The Blood of Olympus

Chapter Seventy-One: Hazel

Hii c: How are things going? 

This chapter is dedicated to -_Miss-_Weasley for the awesome comment and everything XD Thanks! 

The chapter was kinda fun to write for some reason but i'm sorry if Hazel seems a little out of character. 

Enjoy!

Hazel

Hazel opened her eyes.

At first, she struggled to take in her surroundings, her mind reeling. But as she set her hand on the cold stone beneath her, pushing herself up, she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be on a battlefield with Arion, not lying in the middle of a random courtyard.

Hazel had blacked out while attempting to use the Mist; that, she remembered well. But did that mean she was dreaming?

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest in a futile attempt to get warm, before stiffly climbing to her feet. Her back ached from lying on the cold, cracked stone and her fingers were starting to turn a bluish-purple from the chilly breeze that swept through the courtyard like a phantom. Swirls of snowflakes danced through the air from thick grey clouds and Hazel watched as they fell to the ground before disappearing; melting into nothingness.

No. She couldn’t be dreaming. Everything was so vivid. Even as she stood there, the silence (that she felt rather than heard) as shrill as a scream and as thick as the clouds above, settle like the delicate flakes of snow spiralling to the ground.

She took a deep breath, just to make sure she was still alive, and she was greeted with the ever-so-familiar scent of eucalyptus trees. California.

Hazel shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her fingers numb with the cold. It didn’t make sense. If she was really in California and her senses weren’t deceiving her, then the sun should have been shining directly above her, surrounded by a tranquil, deep blue sky. It was August, after all.

And yet, the wind picked up, slicing through Hazel’s thin shirt and jeans like icy daggers. The snow swirled more violently, like it was contradicting her for thinking that.

She clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth against the cold. She started moving, exploring her surroundings with almost forced enthusiasm. She couldn’t give up hope, not now.

As she searched the place, she realized it was the remains of a burnt up house-perhaps a mansion, judging from the amount of rubble-and her blood ran cold.

The Wolf House. Jason had described it well to her before Leo was possessed, and they were forced to escape Camp Jupiter to avoid being sewn into a sack with weasels and being tossed into the Little Tiber. But even if he hadn’t described it, Hazel knew what it looked like. She had been here before-so long ago it seemed-to start her journey as a Roman demigod. How she didn’t recognize the place at first worried her. Perhaps she was more disorientated than she thought.

“Oh don’t you worry about that, dearest.” A voice cackled. “Feeling slightly disorientated is just one of the few side effects.”

Hazel whirled around, ready to fight. She faltered. “Juno?”

The old woman dressed in rags and shopping bags gave her a toothless smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She waved her hand in dismissal when Hazel began to kneel. “Let’s skip the formalities. We’re fighting a war.”