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Devon's POV[]

After breakfast was over, I grabbed a sword and headed to the woods. Usually it wasn't like me to blow off lessons, but it was the last day of summer, and I wanted to do something fun before my parents arrived tonight.

You see, at the end of the summer term at Camp Half-Blood every year, the Seven heroes from the great prophecy, well, everyone who had helped in the Giant War, really, came to the greek camp to celebrate, even the ones that stayed at Camp Jupiter year round.

Not everyone, I voice in the back of my head wrang darkly. I grimaced as I glanced at the dark cabin with the green torches still burning even though it had been empty for almost two decades- cabin 13.

I'd always found the placement of the Hades cabin ironic- in between the cabin for the god of parties and the cabin for the goddess of rainbows. Occasionally certain bullies (particularly a certain granddaughter of Ares I could mention) would get kids from cabin 12 or 14 to go up to the thirteenth cabin and peek inside, like it was somekind of haunted house or something. This infuriated my father, as well as Percy and Hazel, beyond measure. They felt it was an insult to a Hero's memory.

Nico di Angelo had dissapeared without a trace nineteen years ago. No goodbyes, no nothing. At first people had thought it was something like what Hera pulled with Percy and my father at the start of the Second Great Prophecy, but after a couple years most people just assumed he was dead. Hazel refused to believe this- "I would be able to sense it", she always said when someone brought up the subject. My father didn't either. When I'd asked him why, he told me that Nico had told him he was going to leave, a couple months before he actually did. People didn't want him here-most people, anyway,- and frankly he didn't want to be here either. It also probably didn't help that Reyna Arellano, who had become like an older sister to him, died in the war. So my father still thinks he might be alive, but it doesn't really matter either way. Wherever he is, he isn't coming back.

Despite these theories, he was announced to be officially dead on the anniversary of his disappearance. His shroud was black, and they say it turned the flames the same color.

I shook the story out of my head as I plunged deeper into the woods. I tried to find something to fight, but the monsters seemed to be hiding today. Maybe I'm just that intimidating,I thought sarcastically. I remember the story of Percy's first summer at camp. He and Annabeth's old friend Luke Castellan had had the same problem.

Gods, I really needed to spend less time on my parents and their friends' old stories.

When I got to a certain point in the woods, I started to hear metal clanging. At first I thought I might have found some sort of automaton-type monster, but then I started to see in the distance the side of a cliff face, with a garage-door-size chunk taken out of it revealing the cavern inside, and I realized I'd wandered all the way to Bunker 9.

As I got closer, I heard another metallic clash followed by rapid cursing in ancient greek. The voice took a breath, as if to calm herself, (beause it was definately a girl. It almost sounded like... no. Impossible.) then my breath caught as she started to sing.

The song was breathtaking, so beautiful it could only be magic. I was dissapointed when it ended.

"You know, it's impolite to spy, Grace."

I froze in shock at both the familiar voice and the fact she knew I was there. I walked into the bunker hardly daring to believe it, and saw, (among the thousand-and-one unfinished projects), a Latina girl in a grimy red t-shirt and blue jeans, her black hair pulled back into a messy pony-tail and her dark eyes shining. She looked about fifteen, as if she hadn't aged a day since the last time I'd seen her, three years ago.

"Amaranta?"

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