𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ༄ ᴘercy ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ

i choke on mist

As I push open the attic door, I am immediately enveloped in the strong harsh smell of ash and old books.

I blink wearily, cautious of the small flying particles of dust floating around. They make the room feel suspended in time, a million years old yet still as true and as powerful from the first day.

I walk through the room warily, eyeing the numerous artifacts and strange jars in the room.

One jar, labelled 'Apsyrtus' holds what looks to be a very old and bloody hand, with stained grimy nails and dark green veins.

Another jar is stuffed to the brim with Nightshade leaves and a different jar holds what looks to be a single golden ring, with a label of 'Gyges'.

The oddly placed objects around the room hold my interest a little more, though. There was a large sword with a tag of 'Harpe' stuck onto it, reed pipes and lyres, and a horse's bridle.

Each of them has a thick layer of dust coating them, despite the meticulous casing around each of them. It looked old, and I couldn't help but wonder how often someone cleaned in here. But I couldn't blame them - this place was so creepy, I wouldn't want to spend any time in here either.

I stepped through the objects slowly, careful not to squash anything on my journey to the window, where the Oracle sat. Her face was tilted outwards, eyes glassy as she stared out. I suppressed a shiver.

As I approached her, her head tilted to the side, as if sensing me. She didn't make any movements, but even so I felt myself retreat a step back, about to run into the safety of the camp.

Last year, when I had seen her it had been different. I was in the middle of the Camp, surrounded by all the Campers there could be, as well as Chiron and Dionysus. And before, it wasn't me she was after. It was Zoë.

My heart pangs painfully as I accidentally think about Zoë again. I don't let the thought continue, pushing it to the back of my mind.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crash. I jump in surprise, turning, my heart pounding.

The trap door had shut.

Well. Message received.

I turned back around to the oracle, stepping closer towards her until we were only a few meters apart. It was easier to see her now, and it was still as horrifying as before.

Her skin was wrinkled and shrivelled, and her eyes were shiny and glassy the way marbles were. She wore a loose tie-dye dress that hung lamely on her frail form, showing how small she really was. Her long black hair was loose, with only a headband to tie it back, and it was tangled and knotting badly. She wore multiple items of jewellery, multiple rings on each finger, and chains of beaded necklaces, hanging low on her neck.

She sat up straight suddenly and I flinched back. She opened her mouth and green smoke poured out, enveloping the room in the smoky haze and blocking my view of everything except her.

I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.

Her words were stilted and slurred and she spoke directly into my mind, her words curling into my air and slithering through my conscious.

She was waiting for me to ask a question. But I was stumped. Chiron said I'd know what I needed to ask when I got here, yet the deadline had already passed and I still had no idea.

Approach, seeker, and ask.

I felt her words coil into my mind again, with an impatience that I didn't think a literal mummy should have.