Solstice

II

Sera faltered. "What do you mean?"

Phobos waved a hand and the front door to the Big House swung open as if by a breeze. "I've heard of a great prophecy told long ago in Delphi. It all began when a daughter of the sea and the son of victory grappled for greatness, over peace and chaos, right and wrong. This prophecy tells of a half-blood rising from the depths, who will ultimately determine the rest of life as both mortals and immortals know it. You, Sera, will help train this half-blood."

Sera blinked, the image of the waves lapping against the shore in her memory once more. "Who are they?"

"Someone close to you," Phobos smirked impishly. "Someone who I will meet soon enough."

Sera shook her head, but Phobos continued into the Big House. He crept towards the staircase, and in the distance, Sera heard voices: Chiron and Dionysus, the camp directors.

"You hear them?" Phobos asked. "This malevolent force is only rising out west, and if it gets to full power...well, camp being destroyed will be the least of everyone's worries."

"What is it?" Sera whispered, her hand on the railing. "The malevolent force?"

Phobos disappeared, only to rematerialize at the top of the next staircase landing. Sera got the feeling that whatever it was, this force was to be named on a need-to-know basis. With a grumble under her breath, Sera climbed the staircase.

The hunter followed Phobos all the way to the top of the stairs, where a rickety attic doorway stood before them. With a wave of Phobos' hand, the door swung open, releasing a strong scent of dust and what seemed to be Windex into the landing.

"You'll find your answers in here," Phobos instructed. "And as for what my favor entails...I hope you'll be clever enough to put the pieces together."

Sera stepped into the attic, hazel eyes scanning the dusty boxes before her. Suddenly, it all fell back to her, like she'd been walking in a dream. "But why me--?" She whirled back around, only to find that the god of fear had dissolved into shadows, nowhere to be seen.

"Great," Sera huffed a breath, strands of her dark hair flying into her face. She ran a hand through the flyaways, mumbling curses under her breath to Phobos as she maneuvered her way through the bustling attic.

Everywhere Sera looked, she saw old relics and crates and weapons draped in silk or deteriorated with poison. The attic was a piece of history, commemorating all the best—and the worst—that Camp Half-Blood and its inhabitants had endured.

Sera's gaze had been drawn to a laurel wreath with pallets of gold so thin they could have shattered when she heard a soft hiss, like someone had released a snake among the boxes. That familiar feeling of being watched crept upon her once more, and Sera turned...only to bite back a scream.

Seated on a three-legged stool in the back of the attic, a mummy watched Sera with its dead, hollow eye sockets. It was draped in fashion from what looked like the Seventies, with dozens of bracelets and beads and necklaces hanging from its neck and wrists. However, what was most chilling of all was the feeling Sera got when she looked at the mummy. It was as if she was compelled to step forward, and when she did, things only got worse.

Green mist spilled from the mummy's open mouth, and it staggered into a sitting position as if it had been woken up. Sera had to fight the urge to bolt out of the attic and camp altogether at that. The mummy hissed and groaned, like it was waking up from a deep sleep.