Chapter 8: The Council's Confrontation

The Great Hall of Camp Half-Blood remained shrouded in tense silence as Chiron's revelation hung heavy in the air. Ezekiel felt a chill creeping down his spine as the weight of Chiron's words settled upon him. Something truly catastrophic was looming on the horizon, and the presence of three children of the Big Three only served to reinforce the gravity of the situation.

As the demigods processed the implications of Chiron's warning, the head of the Ares House, Damien, spoke up once more, his voice thick with skepticism. "And what do you suggest we do about it, Chiron?" he demanded, his tone bordering on accusatory. "Sit idly by and wait for disaster to strike?"

Chiron's gaze remained steady, his expression grave yet resolute. "We must remain vigilant and prepare ourselves for the challenges that lie ahead," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom. "The fate of both gods and mortals hangs in the balance, and it falls to us to ensure that we are ready to face whatever may come."

Ezekiel let out a weary sigh, feeling the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. "When's dinner?" he asked, his voice betraying his hunger. The unexpected question drew surprised glances from his fellow demigods, and Damien's irritation flared.

"I'm not surprised the cause of this catastrophe does not care about the gravity of the situation," Ezekiel remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Just like his war-hungry brute of a father."

Damien's face flushed red with anger, his fists clenched in frustration. "Shut up, Ezekiel," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You're nothing but a pawn in the game of chess being played by the world."

Before Ezekiel could respond, Chiron intervened, his voice firm and commanding. "That's enough," he declared, his tone brooking no argument. "This is not the time for petty squabbles. We must focus on the task at hand."

As Damien stormed out of the Great Hall, the air seemed to grow heavier with tension. The remaining demigods exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of their shared burden pressing down upon them.

Chiron sighed heavily, his expression weary yet resolute. "The meeting is adjourned," he declared, his voice echoing through the hall.

As the demigods dispersed, Ezekiel's stomach growled loudly, a stark reminder of his hunger. He cast a nonchalant glance around the Great Hall, noting the tense atmosphere among the departing demigods. Despite the weighty matters discussed in the meeting, Ezekiel remained unaffected, his thoughts drifting to more immediate concerns—like when his next meal would be.

Chiron, ever observant, caught Ezekiel's hungry expression and offered a small smile. "Hungry, Ezekiel?" he asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

Ezekiel shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Always," he replied casually, his hunger outweighing any lingering concerns about the impending catastrophe. After all, what good was worrying about the fate of the gods when his own stomach rumbled with hunger?

Chiron chuckled softly, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Come, let's find you something to eat," he said, gesturing for Ezekiel to follow him out of the Great Hall.

As they made their way to the dining area, Ezekiel's thoughts momentarily shifted from the weighty matters discussed in the meeting to the more immediate pleasure of satisfying his hunger. After all, even in the face of impending disaster, a demigod's gotta eat.