[Third Person Pov]
Lucian was walking down the stairs to his basement with Bianca following a step behind him. The wooden steps creaked lightly under their weight, the familiar sound echoing through the quiet house. On her back was a quiver filled to the brim with bows, the straps snug against her shoulders, her preparation mostly complete for her quest with Annabeth.
Lucian glanced back over his shoulder as they descended and asked, "So you still haven't digested your Stalker potion?"
Bianca let out a tired sigh, shaking her head as she confirmed his suspicion. "No, I haven't. I'm like eighty-five percent of the way there, though. I've stopped gaining anything after stalking Chris for over an entire month now. I know all there is to know about the guy, much more than I would like if I'm being perfectly honest."
Lucian snorted quietly as he reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the basement, already moving with purpose. Bianca followed him in, still caught in her frustration as she continued.
"If I close my eyes, I could paint his picture perfectly with my left hand. I know what he likes to eat, what he dislikes, the exact foot he uses when he goes to make the first strike. I know his entire schedule like the back of my hand," Bianca grumbled, clearly annoyed by how little progress all that effort had brought her.
"Information is power, as they say. Knowing those things could really help you out if you ever had to fight him," Lucian replied casually as he walked around the room, picking up items and organizing them with practiced ease.
Bianca leaned back against the wall and scoffed, folding her arms. "Don't you think I know that? How do you think I managed to reach eighty-five percent in the first place? It's the other fifteen percent that I'm not getting."
Lucian paused for a moment, one item still in his hand as he considered her words more carefully. "Perhaps what you need is a different perspective. It happened with Thalia before."
Bianca straightened slightly, her gaze shifting to him, silently prompting him to continue.
Lucian met her look with a calm, casual smirk. "Think about the name of your sequence. That usually helps. Instead of focusing on a target to stalk, try focusing more on yourself."
"On myself?" Bianca repeated, her expression turning thoughtful as she considered what he meant.
"Yeah. Think about it. What exactly are Stalkers? They're people with an obsession toward their target, going to any and all lengths to know everything about them. You already have the information part down. You know everything you can about your target. What you're actually missing now is the obsession part," Lucian explained before resuming his work as if it were obvious.
"I see… that actually makes a surprising amount of sense," Bianca admitted, thinking over his words more seriously now. After a moment, she added, "But does that obsession have to be Chris? Because let me tell you right now, if it is, I'm going to be stuck as a Sequence 8: Stalker for the rest of my life."
Lucian let out a quiet snicker. "No, I highly doubt it. You just need to understand the concept of obsession itself. It would probably be better if you found something of your own to be obsessed with."
Bianca immediately placed a hand over her chest and let out a deep sigh of relief. "Oh thank God."
Lucian chuckled at her reaction before naturally shifting the conversation. "Anyways, here you go."
He handed her a bag, and Bianca took it, her curiosity piqued as she opened it and slipped her hand inside, feeling around the contents.
"Your own personal travel bag for your journey with Annabeth," Lucian said, leaning back against a desk as he spoke. "I put in some clothes, a tent, sleeping bags, food, and a few other things you might need if the situation calls for it."
Bianca's expression softened into a small smile as she looked through everything more carefully. She quickly noticed how most of the supplies were doubled, clearly meant for more than just her. Just as she expected, there was enough for both her and Nico. Tucked neatly along the side, she even spotted an extra set of arrows prepared specifically for her, something that didn't go unnoticed.
"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, her grip tightening slightly on the bag.
Lucian only hummed in response. "I also went ahead and added the potion ingredients for the Frost Ranger in there. Just in case you manage to fully digest your potion during your quest, you'll be able to advance immediately."
Bianca let out a small chuckle, shifting the bag in her hands as she looked at him. "You really did think of everything."
She hesitated for a brief moment, her thoughts catching up with her as she considered what to do next. Letting out a quiet breath, she decided not to overthink it.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a quick but genuine hug.
"Thank you," she repeated, her voice softer this time.
"Glad to be of help," Lucian replied, his grin slowly growing as he returned the gesture. He gave her a light pat on the back before pulling away. "Just make sure you come back in one piece."
…
Annabeth was both nervous and excited about going on her first personal quest, but she didn't let any of it show. Her expression remained neutral, controlled, exactly how she preferred it.
She stood inside the Big House with Nico and Bianca nearby, their presence a quiet form of support. In front of her were the steps leading up to the attic. She took a breath, steadying herself, and began to climb.
Annabeth didn't look back.
The attic greeted her the same way it always did for everyone else, filled with the remnants of past quests and years of history tied to Camp Half-Blood. Objects from countless missions were scattered and stored, each carrying its own story.
Her eyes wandered briefly, and she let out a short laugh when she spotted Lucian's makeshift wooden headstone, something Marcus and Nico had apparently put together during his "funeral." The memory behind it was ridiculous enough on its own.
She shook her head, pushing the distraction aside, and refocused.
At the center of the room sat the corpse of the prophet, gently rocking in its chair.
Annabeth stepped forward without hesitation. "I ask for a prophecy to be given to me about the quest I'm about to go on."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a green spectral mist began to spill from the corpse's mouth, curling and twisting in the air before forming a shape in front of her.
Annabeth's expression immediately tightened.
"Ugh, why? Out of everyone in my life, did it really have to be her?" she muttered under her breath, her irritation surfacing almost instantly.
The mist had taken the form of her stepmother.
It didn't just look like her. It sounded like her too, carrying the same tone, the same cadence, the same subtle sharpness in every word.
The apparition began to speak.
"When wisdom seeks the fractured crown,
Where seventy-two lie unbound,
The first lies where the wise king fell,
Guarded not by beast—but will.
Beware the voice that speaks as you—
For truth and pride are seldom two.
The seal you claim will claim you too,
And heaven's wrath will follow you."
The mist lingered for a moment after the final line, then slowly began to dissipate.
"Woah…" Annabeth muttered, her brows knitting together as she processed it. "So instead of the usual six lines, I get eight… and most of them are warnings."
She paused, then let out a short scoff, placing her hands on her hips.
"Well," she said, a small grin forming despite everything, "that just sounds like an adventure."
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