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THIRTY SEVEN, prophecy of her own
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ASTER HAD BEEN PACING in front of the Big House for almost ten minutes, her heart beating fast. It was ten minutes to curfew, so the camp was dark besides the porch lights on the Big House and what remained of the sunset. All campers were in their cabins, and Aster knew that she had to make a choice to go inside or go back to her cabin so she wouldn't get eaten by the harpies who regulated curfew. But that fact didn't do anything to help her internal turmoil.
She knew she had to speak to Chiron about what had happened with Annabeth on Polyphemus's island eventually (sooner rather than later, if Luke's threat was to be taken seriously), but she was so scared what speaking it aloud to him would do. Telling Steve about it was one thing—she trusted him with every one of her secrets. Telling Chiron would make it real, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that.
It'd been less than twelve hours since Thalia had returned, and that might have been the reason Aster's head was so muddled. Thalia passed out in Percy's arms shortly after she revealed her identity, so Aster hadn't had the opportunity to speak with her, but that was all she wanted to do. The daughter of Zeus was in the infirmary, sleeping away. As Camp Half-Blood's head healer, Lee Fletcher said he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't wake up for a week. He had no idea what the effects of Zeus's changing would have on her, and what the reverse of it would do. Aster's time was spent split between worrying for Thalia and worrying about this new power.
Aster thought she'd finally gained the courage to walk inside and speak to Chiron when a familiar voice behind her spoke her name, so softly that she thought she imagined it.
"Hello, Aster."
Aster turned to see a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and kind hazel eyes that seemed to flicker and change colors every second. She smiled warmly at Aster, and for some reason, she thought she knew this woman. She carried a small mason jar that glowed, like a fire. Her aura was familiar, but Aster didn't recognize her. Although the magical border had been repaired by the Golden Fleece, Aster didn't want to take any chances for anything to be a monster in disguise.
"Hi," Aster replied, hesitantly. "Who are you?"
"Of course, you would not recognize me—you and I have never met." The stranger laughed to herself. "I am Hestia."
Aster's mouth nearly fell open. "Hestia? As in, the goddess of the hearth?" The goddess nodded. Aster immediately bowed her head. "Good evening, my lady."
Hestia waved one of her arms gracefully. "No, none of that. That's much too formal for me. Hestia will do just fine."
Aster looked warily at the goddess—sometimes gods like Ares and Hera liked to play tricks like this—but she complied. "Alright. What do you need, Hestia? I'm sure you haven't come to Camp Half-Blood just for the views."
