Chapter Text
Around 500 BC
The temple of Apollo in Delphi was considered the center of the world – or at least it was to Iris. Now thirteen years old, she had been training to become a priestess for the past three years. The temple was a massive structure of white marble, dazzling in sunlight, fitting for a place dedicated to the God of Light. She looked up at the temple as she walked through the terrace, it cut directly into the mountain, flanked by giant columns that kept the entrance of the temple itself. Even if she had wandered the paths of the sanctuary the temple was part of, Iris couldn’t help but marvel each time at its giantness, its brightness, its godlyness.
Iris dutifully followed the group of priestesses who led her into the temple, as today was the day of her initiation. Today, she would become an oracle, the vessel, the voice of the God of prophecies on Earth. After stepping through the entrance porch, the group crossed a corridor before stopping in front of a three-meter-high statue of the God. The eldest priestess grabbed some incense and lit it. Immediately, a resinous, mystical scent of laurel filled the air. The group knelt before the statue and began praying.
« First, in this prayer, I give pride of place among the gods to the first prophet: Earth. And after her to Themis... who next held her mother's prophetic seat here. Third in line... sat another Titaness, Phoebe, child of Earth. She gave it as a birthday gift to Phoebus Apollo, who takes his name from Phoebe. ...Zeus inspired his mind with the prophet's craft and seated him as the fourth seer; I am on this throne. So Phoebus Apollo is the spokesman for his Father, Zeus. These are the gods I place in the forefront of my prayers. And I pray that Phoebus Apollo guide my voice this day." I
ris and her fellow priestesses recited in unison. The future oracle knew all the prayers to Apollo off by heart. The group rose and, as one, made their way toward a set of chambers below the main floor, unknown to the public. As they entered an antechamber lit by torches, their own shadows were cast onto the walls. Iris' inner tension gradually increased. The priestesses ceremoniously disrobed her from her chiton. Iris felt ill at ease at being naked in front of the other women, but took a deep breath as she remembered all the women in the room had gone through it. She then stepped into the pool, sank into the stone floor, and was filled with warm water perfumed with laurel leaves. The aspiring oracle bathed and coated her body with sacred olive oil in the pool overhung by a statue of their God. She couldn’t help but glance discreetly at the statue, as if Apollo himself were watching her bathe in her birthday suit. The older woman dressed her in an ankle-length, sleeveless white dress and a laurel-made crown.
After purification, Iris was led to another chamber. The priestesses quickly left the room and closed the door, leaving her alone. The room was smaller than the previous one, also lit with torches, although darker. À marble table covered with a white sheet stood on a pedestal slightly lifted compared to the rest of the room. Iris did as she was told and stepped forward to a human-sized statue of the God she would soon be bound to serve, then knelt before it.
« I swear by the eternal hearth of Hestia and the sacred navel of the Earth: my lips shall speak no human deceit. I bind my breath to your vapors; I bind my spirit to your cosmic order. If I falter, let your Light consume me. If I am true, let your voice echo through me to guide the destiny of empires, » Iris prayed out loud.
As she finished her prayer, she did not dare to move, listening for anything unusual, but the room was dead quiet apart from the crackling of the torches. So, slowly, Iris turned around and went forward to the marble table, paying attention to any noise. She carefully lay back on the table as she had been instructed. Time passed, but nothing happened. The future oracle crossed her arms above her chest as she noticed her dress hugged her blossoming bosom. Iris's mind wandered about what would happen next as the priestesses voluntarily left the trainees in the dark about what would happen on their initiation night. A dreading feeling was growing inside her as she lay exposed on this table. Serving the God of prophecies required complete surrender to him – body and soul - and what of all those rituals she had been through tonight, if it wasn’t for…
Suddenly, the rhythm of the crackling flames, her breathing, and her beating heart was interrupted by a noise as if someone else were in the room. Yet, the door remained utterly sealed. She didn’t dare move. As she felt a rush of Light and warmth, she launched into the room. It didn’t feel like a burning summer sun, but rather like a soothing, comfortable warmth.
« Father, my oracles get ever younger as time passes, » a deep masculine voice spoke. « You may get up, little flower » the voice kept speaking softly.
Iris carefully rose, keeping me back turned to him, as she didn’t need to look at him to know who he was. She knew she was supposed to kneel at his feet, but she was too petrified to move, and the God didn’t seem to mind.
« Don’t fret, little one » her lord said with a soothing voice.
« I am sorry, my lord, but aren't you supposed to? » Iris stuttered, but she couldn’t finish her sentence.
‘Take your body.. People would assume that. But I do not need to make you my orAcle. Do I have a reputation for being an insatiable lover? Yes. Is it true? Maybe. But I don’t do teenagers, » he made his point, clearing any misunderstanding. « You may look at me, little one, » the God of Light said, more like an invitation than an order.
Carefully, Iris turned around to face him but didn’t dare to look him in the eyes. He crossed the distance between them until they were inches apart.
« Serve me well, little one, and I shall protect you, » he declared as he caressed his new oracle’s cheek. Then, he disappeared in a flash of Light, leaving Iris wondering what just happened.
For the next three years, Iris honored her God Apollo, prayed for him, and told his prophecies. She was content with life, as her devotion would grant her soul access to Elysium upon her death. Occasionally, he would visit her on mortal land. Iris didn't say anything about their God’s visits to the other priestesses, as she didn’t know whether she was the only one or if he would visit the others, and nobody talked about it. Recently, she had noticed he came more often. Iris was enjoying the view of the verdant valley, overlooked by mountains in the background, in a remote area of the sanctuary. Suddenly, a ray of unnatural sunlight appeared. She looked up and met her God’s eyes. She wasn’t as afraid anymore as when she met him for the first time back on her initiation night. The oracle worked to close the distance between them, as did the God. He wore a radiant smile each time he saw her, genuinely happy to see her and looking forward to it.
« Good afternoon, little flower. It’s beautiful, isn’it? » He said, gesturing at the vastness of the valley and mountains below the sanctuary. *
« A God’s work, no doubt, » Iris replied as the sunrays of a setting sun cast an orange light one last time before going down behind the mountains. They stayed silent side by side, enjoying the spectacle.
« Little flower, there is something I must tell you, » Apollo broke the silence. His face was graver, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. A million thoughts rushed through the priestess's mind. Had she failed him in some way? As a God, Apollo, sitting at the Olympus Council, could do anything he wanted, yet he struggled to say what he wanted to say to Iris. « When your time comes… » he started. « I want you to come with me to my palace on Olympus, » he finished straightly, as a God who wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Iris was left speechless by that statement, as if Apollo didn’t consider the possibility of her not wanting to come with him or refusing him. After processing the latest information, a million thoughts rushed through Iris's mind. Why was he asking that? Had he foreseen her death? Anyway, it wasn’t what Iris had planned for her soul resting place, nor did she display any romantic feelings toward her lord. Noticing her discomfort, Apollo added. « I have built a marble room for you, with a ceiling that can turn to a night sky whenever you wish to hide from my Light. A room that has direct access to a garden of laurel and Iris. I’ll have an infinite amount of silks and jewels brought for you, » The God of Light described the luxuries he would give her as if he was trying to convince her to come live with him on Olympus. In contrast, it seemed he had already decided so and would give her no choice about it. Iris didn’t reply, which finally made Apollo realize something was bothering his pythia.
« Keep your silence. You may bring it with you to Olympus, but you will come, » he said in a terrifyingly smooth voice that bore certainty as he crept closer until the two of them were almost touching, and then he disappeared in a flash of Light.
Apollo didn’t come the next day, nor did he send any sign. He didn't come the second day either. On the third day, Iris had made up her mind. She would leave this place where the connection to him was the strongest. She would leave and hide from him for as long as she could. Even if it broke her heart, she couldn’t remain at the temple anymore. Surely, the Fayes would understand why she had to leave. The pythia packed up a few belongings, leaving behind the fine silks, jewels, and perfumes Apollo had gifted her with. With a last glance, she tiptoed inside the corridor of the priestesses' quarters. The corridor was dead quiet, and Iris went smoothly through it. She crossed the massive terrace and the equally giant plaza where pilgrims would buy offerings. Everything was dead quiet, as it was the middle of the night. Iris expected the Light to burst from the darkness and for Apollo to appear right in front of her, but nothing happened. Taking one last glance at the sanctuary main entrance, the pythia vanished into the night.
For over a year, Iris had managed to avoid Apollo’s sight. He was the God of Light and prophecies. She had become a master of darkness and chaos. She had crafted a meticulous routine over the last year. She would never stay very long in the same place, and each day, she would roll a dice: one meant go north, two meant west, three meant south, four meant east, five meant stay where you are, and six meant do as you wish. Nevertheless, Iris lived on edge as each sunbeam felt like a watchful eye.
Iris sat exhausted beneath a tree somewhere in Mount Cyllene. She had walked for days without encountering any living soul or shelter, sleeping beneath trees that offered sparse protection against winter. Iris could feel the mental shields she built over the past year to block Apollo out of her mind getting weaker and weaker. Finally, days of walking got the better of her, and she dozed off beneath a pine tree. Iris expected to wake up to a freezing cold. Instead, she was under a thick wool blanket in an unfamiliar house. For a moment, she wondered if Apollo had found her, but figured the cabin she was in wasn't luxurious enough for him. The former pythia felt an aching burn in her lungs, thinking the damp, cold weather had taken hold of her. A family of herdspeople had taken her in. For the three days she had been in and out of consciousness because of her fever, the wife Eleni had bathed her burning forehead with a cool water-soaked linen, while her five-year-old daughter Chloe pressed a wooden doll to « keep her safe from monsters ». Sickness had weakened her. She couldn’t roll the dice to randomize her day. Worst of all, the mental barriers she had built to lock Apollo out of her mind were crumbling under the weight of fever. « You have to put out the lamp, Eleni.
If it’s too bright, he’ll see, » Iris murmured, fever spiking again.
« Shuuh, child. It’s the fever speaking, » the mother reassured her, as she pressed a damp cloth on her forehead.
Another cold winter night fell on the valley. Yet, the air inside the canon grew warmer like a nice summer night. The smell of wild thyme and boiled sheep milk was replaced by a sharp, unmistakable scent of blooming laurel trees. Suddenly, Eleni slumped peacefully asleep at the leg of Iris' booth seat. Little Chloe was also soundly asleep on her mattress, completely oblivious to the change in the room. The wooden door of the hut didn’t creak open. Instead, the shadows in the room unraveled, shedding Light until a figure materialized beside Iris' sickbed. Apollo looked at Iris' sick form.
« So this is where the great Pythia hides? » He said, his voice a low, melodious whisper. « Starving, dying from a cold in a peasant’s hut. Is this the freedom you traded me for? » I
ris wondered how she must look. She had traded the finest silks and jewels for worn-out rags. The former pythia closed her eyes. « Please, don’t kill them. They’ve been helping me. Kill me, instead? » She pleaded with the God, her weak voice barely a whisper.
« I am the God of Healing, Iris. I do not inflict plagues on those who offer shelter, » he replied softly as he sat on the edge of her wooden booth seat. Apollo did not move to heal her. Instead, he just stared at her eyes with his cold, calculating ones as a great architect whose design had been disrupted.
« Will you let me die ? » the former pythia asked in a trembling voice.
« Die? You think death is an escape from me? No, my sweet Iris. You, my dear, are an Old soul, meaning you get into another body after your death again and again, » the God of Light explained. Iris didn’t feel any physical pain, but her soul screamed. Apollo’s divine energy cut past her mortal flesh, her past, her memories down to the very spark of her being. « I have marked you, Iris. Now, every time you come back, I will know, like a beacon. You thought you could escape me? Never. You are mine. » Apollo's voice felt distant now, as her life began to fade away.
As her life faded, a realization hit her. She had done all of this for nothing, as she never had a chance to reach Elysium from the very beginning. She had condemned her future selves to being chased by a God, and they would not know why. In the morning, the family of shepherds woke up to find the girl they had cared for gone.
2500 years later, the Sun sat on a sofa in his palace on the uninhabited Greek island of Delos, looking at a portrait of one of Iris's reincarnations. Sometimes, he had meddled with her life, posing as a mortal, toying with her, seducing her before vanishing, breaking her heart as she had broken his. Sometimes, he would let her live her life without interfering. Now, 2500 years later, he had matured, and he was tired of playing. The God of Light was currently at a locket containing a miniature of Sybil – Iris's reincarnation as a noblewoman during the American Civil War, and the last time he sought her out. Now, Apollo could feel his mark on Iris's soul fading away, like a lightbulb dimming when it reached the end of its life. In a few decades maybe, his mark would stop shining. Would Iris stop reincarnating, or would she be lost in a crowd? « Soon, my love, » the God whispered.
Lily looked out her window at Blackwood Boarding School, nestled at the edge of the Oregon forest. From the outside, it looked like an average boarding school for rich kids, whereas its students were unclaimed children of Olympian gods, a school for children whose godly parents never bothered about them. The curriculum carefully balanced the humanities to give students the best chance at a normal life with managing their godly powers. Lily was now sixteen years old. She had lived there during school periods, returning to her mother’s home in Northern California.
Summer was slowly reaching its end, meaning the leaves would fall off the trees, launching their shadows in every direction, shadows Lily could manipulate as she wished. Lily had managed this ability since she was a toddler. She remembered that when she was angry or sad, sitting on the wooden floor in the living room of her mother’s home, the shadows would come to her and pat her hands like pets, bringing her comfort. Lily did not know who her Father was, but she assumed he was a minor deity of the night, as she always had found solace in a cold winter day more than a sunny summer day. Nothing would bring her more comfort than a starry night, which made the heatwave coming at her even more troubling. It didn’t feel like the soft warmth of a hearth, but more like an intense summer heatwave. Lily panted, suffocating. Lily refused to go down. She pictured a cold starry night and hit the heatwave full force.
Thousands of miles away, in Delos, the air inside Apollo’s perfectly tempered palace became burning. He looked at his hand; his perfect divine palm had turned red—a burning mark. The God of the Sun was shocked. His heatwave didn’t just bounce back. It had been thrown back, bearing a freezing bite worthy of the Underworld itself. Apollo looked at his now healed palm. Tentatively, he tried to reach again where his heatwave came back from, only to stumble upon a cold black obsidian fortress. He understood now. Obsidian had acted like a mirror and thrown his power back. Unfortunately, it revealed nothing about its owner's location. The God of the Light returned to his mind. He smiled. He thought he wasn’t in the mood for the games he had played with Iris reincarnations over the centuries. But it had turned into a much more exciting game: a fortress to conquer.
The first rays of dawn shone over Camp Half-Blood, but Rachel Dare had already been awake, lying in her bed for hours. For the third day in a row, as the sun peeked, she rose from her bed and headed toward the beach. She wore an oversized sweatshirt to shield herself from the fresh mornings of this summer's end. She had brought her sketchpad to try to draw and make sense of the dreams she was having, but her hand stayed motionless as she couldn’t translate what she was experiencing.
« Rachel, » Percy Jackson slowly came forward, careful not to startle the Oracle, as he knew the prophetic powers could take a toll on his friend sometimes. « You’ve been out there every morning for three days. « Always the same dream? Poseidon’s son inquired.
« Yes, the ancient Light is twisting and turning, waking up something just as ancient, if not more. This thing is acting like a mirror to the Light, » the modern Pythia explained, leaving the part where this ancient thing felt familiar like a name ready to be spoken out willingly, as she wasn’t ready to share this information yet.
« The ancient Light? You think it’s Apollo, » Percy asked.
« Maybe, I think someone took something away from him, a long time ago. But it’s not dead, and it’s waking up, » Rachel answered with a fragile voice. Percy didn’t pressure her into saying more, as it was an unspoken rule amongst demi-gods never to pressure the Oracle, as her powers were both a blessing and a burden. At this moment, it felt like a burden to Rachel.
As soon as her roommate, Amber – a daughter of Athena- entered their bedroom, Lily ordered her to lock the door. They were both sixteen years old and had been assigned the same room where they first came to the boarding school. Since then, they had become inseparable. Amber’s quiet and logical nature soothed the short-tempered Lily. Amber had never seen her best friend so distraught, and it took a lot to impress Lily.
« I was attacked, » Lily said directly, as she knew it was pointless to try to hide something from Amber.
« By a monster? Aren’t we supposed to be safe behind the school’s shields? » Amber asked.
« It wasn’t a monster, » Lily lowered her voice. « It was a heatwave. The air became burning in a second as if someone opened an oven’s door, » she still tried to make sense of what happened.
« A fire attack? Well, there are children of Ares or Hephaistos who like to have fun, but they wouldn’t dare to turn on the heat that much, » It was Amber’s character to try out a logical explanation for everything. « What did you do? »
« I panicked. I pictured a cold starry night, and I just threw the heatwave where it came from, wherever that was, » Lily replied, still not knowing what she did. Amber let out an impressed but worried whistling.
« Lily, your power is to manipulate shadows. Throwing back someone else’s energy is difficult magic, but she had none to offer, so she chose to change the subject instead. « Come, it’s almost dinner time, and I saw some newcomers. »
The two friends headed toward the dining hall. Still shaken after the incident, Lily chose a remote table with Amber. Suddenly, a boy she had never seen before passed by, carrying a meal tray.
« Hey. Is this seat empty, or have the shadows already claimed it? » he asked with a crooked smile. There wasn’t an ounce of teasing in his voice. Lily looked up. The newcomer had entered the school today. His short, curly brown hair and deep green eyes, which reminded Lily of pine needles after the rain, gave the boy a casual charm. Contrary to other students who would exhibit their powers, he was radiating a calm – almost ordinary aura. « You can sit, » Amber smiled at him. « I’m Amber, and this is Lily. « Nate, » he introduced himself as he sat.
« I just came from a small town in Oregon. I dare say a manor full of people who can move objects without actually touching them is way cooler than biology classes in high school, » he tried to break the ice. As dinner went on, Lily found herself relaxing. Nate had a contagious l’augmentation, and for once, nobody was talking about divine lineage, prophecies, or wars.
« Who’s your godly parent? » Amber asked, earning a dire look from her roommate.
« I don’t know. I am undetermined. But I guess it is not Ares since I prefer drawing rather than mastering combat skills, » Nate still tried to be funny despite being ill at ease. For the first time in a very long time, Lily felt butterflies in her stomach, like a soft human warmth, nothing like the aggressive heat from earlier.
In his palace, Apollo was pacing back and forth. He hadn’t been bested for a long time, and he had been bested by the spirit of his former pythia on top of that, and he still had no clue about her current location. Furthermore, the fact that she could sense his heatwave changed the order. Even if he knew where she was, she would sense him coming miles away. He needed to send someone as a scout- someone people trust at first sight: Percy Jackson.
The next day, as the two friends entered their mythology classroom, Lily chose the farthest seat from the window as the sunlight reminded her of the attack she had experienced the day prior. She met Nate’s gaze, who was sitting two rows away, and smiled back at him. Then their teacher, Mr Angeles, asked for silence and switched on the projector.
“Today, we are going to study the conséquences of breaking a sacred vow by talking about Iris, the runaway pythia,” the professor started. Mr. Angeles flashed up slides of ruins until he stopped on a fragment of a fresco displayed at the Louver Museum. It represented the face of a young girl.
“She looks like you,” Amber gently nudged her.
“Nonsense,” Lily whispered back. But after taking a closer look, Lily couldn’t deny there was indeed a slight resemblance.
“Twenty-five centuries ago, Iris was the greatest pythia of her time. She swore absolute loyalty to Apollo. She was his voice on Earth. But mortals are weak creatures controlled by fear and selfishness. For futile reasons, she broke her vow and ran away, condemning the world to blindness for over a year,” the teacher explained while pacing the alley between seats. “ The legend tells that after a year of hiding in the shadows, Apollo found her dying from sickness in a shepherd’s hut. To punish her, he didn’t heal but marked her soul like a permanent beacon, ensuring that no matter how many times she would reincarnate, she would always belong to him.” The professor’s voice hardened.
The class fell silent, as it seemed unfathomable that the Pythia would break her sacred vow. “Well, of course, we’re speaking about centuries of reality mixed with fiction,” the professor lightened the mood.
During the lesson, Lily had been sketching the shadows she saw in the classroom until a vision so intense it pierced the paper with her pencil. Smell of laurel, a burning sensation, and a masculine voice screaming “you’re mine”.
“Are you all right, Lily? You look so pale,” Amber whispered, concerned.
“I’m fine,” Lily replied, retrieving her composure. Fortunately, the bell rang, releasing her from this uncomfortable situation.
Evening came, and the students gathered at the ruins of a cabin on school grounds to celebrate the beginning of a new term. Lily and Amber were drinking beers that a classmate had managed to infiltrate on campus.
“ So what about the vision you had in class?” Amber asked directly. “
Well, I felt as if all the parts of the legend Professor Angeles told us about were true. If the Pythia is constantly reincarnating, what if I am her?” Lily asked, but Amber was used to her friend’s excesses.
“Don’t you think it’s far-fetched? To think you’re the runaway pythia because you had a three-second vision. I mean, you’re a demi-god; having vision is fairly common,” Amber rationalized.
Lily didn’t admit it out loud, but Amber was right. Still, the shadows started to become stiffer as if they sensed their mistress was in danger. Amber caught her roommate’s wrists to make her look her in the eyes.
“Let’s not panic. You have a godly parent even if we don’t know who he is. You pushed back an attack yesterday, meaning you’re not defenseless,” Amber didn’t say it out loud, but she had suspicions about the identity of Lily’s divine parent. Given the extent of her powers, he couldn’t bé a minor deity, and only one major deity had the power to manipulate shadows.
Suddenly, a crooked smile appeared on Amber’s face. “I have to be somewhere right now.” Amber quickly slipped away.
Lily turned around and began to smile when she noticed Nate had just joined them. The two distanced themselves from the party until they reached the old stone stairs and stayed there just staring at the stars.
“You said you came from a small town in Oregon. How was it like?” Lily tentatively tried to break the ice.
“Chaotic. My human mother died when I was six, and I went around from one foster home to another as weird things happened around me. Plants would grow faster. So, I never stayed for longer than a year in the same place. People would assume I was a troubled guy. I don’t know which God threw me on Earth, but I know what it’s like not to know who you are,” Nate opened to her. Touched by his openness, Lily decided to share some of her past.
“My life was different but also very isolated. I grew up with my mother in a small town in Northern California. We lived in a house at the edge of the forest, remote from the town. She always knew I was different. As a child, I preferred going outside at night rather than during the day, hiding in the shadows. She called me the brightest star in the sky. She sent me there when my powers started to grow stronger.” Lily explained fondly. Nate softly put his hand on Lily’s.
“Your mother was right. You are the brightest star in the sky. You don’t have to hide in the shadows alone anymore.” For the first time in a long time, Lily felt a connection grow with someone other than her mother and Amber.
Early morning, Camp Half-blood converged in the dining cabin to break their fast. Birds chirped, and a soft sea breeze lightened the atmosphere, stirring the camp banners. The scent of pine trees mixed with saltwater lingered in the air. Demi-gods were chatting until Chiron, in his centaur form, clapped his hands to ask for silence. He was talking about training schedules when Rachel Dare entered the cabin with a crash and stood in the middle of the room. The chatter died instantly as everyone knew what this meant. Everyone hung on her every word, but she couldn’t see them.
“Rachel,” Chiron inquired gently but firmly.
The Oracle didn’t respond. Then, the sky changed. First came the cold – her breath becoming visible as a fog, and the dawn turned dark like a moonless night. Just as quickly, a suffocating warmth followed. As quickly as it happened, the atmosphere came back to normal, and Rachel’s eyes snapped open.
“A tiny bundle of Light coming from the depths of time.
The muse of the Light
Daughter of the Night, Fortress of Darkness
If the Night refuses the bend, the Father’s wrath will make the heavens end.
A choice of blood and gold on the horizon
Where the truth of the Gods will be the ultimate prison
The Pythia breaks the chains
No longer an instrument, no longer a slave,
She rises as a sovereign from the depths of her grave,”
Silence. One heartbeat. Two. Then, Rachel collapsed
Night was heavy and abnormally calm above Delos. The God of Light was sleeping soundly,unknowingly laid low by the energy of his own oracle. Apollo stood in his Delphi temple as it was 2500 years ago, except that the white marble floor was cracked. In the center of the room, Iris sat on the sacred tripod, except that she looked like Iris, but she wasn’t Iris. They shared the same features, but her skin was darker, and her black hair was curlier. She wore a summer flower dress with a leather jacket instead of the traditional chiton. Her eyes were no longer deep green but black, with hints of shining diamond.
“A tiny bundle of light coming from the depths of time,” a choral voice echoed.
“Iris,” the master of the temple called.
“Lily,” the girl finally acknowledged him.
Apollo tried to move forward to her, but he couldn’t, as if his legs were made of lead. The golden chains – which he had forged with this light to tie her soul to his were tied to her wrists. Iris or Lily looked at him. She wasn’t the terrified little girl dying in a shepherd’s hut anymore. She clenched her fists, and the divine chains shattered like common glass. She rose from the tripod and walked toward the exit of the room without giving him a single look. Apollo couldn’t do anything to stop her as he was still unable to move. Apollo woke up with a start from his nightmare. The moon was still high in the night sky, except that the God of prophecies didn’t dream. He had visions. He had just met Lily, Iris's latest reincarnation.
“Lily,” her name rolled on his lips.
At Camp Half-Blood, Percy, Rachel, and Chiron stood straight as ramrods in the latest’s office. Rachel, now feeling better, held a steaming teacup.
“A tiny bundle of light coming from the depths of time.
Daughter of the Night, Fortress of Darkness,” the centaur whispered.
“Something ancient that used to be linked to the Light came back into something – or rather someone – that is linked to Darkness”
“If the Night refuses to bend, the Father’s wrath will make the heavens end.” Percy focused on the next sentence:
“Who is the father? Zeus?” Percy inquired, as it seemed the most logical explanation, but the son of Poseidon was well aware that prophecies only obeyed their own logic. He focused on the second part of the prophecy, hoping it would give him the answer.
“If the Pythia breaks the chains,” Percy stopped reading, and his eyes rose from Rachel’s sketchpad to look at his friend. The modern Pythia didn’t need him to say it out loud to know what he was thinking.
“Stop, Percy. I don’t think it’s me, as I have no link with either the Night nor the Darkness,” Rachel replied calmly. “I believe we’re talking about the spirit of a former Pythia,” she continued.
“ I believe I know who this prophecy is about,” Chiron sighed. “A little-known legend of Greek mythology. The Pythia who defied Apollo”
“So this Pythia reincarnated into a daughter of the Night. Well, she found the perfect shield from Apollo,” Percy snapped out of it after the activity leader told the story. “So the Father could very well be Zeus or her Father? Erebus maybe?” Rachel tried
“We need to figure that out quickly because he’s gonna wreak bloody havoc on Olympus,” the demi-god added. “
Don’t forget the Pythia is likely going to defy Apollo again and she won’t run this time,” Chiron cut in. “Well, I believe we have a quest.”
Lily stood at the edge of a cliff. On the one side, a green meadow overlooked by an azure sky. The God Apollo was playing the lyre.”
“Come back to me,” the melody said. On the other side, a pit of darkness overlooked by a clear, calming night sky. The presence that emanated from it felt calm and protective. It was the same energy as the shadows that had cradled her since childhood. The scenery changed. Lily was chained to a bronze tripod in a ruined temple; Apollo in all his glory was moving forward toward her, holding a golden laurel crown “No,” Lily shouted. Her voice sounded like an earthquake. The violence of the déflagration woke her up.