I am, in fact, still alive. I didn't get hit with the virus or anything, but online school has been quite the experience, and since physical school has restarted over here in Australia, the entire year has been catching up with a bunch of assessments. Fortunately, they're done now, so hopefully writing season will resume.

I've decided that my chapters are a little too fractured, partly because they're too long and filled with too much. So when I go back and edit this arc, I'll be separating them into more chapters.

Also, do please read the ending comments after you finish reading the chapter. It has important things I want to address.

But, we're close to the end of Arc I! Hopefully, you're all still around to read. I appreciate it. Happy reading!

13

...there was you.

Her eyes opened slowly, to darkness. Wisty rubbed her eyes sleepily. Was she still on Othrys?

The faint light of the dashboard told her otherwise. The truck had stopped moving. Zoë was slumped against the headrest, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. It looked like the lieutenant had parked them in the emergency lane and fallen asleep instantly, because the engine was still up, humming hypnotically in the otherwise quiet night.

Wisty blinked, and shook her head. She felt lazy, like her brain hadn't warmed up yet. By its own will, a hand reached up and brushed her cheek. What was she doing? What was she supposed to be doing?

She glanced over at the dashboard. Right, she should...turn the engine off. Reaching over slowly, she grasped the key in two fingers and twisted. The engine sputtered, and stopped, and the night was silent but for Zoë's soft breaths.

She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. She wished she could return to the dreamscape, for a few more hours, minutes, seconds...but nothing greeted her except for darkness.

Sighing, she dragged a hand down her face. She felt sluggish and restless at the same time. She wanted to do something, continue on with their journey, but her limbs felt weak. Maybe a good stretch will do the trick. Get up, go out, breathe in some fresh wintry air. She glanced at Zoë. Still sound asleep. As quietly as possible, she clicked open the door and stepped outside.

The night was mild, but still cooler than the inside of the truck, and Wisty welcomed the crisp breeze as she tilted her head up and inhaled deeply. The skies were cloudless but for a few wisps and puffs, and she could see the Milky Way in all its rural glory — a vast expanse of blazing speckles, dancing and twirling amongst each other, painting the sky lilac and blue with their light. And the silver moon shines bright — the brightest of them all, perhaps; a half-moon but brilliant regardless, washing the world pale with her luster.

The moon was past its zenith. They had to have crossed into California already. She was so, so close...

She stretched, and nearly doubled over in pain. She hadn't noticed before but her back was as stiff as a rock. Evidently the dream had been real. She smiled, and touched the spot on her cheek again. Had Artemis basically asked her out?

Yes, yes, she had. She'd worry about the logistics later. For now, Wisty just wanted to bask in her euphoria.

'Well, my dear, you are looking happy.' She jumped. Riptide appeared in her hand with a shink and before her brain could catch up it was half-embedded in the newcomer's neck.

Rhea, or her apparition, tsked and moved out of the way, removing her neck from the sword. 'Also edgy, I see. In the Golden Age, grandchildren bowed to their grandparents. I must say, since then the quality of greetings has spiraled down.'

Wisty sheathed Riptide with a huff. 'In the so-called Golden Age, fathers ate their children as a snack. I have to say I'm quite glad that I'm not in your Golden Age.'

'Touché,' Rhea smiled. 'So what has got you glowing, granddaughter?' She winked. 'A certain goddess?'

'Like you don't already know.' But Wisty remained stony. 'I'm sure living in someone's head is an invasion of privacy.'

'Oh, no, it's gotten quite difficult to read your mind. Ever since you explicitly forbid me from doing so, I have only been able to glean bits and pieces. Bianca this, Artemis that.' Rhea looked miffed. 'As if a demigod like you can ward off a Titaness.'

'So you've continued to try?' Wisty crossed her arms. 'Did you not listen to a word I said?'

'Please. I already assured you I am not working with Kronos.' Rhea rolled her eyes. 'Is that not enough to gain your trust?'

'No.' Wisty shook her head. 'Because you haven't said you're working with Olympus, and I think you'd be lying if you did, at least a little bit.'

She let the veiled accusation hang in the air. She could sense Rhea's surprise; a little bit of indignation as well, but mostly surprise. She'd scored a bullseye.

Finally, the Titaness spoke. 'And what makes you think so?'

Wisty raised an eyebrow. 'I'm no Annabeth but I'm no idiot.' She paced around the ghost, but never looked at her. 'You have revealed yourself to Atlas but not the Olympians. You've shown up during the quest a few times but never when the situation is dire. You've been talking to Atlas when you have the chance, and however 'honorable' he is, he is my enemy. And,' she stopped pacing suddenly, her back to Rhea, 'call it instinct, experience, luck — I don't care, but I know you aren't with us entirely. You immortal types always play your own games. And if you're not with us entirely, then I can't trust you with anything.'

Rhea remained silent, so Wisty continued. 'You've been helpful — here and there — but when we've — I've — needed you the most, you've been absent. You never helped us fight the spartoi. You told me to assemble Talos but did nothing when it was stomping us. And I know you can. You might not have a physical form yet but killing a robot should be child's play.'

'So you could've helped, but didn't.' Her tone hardened involuntarily. 'You let Bianca die. I can only assume you're playing your own game.'

Rhea didn't speak, still. Wisty let her mull over her words.

'...Very intuitive,' the Titaness finally allowed. 'But I am curious about one thing.' She moved around Wisty, who remained motionless. 'Had my allegiance to Olympus been confirmed, would you trust me?'

'I trust Zoë, with my life. But not with all of my secrets. There's a difference.' Wisty stared out at the dark fields on the side of the road. 'I know she'd judge me fairly and keep them, if I told her. But I don't. Some things are too personal to share. You'd do well to understand that.'

'My, my.' Now it was the former queen's turn to raise her eyebrow. 'My granddaughter lecturing me. Now that is novel. Usually, the grandmother lectures her charge, not vice versa.'

'Grandmother?' Wisty snorted. 'No. You're no grandmother of mine. A real grandmother doesn't play her granddaughter like a pawn. You're just like the gods. Family means so little to you.'

'And yet you fight for them,' Rhea rebutted, her lips curved mockingly. 'Is that not ironic?'

Wisty twisted to face her, violently. 'I fight for my mom, my friends at camp, and now the Hunters,' she snapped, her hand twitching. 'They're family, more so than the gods...and certainly more so than you. And I don't give up on family.'

Rhea chuckled. She moved so that she was almost touching Wisty — would have been, but for her insubstantial state. 'Oh, but I am family, granddaughter dearest. You'd do well to remember that.'

'No. Until I figure out what you're doing, you are the enemy. And even then, you'll always be the woman who killed Bianca.' Wisty held out her hands threateningly. Her fingers flexed experimentally. She could feel the red serpents twisting inside her in anticipation. 'I think you should leave.'

'Oh, that's rich, coming from my little girl.' This time, Rhea's laugh was as loud and cold and cruel as her bloodless projection. 'I killed your little Hunter friend — family,' she mocked, '—but, wait, aren't you the one who failed to save her? Save your friend? Your family? You didn't give up on her, did you? Did you?'

Murky red light lit up in her hands. 'That's it,' Wisty growled. 'Get out of my head.'

'As soon as I am able to.' Rhea smiled dryly. 'Believe me, I do not want to be stuck in your mortal vessel any longer. It is no longer useful.' Her apparition began to shimmer mockingly. 'I had high expectations of you, granddaughter dearest. But — like to di Angelo — you are just a failure.'

'OUT!' Wisty ripped at the Titaness with clawed hands. Molten power tore through her veins, clutching, seizing her mind, and she grabbed at Rhea with inhuman speed. But the specter stayed just out of reach, an amused look hanging onto her face, prickling Wisty's skin like little hooks.

''So close,' she grinned. 'Alas, you are only mortal.'

Wisty lashed out one last time, but Rhea faded away, her laughter echoing tauntingly in the air. Her nails ripped through thin air, and she stumbled forward and crashed into the ground. She lay there, face up and coughing up dust, her hands red and raw from the fall.

'Dammit,'she growled, still coughing. She heaved herself up, glancing around. Nothing.

'Dammit', she growled again. Patting herself down, she headed back to the truck. Rhea had gotten her good.

'No longer useful?' she muttered. 'Just you wait, Titaness. I'll show you useful.'

Swiping the door open, she hauled herself up into the seat and slammed it shut again. Beside her, Zoë groaned as she stirred.

'Good morning, sunshine,' Wisty greeted sarcastically.

Zoë shook her head and slapped herself twice. She looked a lot more awake after that. 'You didn't wake me,' she stated.

'Needed some space.' Wisty sighed. 'Rhea is not working with Olympus, by the way.'

Zoë frowned. 'How—' she saw the look on Wisty's face. 'Never mind. I am not surprised. Rhea does not work for anyone.' She ignited the engine. 'But, it means she is also not working for Kronos.'

'Is that better?'

Zoë's lips twisted into a grimace. 'It is...more interesting. Whether it is better, I do not know.' She glanced at Wisty's face and must have seen how shaken she was, because her tone softened immediately. 'Get some sleep. Whatever she said to thee, do not take to heart. Rhea can be more manipulative than The Crooked One himself.'

Wisty nodded mutely. Zoë's gaze didn't waver.

'And I do not say this for comfort. She only attacks thee because thou art a major threat. Prove her right.'

'Zoë…'

The lieutenant stepped on the gas. Her gaze never left Wisty's face. 'You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.'

'Zoë…Bianca wasn't my fault, was it?'

The truck slowed to a halt. Zoë sighed. She sounded like she had the weight of a thousand skies on her shoulders.

'It was all of our faults,' she said. 'None of us are blameless.'

'I assembled Talos…'

'And Castellan shouted 'kill', and I failed to hit the red button, and Thalia's electricity allowed her to go into the foot.' Zoë leaned her head back, eyes closed. 'There are always ways to blame thyself because thou could always have done more. But we are only mortal. It is silly to expect to think of everything.'

'When I first became lieutenant, I felt responsible for everything and everyone. So much so that I trusted only myself with the most important tasks. Then we lost one of the girls to a werewolf ambush on the day I was in charge of scouting. I'd failed to notice the strands of fur stuck to the foliage. I did not leave my tent for two weeks.' She shrugged. 'It was directly my fault, both for failing to notice the fur and putting myself as the scout in the first place when Ari is a much better one. And I thought as much.'

'It took...many months, to get over my failings. And then it happened again, except this time I'd put Ari as the scout, and she'd missed hellhound tracks at the campsite. We lost two girls this time. One of them was only a Hunter for a mere three weeks.'

'And it happened again, and again, and again. Different circumstances, different mistakes, different girls. All of our older members have made mistakes which cost other girls their lives. Thou art no different. Eventually, thou must learn to accept that deaths happen. To be mortal is to eventually die, and we Hunters are mortal. Regardless of whether thou can control thy own fate or not, people thou care for will depart, someday. All you can do is mourn, learn, try to do better.'

Wisty stayed silent. Zoë sighed, again.

'You will learn when you are lieutenant,' she decided. 'The burdens of leadership.'

'You're lieutenant, Zoë.' Wisty shook her head. 'I don't want to be lieutenant.'

Zoë gave her a half-smile. 'I know.'

Wisty gave her a quizzical look. The lieutenant laughed, and stepped on the gas again. 'Get some rest, Wisteria. We are nearing the end.'

And Wisty couldn't figure out why, but the older girl sounded...content, in a strange way. Her voice was so very tranquil, laced with a perfunctory kind of melancholy. She'd never seen this side of Zoë before.

But she didn't get to ponder too much about it. Zoë's speech had calmed her down, and now all she felt was drowsiness. Before she knew it, the humdrum purr of the van engine had lulled her eyes shut.

Her eyes opened to a blood-red sky. She stood on top of a hill dotted with patches of grass — the tallest out of countless others, rolling into the horizon, barely visible in the thick fog pervading the air.

She spun around in a circle. Nothing but fog and hills of all sizes and shapes. As she pivoted, they shifted and blended into each other like mirages.

'Where am I?' she demanded. She ran forward, but the ground moved with her. She tried a few more times until she realized she was just running in place. She stomped the ground. No shaking. No earthquakes.

'Rhea, I swear if you're fucking with me…' Suddenly, a hot, bright light shone in front of her, forcing her to stumble back and avert her eyes. She could feel its heat scorching her skin.

The light brightened even more, making Wisty tense in pain — her eyes stung despite being squeezed shut. Then it dimmed. She opened her eyes to see…

'You,' she said.

Around them, the fog had abated in a perfect circle, condensing and drenching the patchy ground. The red fragment hovered in front of her. It pulsed gently with power, but it didn't feel threatening, exactly. More...neutral, possibly expectant.

She stared it down. 'Why did you bring me here?'

It did not respond. Wisty reached out instinctively, but hesitated.

'You want me to do something?' she guessed.

It still didn't show signs of acknowledgment. It was testing her. Not quite, not quite, not quite…

'You want to give me something?' This time, it brightened momentarily, as if agreeing. Almost, almost, almost…

'You want to show me something?' It pulsed with light quickly, as if excitedly confirming. 'What is it?'

It continued to pulse. Wisty guessed that it wanted her to grab it.

'Fine,' she said. 'No tricks. No fucking around. I've had enough of being fooled.'

It didn't respond. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and swiped the fragment out of the air.

'Wisty. Wisty. Wake up.'

Her eyes snapped open. An orange shirt filled her vision, then a pair of sky blue eyes.

She stared at the scar running down his face. 'Luke.'

The son of Hermes, peering in from outside the door, smirked. 'No, I'm Thalia. C'mon, let's go. There's a cafe here and their croissants smell really damn good.'

His face blurred in and out of focus. 'Where are we?'

'Oh, right.' He began to move out of her seat. 'You don't know. We're in Cali. It's about six in the morning, so we've got a day to kill before sunset.'

Wisty shook her head, trying to clear her mind. 'Cali?'

Luke stared at her quizzically. 'Yeah, Cali. We're in San Francisco.'

Her pulse quickened. 'San Francisco.'

'Yeah.' Luke frowned. 'You okay? You look a little out of it.'

She was here. They were here. Annabeth was here. Artemis was here.

This was it. The end was near. One way or another, their quest was coming to an end.

She nodded. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. You go first, just...let me wake up for a sec.'

He shrugged. 'Alright. I'll get you a couple of croissants.'

Wisty stared at her friend's back as he jogged away. The morning sun glinted off of his sandy hair sharply, like Backbiter's iron edge. She shook her head, again.

'Time for nothing,' she mumbled. 'Artemis...we're here.'

.

The hills step off into whiteness.

People or stars

Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

.

The train leaves a line of breath.

O slow

Horse the color of rust,

.

Hooves, dolorous bells

All morning the

Morning has been blackening,

.

A flower left out.

My bones hold a stillness, the far

Fields melt my heart.

.

They threaten

To let me through to a heaven

Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

.

'Sheep in Fog' — Sylvia Plath

.

The dreamscape is inspired by Sylvia Plath's poem 'Sheep in Fog'. I don't think I did her work's purpose much justice, but I wanted to fit it in there somewhere.

Sylvia Plath was a brilliant poet, but her brilliance stemmed partly from her tortured psyche (context: she committed suicide by placing her head in an oven). In her poetry, there's often a wavering oscillation between triumph and despair, ecstasy and depression. She bared her own pain to the world while, often with savage brutality, criticizing the societal conditions which shaped much of her agony.

These are some of the things I would like to explore in my own writing, more specifically in Arc II. Issues like mental health and gender equality and racism. Of course, I hope you've all recognized that Sea Girl is intended to be a celebration of female agency and power. But I've been hesitant to drag such politics into my work, even though feminism shouldn't really be political at all, just like racism. Equality is not a matter of ideals, it's a matter of morality.

So, Arc II will get political, deal with social issues much more explicitly, and possibly be much darker. Some things will be unapologetically confrontational. Especially in light of the hellscape that is the USA right now, I think it's more important than ever to be politically engaged as the generation which will be the driving force behind the world's elections in the near future.

That will be all. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Ciao!