Wild ― Piper McLean

―iv. verona doesn't like metaphors

"It's the Great Prophecy, isn't it?" someone called out.

Everyone turned. The voice had come from a group in the back, sitting under a rose-colored banner with a dove emblem. They'd been chatting among themselves and not paying much attention until their leader stood up: Drew.

Everyone else looked surprised. Apparently Drew didn't address the crowd that often.

"Drew?" Annabeth asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, come on," Drew said, as if it was obvious. "Olympus is closed. Percy's missing. Hera sends you a vision and you come back with four new demigods in one day. I mean, something weird is going on. The Great Prophecy has started, right?"

She, along with most of the camp, looked at Rachel. "Well? You're the oracle. Has it started or not?"

Rachel stepped forward calmly, addressing the camp. "Yes," she said. "The Great Prophecy has begun."

Verona watched the campers start to argue immediately. She caught Piper's eye from across the fire, and she mouthed, You okay?

Piper nodded, offering Verona a smile that was only half-convincing.

When the talking finally subsided, Rachel took another step toward the audience, and fifty-something demigods leaned away from her—as if one mortal ginger was more intimidating than all of them put together.

"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—"

Verona felt like she'd been struck with lightning. She knew that prophecy, like she knew her own name. It was like it had been engraved so deeply into her brain that no goddess-magic could erase it.

Jason shot to his feet.

"J—Jason?" Rachel asked. "What's—"

Verona whispered along as he finished the prophecy, so sure of it she'd bet her own life on the last two lines: "Ut cum spiritu postrema sacramentum dejuremus. Et hostes ornamenta addent ad ianuam necem."

An uneasy silence settled on the group. Verona could see from the campers' faces that several of them were trying to translate the Latin.

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

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

The campers just stared, like they'd discovered Jason was some new species of alien they'd never encountered before.

He sat back down, looking embarrassed. Annabeth put a hand on his shoulder and muttered something vaguely reassuring, but Verona could tell by the expression on her face that she didn't know what to make of Jason and Verona knowing the Great Prophecy off the top of their heads.

"Well," Rachel said, still looking a little shaken up. "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 an audibly drowsy Clovis called out, "I'm here! Oh... were you calling roll?"

"Go back to sleep, Clovis," someone yelled, and a couple 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."