Chapter 8: My Dad Gives Me A Gift.

Three days was all it too for me to go from being some background camper in the Apollo cabin, to the bitter talk of camp. My siblings did good to avoid talks of the flu I had accidentally spread among the red team during capture the flag, and even Ganymede hushed any mentions of it, but the whispers were still there. All I could do was sit with my head down, and my face covered, avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

Within those three days, however, I discovered that despite my plague-inducing powers, I also had a skill with healing. Myra helped set me up in the clinic, teaching me where everything was, and eventually Cyrus was directing me with medicine making. I never expected to be taught by a ten year old, especially about medical practice on the battlefield. I didn't mind it though, the kid was always excited to be a part of any camp activity. Over time, Cyrus and I had grown close. He would always tell me stories from other campers, or tell me his favorite gods and goddesses, by rank of power. 

Things were going great, until the rumors started spreading. On the evening of the second day, people began to say that the oracle had issued a prophecy to Ganymede. That night, at dinner, Ganymede did seem a bit dazed or lost in thought. I couldn't quite wrap my head around why, until Cyrus tugged at my shirt sleeve. 

"It's about you," he whispered, sitting beside me with his platter of food, "The prophecy. I just… have a feeling about it."

"What?" I nearly choked on my Kool-Aid, looking at him. 

Just when I had thought I was done being the center of attention, all of a sudden I was the center of some rumor about the prophecy being about me. All I could do was hope that either the prophecy rumor wasn't true, or that it wasn't about me. 

The next morning, the third day, I spent the sunrise sitting down by the beach, looking over the water of the Long Island Sound. The sun was unusually bright when it came up, until I realized what was looming next to me wasn't the sun at all. A man stood there, wearing bright white and gold designer clothes and gold framed Ray-Ban sunglasses. He had shoulder length, curly golden hair and tanned skin, as if he were laying out in the California sun every day of his life. Freckles spilled over his face and neck, and he seemed… Familiar. There was a golden glow that emitted heat coming from him, and I felt calm whenever he approached. Then he took off his glasses, and his eyes were a brilliant sky blue, like some of my siblings… As a matter of fact, he looked just like most of my siblings.

"Dad?" I stared at him, the light not really disturbing by eyes. Wherever he walked, flowers seemed to turn to face the warm rays that came from him. I couldn't believe it, was this really the god Apollo?

"Oh, you're the clever one, aren't you? Yeah, save your applause," the god spoke, his voice rather casual despite how he was dressed. He raised his two hands up, as if silencing a crowd, and I cracked a smile- earning one from him. "Y'know Ren, I've been holding out on you. Your mom, Estelle, gods she was a looker, a singer, and one of the greatest people I've ever met."

I had so many questions- How did my mom meet a god? Why didn't he come by every once in a while to say hello? Why did I have plague powers? Apollo's hand came down, resting on the top of my head, and all those questions and worries seemed to melt away.

"I'll let you ask me anything, within reason, of course," Apollo said, sitting next to me, leaning back in the beach chair facing the ocean. "It's not a bad thing to be curious, Ren. And it's not a bad thing to wonder why things are the way they are."

"Are you not like… In a rush? Isn't the sun supposed to move like, super fast?" I looked at the sun slowly rising from the horizon. It was about five thirty in the morning, and the first rays were emerging, the sky painted orange and red.

"I've got autopilot, you know. No worries," he gave a bright smile, then a thumbs up, "I may still be young and rockin' hot, but at least I'm responsible enough for something like that."

"And what about my mom? Or us, your kids?" I blurted, and his smile seemed to shrink, then grew again.

"Well, I don't really have the best history with staying with my lovers, Ren. It's safer this way, but I do still send you guys gifts every once and a while. Have you ever wondered how your mom got that new car? Or how she keeps getting bouquets of sunflowers? Or how her favorite songs play on the radio?" Apollo gestured to himself, "I do that, to send a sign that I'm still looking out for you guys."

"And what about us, your kids? The few that live here year round?" I blinked, wondering exactly what I was saying. Myra and Cyrus stayed year round- Myra's family lived quite far away, and her stepdad was a bit iffy on the whole 'your dad is a god' thing. Her mom contacts her from time to time, which is pretty nice, but using technology as a demigod is extremely risky. Cyrus, however, was saved from an attack in Washington D.C., and was brought here last winter. His mom, unfortunately, didn't make it.

"I visit them from time to time, in person or in dreams. It's hard being a god, Ren. There's a lot of things we can't do when it comes to our kids," Apollo sighed, his smile finally fading, "It's not something we can stop, either. Too much involvement in our kids' lives could cause terrible things. They could become greater targets, they could become bitter and entitled, or they could cause us gods to become too… human. There was a point in my life where I had to face that reality, and… I admire you all more for it."

I stared at him, taking a deep breath in and letting go. He was being honest, and as the god of truth, it wasn't like he could really lie. I mean, he'd probably be absolutely terrible at it, everyone can lie except those that are cursed to tell the truth for eternity.

"When I was sent down as a mortal, Ren, I finally understood exactly what you were all put through. I felt so powerless, so average that I wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and cry," Apollo said, staring up at the morning clouds in the sky. His glow was a bit more dim now, but it was still there, radiating heat. "I made it my mission to see my kids at least a few times in their lifetimes, and now I do it even more than usual. That's why I sent that prophecy to Ganymede."

He pointed a finger to me, and I realized his nails were painted white and yellow. How… fun? Interesting? 

"It's about you."

My eyes widened a little, fixed on that finger, before I looked up at him and blinked. "Why me? Like, I just got to camp a week ago, and now I'm the center of a prophecy?"

"Because you have the skills I granted you as my son, Ren," the hand moved, patting my back as I sat in stunned silence. "No two kids of mine are ever the same. Sure, you may share similar powers, similar traits and hobbies, but your skills are always different. It's all for a reason, Ren. Everything… Is for a reason."

"What exactly is this prophecy?" I finally asked, earning a laugh from Apollo. 

"Ask Ganymede to reveal it to you," Apollo stood up, checking his watch and looking towards the sun, "And he'll tell you exactly what it is. I'll see you, my son. Just make sure to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

I averted my eyes as a brilliant flash of white engulfed the beach. Where my dad one stood, not even footprints were left, but there was a small, shining object left there. I peeked over, standing up and nabbing it out of the sand. It was a golden ring, shaped like an arrow, wrapping around in a circular motion. In the sand below was a white note with golden ink, saying, 'Just look for the light.'

I put the ring on, tucking the note in my pocket, and made my way back to camp. I twisted the ring around my finger, which was beginning to hum in response to my touch. What exactly was it? Lost in thoughts, I turned a corner and ran into someone… 

He was about seventeen- my age- and about an inch or two shorter than me. His face looked dark and dreary, covered in various scars. His skin was almost a caramel tan, and his eyes were a dark, reddish-brown. His hair was, honestly, kinda cool. It was straight, trimmed down to about his cheek bones, and dyed so one half was red and the other was white. He wore a red shirt, with a black leather jacket covered in patches over it, two silver rings on each ring finger, ripped black jeans, and a pair of black hiking boots with red and white laces.

"Watch it," the guy hissed, those red eyes glaring at me. 

"Sorry!" I was quick to reply, but he just rolled his eyes. On the back of his coat, I noticed something- the largest patch was a symbol I had seen before- a broken wheel. I remembered exactly where I had seen it! There were broken wheels and symbols like that all over the Nemesis cabin.

"It's alright," the guy muttered, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, "Just watch out next time, because I ain't fond of people just slamming into my shoulder."

"You're the kid in the Nemesis cabin, aren't you?" And that was my first mistake.

"The kid? Excuse you? I'm not a kid, I'm older than you, Apollo kid," the Nemesis camper rolled his eyes again, "You wanna make an enemy of Nemesis, bud? Be respectful to me, and I'll respect you. That's how this thing works."

I almost wanted to pummel this punk, but he had a point. I just nodded, before holding my hand out in greeting, "My name's Ren, and sorry about running into you and calling you kid."

Surprisingly, the guy took my hand and shook it, "My name's Felix Pearce. Lots of people hate me, lots of people love me. I try to keep it neutral. Taking sides causes too much conflict, I'd rather be the one to weigh in on either or…"

For some reason I understood that. I always hated when two of my friends had gotten in a fight, and they tried to drag me in and convince the other I was on their side. It was terrible, and I am (unfortunately) a people pleaser. 

"I understand that, actually," I gave a small smile, as Felix's brow raised, as if asking 'really?' "There's definitely been times in life when standing in the middle ground was the best bet."

"And you're now stuck having no choice but to pick a side, aren't you?" Felix gestured to the ring around my finger, "Gods don't just give gifts. They have a reason to. They'll either be an aid to a quest, or they'll play a crucial part- and quests mean choices. You gotta choose who you'll take, how you get there, what you'll do, if you even choose to do the quest in the first place."

I felt my heart in my throat, and before I knew it, Felix was walking away. 

"Go, get that prophecy, Ren."

Walking up the steps of the Big House shouldn't have been that nausea inducing, but it was. Each step felt like my legs were made of lead, begging me to stop and go back to the Apollo cabin. By now, the sun was already up in the east, the camp being coated in the warm golden rays. Some campers were out and about getting things ready for the day, or just relaxing by the water. I finally pushed open the doors of the Big House, coming face to face with Ganymede. 

"We've been waiting for you, Ren."

"Who's 'we?'" I immediately retorted, glancing over his shoulder to see Atalanta and Sephora sitting there, both sipping on coffee and looking at the door. 

"We got a prophecy about you," Ganymede stepped aside, letting me in. He closed the door, and I felt the air in the room grow just a little colder. Thankfully, things didn't seem too devastating here, but I knew it was just a matter of time.

"Sit, please. The sooner we get to this, the better, then you can be on your way," Atalanta gestured to the sofa where Sephora was sitting. Why was she here? She wasn't allowed to go on quests, since she was a mortal. Then I remembered that she's one of the camp counselors, so she quite literally has to be here. Not that I cared, I was glad she was with me through this.

Ganymede set down an envelope that had already been opened. It was decorated with hand painted watercolor flowers, and the card inside was addressed to 'Son of Apollo.' I opened it up and opened the green and peach colored card. Written in bronze ink, was quite possibly the strangest poem I had ever set my eyes on. 

The Sun shall find the tears of old,

And set a course for the river gold,

The water poured of the Cupbearer's hand, 

Shall spill of lava, through the land.

"You'll have until sunrise tomorrow to get your quest group together. As you know, three is a sacred number among the gods," Ganymede nodded. "I wish I could tell you more, Ren."

I spent the rest of the day trying to think things through. I knew I would need Jasper, but he wasn't one to do questing, especially one like this. I finally made my mind up- the skills I'd need for the quest weren't necessarily fighting, but it would be nice. My mind immediately thought of Valentine and Jasper, but Valentine wasn't the one. Every time I'd think of someone, my ring would grow cold.

Jasper and… someone else. Jasper and… Layla Anda. The ring grew warmer on my hand as I thought of her. She was a girl from the Hermes cabin, and skilled with a variety of things. She's quick-witted, agile, skilled with a sword and knife, and best of all- she knows how to win. She's capable of playing dirty, to make sure she gets things done. 

I made my way to Cabin Thirteen around two in the after noon, and Jasper was sitting on the old rocking chair. When he saw me approach, he stood up and came down the stairs. 

"Wanna go on a quest with me?" I asked, and Jasper's eyes widened. 

"You don't believe in the superstition?" Jasper asked, before smiling, "Yes! Of course, I'll go."

"What superstition?" I hadn't heard anything about a superstition until now. Like, I knew three was the good number for quests, which I already had set in motion. But there's another superstition?

"People like spreading rumors that Hades kids aren't meant for questing. The issue is, when I went on my previous quest," Jasper trailed off for a moment, avoiding eye contact with me. "It went horribly. It was destined to, though, but of course they needed someone to blame, so Hades kid it was. My companions died, and I had to return alone."

"I don't believe in that kind of stuff. Just like how I don't believe Tyche kids are always lucky, or how Nike kids are always victorious," I gave him a small smile, and he glanced up at me. Something about Jasper was… Different from others. He had a sense of self, not letting his powers or parentage dictate who he was, or what he did. In a way, it set a standard.

"Thanks, Ren. I gotta go pack. Who's going with us?" He asked, straightening his back again, his confidence starting to return.

"Layla, from the Hermes cabin."

"Have you ever even spoken with her, Ren?" Jasper's eyes widened, and I felt my cheeks get warm.

"Not yet, actually, but I have a feeling she's bound to come with us. It's like this tugging in my gut-"

"Are you sure that's not just anxiety?" Jasper cut me off, and we both stared among one another for a moment before breaking into laughter.

"Good one, but no. Not anxiety, it's a feeling that it's the right choice."I finally concluded, and Jasper gave me a nod. 

"Alright, well… Good luck, I'll be ready by dawn. We should meet by the Big House. I'll see if Atalanta can get us a ride lined up. Any idea where we're heading?" asked Jasper, but I didn't know exactly. It just was this inkling in my mind.

"Follow the river of the cupbearer," I mumbled, before nodding. "I'll keep you posted on that, okay? You, me, and Layla- we need to be at the beach at exactly midnight tonight."

"You got it, boss."