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Camp Half-Blood
Year: 2000
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Rin was dreaming again. 

She was in the park this time, and the air hummed with the distant laughter of children. Rin stood on the periphery like an unseen spectator, observing the scene with a curious detachment.

Her father, a figure she had always associated with impeccable suits and an air of authority, stood before her in an uncharacteristic state. He wore his favourite Star Wars shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans – a sight achingly familiar. The scene unfolded with a surreal haze, like the edges of a watercolour painting bleeding into one another.

Her father's hand was intertwined with that of a young girl's, no older than Rin herself, but the specifics of their features remained elusive. Faces obscured by a gentle mist, they moved across the park together, and from their movements alone Rin knew the pair she was shadowing to be herself and her father. 

She was watching a memory. She was watching that particular memory, and all of a sudden she desperately wanted to wake up. She wanted someone from the real world to shake her awake, to wrestle her into a state of consciousness so she would not have to watch what came next. 

Despite her best efforts, the dream meandered through the park's vibrant pathways, with the dream version of her leading her father by the hand. Rin reached out to the pair, eager to hold her father's hand too, for the childish desire always remained, but the distance between them seemed to grow until he was just out of reach. He was always out of reach. 

The grass beneath her feet felt soft and cool, and the distant sounds of laughter grew louder with each step. Some details seemed startlingly clear while others were muffled, as she was viewing them through a gauzy veil. 

When they approached the edge of the park, it took a few moments for the road to materialize before them, and the faint jingle of an ice cream truck permeated the air. The melody, both whimsical and nostalgic, played softly in the background as both father and daughter came to a standstill at the edge. 

Rin, now watching herself, felt the excitement building within the dream-child. She could see herself bouncing on her toes, pointing gleefully towards the source of the enchanting music, tugging eagerly at her father's arm. The ice cream truck, adorned with a kaleidoscope of colours, seemed to beckon from the other side of the road, and Rin felt the sickening sweetness of the dessert she'd never get to have heavy on her tongue. 

When her father, his face still concealed in the dream's fog, finally acquiesced to the girl's joyous insistence, Rin's heart dropped. She reached out to grab him once again, knowing the futility of her actions. 

She had tried everything, and the result was always the same. In all the times she'd had the dream, she had screamed at him, she had begged and pleaded, she had even tried to cajole her dream self for assistance, but nothing ever worked. She remained a bystander, and the tragedy unfolded as it always did. 

The dream continued in slow motion, a dance of blurry figures on the cusp of reality. Rin's father gestured for the dream-child to remain by the side of the street as he began to make his way across. The feeling of helpless doom intensified in Rin's stomach as the ice cream truck's melody grew louder, filling the air with a nauseating serenade, and when she saw the familiar blue convertible hurtle down the road she opened her mouth in tandem with the dream-child's. 

Then time came to a standstill, and for the first time, when Rin's father reached the midpoint of the road, he abruptly halted. When he turned around, his gaze penetrated the dream's haze, and his eyes locked onto Rin. Not dream Rin, but the real her, who stood just on the edge of reality, waiting for him. 

He opened his mouth, his voice resonating with both familiarity and an otherworldly quality.

"Rin," he called. "Were you looking for me?"

Rin, overcome with emotion, could only nod, tears welling in her eyes. 

"Why?" he asked. 

It would have made her laugh if her tears hadn't lodged themselves in her throat. 

Why?  What reason did one have to search for their father?

"I'm always looking for you," she managed in a choked whisper. "I'm... please, Dad, please don't go again."

A tender smile graced her father's face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Behind him, the blue convertible crept closer inch by agonizing inch, and yet he remained rooted in his spot. 

"Don't look for me anymore, Rin," he cleared his throat, trying to maintain some semblance of authority. "Look after Emiko instead."

"No!"

He clicked his tongue, "No? You don't want to look after your little sister? I'm disappointed in you Rin."

"That's not what I meant!"

"No?"

"No! I just...can't you come back, please. You can look after her too. You would do it better. You can look after all of us." 

Her father's gaze grew unfocused now, and he began to turn away from her. The tears streamed faster down Rin's face now as she took another step forward, although it brought her no closer. 

"Please, don't go," she sobbed. "Please, please, please, don't leave again."

The dream version of her watched with large unblinking eyes as Rin grew increasingly frantic, but neither of them moved a muscle. Rin's tearful plea seemed to dissipate into the dream's fabric, unheard and unanswered.

"You have to take care of Emiko and Ethan now."

That was the last thing he said, his voice a disembodied echo around her, before the world exploded in a flash of crimson and blue. Dream Rin collapsed to her knees and let out an earsplitting shriek while real Rin went back to being a silent spectator, numbed by the bloody display she had seen so many times that it had engraved itself inside her eyelids.  

Some days the blue convertible was just that, a car much too pretty to be capable of such carnage. On other days it morphed into all manner of beasts —a minotaur, a cyclops, a chimera. The result was always the same, whether it came to pass under a little blue car's wheels or in the jaws of some bloodthirsty creature that, up until a few days ago, Rin wouldn't have even believed to be real. 

The dream always ended with her father lying sprawled on the unforgiving asphalt. His body contorted, broken bones jutting out at unnatural angles, creating a macabre mosaic of pain. His glassy eyes stared into the indifferent sky, and his fingers, the very same that clasped hers so assuredly, now dangled awkwardly, shattered bones protruding through the torn flesh. Blood, an unsettling shade of crimson, seeped into the ground beneath him, pooling, spreading, reaching out for the girl in the dream just like his lifeless hands did. She knelt beside him, her once innocent features distorted by anguish, her hands and knees stained by his draining lifeforce as the shrill shriek that tore through her vocal cords reverberated through Rin's entire being. 

Tonight it was a harpy who did him in, and Rin waited for the horror to end. 

Nonetheless, the entities that toyed with her were not done yet, and the terrain morphed with an unsettling fluidity, transporting her from the nightmare's prior location to the foot of a desolate hill. The malevolent presence of the harpy remained constant, as did the ice cream truck's melody, a dissonant accompaniment to the nightmare that unfolded.

Her father's form was replaced by a much smaller one, and his voice floated in the air again, this time a cruel taunt instead of a heartfelt plea. 

"Take care of Emmie."

There was no dream version of herself to project onto this time. Rin was stripped of any semblance of detachment, forcing her to confront the stark truth of her fears. She stood alone, a solitary witness to the grotesque puppetry of her subconscious, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare dissolved into a chilling panorama of dread.

The harpy's hungry eyes bore into Rin's soul, as if relishing the agony etched across her face. The creature's wings seemed to cast a suffocating shadow over the hill, amplifying the sense of isolation that gripped Rin's heart.

The disembodied voice of her father repeated his haunting command, "Take care of Emiko," each word a spectral lament that reverberated through the smoky landscape. This time, it carried a weight of accusation, a reminder of the impossible burden and the promise she was unable to keep. 

Her little sister's broken body offered little in terms of solace, but when the toddler's corpse opened its eyes and spoke words no three-year-old would know how to say, Rin finally began to scream. 

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Rin Nakamura jolted awake, gasping for breath, her eyes wide and disoriented as she frantically scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. The air in the room felt heavy, and for a moment, panic clutched at her chest until recognition dawned. She was in a large cabin, the walls adorned with the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. Bunk beds lined every side, and Rin found herself curled up on a sleeping bag laid out on the floor.

Beside her, her younger brother lay in peaceful slumber, undisturbed by her abrupt awakening. The rhythmic sounds of his breathing offered a soothing contrast to the remnants of the harsh memories that still lingered in Rin's mind. She took a moment to let the realization settle – she was at Camp Half-Blood.

A wave of relief washed over her, yet it was quickly replaced by the resurfacing of the raw emotions that had haunted her dreams. The tears welled in her eyes once more, a testament to the weight of the reality she had faced. If she was here at the camp, then the monsters, the harpy, and the nightmare were all real.

It felt a little ridiculous, to feel such a childlike loneliness in a room so full of people that they crowded every corner and every space on the floor, but for 12-year-old Rin, she might as well have been the only person there. 

Her father was dead. Emiko was dead. Everybody she cared about was dead. 

Almost everybody anyway. Ethan was still here, even if he hated her. Rin turned to her brother and smoothed a hand through his hair. Choking back a sob, she glanced around the cabin, careful not to disturb the sleeping figures scattered across the bunk beds. The room was filled with the hushed symphony of steady breathing, and she watched the slow rise and fall of chests in the dimly lit space. 

As her gaze swept across the room, Rin noticed the empty bed adjacent to her sleeping spot. The sheets were thrown aside haphazardly, a detail that she registered with a momentary curiosity. She strained to remember who was supposed to occupy that bed, but the memory eluded her, lost in the fog of her disrupted thoughts. 

With a deep breath, Rin silently pushed herself up from the sleeping bag, attentive enough not to disturb her brother. Ethan let out a grunt of discomfort when she pulled away from his side, but his eyes remained mercifully closed. Rin padded across the wooden floor, the coolness beneath her feet a grounding sensation. 

The cabin door creaked softly as she slipped out, the cool night air embracing her like a balm. The silver light of the moon cast a serene glow on the camp, lending an otherworldly quality to the surroundings. Rin paused at the edge of the doorway, her eyes drawn to the caduceus overhanging the cabin door, and it made her sick. 

A surge of urgency seized her, a desire to escape the stifling darkness. Even standing at the threshold, it was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to break free.

Without a second thought, she whirled around and fast-walked away, desperation fueling her steps. As the frigid air rushed past her face, she broke into a run, the rhythmic pounding of her feet on the ground echoing the tumult within her.

Tears streamed down her face, but the wind swept them away, leaving her cheeks cool and damp. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet carried her with an unspoken purpose. The camp border emerged before her, an invisible line that she could sense rather than see. There was no clear demarcation, but as Rin stepped across, she felt a subtle drop in air pressure, a minute but discernible shift that signalled the transition from one realm to another.

Her eyes fixated on a small grave at the edge of the border, a poignant reminder of her failures, but before she could properly drop into a kneel, a sudden yank at the back of her collar brought her sharply backward. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled back within the secure confines of the camp's protective barrier, and she turned, wide-eyed, to see who had pulled her away from her sister's side again.

"You're not supposed to be out here," came a boy's stern voice. 

Standing behind her was a fellow camper, at least that's what Rin assumed from the bright orange of his camp t-shirt, his face masked by the shadows of the large pine tree he stood under. His grip on her collar slowly released, and Rin, still catching her breath, stared bewildered and a little indignant, a retort just at the tip of her tongue. 

"It's not safe out there," the boy amended, raising his hands placatingly when he noticed her tear-stained face and sullen expression. 

The night air seemed to hang suspended with an unspoken tension as the boy stepped forward, gradually emerging from the shadows. Rin's eyes widened as his features became clearer in the moonlight – a head of brunette curls framed his face, and he appeared to no more than a year or two older than her. A sense of familiarity lingered, yet Rin couldn't quite place him.

As if sensing her confusion, a subtle smile graced the boy's lips. 

"Hey there," he greeted, extending a hand toward her. "I'm Luke."

Rin's eyes narrowed slightly, studying his face. 

"Right...I'm-"

"Rin," he finished for her. "I know who you are. Although I'm a bit surprised you didn't recognize me, considering I was the first one to introduce myself this morning.

Rin felt her ears flush with embarrassment as she tentatively shook his outstretched hand, the coolness of the night air contrasting with the warmth of his palm. Recognition dawned as she recalled their brief encounter, and she scowled at him. 

Luke's smile faltered for a moment, and he looked at her with an expression that held a subtle hint of hurt. "It's okay, though. I understand," he said, his tone carrying a note of empathy. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through."

"How do you even know about that?" Rin demanded, her voice sharp and accusatory, the pain and confusion from her recent experiences bubbling to the surface.

"Everyone knows. This hill has seen a lot of tragedy."

His eyes flitted to the pine tree behind them, and she followed his gaze, her eyes fixating on the pine tree, its branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Something unrecognizable flashed behind Luke's eyes before he sealed it away, replacing it with forced cheerfulness. 

"What we haven't seen is a demigod take to a harpy's wings with a pen knife and come out a victor," he remarked, an impressed glint in his eyes.

However, Rin found no comfort in his words. Instead, they served as a stark reminder of the brutal encounter with the harpy, and the blind feral rage that had consumed her in that moment. The inhuman strength she had summoned, fueled by the genuine grudge against the monstrous creature; it all played in her mind like a broken record. She remembered the carnal way she had torn into the harpy, she could feel the blood spilled, still warm in her hands, and the wings she mercilessly ripped from its back. Yet, all of it did nothing to undo the losses she had already suffered.

Emiko was still dead. 

Luke's eyes followed her sombre ones to the grave at the edge of the camp.

"Satyrs make mistakes sometimes, and mortals can smell like demigods, if they hang around them long enough. It wasn't your fault," he whispered. 

When she didn't respond, he spoke again, attempting to comfort her for some reason she could not imagine. She wished he would just leave her alone. 

"Hey, hopefully, you'll get claimed by your godly parent soon. That should make things a bit clearer for you."

Rin's lips curled in disgust at the mention of being claimed by her mother. 

"Yeah, hopefully," she replied bitterly, her gaze distant. "So I can make her answer for what she let happen."

"That's not-"

"She's God isn't she?" Rin whirled around, eyes ablaze. "I thought God was supposed to be omnipotent, all-knowing, all-powerful. What good is being God, if you cannot protect your own children."

The brunette boy in front of her took a step back, startled by her ferocity. 

"Your mother is not God. She's a god. There's a difference. And she did protect her children. Both you and your brother made it safely to camp, didn't you?"

"Emmie was just three. Who cares if she wasn't her kid," Rin spat. "She was still a kid. That doesn't mean she deserved to die!"

"Rin-"

"I don't want to hear it! If my mother has the guts, she will show herself, and if she doesn't then I'll hunt her down myself."

It was a childish rage, and a childish promise. One couldn't hunt down a god, but Rin would be damned if she didn't try. Or perhaps she'd damn herself trying. 

Luke cast his eyes skyward, suddenly weary. He didn't know why he defended an unknown deity, not when he held a grudge against the gods himself. They had wronged him, they had wronged his mother, they had wronged Thalia, and yet he still found himself speaking on behalf of this new girl's mother. 

Perhaps it was because there was something dark in her vow, a declaration of violence and retribution, and he wondered if her godly parent wasn't some minor deity of war, adjacent to Ares himself. 

"I understand it's tough, Rin. But you're not alone in this. Many of us here have faced similar tragedies, and we're here to support each other."

"Support is good, but answers are better. And I won't rest until I get them!" Rin's eyes blazed with tears and determination both, and the brunette boy found himself a little in awe. 

The night air crackled with tension as Luke gently grabbed Rin's arm, his intention clear—to guide her back toward the cabins. However, the dark-haired girl's reaction was swift and forceful. She wrenched her arm free, a scowl etching itself onto her face.

"I can take care of myself," she snapped, her voice edged with defiance. "I don't need a babysitter."

Luke's smile remained unwavering, his demeanour calm. 

"I know," he acknowledged, his eyes meeting hers good-naturedly. Yet, he continued to pull her back toward the cabin, a gentle but persistent force. "But you can't have your answers if you're sleep-deprived or eaten by a monster."

Rin glared at him again, and Luke found that he was already becoming accustomed to her minute range of expressions. Despite her protest, she didn't resist him further, and a reluctant acceptance settled over her, a realization that perhaps, in this unfamiliar and perilous world of gods and monsters, a measure of caution was warranted.

When they reached the cabin, Luke released his grip on her arm, offering a pleasant nod. 

"Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

"No."

"No, you will not rest or no tomorrow is not a new day? Because I hate to tell you, but being a demigod doesn't mean you're exempt from the laws of nature. Apollo still has a job to do."

"That's not what I-"

"Rin. Sleep," he nudged her inside, ruffling her hair and darting away before she could swat at him. 

She did not question why he remained outside, even though she was sure now that he was the mysterious occupant of the empty bed beside her, and although he annoyed her endlessly, she could not deny that in the span of their conversation, the weight of her guilt and grief seemed the slightest bit more bearable to carry. 

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A/N: Heyyo, finally got this prologue out. lol if there are any logistic mistakes, forgive the error, it's been a while since I read the books. Also lol we're going by show Luke's descriptions here, hence the brunette curls. 

As usual, don't be a ghost reader, comments really motivate me to continue so share your thoughts plz and thank u ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡