This Dark Night ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹

―vii. prophecies, offerings, and sword-fights (oh my!)

The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance.

Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"

The whole cabin—about twenty kids—filed into the commons yard. They lined up in order of seniority, so of course Percy and Naomi were dead last.

The whole camp marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods—as in, straight out of the woods. Naomi saw one girl, maybe nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.

At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but Cabin Eleven's was way overcrowded.

Naomi spotted Grover at table twelve with Mr. D, a few other satyrs, and a pair of blond boys who looked scarily like Mr. D Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her grey eyes and honey-blonde hair. Their table seemed to be the one that most looked like siblings, though there were similarities among most of the other tables, too.

Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, barbeque. There were no drink pitchers to fill their glasses, but Luke said, "Speak to them. Whatever you want—non-alcoholic, of course."

"Cherry Coke," Percy said, and the glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid.

Then, he said, "Blue Cherry Coke."

Naomi smiled a little in amusement as the soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.

Naomi opted for lemonade—a treat the nuns rarely let the kids drink. It tasted just as sweet as she remembered.

They filled their plates, and everybody started getting up, carrying their dishes toward the fire at the center of the pavilion.

"Come on," Luke told them.

As they drew closer to the fire, Naomi noticed everyone taking a portion of their meal and scraping it into the fire—the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

Luke leaned down. "Burnt offerings for the gods," he explained. "They like the smell."

Percy blinked. "You're kidding."

Luke's expression warned that this wasn't something to be taken lightly. Still, Naomi wondered why gods would like the smell of burnt food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes."

Naomi was next.

She didn't know which god's name to say, but even if she did, she wasn't sure she would have even wanted to say it. She'd never considered herself to be a stubborn person, but this—praying to a parent who'd abandoned her from birth—made her want to refuse to make an offering just out of principle.

But she figured that wasn't a good idea.

I hope you had a good reason for abandoning me, she thought bitterly, throwing her roll into the fire.