"THE BLONDE IS CUTE," Marlowe Mason's voice was one of the many that rung over the commotion of the dining pavilion, driving an exasperated Blaire to the very brink of sanity.

It had been merely five minutes since dinner began, yet Blaire was already teetering on the thin line between sane...and insane. The voices of her peers, overlapping each other at a rapid pace, weaseld their way into the most personal crevices of her brain, distorting the horrid memories she couldn't help but ponder upon.

Blaire's chin was resting upon the palm of her hand, while her elbow was pressed flush against the picnic table, no doubt plank-shaped indents were evident on her flesh. Her dark, soil-colored-eyes were trained upon the very unappetizing meatloaf that occupied the porcelain surface of her plate. Yet, the food below her was not what danced within her vision. Instead, the sight of her own bruised knuckles, metaphorically and literally stained with the blood of Olivia Kingsley, were the victim of her cruel glower.

Blaire saw the curl of her fists, her kuckles wrapped taut around the leather hilt of a blood soaked dagger. The slight, guilty and exhausted tremble of her hands, as her joints grew tired of fighting for a cause she hardly believed in. She saw concrete proof that she was a cold blooded murderer. She saw the curse that tarnished her youth.

"Blaireee," Marlowe snapped her brightly painted fingers infront of her aforementioned sisters face, pulling her from the terrible vortex of dark thoughts she'd been lost in. "Did you hear me?"

Blaire did not hear her, she was too busy subliminally warding off the further truama ridden flashbacks that begged to taunt her. So, she didn't try to pretend she heard the younger demigod, she only shook her head, before letting it hang low.

Meatloaf: that's all she was capable of spotting within the confines of her perephial. Not her blood soaked hands, not Olivia's dagger-wounded corpse, not Sunny's limp body. Just meatloaf.

"I said that the new blonde boy is cute," Marlowe informed Blaire, twirling her fork around in a mound of what seemed to be... green beans? "Too bad you couldn't give him a tour."

   Blaire furrowed her eyebrows, awed that those around her had such minisule struggles. If only she worried about touring Leo instead of his cute friend.

"Instead you were lumped with the Hephaestus kid," Marlowe cringed, recalling the moment her sister was instructed to help acquaint him with the camp, "How'd that go, anyway?"

Blaire shrugged, the canvas material of her denim jacket scratched the dimpled surface of her chin, her heart not truly in her actions. "Fine."

Marlowe wasn't finished with the impossibly long course of questions she'd prepared. "What's his name? Where'd he come from?"

"Leo," Blaire told the girl simply.

  Marlowe raised an eyebrow, "His name is Leo? Or did he come from somewhere called Leo?"

  "His name," Blaire told her sister, pushing her untouched plate away from herself, her appetite non-exsistent as always.

  "He could be cute," Marlowe told the girl, glancing over her shoulder at the Hephaestus table, "If only he shed the steampunk-esque-look. And did something with his hair."

Blaire narrowed her eyes and bit back the terrible urge to say, maybe if you're into overly-entergetic losers who've nothing better to do than pry into the personal details of a strangers life, he'd be just oh so cute.

   "He's looking over here, B," Marlowe snapped her gaze from the table of blacksmiths to her sister in a matter of mere seconds, her cheeks stained with a near hot-pink hue, "He caught me looking! I'm so embarrassed."

    Blaire twisted her face into an odd grimace, but she didn't bother to turn around and face the boy. Quite frankly, she didn't care enough about him nor his curious gaze to move even a fraction of an inch.

  Lou Ellen who was indulged in a conversation with their brother, turned towards her sisters, still reeling from a joke told by Hecate's cabin counselor.

  "Why is the new boy looking at our table like that?" The girl quickly sobered up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not even the cute one either, the scrawny guy."

   Blaire exhaled an annoyed sigh, painfully aware of the fact he was probably oogiling over her eerie exsistence in the worst way possible, as did everyone else.

  "Did you put hair dye in the Hephaestus kids' shampoo again," Alabaster snapped at the youngest of the magical quartet, emitting a gasp from Lou. "Mar, did you?!"

  "No!" Marlowe raised her hands in defense, as if her fingers could sheild her from their false accusations. "He's just eye-freaking Blaire."

   Lou-Ellen flicked the back of the younger girl's head, spluttering on her juice in suprise.

  "Language!" Alabaster scolded.

   Blaire scrunched up her face in disgust at her sister's poor choice of words. She didn't wany anyone to eye-freak her, let alone Leo.

  "Don't talk like that," Lou pretended to be upset with Marlowe but anyone with half a brain could tell she was holding back a giggle.

   Blaire turned her head slightly, glancing at Cabin Nine's table over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the creepy-observant-boy, who lifed a hand in greeting after realizing he'd been caught, his face beet red.

  "Aww," Alabaster cooed, "Someones got a crush."

  Although his words were merely observative, Blaire could hear the underlying tone of suprise and cruel humor behind them, because who in their right mind could possibly have a crush on Blaire?

Weird, quiet, closed off Blaire.

  But, Leo wasn't in his right mind. The Hecate kids didn't know that though.

   "What'd you two talk about?" Marlowe pried, adjusting her ski-cap over her short, frizzy curls. "On the tour I mean."

  "Mind your buisness," Lou told the girl, but it was obvious she was also curious. "Blaire does not want to anwser all your questions."

  Blaire meekly shruged, "Camp."

  Alabaster pursed his lips, holding back a laugh. "Blaire, you really are a woman of many words."

   BLAIRE ABSOLUTELY DESPISED attending the campfire. She didn't understand how the idea of gathering around a huge pit of embers, along with dozens of other campers, just to hum along to some cheesy, extremely outdated tunes was appealing in the slightest. But Marlowe's grip was suprisingly steely for a twelve year old, and her words concerning a sisterly-bond were suprisingly hard to resist.

  The girl was hard to say no to, even for Blaire. Her big brown eyes, which still held a ton of child-like innocence and wonder, proved very useful in situations such as the present.

  The younger girl held onto the crook of her sisters arm like her life depended on it, aware that the second she let go, Blaire would likely take off sprinting away from the crowd gathered around the fire.

   Though the older camper wasn't singing, she refused to, Marlowe was just happy she was there— for once.

    When the final song of the night concluded with a bout of rowdy applause, Blaire thought she was finally free from the deadly grip of the campfire, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

  Chiron, Camp Half-Blood's activity director who acted as a sort of mentor to the demigods came trotting into the amphitheater.

  "Very nice!" He congratulated the campers, "And a special welcome to our new arrivals. I am Chiron, camp activities director, and I'm happy you have all arrived here alive and with most of your limbs attached. In a moment, I promise we'll get to the s'mores, but first—"

  "What about capture the flag?" somebody yelled. Grumbling broke out among the Ares kids, who were sitting under a red banner advertising the symbol of their father. A boar. Blaire always thought that was rather unfortunate.

  "Yes," the centaur said. "I know the Ares cabin is anxious to return to the woods for our regular games."

   "And kill people!" one of them shouted.

  Marlowe, who considered herself a pacifist merely to escape capture the flag, scoffed. "Gods, they're just sooo sweet. Aren't they?"

  "However," Chiron cut off the bickering that had broken out between Marlowe and the Ares kids, "until the dragon is brought under control, that won't be possible. Cabin Nine, anything to report on that?"

    The population of the arena turned towards the Hephaestus cabin, where Leo Valdez stood amongst his siblings. He caught Blaire's gaze, though she was trying to avoid making eye contact (or, any sort of contact, really) with anyone— and he sheepishly grinned at her, earning nothing but an eyeroll from Blaire. She hoped the boy didn't think that merely because she was tasked with showing him around camp, that they were friends. Becasue that couldn't be farther from the truth.

   Nyssa, Leo's older sister who bore absolutely no resemblance to him, besides the fact she sported a near identical worn camo jacket, said, "We're working on it."

  "How, Nyssa?" an Ares kid demanded.

  "Really hard," the aforementioned girl said, sitting down, obviously uncomfortable with all of the eyes on her.

   Once again, the arena erupted into chaos, loud complaints were spewed from every direction. This caused the fire to splutter hectically, changing rapidly in color.

   Chiron stamped his hoof against the fire pit stones
—bang, bang, bang—and the campers fell silent.

  "We will have to be patient," Chiron informed the crew. "In the meantime, we have more pressing matters to discuss."

   "Percy?" Someone asked, and the fire dimmed almost completely, leaving the arena dark and suddenly sullen.

  Annabeth stood wearily, "I didn't find Percy. He wasn't at the Grand Canyon like I thought. But we're not giving up. We've got teams everywhere. Grover, Tyson, Nico, The Hunters of Artemis— everyone's out looking. We will find him. Chiron's talking about something different. A new quest."

"It's the Great Phrophecy," Drew Tanaka called out and Blaire rolled her eyes so obnoxiously, she was suprised they didn't get stuck. Drew was a bully.

   "Drew? What do you mean?" Annabeth said, clearly shocked the Aphrodite girl had spoken up, along with the rest of the camp.

   "Well, come on." Drew spread her hands like the truth was obvious. "Olympus is closed. Percy's disappeared. Hera sends you a vision and you come back with three new demigods in one day. I mean, something weird is going on. The Great Prophecy has started, right?"

   Truthfully, Blaire knew very little about the Phrophecy Drew spoke about. At Camp Halfblood, the futuristic tale of eight teenagers who would save the world at a great cost was common knowledge. But Blaire never cared enough to indulge herself in the wonders of the Phrophecy. It didn't have anything to do with her, she thought. And she hoped to stray away from any further trauma. Besides, the phrophecy probably wouldn't start for decades.

   While all of her siblings turned to Rachel, the redheaded, mortal oracle, Blaire busied herself with the buttons of her jacket, careless to the chaos breaking free around her. Her only concern was the frigid air that had managed to slip past her unbuttoned windbreaker.

   "Well," Drew rose a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, "You're the Oracle. Has it started or not?"

    After seconds of tense silence, which Blaire was still blissfully oblivious to, Rachel stepped forward and calmly adressed the camp as a whole. "Yes. The Great Phrophecy has begun."

   Pandemonium broke out. Marlowe clutched Blaire's arm in shock, snapping the girls attention away from her buttons.

   "For those of you who have not heard it," Rachel said, "the Great Prophecy was my first prediction. It arrived in August. It goes like this:

           "Eight half-bloods shall answer the call.
             To storm or fire the world must fall—"

    Jason shot to his feet. His eyes looked wild, like he'd just been tasered.

   Even Rachel seemed caught off guard. "J-Jason?" she said. "What's—"

     "Ut cum spiritu postrema sacramentum dejuremus," he chanted. "Et hostes ornamenta addent ad ianuam necem."

    Blaire unintentionally looked toward her younger sister who seemed just as bewildered as her, her lips were pressed tautly together and her eyes were wide.

  "What the hell'd he just say?" Marlowe murmured, earning yet another smack to the back of head.

    An uneasy silence settled over the group for the thousandth time that night.

    "You just ... finished the prophecy," Rachel stammered. "—An oath to keep with a final breath/And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

  "I know those lines." Jason winced and put his hands to his temples. "I don't know how, but I know that prophecy."

     "In Latin no less," Drew whistled, earning several giggles from her cabinmates. "Handsome and smart."

  Handsome is going a bit far, Blaire thought.

   Jason sat down, looking embarrassed, but Annabeth put a hand on his shoulder and muttered something reassuring.

   Rachel Dare still looked a little shaken. She glanced back at Chiron for guidance, but the centaur stood grim and silent, as if he were watching a play
he couldn't interrupt—a tragedy that ended with a lot of people dead onstage.

  "Well," The Oracle said, trying to regain her composure. "So, yeah, that's the Great Prophecy. We hoped it might not happen for years, but I fear it's starting now. I can't give you proof. It's just a feeling. And like Drew said, some weird stuff is happening. The eight demigods, whoever they are, have not been gathered yet. I get the feeling some are here tonight. Some are not here."

   The campers began to stir and mutter, looking at each other nervously, until a drowsy voice in the crowd called out, "I'm here! Oh ... were you calling roll?"

   "Go back to sleep, Clovis," someone yelled, and a lot of people laughed.

  Anyway," Rachel continued, "we don't know what the Great Prophecy means. We don't know what challenge the demigods will face, but since the first Great Prophecy predicted the Titan War, we can guess the second Great Prophecy will predict something at least that bad."

  "Or worse," Chiron murmured.

  Maybe he didn't mean for everyone to overhear, but they did. The campfire immediately turned dark purple, the same color as the banner hanging above Blaire and her siblings.

  "What we do know," Rachel said, "is that the first phase has begun. A major problem has arisen, and we need a quest to solve it. Hera, the queen of the gods has been taken."

    The arena elasped into silence again, then at once, everyone began talking over eachother. Blaire only pursed her lips, not at all rattled by the news considering it hadn't anything to do with her. However, a small part of her was paranoid all it meant was she would lose something more she cared for, though she had nothing else to lose.

Chiron pounded his hoof again, but Rachel still had to wait before she could get back their attention.

Rachel recounted the days events, from the altercation at the Grand Canyon to Piper fainting in Hera's cabin to Jason's cryptic vision about the rise of the titan's and the fall of the demigods.

"Jason," Rachel said. "Um... do you remember your last name?"

He looked self-conscious, but he shook his head.

"We'll just call you Jason, then," Rachel assured him. "It's clear Hera herself has issued you a quest."

Rachel paused, as if giving Jason a chance to protest his destiny. Everyone's eyes were on him, yet he looked brave. Braver than Blaire had ever been.

He set his jaw and nodded. "I agree.

"You must save Hera to prevent a great evil," Rachel continued. "Some sort of king from rising. For reasons we don't yet understand, it must happen by the winter solstice, only four days from now."

"That's the council day of the gods," Annabeth informed. "If the gods don't already know Hera's gone, they will definitely notice her absence by then. They'll probably break out fighting, accusing each other of taking her. That's what they usually do."

"The winter solstice," Chiron spoke up, "is also the time of greatest darkness. The gods gather that day, as mortals always have, because there is strength in numbers. The solstice is a day when evil magic is strong. Ancient magic, older than the gods. It is a day when things ... stir."

The way he said it, stirring sounded absolutely sinister—like it should be a first-degree felony, not something you did to cookie dough.

"Okay," Annabeth said, glaring at the centaur. "Thank you, Captain Sunshine. Whatever's going on, I agree with Rachel. Jason has been chosen to lead this quest, so—"

"Why hasn't he been claimed?" somebody yelled from the Ares cabin. "If he's so important—"

"He has been claimed," Chiron announced. "Long ago. Jason, give them a demonstration."

And so he did. Jason reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin of sorts and... flipping it? His coin flashed in the air, and when he caught it in his hand, he was holding a lance—a rod of gold about seven feet long, with a spear tip at one end.

The other demigods gasped. Rachel and Annabeth stepped back to avoid the point, which looked sharp as an ice pick.

"Wasn't that ..." Annabeth hesitated. "I thought you had a sword."

"Um, it came up tails, I think," Jason said. "Same coin, long-range weapon form."

"Dude, I want one!" yelled somebody from Ares cabin.

"Better than Clarisse's electric spear, Lamer!" one of his brothers agreed.

"Electric," Jason murmured, like that was a good idea. "Back away."

Annabeth and Rachel got the message. Jason raised his javelin, and thunder broke open the sky.

Lightning arced down through the golden spear point and hit the campfire with the force of an artillery shell.

Everyone sat dumbfounded, even Blaire. As the ashes rained from the dark sky, she sat bewildered beside her siblings.

A son of Zues, a child of the big three.

Chiron brushed some burning coals out of his beard. He grimaced as if his worst fears had been confirmed. "A little overkill, perhaps, but you've made your point. And I believe we know who your father is."

"Jupiter," Jason said. "I mean Zeus. Lord of the Sky."

Blaire knew it couldn't be good. When Percy was claimed, all Hades broke lose. Two of the people closest to Blaire passed away— not directly at Percy's hand, but his exsistence was at fault for it.

Blaire felt suddenly queasy at the thought, her legs wobbled beneath her and Sunny's dying face flashed before her. She couldn't do it again, she didn't have the mental strength.

Expirencing war once was enough to shatter a young girl— but expirencing it twice? She wasn't sure she'd make it out. She wasn't sure she'd want to make it out.

"Hold it!" Annabeth cut in. "How can he be the son of Zeus? The Big Three ... their pact not to have mortal kids ... how could we not have known about him sooner?"

   Chiron didn't anwser, but Blaire was very familiar with the grim look that fell upon his weathered face.

  The important thing," Rachel said, "is that Jason's here now. He has a quest to fulfill, which means he will need his own prophecy."

    She closed her eyes and swooned. Two campers rushed forward and caught her. A third ran to the side of the amphitheater and grabbed a bronze
three-legged stool, like they'd been trained for this duty. They eased Rachel onto the stool in front of the ruined hearth. Without the fire, the night was dark, but green mist started swirling around Rachel's feet. When she opened her eyes, they were glowing. Emerald smoke issued from her mouth.

  The voice that came out was raspy and ancient—the sound a snake would make if it could talk:

             "Child of lightning beware the earth
          the giant's revenge, the eight shall birth
     The Cursed Kin of magic will discover her truth
      and suffer the curse which tarnished her youth
       The forge and dove shall break the cage and
              death unleash through Hera's rage."

    The Cursed Kin of Magic— the words rung within her mind. Over and over again, the Cursed Kin of Magic.

  Chiron seemed to be pondering on the Oracles words, as was Rachel. The two shared a knowing glance, eyes swarming with darkness. Both pairs of gloomy irises shot over to the Hecate cabin, studying the confused campers.

  "What does that mean?" Marlowe murmured, an edge prominent within her tone. Her voice shook with nerve. "The cursed kin of magic?"

  "Is that normal?" Piper spoke into the silence, as a group of campers helped a trembling Rachel to her designated stool. "Does she spew green smoke alot?"

   "Gods, you're dense!" Drew sneered. "She just issued a prophecy—Jason's prophecy to save Hera! Why don't you just—"

     Annabeth interjected, "Piper asked a fair question. Something about that prophecy definitely isn't normal. If breaking Hera's cage unleashes her rage and causes a bunch of death ... why would we free her? It might be a trap, or—or maybe Hera will turn on her rescuers. She's never been kind to heroes. And, the cursed kin of magic? What is that about?"

    Blaire was dizzy, it seemed the earth started spinning a million miles on it's axis. If Annabeth didn't know what it meant, no one would. She was the wisest most knowing person Blaire had ever met.

    Jason rose. "I don't have much choice. Hera took my memory. I need it back. Besides, we can't just not help the queen of the heavens if she's in trouble."

     A girl from Hephaestus cabin stood up—Nyssa, the one with the red bandanna. "Maybe. But you should listen to Annabeth. Hera can be vengeful. She threw her own son—our dad—down a mountain just because he was ugly."

     "Real ugly," snickered someone from Aphrodite.

  "Shut up!" Nyssa growled. "Anyway, we've also got to think —why beware the earth? And what's the giants' revenge? What are we dealing with here that's powerful enough to kidnap the queen of the heavens?"

  No one answered. Or they might've, but Blaire wasn't paying much attention to anything but her own dreadful thoughts.

   "Cursed Kin Of Magic," Alabaster spoke, both of his arms occupied by his sister's trembling frames, minus Blaire, who stood alone. As always. "Someone tell me what that means."

  Once again, Rachel and Chiron exchanged looks, before Rachel stood again, suprising the whole camp.

  "It's refrencing an ancient prophecy," Rachel told the group, fiddling nervously, "Given millenniums ago."

   Then she began to speak again, but this time her words were spawned from many many decades ago.

"The Godess of magic shall give birth,
prompting a divine soul to be unearthed.

"She will posses the power of every titans' domain
and if she choses, hell will reign.

"Olympus couldn't fathom the girls might.
For, her mere being shall bring fright. "

"Her destiny is to be decided,
perhaps love will keep the world undivided."

The words came with another bout of green smoke, but that was the only tangible thing it brought fourth. The area was suddenly stunned, each occupant was shocked beyond measures. Especially the Hecate children, who were clutching eachother in fright.

A great Phrophecy revolving around a single soul was a rare occurrence, and each time, the spoken of charecter's destiny was often times brutal.

The gods, Chiron, Rachel— every being worth something had kept this from them. For what reason though—were they afraid?

"A daughter of Hecate," Annabeth spoke after what felt like an eternity of tension, "It's obvious."

All eyes were trained on the quartet, who trembled under their unwavering gazes. A propechy about a child of Hecate, who would've guessed.

Silently, each of the Hecate kid's prayed to a higher force, pleading that the words spoken were not about them.

"It's her," Jason said, raising a finger and pointing toward the crowd gathered under the purple banner, "I saw her— in my vision."

His pale finger was aimed towards the demigod who nobody expected— not a single soul supposed Blaire Sullivan could weild such power. She herself couldn't even fathom his words.

Blaire shook her head frantically, denying his accusations, though something, a cruel demented voice in her head told her it was the truth. "No, this has nothing to do me."

"Blaire—" Rachel began, but was cut off.

"You can't just believe this random kid," Blaire spluttered, the pressure of a thousand eyes weighing her down. "He doesn't know anything."

Rachel looked sympathetic, her freckled face laced with a sort of prehistoric sadness. "Blaire— I think, I think he's right. I've known for a while, I just didn't know how to tell you—"

Blaire wanted to protest, she wanted to tell the Oracle and the son of Zues that they were wrong, she wasn't a child of phrophecy. But deep down, a fraction of herself knew that they were correct. There was not a reason to fight, for she was born into a tale of tragedy. All she'd gone through had led up to this.

She didn't know what to say, any sort of statement she might've previously mustered regarding the situation died in her throat, mingling with the terror rising from the very pit of her stomache. It was all too much to handle, the weight of thr world fell upon her shoulders and sent her falling to the stands below. She collapsed into a sitting position, burrying her red face in her hands.

Marlowe dropped down beside her, appearing equally as petrified. She snaked an arm around Blaire's shoulder, despite her knowledge of the older girl's hatred for any sort of physical touch. She figured she may need some kind of comfort.

"Looks like thats settled," Drew exhaled, as if she was relieved the phrophecy had nothing to do with her. "Sullivan's going on the quest. But who else?"

Annabeth took a deep breath, dividing the matter of serious subjects.

"It's Jason's quest," she announced, "so it's Jason's choice. Obviously, he's the child of lightning. According to tradition, he may choose two more companions."

Someone from the Hermes cabin yelled, "Well, you, obviously, Annabeth. You've got the most experience."

"No, Travis," Annabeth said. "First off, I'm not helping Hera. Every time I've tried, she's deceived me, or it's come back to bite me later. Forget it. No way. Secondly, I'm leaving first thing in the morning to find Percy."

Blaire was not sure how they'd all moved on so quickly. She was still reeling, the sound of her chaotic thoughts were drowning out anything her peers said. Their pointless bickering meant nothing admist what she recently discovered.

She will posses the power of every titans' domain and if she choses, hell will reign. What did it mean? It couldn't have been good, nothing revolving around the Titan's had the capability of being good.

Blaire was not aware that her quest companions were chosen, nor was she aware that the new girl, Piper Mclean had been claimed. She didn't hear the discussion of when they'd leave or what source of transportation they'd be using, all she knew was that she was eternally damned with the force of a phrophecy looming over her.

In mere hours Leo, Piper, Blaire and Jason would leave to free Hera, and in mere hours the trajectory of Blaire's live would forever be altered.

MAX SPEAKS: hellooooooo this is so long and UNEDITED I don't think I did this very well but Blaire my phrophecy baby. I cannot wait for her line in the phrophecy to come true u guys don't even know. this took so long but I hope u guys enjoy 🤞 also i listened to sign of the times on loop while writing this and OMG we never lear we've been here before?? BLAIRE IK U WROTE THAT UR NOT SLICK put the pen down. also this is for my girls my brits (ily if u see this) for motivating me !