𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 • 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯

We Have Some Bad News

A/N: Sorry for being so absent! I've just finished moving countries, and with school, and getting adapted, I completely forgot to update this book!

I've also been very busy with other drafted stories which will be original stories. I have published two of them, and the rest are still in my drafts. 

I have also an extra one, but that one I plan to actually publish into a proper book. If you want to find out more about it, you can check out my public, Instagram writing account: @emi_masena_sellanes

Without further ado:

Y/n's Pov:

If you want to be popular at Camp Half-Blood, don't come back from a mission with bad news. 

Word of our arrival spread as soon as we walked out of the ocean. Our beach is on the North Shore of Long Island, and it's enchanted so most people can't even see it. People don't just appear on the beach unless they're demigods or gods or really, really lost pizza delivery guys. (It's happened—but that's another story.) 

Anyway, that afternoon the lookout on duty was Connor Stoll from the Hermes cabin. When he spotted me, he got so excited he fell out of his tree. Then he blew the conch horn to signal the camp and ran to greet me. 

Connor had a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humour. He's a pretty nice guy, but you should always keep one hand on your wallet when he's around. Word of advice: do not, under any circumstances, give him access to shaving cream unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it. He's got curly brown hair and is a little shorter than his brother, Travis, which is the only way I can tell them apart. They are both so unlike Luke, it's hard to believe they're all sons of Hermes. 

"Y/n!" he yelled. "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?" 

Then he saw our expressions, and his smile melted. "Oh, no. Poor Silena. Holy Zeus, when she finds out. . ." 

Together we climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred yards away, people were already streaming toward us, smiling and excited. They're back, they were probably thinking. They've saved the day! Maybe they brought souvenirs! 

Percy, Grayson, and I stopped at the dining pavilion and waited for them. No sense rushing down there to tell them what a loser I was. 

I gazed across the valley and tried to remember how Camp Half-Blood looked the first time I ever saw it. That seemed like a bazillion years ago. I remember the mixed feelings I felt entering, and it pained me to think about the fact that Luke isn't my friend any more.

From the dining pavilion, you could see pretty much everything. Hills ringed the valley. On the tallest, Half-Blood Hill, Thalia's pine tree stood with the Golden Fleece hanging from its branches, magically protecting the camp from its enemies. The guard dragon Peleus was so big now I could see him from here—curled around the tree trunk, lending up smoke signals as he snored. 

To my right spread the woods. To my left, the canoe lake glittered and the climbing wall glowed from the lava pouring down its side. Twelve cabins—one for each Olympian god—made a horseshoe pattern around the commons area. Farther south were the strawberry fields, the armoury, and the four-story BigHouse with its sky blue paint job and its bronze eagle weathervane. 

In some ways, the camp hadn't changed. But you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the fields. You could see it in the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill. 

There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never come back. Some had died fighting. Others—we tried not to talk about them—had gone over to the enemy.