AMARA SHINE POV:

Having breakfast at the Feasting Hall that day, which is an outdoor hall with food, was a weird experience. I was grateful that I followed Cora's advice since I didn't feel too bad in the morning. However, Hannah looked exhausted and had noticeable bags under her eyes, which were more noticeable than her uneven hair.

"Hewy, Miss. Sun Shiny," Mark Callow's voice said. I turned around to see the son of Hades take a seat next to me. I wrinkled my nose and frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Something called sitting down, Amara," he snorted. I pushed up my new, round glasses. I glared at him while buttering my bagel with a plastic knife.

"Haha," I replied to Mark's comment with a hint of sarcasm, barely acknowledging his attempt at humour. He responded with a simple, "Are you still angry at me?"

I set down my bagel which wasn't toasted (a true crime, I know), and stared with all the rage I could. "Oh, gee, Mark, it's still so funny how you're acting like you didn't try to kill me last night. Or the fact that you tried to murder Persephone, a literal goddess, with the scythe's scraps of Demeter. Do you think I'll forgive you after you try killing everyone Kronos-style?"

"You think having everything I love getting taken away by force by Persephone is fun?" Mark hissed, dropping his voice. We started to attract a crowd of viewers so I strained my voice to be more quiet.

"You still murdered all those Lampades, the nymphs of the Underworld have feelings too!" I argued, the butter slopping off my bagel and onto the paper plate. Great, now I got a soggy bagel loaded with butter. "Those maidens of Persephone will have to mourn the loss of their sisters because of your—"

"And so what?!" Mark stood up, revenge flashing in his eyes. "No one helped me mourn the loss of Mom, Valeria, or Tristan. What do you want from me, pity? Graces, no!"

"Quit your yapping and keep it down!" I yelled loudly. I widened my eyes and cupped my hands over my mouth. Crap. I could sense everyone's eyes on me and Mark. I wanted to disappear so badly.

Mark turned around to the watching demigods. "What the Tartarus is wrong with you people?! We're having a private argument, idiots! Go away, or is our fight too much of juicy gossip for you to pass up?"

After realizing that Mark was deadly serious, everyone quickly left the scene. Mark then sat down beside me as if nothing had occurred, but something did happen the previous night. I was given a prophecy and visions that an immortal goddess' life could be endangered. I went to Mark for help, and no one else.

That's because I trusted him.

But turns out, a real shocker, Mark was the killer, who wanted to murder Persephone since she took all his loved ones. We were fighting on different sides and it could have never worked. One of us had to die to succeed. And Mark looked like he didn't care at all if I died or not for his revenge. It was sickening.

I still ponder the question if Callow actually felt bad or just got caught in the act when he failed. But it didn't matter anyways, Persephone made us swear on River Styx that we were bound to go on a quest to do her bidding.

"Moving past that," Mark spoke softly as I took a bite of my bagel. "Persephone wants us to 'work together with a mutual respect for each other' for a quest. What do we do about that?"

"She never said 'mutual respect for each other.'" I taunted and Mark scowled.

"Fine, be like that. Still, what should we do? She didn't even give us any info about our so-called quest," he said, "wait—did you get any visions or dreams lately?"

"Mark, it hasn't been even twenty-four hours, and Persephone sounds like a busy lady! And to answer your question, no, N-O, I have not."

"No need to be rude about it," he grumbled, going back to his breakfast. I snorted, choking on my bagel. Likewise, Mark.

——————✧◦✧——————

I threw out my paper plate and went to go visit Chiron's office with Mark (he insisted on coming). It was modest and not too big or shabby. We were strollin' down the hallway, but when we opened the office's door, we heard outbursts of protest. We saw Chiron; a centaur brought back from the dead, Eleos; the kind minor goddess, Elizabeth; granddaughter of Athena, and Jarvis Reins; son of Ares.

"Oh great, it's Jarvis," Mark mumbled. He always mumbles when he isn't yelling.

"It must be in the scrolls!" Chiron said, violently shaking a clipboard. "Check all the epic poems, check Homer and Sappho, we are not g-giving up!"

"Chiron, this is not ethical!" Eleos argued, her rosy cheeks going a livid red. It was a rarity that she was angry in front of the campers. "You must calm down! What would Chariclo think of all that unwise rage?!"

Chiron calmed down once he heard the name 'Chariclo' and I wondered why. The office was messy—stacks and stacks of Greek records and books were on chairs, tables, and the floor, and anywhere empty was filled up.

"I must apologize, my pupils," Chiron said, sighing. His hair was a clustered mess and his plaid vest was unbuttoned. He rubbed his chin. "I will not lose my temper, forgive me, Eleos. I...was angry for lack of process being made."

"Yes, yes," Eleos replied, nodding. "I should also apologize for the mention of Chariclo. That was unnecessary, Chiron, I am sorry too."

Elizabeth started flipping some pages of old papers while Jarvis drew random blobs on the chalkboard. His hand glided across the board, and he muttered some words, mainly to himself.

"Okay," Jarvis said seriously, turning to face us, "based on the intel we have gotten, Lucas has been to the Dorians' old house and the windmill."

"Don't forget that old campsite," I added quickly. Jarvis turned back to the chalkboard again.

"Yes," he drew another blob on the board. I soon realized that he was drawing points of the whole layout of Maple Hill, Floria's woods. "We know that Lucas' army is getting bigger, so he must have something to lay low while hiding the large crowd."

"Or, the most likely choice, Lucas divided his army and stationed them in different areas. Smaller groups to control the flow," Elizabeth pointed out, flipping to another page. Dust flew up in the air.

"Hmm, true. Do you think that any of Lucas' previous locations could lead to his current one?" the son of Ares asked. Elizabeth shook her head.

"Unlikely but not impossible."

"I'll jot that down, anyone got paper?"

I blinked. Was this the same Jarvis Reins who is a total jerk? It didn't seem so, this Jarvis sounded less like a jerk and more of a leader. I guess last night changed all of us, physically or mentally.

"Here's a notepad, Reins," Chiron handed Jarvis whatwanted he needed. The centaur told a few words to Elizabeth and Jarvis before he and Eleos stepped outside of the office with Mark and me. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead.

"Hi, Chiron. Hi, Eleos," I greeted them nervously, "Mark and I were just passing by and wanted to say hello—"

"Cut to the chase," the centaur raised his eyebrows. "Where on Gaea were you two last night? You were not at the temporary Feating Hall, aka the theater, or the attack. Many campers claim you 'fell' from the sky. Explain now."

Mark and I exchanged glances. He sent me an 'I knew we shouldn't have come' kind of stare. I should have zipped my lips but the secrets spilled out.

"We snuck out!" I blurted and I clasped my hands over my mouth. Shoot.

"You what?!" Chiron and Eleos cried out. Mark stomped his foot on mine.

"Ouch!"

"You utter idiot!" he fumed, growling. He straightened his posture and looked directly at Chiron and Eleos. "Fine, we'll admit it. I shadow-travelled out of camp while Amara light-travelled."

"Wait...that can't be possible! You need our granted permission to enter and leave Camp Unspeakable—you can't travel out of here, it's godly law!"

"Maybe because Lucas weakened the camp's magical borders, our powers were able to break 'godly law'?" I shrugged, puzzled. "I mean, my and Mark's abilities are different from our half-siblings. My half-siblings can heal and be crazy good at archery, but I can teleport from light and have visions. And Mark can trap you in his dream state and freeze you in fear."

Chiron was about to add on when we heard someone scream "IT'S A FLYING MAN!" from the top of their lungs. Eleos wheezed and Mark burst out laughing. I was the first to speak.

"A flying man?!" I repeated, shocked. Eleos went back into the office to inform Elizabeth and Jarvis while Chiron started trotting outside to see what's the problem. I trailed after him, trying to catch up (he's half-horse so I guess he's faster than the rest of us.

"A flying man?" Chiron shouted as beams of sunshine hit my tanned skin. I shaded my eyes with my hands. There were two flurry figures moulded together. It looked like they were flying towards us. I gripped my back pocket where my dagger rested. It felt like muscle memory now when danger could be arriving.

"I am not a man!" an angry and raspy female's voice snapped. Apparently, it was an old lady who was grumpy. Finally, the figures became clear. There was an old lady with a scarf wrapped around her head, quite similar to Eleos' shawl. She actually wasn't that old, not young, about her early fifties. The woman held a suitcase in her hand, grumbling and muttering about how unprofessional this was.

"Unreasonable!" she shrieked loudly, surprising us all. I scooted away from her. "I will n-not stand for this! I am the profound Oracle of Delphi, not some 'free-rent-loader' as you crass mortals say!"

"Pythia, please, just try to cope with this," the man begged. He wore a classic American dad shirt with brown shorts. He also wore sandals with flapping wings on the side. I yelped when I saw that. Were the wings alive? Suddenly, my inner Greek mythology fangirl came alive.

"You're Hermes! God of flocks, herds, roads, thieves, travels, and—"

"We get it, Amara." Mark scolded but I ignored him.

"Can you fly in those shoes?" I asked Hermes eagerly. He shrugged, tipping the edge of his golden-winged helmet. I beamed and wanted to touch it to see

"I just flew from Greece to here with a lady on my back, is that really a good question to ask, kiddo?" he snorted. Chiron extended his hand to the god and woman named Pythia.

"Good mornin', Hermes. You too, Pythia," the centaur greeted them warmly. Hermes gave a smirk while Pythia settled down, though, she still did not return the smile. "What brings you here so...erm...unexpectedly?"

"Zeus is forcing me to live here rent-free!" Pythia said, tired. "I would much rather live in the streets of Greece but this is what my life has retorted to."

Pure silence filled the air. Everyone was stunned and Chiron's smile faded away. But he managed to lift it back up. I blinked as Mark nudged me so I wouldn't fall asleep from brain failure.

"May you repeat, Pythia?" Chiron asked kindly. Pythia nodded stubbornly.

"I was living off the streets of nowhere when Hermes came to me and told me to pack my bags," she said, explaining. "I honestly thought I was getting mugged."

"Hey!" Hermes looked offended.

"War is coming to your area, you are well aware, correct?" the Oracle of Delphi asked. Chiron nodded firmly, looking ashamed. "I am a vital part of your plans. I suppose I must stay at your tiny Camp Unspeakable."

Chiron remained perfectly calm which honestly frightened me. He didn't flinch or move, he just stood still. He crossed his arms, pondering what to say back to Pythia.

"Very well," he slowly nodded, "I think we can manage this change."

"Good." Pythia set down her big suitcase and curled her wispy gray hair.

"Lord Hermes," Chiron spoke, "may I have a discussion with you before you leave?"

"Uhhh," Hermes looked down to his wrist where a golden watch rested. "I got to deliver a FedEx package soon. Say fifteen minutes?"

"That shall do." Chiron turned to the campers. "Someone please direct Pythia to Cabin #3, thank you very much."

"Wait, isn't Cabin #3 the makeshift library?" Mark asked Chiron. The centaur stroked his short beard.

"Yes, since you asked, Mark and Amara, why don't you give Pythia a tour? Help her settle in, maybe clean up the library for her. I will come back later to help."

"Wait, but—" Mark got cut off by Pythia when she shoved her suitcase towards him. He stumbled back and I stifled a stupid laugh. "Not funny, Amara! Help me carry this!"

——————✧◦✧——————

We trudged the heavy suitcase through the doorway of Cabin #3. Pythia hummed a song in Greek and trailed after us. I gave one last shove before I staggered to the floor. Dust. Dust met my fingertips. I squinted, shading my eyes with my hands even though it was so dark in the cabin. The only source of light was the creaks of sunlight from the crooked doorway. "Someone open the curtains, it looks like it's midnight here and it's nine AM!"

"Is this the curtain, eh?" Pythia tugged on something. SHATTER. "Oops. That was a flower vase, never mind."

I groaned, pulling myself up from the ground. I stumbled towards the check-out center which was really just a table with handwritten records of books. Next to it was a window. I dragged the curtains apart and sunlight beamed onto my skin. "Yay, I found it."

"You don't sound so awfully excited, Amara," Mark snorted. I turned around, seeing the son of Hades already opening the rest of the curtains. "Haha, slowpoke."

I marched up to him, glaring. "Am not!"

"Uh, yes, you are."

"Good heavens—you both fight like a cat and a dog," Pythia's raspy voice called out. I rolled my eyes.

"Then I'd rather be the cat."

"And I would rather be the dog," Mark smirked, "they're more powerful."

"And felines are smarter."

"Said no one never."

I struck out my tongue and looked back to Pythia. She easily pulled her suitcase to the center of the cabin without effort, walking past me and some bookshelves. My jaw dropped to my knees. I ran up to the Oracle of Delphi. "You could have carried that all the way here!"

"I prefer people helping me," Pythia said, bending down to open her suitcase. "Also, how did the whole thing go with Persephone?"

Mark blinked. "H-How did you...?"

"I'm an oracle, sir. I was the one who sent flashes of Persephone in the future to Amara." Pythia spoke lightly, her raspy voice sounding suddenly so familiar. "And she is very lucky that I didn't ask for a fee."

"I'm a broke eleven-year-old! I don't even have money!" I said, exasperated.

"And I especially can't touch Greek currency without it grinding to dust," Mark added. "So I guess I'm 'broke' too."

Pythia unzipped the front of the suitcase and the contents spilled out. There was a broken wooden comb (a plastic one would have been better), some chip bags, and a bunch of other stuff. This lady is a mess.

"So where shall I set up?" Pythia asked and I scratched my head. The cabin hasn't been entered since the supposed librarian, Sebbie, died. Sebbie was the British daughter of Athena, and the library was her life's work.

"There are some mattresses on the floor, their makeshift seats for reading. Pick one and there, you're done."

Pythia opened the main section of the suitcase where some bronze pegs of wood fell out. They looked like the parts of a stool except there were only three legs.

"It's a tripod, it means 'three' plus 'feet.'" Pythia explained to me and I nodded, very much confused.

"But why are there only three legs, why not four—"

"Shush, little girl!" Pythia hissed, swatting her arm away from me. I yelped which made Mark laugh his butt off. Pythia grabbed a laurel wreath from the luggage as well, plopping it on her head. She quickly grabbed a plant, which I think is a sprig, and cradled it in her hands. "Ahh, now this place will feel more like home."

"What is 'home' for you anyways, Pythia?" Mark asked, coming closer to us. Pythia tilted her head while assembling her tripod. "You said you lived off the streets of Greece but you're the Oracle of Delphi—why don't you live at Delphi?"

Pythia sighed her hunched shoulder loosening. "It ain't a story with a happy endin', that's for sure, little boy."

"Our names are Mark and Amara," I interjected, "please stop calling us 'girl' and 'boy' like we don't have names."

Pythia ignored me and went back to talking. "I was driven out of my home, too much conquering and stuff. Back in, hmm, actually I can't remember too well. The last I heard of Delphi was when the Phocians captured and sacked the place. Then that led to something called the Third Sacred War, blah, blah."

"Pythia, the Third Sacred War was back in 356 BC! And the Fourth Sacred War was in 339 BC!" Mark exclaimed, shocked. Pythia, who was still humming to a Greek song, raised her eyebrows slightly.

"Oh, really? Well, I'm an old lady now, I can't remember too well. And I sure didn't come here for a history lesson, boy!" Pythia grumbled, going back to assembling her tripod. "Oh good gods—I can't get the tripod back together. Is there an expert in this place?!"

"Wait, why aren't scared of swearing in the gods' name?" I asked curious. "Most people are too scared to say gods' and so they say Graces' instead. Why not you?"

Pythia giggled sourly with a slight tone of bitterness. "I have lost my home and I have lost my powers as an oracle. What more is it to say gods' instead of Graces'?"

"You lost your abilities as an oracle?!" Chiron's voice called out. Pythia cursed her luck and turned around, wearing the most fake-elderly-lady-smile ever.

"Greetings to you too, Chiron."

"Do not change the subject, Pythia!" Chiron said sternly. "Is it true that you have lost your powers as Oracle of Delphi?"

Pythia sighed, standing up. A crunching pop clacked from her knees. "Chiron, I have been away from Delphi for a long time. It's a tourist site for heaven's sake! I couldn't stay there forever. A fire destroyed the sacred shrine in 548 BC or something."

"You are still not answering my question, Pythia."

"Alright, fine, fine," Pythia cursed under her breath again. "My prophecies only come from Apollo when I go into a frenzied state. The vapours from the corpse of Python, rising from a chasm of the rock, induce my powers."

"Who's Python?" Mark whispered in my ear. Of course, this guy knows tons about Third or Fourth Sarced Wars but not some crazy snake monster! I thought aimlessly. I tried my best to explain while Chiron and Pythia had a strict yet heated discussion. Python was the former 'home owner' of Delphi before Python slew him. Python was also the son of some weird earth woman called Gaea. Then Apollo took over the Oracle of Delphi.

"I guess the stinky fumes of Python's dead body still linger," I finished, shuddering. "It's sorta' gross if you ask me."

"Agreed."

"You don't need the vapours of Python to still have prophecy, you're the Delphi's oracle!" Chiron sighed heavily. "You are still the high priestess of Apollo, nothing but the truth."

"Times have changed!" Pythia threw her hands up in the air, letting out a tired rasp of air. "While you rested as a constellation for the rest of your blissful life, I had to watch as war raged onto my place of honour!

"I am not the oracle anymore, let someone else take my job for a change! I am now, and only, an old lady! I have retired as you dull mortals say!"

Everyone stood silently, taken aback. Chiron shifted his posture and nodded in disappointment. "I respect your terms."

"They are not terms but simple facts, sire!" Pythia frowned, turning back to her tripod. She looked hurt and even more grumpy. "Shoo! I want to settle down in peace! Get out, all of you!"

The next I know, I got shoved out of a makeshift library by an old lady who is grumpy. Life is great. SLAM! Pythia shut the door loudly to show her great displeasure.

Chiron dusted himself off, muttering. "I should get back to my office,"

"Yes, I think that's best," Mark snorted. I rolled my eyes at the son of Hades. Chiron turned to Mark as if he remembered something.

"Oh right, Hermes actually had to deliver something to you, Mark." Chiron fished a skinny package from his saddle bag. He handed it to Mark who looked quite curious.

"What is it?" he asked, unwrapping it. Chiron winked at him.

"Find out for yourself, Callow. Goodbye for now," Chiron said, galloping away. I looked down at the half-unwrapped package, also curious now. A tiny skim box was all there was. Mark squatted down so I did too.

"There's a vial," he concluded, holding up a glassy clear vial with dark green liquid inside to the sun. "What is it though?"

"Wait, there's a postcard too!" I exclaimed, grabbing the postcard from the package's scraps. I mumbled in a hushed voice since I didn't want people staring again.

"It's from a Lampade called Evangel, that's a Greek name, right?" I asked Mark. He cocked his head, skimming through his head.

"Correct, now continue."

Dear Mark Callow, son of Hades and Clara Callow,

I am one of the Lampades from the attack which you greatly caused. I am very disappointed in your actions but my Lady Persephone doesn't want to prompt further discussion about it. As you are aware, you were cursed to never be able to touch Greek currency without it turning to dust. Very clever of my queen, but my king wishes to unburden you of that curse. He has tasked Hecate, goddess of dark magic and witchcraft, to uncurse you. With this vial, you must drink the bitter potion, and rest for a while.

P. S. You really do not deserve that vial, you are just utterly a fool of a god's son.

From, Evangel, maiden of Persephone

I couldn't help but laugh at Mark's face after reading that. He growled, rolling his eyes at me. He waved his hand aimlessly in the air, dismissing my giggles.

"This Evangel girl's handwriting sucks," he commented, making me laugh even more.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," he replied lamely, blushing. "Her spacing is too big for my liking and her 'd's stinks."

"Well—drink Hecate's vial, idiot!" I shouted, still giggling like crazy. "Isn't this what you wanted and needed? You'll be uncursed!"

"Very much true," Mark shrugged, "I guess I don't have to be broke anymore."

"Yes, because money is in the best interest of a dumb eleven-year-old," I teased, lightly punching him. He tried his best not to look offended in any way.

"I will just believe that you're talking about yourself."

"HEY!"

Mark popped off the cork of the vial in a wine-opening-like manner and sniffed the contents. I was also tempted to smell the strange liquid but Mark quickly gulped the whole drink clean before I got the chance. He pulled a face, sucking in his cheeks.

"Oh dear Graces," Mark looked like he was going to barf.

"Well? Does it taste good?"

"It smells horrible and tastes like Tartarus. And Tartarus is literally hell."

"How can something taste like...? You know what? I really don't want to know."

Mark stayed silent for a few seconds, his head in his black hoodie, hands in his pocket. He was thinking so intently that it kind of scared me. "Okay, the taste is gone from my mouth."

"Good for you?" I said, questioning Mark's odd comments. Even though I was trying not to forgive Mark so easily (he literally tried to kill me last night to be fair), it was awfully hard for some stupid reason. I guess you could say I felt pity for the boy. He had lost every single person he loves to Persephone since his early childhood, that kind of stuff sticks with you for the rest of your life. But I hated him for lying to me and pretending to be my friend. This is why I don't socialize so much, and in fact, before coming to camp, I like avoiding it.

But I couldn't deny that I forgave people much too easily. I was too scared of being back-lashed that I would just accept things and go along with me. It was a toxic and unhappy trait of mine that I wish to get rid of, but things don't come so effortlessly.

"Well," Mark picked up his scraps and started walking to the nearest trash can. I quickly followed after him, "I think I had my fill of some gross potion stuff for the day. Now what? I have a feeling that lessons will be cancelled today due to Chiron's frenzy state."

"I could always go to the infirmary, but Axel is too annoying to be bothered with today. And the archery range isn't the same without Hannah. I'm worried about her."

"Hannah has been acting off ever since the death of Drew," Mark agreed, kicking some gravel aside. "I noticed her haircut this morning."

"I know, it's not that ugly, it's quite flattering on her," I said, uneasy. "You don't think she'll do anything rash for Drew, right? And...Alecia's death is still not finalized for her."

"She lost her best friend and crush—"

"We don't know for sure if she liked Drew," I pointed out. Mark shot a glare at me before rolling his eyes.

"Fine. Hannah lost her maybe crush. Happy?"

I sighed, stomping on some gravel. "Not really."

"Hannah will be okay, I hope," he said, not looking into my eyes. He's lying, I can tell for God's sake, I thought bitterly.

"I'm bored," he said, changing the subject swiftly. "Can we do something?"

An idea clicked in my head. "You can come over to my cabin, we can hang out there. Maybe some reading or chatting will do us good."

"I suppose, but I'll complain to you the whole way there."

"Not if I get to complain first!" I objected in my best manly voice. Mark laughed and so did I.