"They're not talking. Ciarda didn't even sleep in Ares cabin last night," Whispers of the La Rue sisters' feud had spread along campus. "Ignore them, they don't understand," Luke glanced at Ciarda, somewhat intimidated by her calm exterior. She'd woken up early and taken her braids out.
Her dark eyes were lifeless and cold, the look of a warrior. Jaw muscles flexed under her bronze skin when Clarisse and Eros came into view. "Ciarda-" Clarisse called over, guilt washing over her features.
Ciarda didn't acknowledge her only sister but sat with Luke instead, letting him grab her usual breakfast and a cold drink. People stared at her face, a black and purple bruise blooming across her face, and her shins which were bloodied and scabbed.
Summer had dawned and the mornings became sick with sunlight. Her colourful beads clattered as she placed her hands on the wooden table, closing her eyes when Percy sat down. The boy had caused her nothing but trouble - why was she paired with him?
His hair was as curly as hers, knotted from sleeping on the floor. Not being claimed had its effect on demigods - Ciarda had witnessed first-hand the raw emotions which came from their Gods' abandonment.
Percy placed his tray of breakfast opposite her, forming the beginning of their conversation with: "What do you know about Annabeth?"
Ciarda looked up, her dark eyes shining golden in the sunlight. "Annabeth Chase?" Ciarda's neck twisted to look at the petite girl who was munching on salted bread while staring back at them.
"Athena's kid, why?" Ciarda turned back to Percy who was gulping down his juice. "She's stalking me." She rolled her eyes at Percy's accusation. "She's sizing you up, not that there's much of you."
"Are you guys ready for Capture The Flag?" Luke grinned as he set a tray of food in front of Ciarda and himself. The wooden table was isolated from the rest of the chattering communal area. It was the one, days prior, Ciarda stood on as she heard Grover screaming for help.
Moss crumbled off the edges of the wood, falling into Percy's lap. He brushed it onto the floor before falling into a habit of munching his food.
His eyes begged Ciarda to get back on track with the conversation, but he and his stalkers were not her problem. Ciarda stood suddenly, grabbing the food she would miss most from her breakfast: the crusty bread which flaked off into the pot of beans and eggs.
She stood in the centre of the tables, her feet relaxing against the comforting sensation of dry pine needles. Nobody looked as Campers got up to sacrifice their food - showing the meaning of their prayer to the gods.
"They like the smell of burning food?" Percy asked the La Rue as he scrambled up, dumping his fried egg in the fire dimly. "They like the smell of begging," Ciarda huffed. Percy retreated when he felt her hard tone.
She tore off pieces of her bread and threw them into the fire with attitude. There was nothing she liked less than begging for her family's attention. She hated feeling inferior. Watching her bread curl into ash and embers brought her a sense of peace. She angrily prayed to her Dad, like always.
"Cici-" Clarisse appeared, grasping onto her sister's wrist. It was harshly jerked from her hold. Ciarda turned to look at her sister. Clarisse's eyes widened when she saw the injuries on her sister's face. Ciarda let it speak volumes before she made her way back to her breakfast with a quiet, "Don't talk to me."
"So, Annabeth? Do you know anything more about her? I saw her yesterday after the bathroom and your sister-" Percy's rant was severed when Ciarda angrily interrupted.
"Listen Blondie, just because I defended you yesterday, does not mean we are friends."
...
Ciarda pulled on her blue armour over the orange shirt she sported. Her helmet caved over her face, hiding most of it apart from the piercing stare which could instil fear into anyone who dared look her in the eye. She'd send them running.
Sharpening her sword with an axe, metal pinged off as it got hotter from friction. Her Ares leathers bound her knuckles.
The sword was a gift from her father, forged out of gold by Hephaestus. It was a piece of Achilles' infamous armour, handed to Ciarda by her father as a tell of the battles she had ahead.
"You are our father's daughter," Edward's steely voice echoed from behind Ciarda. Scared by the sudden voice, a separate dagger buried itself into the ground by his feet. Edward didn't flinch but instead cocked his head. A small smile played on his lips.
Edward's hair was buzzed and bleached, contrasting his dark skin. Beige beads wrangled his wrists and neck. He lacked the tattoos of his brothers; however, he stood out even more - with ice-blue eyes and bulging muscles.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be helping the children with their armour? Capture the Flag is about to begin, remember? Camp-wide mock warfare?"
"You know she is sorry," Edward, the most sensible of all the Ares children, told her. Ciarda straightened and sighed- Clarisse had gotten Edward to do her humbling dirty work.
"You remember what happened last time two of the Ares demigods got into an argument," Edward warned. Half the camp ended up on fire and two Campers nearly died.
Ciarda turned away from him, her grudges were notorious. He stepped forward, helping buckle up the leathers on her shoulders. "She tried to hurt him so I couldn't have my quest. She ruined our trust over jealousy. I would never have done that to her," Ciarda mumbled.
"It isn't just a quest. Your legacy was brought to you by the Oracle. A prophecy. Clarisse can't take that from you. Chiron can't stop you. And not even our father can ignore that."
Ciarda pivoted, staring at him with her doe eyes. "Talk to her after the game, just.. promise me you'll talk it over."
When Ciarda nodded, Edward let go, patting her armour down and walking towards the sunny training grounds where newer demigods were practising.
...
A conch shell blew, causing all the Campers to turn towards Chiron. He stood on a large slab of rock, above all of them. "Demigods, it is time." He brought out his pocket watch with a mischievous smile.
"The first team to capture the opposing flag and cross the river will be the victor," Chiron explained to the newer demigods. "As always, there will be no maiming and no killing."
Everyone's eyes moved to Clarisse, the teenager in fully decked armour. She held the electric spear her father had given her - the one possession she held dear to her heart. It thrummed and buzzed with the tension in the air.
She looked to the opposite side of the river, the blue half of camp - led by Annabeth. Dark eyes locked onto one another, Clarisse's pleading for forgiveness whereas Ciarda's were as cold as stone.
"Any magical items that you may possess may be permitted as well," Chiron's rules echoed through the forest, louder than the tumbling waterfall. Eyes glided to Ciarda as the singing of Achilles' sword bounded around the forest. One blow and their armour would shatter.
Percy looked down at his pen anxiously, making Luke and Ciarda glance at each other. The two had been friends since the day she helped them pass the treeline.
When furies blundered through the forest in the dark, rain and stars watching the confused demigods clamber through brambles and moss. Luke knew what Percy was going through - he'd been in the same position all those years ago. With Annabeth and Thalia, Luke couldn't make his way to Camp Half-Blood without attracting all kinds of monsters.
In his attempt to protect both Athena's daughter and a Forbidden Child, he realised they were all going to die. Annabeth's arm was broken and blood smeared Thalia's face. They were weak.
And then, amid the lightning and thunder, a girl - with wet hair and a singing blade - appeared. She had attacked the furies with all her might, a fight even he couldn't reenact. But she was only a child. She wasn't strong enough. And Thalia had paid the price.
"It's okay," Luke whispered to Percy who looked down at his pen, "Let it rip." "I don't even know what my job is yet. I might not need a sword," Percy attempted to blow the hair out of his face from under his helmet.
"Every camper that is not injured must play. Every prisoner may be disarmed but not bound or gagged. Let the games begin!" Chiron finished his rules.
Ciarda cracked a smile when the conch shell blew. The sound of war began.