Since the night before, something had gotten stuck in my chest.
It was that kind of discomfort you couldn't fully describe, but that wouldn't let you breathe easily. As if tension seeped through your skin, settled in your ribs, and refused to let go. I had gone to bed with that pressure in my body, and I woke up the same. Because it wasn't just unease or suspicion—it was fear. Or at least, the closest thing to fear I allowed myself to feel.
And the worst part was, I didn't have a name for it. There was no monster lurking, no strange tracks on the ground, no apocalyptic vision to give me something concrete to stab with my spear. All I had was the image of Artemis—my lady—so shaken, it seemed like even she didn't know exactly what she was doing.
And when Artemis didn't know what she was doing... the rest of us had even less of a clue.
We walked in silence through the forest, the sound of our steps muffled by dry leaves. The Hunters formed a neat line, some wolves patrolled the edges, and hawks flew overhead at intervals, as if they shared our unease. Reyna walked beside me, as serious as always, with that firm expression that sometimes looked carved out of stone. I was grateful for her presence, even if we said nothing. She was one of the few people who could be there without invading, who could accompany without interrogating.
But even she couldn't calm me now.
Along the way, I caught echoes of whispered conversations between the younger ones. Comments about Artemis's sudden order, their confused looks, the sharp tone she'd used when she told us to pack everything. They hadn't seen her like that before. Neither had I.
And I wasn't the only one who noticed. Eighty times we'd been asked—me, the veterans, the ones who'd survived the war—if we had ever seen the goddess behave like that. Eighty times we'd shaken our heads. No. Never. Not even in the hardest battles, not when chaos swallowed the world, not when the losses seemed endless. Artemis had been a beacon—unshakable and serene.
But not this time.
And that one anomaly changed everything.
━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━
Our arrival at Camp Half-Blood was, against all odds, quiet. No demigod screamed, no one fainted, and the satyrs in the woods barely looked surprised. Maybe at this point, they expected anything from us.
As we crossed the magical border, I felt the change in the air—it was like stepping into another world. One more familiar, but not necessarily more comforting. Coming back to camp always stirred something in me. It wasn't nostalgia, not even sadness. It was... like every stone remembered what we had lived through here. What we had won—and even more so, what we had lost.
"Settle into the cabin," I ordered firmly as soon as we paused on the hill. "No questions, no patrols. For now, we rest."
They obeyed without a word, though I could feel their tension just as clearly as my own.
I didn't go with them. I couldn't. I headed alone toward the Big House. Chiron was on the porch in his wheelchair, sipping something warm. He looked up when he saw me, and his expression was exactly what I expected: surprise, followed by concern.
"Thalia," he said, setting the cup aside. "This is unexpected... is everything all right?"
"Something like that," I half-answered. "The Hunters will be staying here for a while. Indefinitely."
He frowned.
"Artemis ordered it?"
"Yes."
"And where is she?"
"She's on Olympus."
A shadow passed over his face. Then he murmured,
"Just like Mr. D..."
He said it softly, but loud enough for me to hear. As if he didn't care that I did. As if he wanted me to.
I crossed my arms. Chiron studied me for a few more seconds, then spoke in that tone he used when he wasn't a teacher or a strategist—just someone who knew when a person was carrying too much.
"What's troubling you?"
I hesitated. I didn't have to tell him anything. I wasn't a camper anymore, I didn't owe him explanations. But... it was Chiron. And he'd been there from the beginning—from my beginning.
"That none of this makes sense," I finally said. "That Artemis doesn't act like this without a reason, and something's building—and no one's telling us what. Again. I have a bad feeling."
He nodded calmly.
"So do I. And I pray to the gods it's not as serious as I suspect. We've had enough tragedy in recent years."
I didn't know what to say to that. I just nodded again. My throat tightened a little, but I didn't let it show. I turned and began to walk away, feeling his gaze on my back.
I started to believe that this time, it wasn't titans about to rise or monsters roaring in the distance. This time, the danger was coming from above.
And it had the shape of gods.
━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━
I had a cheeseburger in my hands.
Normally, that would be enough to cheer me up—even on bad days. But that night... it tasted like cardboard.
The bun was perfect, the cheese melted just the way I liked, and still, I couldn't enjoy it. It wasn't the food's fault, obviously. It was the anxiety—that constant jab in my chest that had been with me since the night before, since Artemis had given us the most baffling order I'd heard in a long time. And without any explanation.
We weren't just an army of girls following orders blindly. Well, okay, we were, but we'd also been surviving together for centuries—well, technically not me, I'm relatively "new"—and we all knew how to read between the lines. If Artemis was this rattled, if she'd broken her usual calm for something so sudden... it meant something big was coming. Something serious. And no one had been able to get more answers.
I tried to keep my face unreadable while I ate with the others, but I couldn't stop my stomach from twisting. The dining pavilion was noisy as always, but to me it felt like I was stuck in a bubble. Distant, somewhere else.
Until I saw her.
Rachel Elizabeth Dare.
Sitting at the table where Chiron and Mr. D usually ate. Right in front of him, eating like she didn't carry the spirit of Delphi on her back. Literally the bearer of the prophecies that dictated our damned lives. She looked calm—too calm. And that's what made me stand up.
"Where are you going?" Reyna asked, seated beside me.
"I need to be alone," I lied, leaving the half-eaten burger on my plate.
I didn't think twice. I crossed the dining pavilion and walked out without looking back. I took a short detour to give her time to finish eating. When Rachel was at camp, she usually stayed in a cave near the border.
After a while, I walked straight there, heart pounding in my ears. I took the steps leading to the cave, knocked on the rock just outside, and she opened the curtain. She didn't look surprised.
"We need to talk," I said, skipping the greetings.
"I knew you'd come," she said, and stepped aside to let me in.
I entered. The cave smelled of paint, old paper, and a bit of damp earth. I didn't sit. I stood in the middle of the room.
"Something's going on," I said. "Something that has to do with the gods. Artemis wouldn't be acting like this for nothing."
Rachel looked at me calmly. Like she was bracing to face a storm she'd already weathered before.
"And what do you want me to do, Thalia?"
"Tell me what you know," I answered. "Tell me if there's something we should be expecting."
She sighed and crossed her arms.
"You're loyal to Artemis, aren't you?"
I nodded.
"Then you can understand that I have loyalties too. There are things I can't say. That I shouldn't say."
"Even if you know something dangerous is coming?"
Rachel narrowed her eyes. She didn't answer immediately.
"I can't confirm that anything is coming," she finally said. "But if—hypothetically—someone ordered me to stay quiet... I would. Because it's the right thing to do."
I tensed. It felt like she had just slammed a door in my face. A door I desperately needed to open.
"You think it's right to leave us in the dark?"
"I think it's right not to betray the trust of the gods who guide me. Just like you would never betray Artemis—even if it meant protecting others."
That was a low blow—because it was true. I had to drop my gaze, even if just for a second. But I pulled myself together.
"So you're not going to help?"
Rachel held my stare, steady.
"I wish I could. But no."
I didn't say anything else. My tongue burned with anger. I turned on my heel and left the cave before I exploded.
The walk back was slow. I tried to calm myself, count to ten, but my hands were shaking. I knew my sisters would notice something was wrong, so as soon as I stepped into the cabin, I headed straight to my room, locked the door, and collapsed onto the bed.
In the dark, struggling to breathe, I realized something: I felt alone. Not because I was physically alone—but because, for the first time in a long while, I had no idea where things were heading. And that was what scared me most.
Because if even the Oracle couldn't speak, then we were in far more trouble than I'd imagined.
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