μήνυμα

message

• • •

Just like everything in the past few days, there was something horribly wrong. Drew could feel it deep within her stomach, and she had long ago learned to trust her gut.

"Something isn't right," she murmured to Clarisse, who was currently wincing as she tried to lay down on the sand.

"There's a lot of things that aren't right," the gruff girl responded, "be more specific."

If Clarisse were not severely injured, Drew would have kicked her right then. "There's something else. I can feel it."

"What's Drew being cryptic about now?" asked Cameron as he walked over to them, instantly plopping down next to Clarisse.

"Fine. See if I ever try to warn you guys again."

But there was no real bite to her words; Drew was far too exhausted to make threats, even the playful variety. Her body was impossibly sore from both fighting and her wounds that were not yet fully healed. The ambrosia that Cameron had given helped a little bit, but there was too much of her that needed healing. Drew had far too many broken parts, and all the ambrosia in the world was not going to help her.

"She thinks there's something wrong, which is the understatement of the century," Clarisse answered for Drew, ignoring the frown that Chris sent her.

"Call it a gut feeling."

"And I'm calling it bullshit," said Clarisse, her voice a little too hard to be classified as normal Clarisse. There was something wrong with her, but that was something wrong with everyone.

"So, are we trusting these guys?" asked Chris, smoothly transitioning to a topic more worthy of their attention than Clarisse's complaints.

Cameron sighed, tracing a circle in the sand. "I don't see what other choice we have. Working together seems to be the best move."

Clarisse snorted. "Right, because teamwork is our strong suit. Get over yourself; we've been hiding from the Olympians on purpose. We work best away from them."

"That's just where we ended up after the last war," Drew snapped, suddenly fed up with Clarisse. "We have the chance to go home. Don't you want that."

Despite Clarisse laying down and injured, she still looked as dangerous as ever, and Drew was glad that the other girl was unable to move with ease. "There is no home," sneered Clarisse.

Cameron's hand seemed to drift to the sword laying in the sand beside him, but his movement was interrupted. Grover Underwood was suddenly there, looking very hesitant and uncomfortable, but he was there nonetheless. "Hi, um, don't mean to interrupt, but I just came to tell you that something weird just happened."

At the end of Grover's sentence, Drew felt a sharp burn on the inside of her wrist. She yelped despite herself, and held her arm close to her chest.

Grover blinked, visibly surprised. "That's just it. How did you know?"

"Know what?" Drew removed her arm away from her chest, and stared at her wrist. A small omega sign was written there, as white as a scar.

Cameron frowned, and looked as well. He raised his wrist to reveal an identical mark. Clarisse and Chris did the same and were greeted with the same results.

"Okay, so that makes four more," said Grover uneasily, eyes darting between the demigods.

"They all have it?" said the green-eyed girl, appearing beside Grover suddenly. Drew almost jumped at her sudden presence; Drew was great at spying, but Esmerelda was unnaturally gifted.

"It appears so," Cameron responded for them. "Who else does?"

"Everyone except me," Grover replied, shrugging casually. "Maybe it's a weird demigod thing."

But the mark looked far too similar, as if Drew had seen it before. And suddenly, she realized that she had. "Wait," she said out loud, "Annabeth got hers before we rescued her. We discovered it days ago."

Cameron nodded. "I forgot about that."

Annabeth frowned, and stared absentmindedly at her wrist. Annabeth's mark was almost hard to make out, due to the frequency of scars along her arms, but Drew remembered asking her about it just a few days ago. Gods, had it only been days since she had rescued Annabeth? It felt as though years had passed. Enough days for her haltingly stable world to be knocked off its axis.

"So we either try to figure out what in Tartarus it means," said Clarisse, ignoring Chris' vocal protest of her use of words, "or we ignore it for now and worry about it later."

Clarisse's words were met with grumbles, but no one protested. And for now, that was enough.

"Are we ready?" Daphne called from her spot by the beach, her sharp eyes scrutinizing each individual in the group. Despite herself, Drew felt small under her gaze; Drew wasn't used to feeling outshone, but the woman was intimidating.

With a sigh, Clarisse stood up, holding out a hand for Drew. She accepted it, ignoring the way that her body ached as she clambered to her feet. That feeling remained lodged in her chest, the feeling that there was something horribly wrong about to happen. But that had been her life for two years; maybe it was just a phantom feeling.

• • •

There was something horribly wrong, that much was obvious as soon as Hazel sent her message. Over the years, she had mastered the technique of using the Mist to send messages, the gist of it being that she could produce a hologram of herself to wherever she was looking to send a message. It left her exhausted and burned-out, but in times like this, it was well-worth it.

But the war tent at Olympus was empty when she cast herself into it. That in itself wasn't alarming, but the complete silence scared her. Taking in a deep breath, she forced herself to focus elsewhere, somewhere that she knew someone would be.

She opened her eyes, and found herself standing in her home, the tent that she and Frank shared. And sure enough, Frank was laying in the bed, the faint snores escaping his lips proving that he was asleep. Hazel grimaced to herself, unable to stop herself from feeling guilty, as she cleared her throat.

"Hey," she said, slightly louder than a whisper.

Frank flinched violently and was on his feet immediately, a knife clutched in his hands before his eyes fully opened. But when he saw who it was, the knife fell to the ground.

"Hazel," he said her name like a prayer, and sleepily stumbled towards her. His hand passed through her arm and Hazel swallowed down that weird Mist feeling.

"I'm not really here," she said, watching Frank swallow down his disappointment. "I just needed to send you a message."

The dark circles beneath Frank's eyes had grown more pronounced, and Hazel ached to stay with him. His hand was hovering above Hazel's wrist, like he wanted to hold her hand.

"What's the message?" Frank breathed, his eyes slightly hardening, a physical illustration of his shift from boyfriend to war hero.

Hazel swallowed. "I found Annabeth. It's a long story, one that I'm not entirely sure of, but she was being held by some minor god for Her. A few people from Camp Half-Blood helped her escape and they've been caring for her ever since. I found them and Grover Underwood not that long ago and a few others that say they're the Last Olympians or something like that. But Tartarus is opening in three days. We're going to stop it, but we need the help of everyone at Olympus."

Frank blinked a few times, and Hazel couldn't blame him; she had just dropped a lot of important information on him in just a few sentences. But she couldn't afford to explain; she could already feel the effect of the Mist on her body, and the image of Frank slowly began to grow more fuzzy.

"What do you mean Tartarus is opening?" Frank finally asked.

Hazel felt a small smile grow on her face. "I'm confused, too, but everyone here seems dead certain on that, so I didn't even argue it. It's been a very weird time. There's also this new girl, Willow? She's not like anything I've ever seen before."

Willow didn't seem human, despite her appearance. Benefit me, and your lover won't have to die. That threat was empty, right? It had to be empty.

"The Last Olympians seem pretty convinced that the gods are about to strike Her sometime soon," Hazel continued, muscling past the voice in the back of her mind to tell Frank more about Willow. "But they don't seem to know any details, just that we have three days until Tartarus is opening and unleashing all kinds of monsters into the world."

"I thought Annabeth and Percy weakened Tartarus enough to prevent that," Frank protested, "wasn't that enough?"

"She's had two years to heal him again," Hazel pointed out, "and the gods have been completely out of the equation long enough that they have done nothing to stop it. I think it's best to trust them."

"If everyone steps off the island, then She'll know that we're all still alive. She hasn't cared yet because we've only left in small amounts. But Hazel...this is too much."

How could Hazel argue that? They had spent two years making sure that their existence was a secret, that no one even heard a whisper about them, and they had to sacrifice all that just for the chance that another war was coming?

"I know," she admitted, her voice hollow. "It's a risk, but we have to take it; it might be a chance for us to end this for once and for all."

Frank stared at her for a second, and Hazel couldn't help but notice how much he had grown in the years that she knew him. His jawline had hardened and there was something sadder about his gaze, something that she wanted to take into her hands and heal. But healing had never been her strong suit, and there was a chance that it would shatter in her hands completely.

"I'll tell the others," he finally said.

Hazel felt her heart crack at the hard tone in his words, but she nodded instead. "You better tell them now," she said, feeling her grip on this reality loosen, "and tell everyone hello for me."

"Percy is here," Frank said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. "He arrived a few days ago. He was on an island with Calypso this whole time, if you can believe it."

Hazel smiled. "That's great!" And she meant it; the relief that flooded through her body was palpable. They had found Percy and Annabeth; this was the biggest chance that they had received in two years. It had to mean something.

Frank was beginning to blur around the edges, but Hazel didn't want him to disappear quite yet. It was childish, but it was unfair that this short time of seeing him was all that she would have for awhile. But Hazel could only afford to entertain that childish thought for so long, especially since her grasp on the Mist was quickly beginning to fade.

"I guess I should go," said Hazel.

"Yeah," Frank said, just as hesitantly as she had, "stay safe, okay?"

She could only offer a tired smile in return. Care was a luxury that Hazel could no longer afford and Frank knew this.

"Wait!" Hazel called before Frank left the tent. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Can you tell my brother that I found Will Solace, and that he's safe and well?"

Frank's eyes softened. "Of course. Be safe, Hazel."

"You too," was all she could say before the image of Frank shattered, and she found herself panting alone on a beach.

important author's note:
it's been awhile since i've updated, but i have posted several updates to the revised version of blurred, so if you like this book, then i would highly recommend reading that one as well, as it is much more coherent and planned out than this one. i also update that one much more often. i'm not happy with how this chapter turned out, but the next few chapters will be much more exciting. thanks for sticking around!