"This isn't creepy at all," I muttered to myself as I passed shelves of jars filled with mysterious liquid and gods knew what was suspended inside. "I feel like I'm in Frankenstein's laboratory."
I flinched as I rounded a corner and an eye the size of my head loomed in my vision. It looked like it was staring at me. I watched it warily as I crept past it, and nearly knocked over another shelf as it moved. "Holy gods!" I shrieked, stumbling back and barely managing to catch myself as I bumped into a table. "What the blazing . . ." I trailed off as I looked at the plaque attached to it. "Cyclops eye. Killed by Luke Castellan."
"Nope, I did not need to see that," I muttered under my breath. "Did not need to see that. Do not need to think of him. Not right now." I flicked my hand and a tendril of shadow curled out, wrapping the glass jar in smoke. It flexed into itself like a whirlpool, and the jar disappeared. "Better," I muttered. "Now, where is the Oracle?"
A few moments later, I found her. It. The mummy, slumped down on a wooden tripod stool. What once used to be a beautiful young maiden was now a shrivelled shell that wore a tie-dyed sundress, a wreath of beaded necklaces, and a headband that kept her matted, long black hair out of her thin and leathery face. I met her glassy, white eyes, and fought the shiver that rolled down my spine.
Not giving myself the time to chicken out and run back downstairs to avoid the inevitable fate awaiting me, I walked up to her and said quietly, "I think it's time I knew my prophecy."
She straightened on her stool, opened her mouth, and green mist poured out, curling, snaking, and hissing over the floor like snakes. I reined in the urge to release my black snakes in response to it and forced myself to stand still and remain calm.
A voice hissed inside my head, "I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. I have awaited you, Clarianna Sinclair, daughter of Hecate yet not. You seek your destiny. Are you prepared to discover it?"
I swallowed thickly. Maybe it would have been a good idea to bring my wolf. I didn't need to fight, but she was good emotional support. "Yes."
When the word left my lips, the green mist thickened, swirling around me in a funnel until I was surrounded and couldn't see anything beyond the wall of mist. I forced my feet to remain firmly planted, even as I felt the rest of the world fall away. This isn't right, I thought. You're not supposed to become trapped in a cyclone of mist.
Then, amid the smoke, images coalesced.
I saw the endless, smoky mist of Chaos and all the matter of the universe suspended inside it. The birth of Gaea and the lovely green and blue planet that I called home. The life that Gaea breathed onto her body, the rise of mountains, the tides of seas, and the creation of all the wonderful creatures that roamed the wild, untamed land. A flash of light that was replaced by a sea of stars in the sky. The figure of a woman with curly black hair and a flowing green dress with a man that wore the pattern of the sky on his skin.
Then, the serene scene vanished, replaced with a sky of oppressive grey clouds, flickering lightning, and a world where the ground shook, rivers flowed, and the cries of a mother filled the world with pain and agony. A world of darkness, where even the glow of candlelight and the smile of the woman at her husband masked a devious scheme of death. The glint of a silver scythe, The splatter of golden blood. The cruel, wicked smile of the Titan king.
Then everything vanished, the illusions of the mist dissipating. Before I could even think, "That's it?" it solidified before me, this time back to the misty space of Chaos. Light, an angry red and black, flickered through the swirl of the cosmos. I glanced to my right and found the sleeping figure of a woman curled in a faint ball of flickering blue, a ghostly, insubstantial figure of the husband she'd killed floating above her while a deep red glow emanated from the slumbering dome beneath her.
A dead, but not gone, Ouranos. Gaea. Tartarus.
I glanced back at the epicentre of Chaos. Jets of black and red lightning kept on shooting towards Gaea but were pulled back at the last moment. And then, they vanished, sucked back into the swirling cosmos.
A flash of light shot out of the misty smoke and a glowing white ball of energy, flickering with colour and power, appeared before me before vanishing back into Chaos.
The illusions vanished again before solidifying once more to show flashes of a bloody world, Lightning flashed through the sky, the will of a god standing with his allies on a barren mountain as they faced a looming palace of black stone. A flash of a creature with the head of a hellhound, the body of a dragon, and the tail of a scorpion as it ripped its way out of a fleshy sack. The slash of a cold smile from a Titan with a bear-shaped helmet and a glowing blue diamond in his breastplate, and the release of the monster upon the world. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed as the sea rose over the world, and the only thing that remained was the black rubble and the fall of a mountain. I saw a gleaming white palace, twelve shining thrones, and then the world was plunged back into chaos as giants from the pits of Tartarus arose. Once again, war raged, lightning flashed, the sea surged, and the earth split. Arrows of silver and gold soared through the air, spears and swords flashed, and the hideous head of Medusa as a golden shield arced through the bloodbath.
Then, the world fell silent and everything vanished into black shadows. A pinprick of light appeared, that same ball of energy from Chaos, glowing brightly in the dark, and then the image of two immortal twins, one gold and one silver, manifested. A few moments later, the image of a goddess with grey robes and a spear and shield in hand materialized, followed by a goddess with twin torches and a god that wielded control over the dead.
Apollo. Artemis. Athena. Hecate. Hades. Thunder rumbled and a filament of light appeared, binding them in a circle around the star, and Artemis reached out a hand and flung it up to the shadowy darkness, where it blazed a trail of light before becoming a pinprick of light above the immortals. Slowly, the sky appeared, constellations gathering around the glowing ball of energy at the tail of a bear cub.
The sky swirled, becoming a vortex of stars, and then cleared, the mist forming the image of a familiar throne room, the same ball of energy at the centre. Fourteen immortals stood in a circle, and as I watched, they extended their hands one by one, glowing droplets of energy coalescing in their palms. Artemis was the first, releasing a teardrop of power that shone silver into the star. A flash of light in all colours of the rainbow, then Hecate stepped forwards, a cocoon of shadow in her hands. The mist dissolved again and reformed, this time showing a countryside home with white fences and a wooden porch. A man with chestnut brown hair was sitting on a chair in front of the door. Then a swirl of magic and Hecate appeared, the star in her hands. The scene changed again to depict a cozy-looking living room, the man and Hecate sitting opposite each other and the glowing ball of light between them. A flash of a blade, the trickle of blood from the man's wrist, and the drop infused inside the star. A flash of light, the wail of a baby, and then the man raised his head, wrist still bleeding, to meet my gaze. I gasped in shock. The green of his gaze was identical to mine, down to the flecks of hazel in his irises. Then, a voice, the voice of the oracle, a thousand snakes slithering in my head, hissed:
From the gloom of twilight, a star shall spring,
Birthed of Chaos and a gift to the Thunder King.
The jewels of the twelve shall be the spark
Of one who walks with the shadows and the dark.
A silver queen to the Golden King
Mist and magic against Time and evil things;
Friend or foe will have to be seen,
Fires to walk through, battles to glean.
Once again, a choice will have to be made
At crossroads of fog and bonds that break.
The Star shall be the key to ruin or salvation
And unlock chains of terror and destruction.
But when her chains of iron and silver shatter,
They shall weigh down heavier than ever.
And what comes from the dark shall always return,
So all shall have light but the star who shall burn.
The mist coalesced one last time into a gloomy landscape. Where the sky should have been was a smothering grey smoke, and the only thing in the field of dark grass was a spindly, leafless black tree in the distance. The vision zoomed in and I fought down another gasp as the figure of a person appeared, dangling below the barren branches in black chains cracked with frost.
It was Luke. He raised his head, his formerly blond hair leached to grey like a black and white photo and opened his eyes.
They were gold, shining with cruelty and eons of hate, the only splash of colour in a world of grey. And then he blinked, and suddenly, colour started bleeding through the image, like someone had splashed it with paint. The grey sky turned blue, the field became a rich, vibrant green, and the tree sprouted buds, which grew into leaves. The chains holding Luke in the air vanished and he dropped to the ground, his hair sandy blond again. The last thing I saw before consciousness fled were his eyes as he raised his head to look at me.
They were now blue.