[Third Person Pov]
Everyone at Camp Half-Blood was beginning to stir with a tense, electric energy. The most active among them were the campers from the Hephaestus cabin, their forges blazing brighter and louder than usual as hammers rang out in a relentless rhythm, crafting weapons, armor, and gadgets at a feverish pace.
The shocking news of Lucian’s capture—now firmly in the clutches of Kronos and his growing army—had spread like wildfire through the camp. Whispers turned into urgent conversations, and soon every cabin was buzzing with speculation, worry, and the grim determination to act.
Mr. D lounged lazily on the porch of the Big House, a radiant, almost gleeful smile plastered across his face as he sipped from a can of diet Coke. The winter air was crisp, with soft flakes of snow drifting down steadily, blanketing the camp in a deceptively peaceful white layer.
“You know, you could at least pretend to be concerned about Lucian’s current predicament,” Chiron remarked, his expression wary as he studied the god beside him with a mixture of exasperation and long-suffering patience.
“But I am concerned,” Mr. D replied smoothly, his smile widening into something almost mischievous. “I’m so concerned that I’m smiling. Can’t you see the deep, heartfelt worry etched across my divine features?”
The two of them glanced toward Nico, Bianca, and Percy, who stood not far from the porch steps. The trio was gazing upward at the sky, where snow continued to fall in gentle, swirling patterns. Thanks to her enhanced vision, Bianca was the first to spot their incoming guest. She pointed, her sharp eyes narrowing against the flakes.
High above, amid the clouds, a figure with large, powerful black wings sliced through the wintry sky. With a swift motion, he folded his wings tight against his body and dove straight down toward them, descending with the deadly precision and speed of a falcon on the hunt. The wind whistled around him as he plummeted.
The three demigods instinctively backed away, giving him space. Markus landed with a solid thud in front of them, kicking up a swirling cloud of powdery snow that momentarily obscured his form. As the flakes settled, he straightened up, looking faintly taller and more filled out than before—broader shoulders, more muscle definition visible beneath his winter gear, a subtle sign of the changes he’d undergone lately.
“Now, does someone want to tell me what the hell is happening?” Markus demanded, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. “I’ve been getting this weird tingling feeling that something’s seriously wrong for the last day or so. Then you guys call and tell me Lucian’s been captured. I dropped everything to get here.”
“I mean, you technically already summarized what happened,” Percy said with a half-smile, stepping forward to greet his friend with a quick clasp of hands and a shoulder bump.
Markus rolled his eyes, brushing snow from his wings before tucking them away neatly. “I’m obviously going to need more than that, Percy. Seriously—it’s barely been a week since we last saw each other, and winter break had just started. How does something like this happen so fast?”
“That’s the problem,” Bianca said, shaking her head with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her dark hair dusted with snow. “We aren’t exactly well-informed either. The only one who truly knows the full details is Lady Artemis, but she’s been holed up inside her cabin since yesterday. She hasn’t come out or spoken to anyone.”
Nico stood with one hand resting casually yet alertly on the hilt of his sword, which hung at his waist. His pale face was set in a determined line. “Everyone in camp is actively preparing for war, though. They’re ready to march out and retrieve Lucian themselves if they have to. The forges haven’t stopped all night.”
“What do Annabeth and Thalia have to say about all this?” Markus asked, his expression turning complex—a mix of concern, frustration, and something deeper, like an uneasy intuition.
“They’re more irritated than worried,” Percy admitted, his own face reflecting a similar sentiment. “Especially since Lucian didn’t give anyone any warning about what he was planning. You know, like always—charging in solo without backup or a heads-up.”
“I don’t think this is like the other times,” Markus said, his voice dropping into a serious, contemplative tone. He stared off into the snowy distance for a moment. “Ever since becoming his lieutenant, I’ve gained this weird special awareness of Lucian. It’s like a gut feeling or some kind of bond. Something’s telling me he really didn’t plan for this to happen. This feels off… wrong, even for him.”
“Bwhahaha! Of course he didn’t!” Mr. D burst out with a loud, jovial laugh from the porch, nearly spilling his drink. “Someone finally bested the brat! Haha, you have no idea how happy that makes me feel! What a glorious day to be alive!”
“What the hell is his deal?” Markus asked, glaring and growling toward Mr. D with open annoyance.
“He’s not exactly a big fan of Lucian,” Nico explained dryly, shooting the god a dirty side-eye that Percy mirrored perfectly.
“You’re damn right I’m not a fan of that Luna Pinkyfingers!” Dionysus snarled, crushing the empty can in his grip with a metallic crunch. His face twisted with genuine irritation. “Do you have any idea what I had to endure because of that little monster?”
“Mr. D, please… You’re a camp counselor, not to mention a god,” Chiron pleaded, his voice laced with deep exasperation. “Show some dignity, if you would.”
“What did Lucian ever do to you?” Markus asked, his disbelief evident as he stared at the god.
“I’ll show you what he did,” Mr. D said, hopping off the porch with surprising energy. He positioned himself between Markus and Percy, then pointed dramatically toward one of the beautiful marble buildings in the distance, its roof and columns lightly covered in a fresh layer of snow. “Do you see that building with my name on it?”
“Dionysus Bar?” Markus asked, looking more confused than ever. “Lucian built it, didn’t he? I don’t understand—shouldn’t you be happy? Grateful, even?”
“Grateful?!” Mr. D repeated, his voice rising in frustration as he shook his fist. “He built it to taunt me! He knows I can’t drink alcohol anymore, and he deliberately constructed an entire bar right here in camp just to rub it in my face every single day. The neon signs, the stools, the ridiculous cocktails menu—it’s all a personal insult! Words can’t express how much I despise that boy.”
“From what I remember, your punishment doesn’t last forever,” Markus said, looking at Dionysus with a puzzled tilt of his head. “So once it’s lifted, won’t you get the chance to enjoy everything you want?”
Mr. D stared at him blankly, his face completely neutral for a long moment. Then, without missing a beat, he replied, “Mind your own beeswax, Marvin,” before turning on his heel and strolling back toward the porch of the Big House, snow crunching softly under his sandals.
“It’s Markus,” he corrected, his face twisting into an annoyed grimace.
“That’s literally what I said,” Mr. D called over his shoulder with genuine confusion, which only succeeded in irritating Markus all over again.
Before Markus could fire back, a loud shout echoed from deeper within the camp.
“Lady Artemis is out of her cabin!”
The words acted like a spark on dry tinder. There was an immediate stampede of movement as campers poured out of their cabins. Seeing Percy, Nico, and Bianca immediately sprinting toward Artemis’ cabin, Markus spread his large black wings with a powerful snap and launched himself into the air.
From his aerial vantage point, the scene below was breathtaking and intense. All across Camp Half-Blood, the remaining campers were rushing out fully suited up in battle gear. Armor gleamed under the falling snow, covering shoulders, chests, and arms. Weapons of every kind—swords, spears, axes, and bows—were gripped tightly in determined hands. The entire camp was converging on the footsteps of the Artemis cabin like a well-trained army answering a call to arms.
At the front of the gathering stood Artemis and her Hunters, who had frozen in place at the sudden chaos. Taking clear charge of the demigod side of the crowd were Charles Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin and Selina from the Aphrodite cabin. Charles had one massive, armor-encased arm resting casually over his shoulder, gripping a heavy warhammer that looked like it could shatter boulders. Selina stood beside him with graceful poise, her own elegant yet deadly weapons at the ready.
Charles bowed his head respectfully toward the goddess, and the rest of the campers quickly followed his lead. “Lady Artemis,” he said, his voice steady and strong, “all of our troops are ready. When do we head out?”
Artemis blinked slowly, taking in the sheer number of armed and armored demigods standing before her. “What?” she asked, completely bewildered and momentarily at a loss for words.
The Stoll brothers stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of their Hermes cabin siblings, mischievous grins tempered by serious intent.
“To rescue and bring Lucian back home,” Travis, the older Stoll brother, began.
“When do we head out? We await your order!” Connor finished for him, both of them speaking with perfect synchronization.
“I… What?” Artemis repeated, still stunned by the overwhelming show of unity and readiness.
A soft, warm giggle rippled through the crowd. The campers parted respectfully, revealing Hestia standing among them. The goddess of the hearth covered her mouth delicately with one hand, her eyes twinkling with gentle amusement. “Forgive them, Artemis. They are all eager to help and lend a hand. That’s just how important Lucian is to every single one of us.”
Artemis took a long moment to absorb the scene. She scanned the faces before her—every single camper, young and old, wore an intense, battle-hardened expression. Their eyes burned with determination, and the collective bloodlust in the air was almost tangible, thick enough to taste. The snow continued to fall softly around them, but it did nothing to cool the fiery resolve radiating from the camp.
Artemis exhaled softly and closed her eyes for a brief second. “I understand and appreciate your enthusiasm,” she began, her voice calm yet firm, “and I’m sure Lucian would too. However—”
Her words trailed off as something drew her attention. Everyone turned to look in the same direction, and the entire crowd suddenly froze. Several campers took wary steps backward, their grips tightening on their weapons.
The Oracle—the spirit of Delphi—moved languidly through the snow toward them. Her bare, rotten feet left eerie, bony footprints in the fresh powder. Trailing slowly behind the spectral figure were Annabeth and Thalia. The two girls leaned forward slightly as they walked, eyes wide with confusion. They had been the first to notice the Oracle stirring and had followed it, wondering where on earth it was headed.
A collective shiver traveled down everyone’s spine, one that had nothing to do with the winter cold. But what startled and confused them even more was that the Oracle did not stop in front of any of the demigods. It did not turn toward any of the Hunters.
It looked directly at Artemis.
Then, right before their eyes, the spirit’s form shimmered and transformed. It took on the unmistakable appearance of Lucian himself.
He looked exactly as Artemis remembered him from their last encounter—hair falling to his shoulders, that easy-going grin that didn’t bother hiding his natural arrogance, yet somehow came across as more charming than insufferable. His eyes held that familiar playful spark, and he wore casual but stylish modern clothing, completely at ease even in this prophetic form.
As he spoke, he never once took his eyes off Artemis, his voice carrying clearly across the snow-covered clearing:
“A daughter of Olympus shall lead the hunt,
With six companions willing to bear the brunt.
One bears the Titan’s heavy, crushing curse,
Condemned to chains; for better or worse.
A loyal friend shall fall to final sleep,
While mother and son reunite and weep.
Yet bitter sting awaits the journey’s end,
Betrayed by the one they called a trusted friend.”
When the final word faded into the crisp winter air, no one spoke. The entire camp stood in stunned silence, minds racing to absorb the weight of the prophecy. The snow continued to drift down around them, but the atmosphere had grown heavier than the thickest storm clouds.