percy when you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."
Hey everyone...
Sorry its been so long. Before I started writing I always got so annoyed when people would take forever to write. Now I understand the struggle.
Things have been a bit crazy in my life but never think I've abandoned you. Even if its a few months between updates I am still here. I have no idea when the next chapter will be ready but thankfully everything is planned out its just a matter of me writing it out...
Any questions are welcome.
Thanks for reading!
- Natalie
