Divine Retribution | Luke Castellan

Prologue

The dream always ended with her father lying sprawled on the unforgiving asphalt. His body contorted, broken bones jutting out at unnatural angles, creating a macabre mosaic of pain. His glassy eyes stared into the indifferent sky, and his fingers, the very same that clasped hers so assuredly, now dangled awkwardly, shattered bones protruding through the torn flesh. Blood, an unsettling shade of crimson, seeped into the ground beneath him, pooling, spreading, reaching out for the girl in the dream just like his lifeless hands did. She knelt beside him, her once innocent features distorted by anguish, her hands and knees stained by his draining lifeforce as the shrill shriek that tore through her vocal cords reverberated through Rin's entire being. 

Tonight it was a harpy who did him in, and Rin waited for the horror to end. 

Nonetheless, the entities that toyed with her were not done yet, and the terrain morphed with an unsettling fluidity, transporting her from the nightmare's prior location to the foot of a desolate hill. The malevolent presence of the harpy remained constant, as did the ice cream truck's melody, a dissonant accompaniment to the nightmare that unfolded.

Her father's form was replaced by a much smaller one, and his voice floated in the air again, this time a cruel taunt instead of a heartfelt plea. 

"Take care of Emmie."

There was no dream version of herself to project onto this time. Rin was stripped of any semblance of detachment, forcing her to confront the stark truth of her fears. She stood alone, a solitary witness to the grotesque puppetry of her subconscious, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare dissolved into a chilling panorama of dread.

The harpy's hungry eyes bore into Rin's soul, as if relishing the agony etched across her face. The creature's wings seemed to cast a suffocating shadow over the hill, amplifying the sense of isolation that gripped Rin's heart.

The disembodied voice of her father repeated his haunting command, "Take care of Emiko," each word a spectral lament that reverberated through the smoky landscape. This time, it carried a weight of accusation, a reminder of the impossible burden and the promise she was unable to keep. 

Her little sister's broken body offered little in terms of solace, but when the toddler's corpse opened its eyes and spoke words no three-year-old would know how to say, Rin finally began to scream. 

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Rin Nakamura jolted awake, gasping for breath, her eyes wide and disoriented as she frantically scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. The air in the room felt heavy, and for a moment, panic clutched at her chest until recognition dawned. She was in a large cabin, the walls adorned with the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. Bunk beds lined every side, and Rin found herself curled up on a sleeping bag laid out on the floor.

Beside her, her younger brother lay in peaceful slumber, undisturbed by her abrupt awakening. The rhythmic sounds of his breathing offered a soothing contrast to the remnants of the harsh memories that still lingered in Rin's mind. She took a moment to let the realization settle – she was at Camp Half-Blood.

A wave of relief washed over her, yet it was quickly replaced by the resurfacing of the raw emotions that had haunted her dreams. The tears welled in her eyes once more, a testament to the weight of the reality she had faced. If she was here at the camp, then the monsters, the harpy, and the nightmare were all real.

It felt a little ridiculous, to feel such a childlike loneliness in a room so full of people that they crowded every corner and every space on the floor, but for 12-year-old Rin, she might as well have been the only person there.