Chapter Text
Sun poured down over Long Island, and Dominik sat at the edge of the beach, eyes on the horizon. He’d been for a swim, somewhat disagreeing with the cold, but it wasn’t too bad. Most of the other campers were waking now, his early-morning habits rarely went unnoticed, but at least his own siblings left him alone.
A black sheep in a cabin of pink and perfume, he hated it.
Hated that of all the Godly parents he could’ve had, all the women his father could’ve picked, it would be the Goddess of Love .
Aphrodite was no joke, he’d learned he couldn’t make jokes about her, but still.
He didn’t fit with his siblings. Not one bit. Each of them seemed shiny and beautiful, pretty and smiley and then there was him.
More similar to a crow amongst doves; he stood out not only in look but in height, towering over even the tallest of his brothers at sixteen. Strong but not the strongest, he preferred the spears and swords to his siblings’ love of the mirror.
Since his protector had brought him here, bloodied and beaten, he hadn’t seen his father once.
Uncertain of why, because not only was his father supposedly a good man, his father had been one of the most respected demigods around. A warrior in his own right, a son of Hermes, he had been infamous. His claims of war still lay in the attic of the Big House, though Dominik hadn’t looked upon them in years.
The mystery of where Rey Mysterio had gone was almost a faded whisper these days, only remembered when his only son wandered past bitter and quiet.
An orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt lay crumpled at his side and he frowned at the water, wondering. Posideon’s only son was still gone on his quest, Roman Reigns at eighteen, he had taken two of his cousins from Ares’ Cabin, Solo and Nia, and two more cousins and a friend from Apollo, Jimmy, Jey and Seth, as well as Dean from Nemesis, to finish this iteration of the Nemean Lion off, returning with some great trophy. He was prolific, at thirteen he had completed his first quest and each year since , had brought another great victory back to the camp.
This was different though.
In the eight years Dominik had spent at camp (longer than anyone else currently there) nobody had ever been gone this long.
Four months.
Fellow campers grew antsy, the Ares Cabin was on edge. Two of their siblings gone, with almost no communication in nearly a month.
A darkness of sorts had fallen over the camp.
“Sup,” came a familiar voice, then a boot nudged his leg, “you moping?”
Rhea blotted out the sun, standing over him with her dark hair hanging around her face. She was smiling, familiar dark makeup on her face, and sometimes he thought it seemed strange that they were not siblings, for they looked alike as two birds from the same nest.
Though, she superseded him with a blade. And the spear. And most weapons, unfortunately.
That came with being a child of the Big Three.
Hades’ power radiated from her, from her very being, the world seemed a little darker around her. Others might’ve found that unpleasant, but he didn’t mind it too much.
Darkness was rather more familiar to him, at least so more than his cabin’s bright warmth. His siblings radiated flush, laughter, fluttering heartbeats and charming smiles, and he did not. They would make sure he knew of that, too.
“Not moping,” he told her, “ relaxing.”
Relaxing in front of the ocean, his eyes occasionally focused on the Cabin 3, the seastone walls, for some weeks he’d been doing this. He wasn’t sure why, but Dominik knew something had changed recently. With the sea, with the quest perhaps, maybe even with their champion.
Unlike Roman, a boy who seemed destined for glory, Rhea was far less fortunate.
Yet to go on a quest, though she was sixteen, perhaps her father had not permitted the Gods to test her, but she itched for freedom, and he saw it in her eyes each day. In the way she trained, the way she hit hard, even harder than the Ares kids, the way she marched to Chiron’s door each week and pleaded to be allowed to go out on her own.
Never, they had never let her.
Perhaps it was because of the prophecy.
Two souls alike as dark and light,
One blade to keep she will take,
Together they must fight,
Lest the earth below them break.
The day she’d came to camp, that prophecy had spewed from the corpse.
Evidently, it was about her.
A sweet soul of dark.
Whoever else, nobody knew.
Since that day, the prophecy had been word of reason, rumour, and the source of her agonising overthinking - Rhea would talk at least once a week of that goddamn prophecy, wondering if it still even mattered . If it would even happen, or if she’d be salted here until she turned eighteen and the monsters came for her anyway.
Dominik pulled his shirt over his head and stood, stretching slightly. “How’d you know I’d be here?” He asked, running a hand through his wet hair.
“You come here to mope .” She poked his shoulder. “Mopey-man.”
At sixteen, she was strong, her arms rippling with muscle, and her hair longer each day - she’d cut it off some years ago but he thought she suited it more like this.
“I had a bad feeling.” He admitted, following her up the path towards the camp. Cabin 3 fell into the distance behind him, and he stared around the pavilion ahead of him.
Few campers were already around, awake and going about their daily business.
Inhaling his breakfast with the usual fervour was Otis, a round boy with curly brown hair from Apollo’s Cabin, deep in discussion with one of Dominik’s half-sisters, Maxine. The pair of them were odd, friends with a speedy kid from Hermes’ Cabin, Akira, and at least he supposed he wasn’t the only odd one from his siblings. Maxine was pretty, but she seemed less bothered with that and more with helping her friends get better at fighting.
Funny, because he’d seen her drop a dulled training blade on her foot and cry.
“You always have bad feelings.” Rhea rolled her eyes, waving across the camp towards some of their friends. “Try having a good feeling, for once.”
“Okay, Princess of Darkness.” He retorted, and ducked out of her swinging fist.
In the motion, he tripped over his sneakers and nearly went flying into the campfire, squawking and flailing until she grabbed his arm, yanking him upright.
“Dork.”
They continued arguing all the way across the pavilion, pushing each other around and spitting insults, till they came to arrive in front of a group of familiar faces.
Two brothers and sons of Hermes, Finn and JD, skinny and strong and always doing something wrong, were deep in discussion, arguing with each other loudly (as usual) and gesturing to each other. Ignoring them was Damian, a son of Ares and ever an intimidating figure. He had chains braided into his loc'd hair and silver piercings - even a tattoo - despite the fact he was seventeen.
All of them together looked a bit like an angry emo band, but Dominik tried not to think about that too much.
“Was he moping?” Damian asked.
He frowned at Rhea, then turned to the taller kid. “I wasn’t moping!”
“He’s got a bad feeling.” She wiggled her fingers either side of his head and he batted them away, rolling his eyes. “Dom-Dom says there’s something bad on the horizon.”
Finn laughed. “If there was a bad thing every single time you thought there was, Dom, Camp Half-Blood would be cinders and ashes, brother.”
Cinders and ashes.
In his dreams, only the skeletons of the cabins remained.
Pillars burnt and bodies decimated, no pavilion, only crumbled marble and darkness.
A single figure amongst the ruins.
What they meant, he didn’t know.
Not a prophet, not a son of Apollo born with the future in his eyes, he was a son of love. And that made little sense in this day and age, and even less sense with his own dreams.
Perhaps he was speaking to the Hypnos boys too much these days. His dreams haunted him like the memories of his father long gone.
But Dominik Mysterio was not a prophet.
Likely nor a champion, a hero.
“Whatever,” he shrugged it off, “I’m gonna go spar after breakfast.”
JD stuck his hand up. “I’ll come!”
Snickering slightly at the skinny guy’s enthusiasm, he nodded.
Still, the bad feeling stayed with him. Through breakfast and the fruit he dropped into the fires, thinking of his mother for a brief second, wondering if she ever looked over him. Other children of the Goddess of Love had gifts, he thought of his younger half-sister Tiffany and the glow she carried with her wherever she went, charmspeak a blessing, or to Austin, a guy who looked more like a Ken-doll than a seventeen year old boy, his ability to swoon even the prettiest girl unparalleled.
He was less fortunate.
No goddamn gifts, not even a little bit of that glow that fell over the kids of Aphrodite when they were claimed. Eight year old him had stood sallow and scowling, one eye shut with bruising, the symbol of love hanging over his head. Someone had laughed .
By the time they arrived at the pantheon to practice, the skies had turned grey. Still warm, almost unpleasantly so, but the clouds were dark over Camp Half-Blood.
Rare.
Usually the whole place reflected the best of the seasons, sun in summer, delicate snow in winter, greenest of green grass in spring and leaves the colour of fire in fall.
Not these deep grey skies.
Thung! His blade clashed against JD’s and they bounced off each other, sweat dripping down. Dominik prowled and pounced, the skinny son of Hermes was fast and quick but not as strong, so they clashed well. He reached further with longer limbs, sword dancing through the air.
For a taller guy, he was still fast.
A few other campers were sparring, grouped off, and the pair of them darted around like moths over the flame, hardly distinguishable from second to second as they danced.
Clink! JD’s sword caught at the buckles on his trousers, metal clashing, the beads around Dominik’s neck rattling together, eight clay beads for eight years - six of them were tales of Roman Reign’s quests. One blue for the daughter of Athena, Charlotte Flair, one red for the daughter of Apollo, Becky Lynch, whose quests had gone one year after the other.
Best friends who’d fallen apart, crumbled. He remembered Charlotte returning from her quest without her friend, they had left each other when Becky found a calling of her own. To this day, nobody truly knew what had happened to them.
Since, not a single child of Apollo had been granted a quest.
Whatever she’d done, nobody was certain, but her cabin had suffered for it.
Tsh! Silvers crossed and he caught the smaller kid off guard, blade to his neck with a grin.
Someone whistled and he glanced over his shoulder. Bianca, the deputy-head counsellor of Athena cabin, was nodding in approval. “Good catch,” she called, “you’re getting better, Mysterio!”
Like he hadn’t always been a pretty damn good swordsman.
She was right though, he’d improved.
He let the smile cover his face for a moment, pushing his hair out of his face and dancing from foot-to-foot.
As JD went to strike, footsteps came thudding down into the amphitheatre , both of them dropping their weapons and squinting up into the sun.
Once again, her dark figure stood over the sun, but this time, Rhea wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were wide, her hair whipping through the air as she ran down towards them all.
“There’s a new camper!” She yelled. “A new - shit - there’s a new camper! She killed - fuck - I don’t even know what, I don’t even know how she’s alive!”
Everyone rushed up towards the pavilion, and Dominik felt his gut sink significantly. His dreams had been dark, and this was unusual.
Only a few protectors were out right now, off the top of his head he wasn’t even sure who , which satyrs, there were so few demigods these days that it was rare . So rare in fact, that each new camper was near a myth , that all of them wanted to see who or what this new person was. “They’re saying,” Rhea was panting, “the prophecy-“
Her voice cut off with a gasp of air, but he got the drift.
Finally, what she’d been damn waiting for.
“Prophecy kid finally here?” Exclaimed Naomi, a bright daughter of Iris whom he actually didn’t mind too much, despite her affinity for neon. “Shit, Rhea, you’d better get yourself together!”
Next to her, Bianca giggled.
Head Counsellors of their respective cabins, the two of them were well-liked, nice and good at fighting, at leading, all of the above. Behind them was Alexa, Hecate’s daughter, a slightly weird but mostly amicable girl he liked enough, and his other two friends, Damian and Finn, who’d been waiting for the daughter of Hades, joined them in the dash up the hill.
To his surprise, they were stopped at the Big House. Chiron stared down at them all and shook his head, dismissing them all.
All, except Rhea.
And to his surprise, Dominik.
“You, son,” said the centaur, “stay.”
So he did, lingering from side to side.
Rhea shot him an odd look.
In the meeting room of the Big House was Raquel Rodriguez, a daughter of Nemesis, who looked equally as confused as he felt. She was big, tall and strong and lean, even taller than Rhea, with a vicious streak, but he’d luckily never faced that. In fact, he found her quite nice, she was one of the few other campers he often spotted swimming down the coast in the early mornings, though they never did talk. Also an all-year camper, she’d been here six years, almost as long as him.
Chiron had shrunk into his wheelchair, puttering across the wooden floorboards with the God of Wine and Madness at his side.
Though he wouldn’t admit it, Dominik found Dionysus one of the most frightening gods he’d met.
Not that he’d met that many.
A son of Aphrodite was rarely looked upon, rarely blessed with such grace.
But he knew the power of Dionysus.
Madness was just as much of a threat as a blade or arrow.
“What’s happening?” Rhea asked. Her hands were practically dancing at her sides, fiddling with her rings anxiously. The four clay beads upon her neck marked each of Roman’s great braveries, and he knew she wanted one of her own so desperately it hurt. “Is it the prophecy-“
“We think.” Said Chiron softly. “The girl is with the healers now. Her satyr was killed just beyond the boundaries of camp, and she managed to defeat an empousa.”
Dom’s eyes bugged out of his skull and he gawked. “An empousa?”
As a child, his father had told him stories of those beasts.
Evil, damn near impossible to defeat.
“Yes, Daryl.” He scowled at the camp director. “An empousa. Somehow, the brat managed it with no training, but hey, what do you know? Maybe she got lucky.”
It was Raquel who spoke first, tugging at the cut-sleeves of her orange camp t-shirt. “Why was the empousa so close to camp?” She asked eventually. “I mean, they never come this close, do they?”
Shaking his head, the centaur sighed. “Something is brewing.”
Ignoring the strange look Rhea shot him, Dominik turned. “Something bad? Something to do with the missing quest? With Roman?”
The two leaders glanced at each other, then at him.
“Perhaps.” Chiron said. “We worried for a while that we’d lost them, but there has been…some news.”
All three campers had their full attention on him now.
“Ronan and his group are still alive.” Dionysus shrugged, chewing his gum. “We believe.”
“Is this to do with them?” Asked Rhea.
“We believe.” Chiron repeated softly. “But we believe your prophecy, Rhea, it has something to do with their quest.”
She looked like she was about to jump up and down, bobbing on her heels.
Unlike him, she was excited about this damn prophecy. She ran towards fights every damn time, and one day, he was certain it would get her in trouble.
One day.
Dropping down onto the couch next to the daughter of Nemesis, Dominik stared up at Chiron.
“Why are we here?” He gestured at himself and Raquel. “I mean, no offense, Rodriguez,” she shrugged, “but why us? Her, I get. She’s the daughter of Hades. My mom’s the patron of Valentine’s Day. Hers is the goddess of getting your lick back.”
Dionysus hid a snort.
Even at the mention of the name of the God of Death, it felt as though a cold breeze flooded through the big wooden cabin.
“Assuming that this young lady is the other half of the prophecy - I mean - it would make sense, considering the conditions in which she arrived here, we thought to take a few campers we feel haven’t been utilised to prepare for this. I’d like you both to help her out getting comfortable at camp, too.”
He glanced at Raquel, whose brow was creased in confusion. “So…we’re babysitting?”
It wasn’t as though he was known for his friendliness.
Nor her, to be fair, though she was smilier than him.
Really, he was sort-of just known for sulking and getting into arguments with people. Usually arguments he couldn’t always back up, but what ever.
Still, not a babysitter.
Most of the kids who came to camp were between ten and fourteen, any older or younger and it was unusual. He’d been rare, arriving at eight, but they’d put that down to him being a legacy demigod, a son born of a goddess and a demigod. Not that he’d lived up to it. And she was eleven when she’d arrived, young but not the youngest.
But he was sixteen and Raquel seventeen, and it seemed weird to have them watching out for some kid.
Even if she was special.
“Not exactly.” Said Dionysus. “The girl’s sixteen.”
Dominik gawked.
Across the room, Rhea looked equally as shocked.
Raquel’s brow was raised into her red bandana and she fiddled with the loops of her camo trousers - he always thought she dressed like an Ares kid, especially today. “Sixteen?” Asked the taller girl incredulously. “Isn’t that like - unheard of?”
According to legend, the scent of demigods grew stronger and stronger each year they grew older, more tantalising to monsters, and sixteen was the point it became deadly to exist outside a safe place.
Every kid who came through Camp Half-Blood learned that.
“Surely if she’s like - killing empousa with no training - she’s got to be powerful.” Rhea mused. “Aren’t more powerful demigods - don’t they smell stronger to monsters?”
Nodding, Chiron sighed. “I need to talk with some folks in Mount Rushmore.”
Mount Rushmore? Dominik frowned. That wasn’t anywhere near where Roman’s quest was meant to end, perhaps it was where Rhea’s would take her instead.
Because despite the slight dodging around the conversation, he could tell that was where it led.
A quest.
Her quest.
“Her name is Olivia Morgan.” Said the centaur, bobbing his head. “Would you two be able to go check on her? I believe she’s waking up.”
The thing he least understood was still why them? Perhaps to give them something to do, but he shrugged, standing and glancing towards Rhea. She was still twitchy, fiddling with her rings, and he tried to give her a comforting smile as he and Raquel left (he was pretty sure it looked like a grimace), wondering what fate she’d be left to.
Across the camp was the medical cabin, and the pair of them sped past questioning campers, glancing at each other. There was something slightly uneasy about the whole situation, about the greying skies above that seemed to grow darker and darker.
Wary, they halted outside the doors strung with golden sun-leaf charms, Apollo’s symbol somewhat warmer than the dark world behind them.
“She’s probably scared.” Said Raquel. “Or really tired.”
Both of them peered at each other.
“Yeh.” Said Dominik awkwardly. “We just gotta - welcome her to camp?”
Inside the cabin there were a few kids with regular injuries, one boy tending to his broken toes and a few Apollo kids winding their way around, he spied Bayley and Sol standing side by side by a cornered-off section, talking in low voices. At the sight of them, the former gestured over.
Behind the curtain was a whole pile of medical supplies, a bowl of bandages and wadding soaked in blood, a small pot-plant with an ivy leaf sticking out of the earth and a girl lying in one of the cots.
His heart dropped down to his ass when he saw her.
Sun-tanned soft with slightly red shoulders, as though she’d been out for a little too long on a summer day, long golden hair haloing her face, she was pretty. They’d bandaged her torso, though blood still seemed to ooze from the middle of her, and she had a deep bruise under her eye, purple and red. Her nose was pointed, and a pair of glasses lay on the table beside the little plant-pot, her lips swollen with bruising.
Small, unintimidating, she wasn’t exactly strong-looking, but she’d somehow killed an empousa.
Somehow.
In her sleep, she was twitching and shaking, eyes flicking under lids and fists gripping at the sheets she lay on, she looked scared.
“Is she okay?” His voice didn’t sound like his own when he spoke, and he glanced up towards Sol, who was frowning over the crumpled figure of the girl in the bed. “She looks ill.”
“The empousa got her.” Said the tall daughter of Apollo - she was the epitome of one, tanned with curly blonde hair and brown eyes - always nice, always kind. And damn good at what she did in the med-bay. He almost trusted her more than Bayley, the acting-head counsellor of the God of the Sun. “I mean - we got the poison out and all, and she kicked me, but it’s fine. Kept crying about that ivy plant so I got Zaria to pot it for me.”
Thinking of the angry-looking daughter of Demeter with pink and red hair, he shivered slightly and peered at her some more.
All her features were delicate, even the gash in her brow seemed film-made to be a slit, at her neck was a cross on a silver chain, and she was shaking slightly.
“She’ll be okay,” said the shorter girl, shaking her half-shorn hair, “screamed like a banshee when we got her in here, but she’ll be fine.”
Dominik almost laughed.
Besides the glasses and the pot plant was a small badge, shiny and gold, and he frowned at it. “What’s that?”
“Big sword.” Answered Bayley.
He frowned at the badge. “Sword?”
“When we got to her, she had a huge sword.” Sol gestured with her arms. “It kinda - I don’t really know how, actually, but it turned into a badge.”
The sorts of things that he’d seen before. His father had owned many of them, great weapons inherited from godly quests, but rarely did people arrive with them. In fact, in the eight damn years he’d been at Camp Half-Blood, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a kid come in with a weapon like that.
Neither was he sure he’d ever seen a girl like her before.
“She looks like she’s waking up.” Said Raquel.
“You have eyes.” Dominik said, and earned himself a punch in the arm.
Ouch.
The girl didn’t just wake up.
She jerked to life like a puppet, gasping for air.
“Wha-huh-what- where?” Blurted the girl, and Dominik felt his whole damn heart thudding against his ribs, fighting against his chest.
For her eyes were the colour of the skies on the kindest of summer days, bright, electric blue.
Electric.
Curse his mother, he knew what he was feeling.
And he had not felt anything like this in a long, long time.