After days of traveling on the endless ocean, Clarisse finally called a meeting on the forward deck as the light thinned to evening.
With the group gathered, Clarisse finally began.
"We will reach America by morning." Clarisse's starting statement brought smiles to everyone. The boat may be faster than some modern ships, but it was still an old steamship, moreover, a military one. There was very little space for them to enjoy; the food was mediocre, made by a skeletal Culinary Specialist, and the only view they had was of the endless ocean. Knowing they were soon returning to society, it refreshed their spirits.
"Before we dock tomorrow, I will drop you off at a passing beach," Clarisse continued, jabbing a finger toward Lucas, Annabeth, and Ethan. After all, they intended to bring the statue back to camp, the arrival of Lucas and Annabeth would bring chaos to camp as Kratos and his goons wouldn't be happy with his appearance.
"As for us," Clarisse turned to speak to Selena, "We will sail around Long Island and dock on the camp's beach, save ourselves the trouble of hauling the Parthenos across land ourselves."
Selena nodded, relieved to avoid unnecessary effort, but her happiness was short-lived; the sadness of splitting up soon brought tears to her eyes. During the week-long trip from Rome, she bonded with Annabeth, becoming close friends. The fact that they would have to split up was heartbreaking, especially since she didn't know when they would next meet. Annabeth likewise was sad, having become good friends with Selena during their time together.
They ate together that night in the mess hall, enjoying the usual meal they received while here: plain bread, beef stew, and some water. It lived up to what one would expect from a military vessel from decades ago, and while it wasn't anything special, this was the last meal they would have together, so it tasted better than usual. Clarisse even opened herself up under the emotions, joking with Ethan beside her.
When the lamps were doused and the mess cleared, they split off to their cabins, the last sleep on this vessel.
...
Lucas would have accepted some trouble with his sleep, the small pang of loss knowing he would soon split up with Clarisse, and Selena would have made it more challenging to get a smooth sleep, but it shouldn't have been like this. It was midnight, and he was awake, staring at the ceiling above, listening to the steady hum of the ship's engine.
He lay still on his bunk, waiting for the remnants of the dream to fade, hoping to get some sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, the images returned. The unfortunate side effect of perfect memory was that he couldn't forget what he witnessed, couldn't suppress the questions and emotions that rose alongside the fragments of the dream.
He had read in a book, one taken from Annabeth while they were still at camp, that some demigods could receive prophetic dreams, vague images about the future; he just hadn't expected it to happen to him when he fell asleep after their final meal together.
Whenever his eyes closed, he saw the images being projected, like a continuous film, constantly repeating:
A myriad of lights flashing.
Blood scattering around a ground of golden dust.
Thunder flashed as steel clashed.
Gunshots ringing.
And worst of all, he saw a familiar forest. It was one from his childhood, the one surrounding his house, and within, shadows surged.
These images plagued him, waking him from his sleep and causing him to stay awake. Maybe this was nothing. Perhaps it was a year from now. Maybe it would be tomorrow. The not knowing had a way of chewing holes in your thoughts if you let it. He decided to get out of bed, figuring he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep anyway. He headed on deck, hoping the sea breeze would refresh him.
He dressed and stepped out into the corridor, the ship creaking around him, and climbed to the deck, passing the always busy skeletal crewman. He found himself alone at the forward deck, staring at the moon, and breathed until the tightness in his chest loosened. He knew the dream was a warning, but he wouldn't allow himself to be controlled by the unknown; he reaffirmed his previous decision to change his methods, to fight smarter and prepare for what was to come.
...
Morning came gray and quick. Clarisse was already on her feet by the time the others reached the deck. The shoreline sat to the west, a line of low buildings and the thin masts of fishing boats. The steamship slowed, the skeleton crew moving with practiced precision as lines were thrown and caught.
Clarisse's voice carried over the clank of the chain. "This is your stop, blondie."
Annabeth rolled her eyes, annoyed by the new nickname Clarisse had decided to give her. Still, she gave a soft smile and hugged her, which Clarisse returned by patting her head. Although her face may have looked like she was reluctant, her eyes showed she too was emotional. Selena, seeing this, joined, turning it into a group hug. At the same time, Ethan and Lucas watched from the side, confused, but that didn't last long before Selena dragged them into the group hug with Clarisse clapping Ethan on the shoulder, rocking him more than the waves rocked the boat.
The trio jumped down from the ship, giving one final check of their gear for assurance as it turned, sailing back into the waters, following the coast as it made its way to camp, bringing the statue home.
...
Steven poured tea into a chipped mug and set it beside a thin, leather-bound book. The room was quiet except for the soft buzz of a fly and the hiss of the old radiator. Rain tapped against the window, one he had left open a fraction to let the steam out, but now he regretted that decision. The little splashes of rain that entered annoyed him to no end, but he had more pressing concerns.
"Malcolm's death wasn't random," Steven said, taking a tentative sip from his mug.
A woman's voice answered from the shadow beside the dresser. "You're sure?"
"Yes." Steven set the mug down. "Very sure. Though I think you already guessed that right?"
The female voice sighed, acknowledging the statement. "Yes, but what I cannot think of is why."
"A warning, a taunt, it doesn't matter." A third voice cut in from near the door. Another female. Clearly unimpressed with the topic. "Forget the boy. Did you find out who those three were?"
Steven glanced at the book beside him, one he had been looking through to find the answer before being interrupted by these guests.
He thought for a moment, then nodded once. "I have a strong guess of their identities but nothing confirmed."
Steven lifted the mug but didn't drink, letting the warmth of the tea flood him. He met their eyes, caution flashing from deep within, the gaze allowing the other owners of the voices to understand the seriousness.
"If I'm right, then your worry was never paranoia." He let the words hang before he continued. "Olympus has been infiltrated. And not lightly."