The Grove of Dodona gave me a prophecy.
Now you're probably wondering something.How does someone who is currently on the Fates' cosmic hit list still get a prophecy?
Fair question.
See, you'd think once three ancient destiny grandmas decide you're a "foreign thread," they'd cut off your access to all mystical customer service lines.
No oracles.No visions.No cryptic poetry.
Just a polite, eternal do not interfere sticker slapped on your soul.
Except… that's not how this works.
The Fates don't run prophecy.
They just hate that I exist near it.
There's a difference.
They weave outcomes. Oracles report possibilities. And sometimes? Those two systems disagree.
Which is exactly how I ended up here:
Six lines. Zero explanation. Maximum confusion.
But lets start from the start- How did I even find Dodona?
Well…
The Dream
It started the night after I told Chiron everything.
After Percy left. After the revelation. After Chiron and I talked for hours about Hindu gods and reincarnation and what it meant that I was here at all.
We'd agreed to start training at dawn. Combat drills. Survival tactics. Everything I'd need to get stronger.
I went to bed exhausted, emotionally drained, but also... relieved. Someone knew. Someone understood.
And then I dreamed.
Voices. Whispering. Overlapping. Ancient.
"Come."
"Seek."
"Find us, child of the sun."
Trees. Massive oaks. Faces in the bark. Eyes watching.
"You must find us."
A location. Not clear. Not a map. Just... a feeling. A pull. North. Deep in the forest. Where the trees grew ancient and wild.
"The Grove of Dodona awaits."
I woke with a start, gasping.
Dawn light was just starting to filter through the window of my room in the Big House.
My ribs ached slightly—almost healed now, thanks to nearly a week of ambrosia and nectar, but not quite at 100% yet. Everything else felt fine. The hellhound bites and burns had healed but not without scars, which truth be told I kinda liked.
Just the ribs remained. Still mending. Maybe another day or two.
But the dream...
That felt important. Prophetic dreams weren't just random. They meant something.
I needed to find that grove.
But first, I needed to tell Chiron I wasn't going to be at dawn training.
This was NOT going to go over well.
The Suspicious Centaur
I found Chiron in the Big House dining room, eating breakfast and reading what looked like a very old scroll.
He looked up as I entered. "Good morning, Aditya. Ready for—"
"I had a dream," I interrupted.
His expression shifted immediately. "What kind of dream?"
"The prophetic kind. Voices calling me to the Grove of Dodona. Somewhere in the forest here at camp."
Chiron set down his scroll very carefully.
"The Grove of Dodona," he repeated slowly. "You want to go searching for a lost oracle in the woods."
"Yes."
"The same woods where we agreed you'd be training. Starting this morning. At dawn."
I paused. "...yes?"
Chiron leaned back in his wheelchair, studying me with the kind of look that had probably made Achilles confess to stealing cookies three thousand years ago.
"Aditya," he said carefully. "This wouldn't happen to be a convenient excuse to avoid training, would it?"
"What? No!"
"Because I've trained many heroes over the millennia. And I've heard many creative reasons why they couldn't possibly train on a particular day."
"Chiron, I swear—"
"Heracles once told me he needed to find a 'sacred tree' that was supposedly calling to him." Chiron's expression was deadpan. "Turned out he just wanted to avoid javelin practice because he'd pulled a muscle showing off the day before."
"This is different!"
"Is it?" Chiron folded his arms. "We have one conversation about training you properly, and the very next morning you have a 'prophetic dream' sending you on a quest?"
"I'm not making this up!"
"The Grove of Dodona has been lost for over a thousand years, Aditya. Multiple heroes have searched for it. None have found it."
"Maybe they weren't being called by it!"
Chiron studied me for a long moment, then sighed.
"What exactly did the dream show you?"
"Trees. Massive oaks. Faces in the bark. Whispering voices, overlapping, speaking in unison. They said 'The Grove of Dodona awaits.'"
Chiron's expression shifted. "Faces in the bark?"
"Yes. Dozens of them."
"And they spoke in unison? Multiple voices as one?"
"Yeah."
He was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"That... actually does sound like Dodona." He rubbed his temples. "Fine. You have permission to search. But if you're not back by sunset, I'm sending a search party."
"Thank you—"
"And Aditya?" Chiron's voice stopped me at the door. "Your ribs are still mending. Will said you're at about ninety percent. That means no greatsword. Too much torque. Bow and daggers only."
I grimaced but nodded. He was right. The greatsword required full core strength to swing properly. With my ribs not quite healed...
I'd have to make do.
"The Grove will be tricky to find," Chiron added. "It doesn't reveal itself to just anyone. If it truly called you, be respectful."
"I will."
"Good. Now go. And try not to fight anything. You're still healing."
I headed into the forest.
The Search:
I'd been wandering for hours.
The "vague feeling of north" was not as helpful as I'd hoped.
"North is THAT way," a dryad said, pointing left.
"You said that an hour ago about the OTHER direction!"
"Well, north moves," she said primly.
"NORTH DOESN'T MOVE!"
"Not with that attitude." She dissolved back into her tree.
I groaned and kept walking.
An hour later, another dryad appeared.
"Oh, the talking trees!" she giggled. "They're north of the training arena!"
I went north of the arena. Found nothing.
"Actually, I think they're SOUTH of the arena," a different dryad said when I came back.
Went south. Still nothing.
"Wait, or was it east?"
"WHICH IS IT?!"
"Why are you yelling? We're trying to help!"
By midday, I was frustrated, tired, and seriously considering giving up.
I stopped at a stream to rest and wash mud off my face.
Water nymphs surfaced, giggling.
"Looking for talking trees?" one asked.
"YES."
"Oh! They're very shy!" another said. "You have to SING to them!"
I narrowed my eyes. "...really?"
"Ancient tradition!"
Against my better judgment—and because I was desperate—I started humming. Then singing. Badly.
The entire forest went silent.
Completely, utterly silent.
I stopped.
Distant laughter from the stream.
"I'M GOING TO FILL YOUR STREAM WITH ROCKS!"
More laughter.
I stormed away, face burning.
The Ants
I was still muttering about lying naiads when I heard it.
A clicking sound. Metallic. Wrong.
I froze.
The clicking grew louder. Multiple sources. Getting closer.
I nocked an arrow, turning slowly.
And came face to face with a Myrmeke.
A giant ant. Six feet tall, with metallic bronze carapace that gleamed in the dappled sunlight. Mandibles like swords. Way too many legs.
It chittered at me.
Then ten more appeared from the underbrush.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered.
They rushed.
I loosed an arrow. Caught one in the eye. It shrieked and fell.
Drew and fired again. Hit another in a leg joint. It stumbled but kept coming.
They were fast. Too fast.
One lunged. I rolled aside, my ribs protesting but holding. Came up with both daggers drawn.
No greatsword. Just the daggers Beckendorf made. Light. Quick. Sharp.
Dodge. Strike. Parry mandibles with crossed blades.
A mandible caught my shoulder. The Kavach had manifested to protect my still-healing ribs, but the shoulder wasn't covered yet—the armor focusing on my core. Tore through fabric and skin. I hissed in pain, spun, and drove a dagger into its throat joint.
Three down. Eight still coming.
I couldn't generate the power I needed. The daggers were fast but they couldn't pierce the carapace easily. Had to aim for joints, eyes, soft spots.
Another lunged. I sidestepped, slashed at its legs. It fell.
Four down.
But I was slowing. My ribs ached with every sharp movement. Not broken—the ambrosia had done its work—but not quite ready for this level of combat either.
Seven ants left.
They circled me, learning. Not rushing anymore. Patient.
Smart.
I grabbed my bow from where I'd dropped it, nocked an arrow, shot one in the face. It fell shrieking.
Five down.
Six left.
The ants chittered to each other. Coordinating.
I couldn't win this. Not with my ribs at ninety percent. Not without my greatsword. Not against six organized Myrmekes.
Time to run.
I bolted.
The ants shrieked and gave chase.
I ran through the forest, branches whipping my face, lungs burning. My ribs ached but held. The constant diet of ambrosia had done most of the work—I could run, could move, just couldn't take hard impacts or generate full power.
The clicking followed. Relentless.
Left. Right. Through a creek. Over fallen logs.
I lost them in the dense underbrush and kept running anyway.
Finally, I collapsed against a tree, gasping for air, clutching my side.
Silence.
They'd stopped chasing.
I'd lost them.
I'd also completely lost my sense of direction.
I had no idea where I was anymore.
Great.
I stood on shaky legs, looking around at unfamiliar forest.
And that's when I noticed it.
The trees here were different. MASSIVE. Ancient oaks that dwarfed everything around them.
The air felt heavier. Charged with something old.
And in the bark...
Faces.
The Grove of Dodona
I stumbled forward, staring.
Dozens of faces in the bark. Actually moving. Watching me.
Eyes opening. Mouths forming in the wood.
"Finally," one of the trees said.
I was too exhausted to be surprised. "Finally?"
"You've been running around our forest all day," another tree said. "Very entertaining."
"We particularly enjoyed the singing," a third added.
My face burned. "You were watching?"
"We're trees. We're always watching. It's literally all we do." The first tree's voice was amused. "Though I must say, the giant ants were a nice touch. Really motivated you to find us."
"You... you led them to me?!"
"Led? No. But we didn't warn you either." The tree rustled, almost like a shrug. "You needed to prove you were serious. Anyone can have a dream. Not everyone will fight giant ants and still keep searching."
I slumped against a rock, bleeding from the shoulder wound, ribs aching. "I hate everything."
"So we heard. You said it at least five times today." The trees rustled with laughter. "Now. Are you ready for your prophecy, child of the sun?"
I wiped blood from my shoulder. "Yes."
"Then listen well. We speak this only once."
The wind picked up. The humming grew louder. Multiple voices began to speak in unison, overlapping and intertwining.
The faces in the bark turned toward me, dozens of eyes focusing on me at once.
The temperature dropped. The air felt heavy with ancient power.
When they spoke, it was in perfect synchronization:
"Where Ares' beast lies bound in night,
The shattering lord awaits the fight,
Fire must face what breaks apart,
The traitor's shadow marks the start,
Free the scales or join the fall,
Before destruction claims it all."
The voices faded. The wind died. The weight lifted.
I stood there, processing.
"That's it?" I asked. "No explanation? No hints? No 'go to this specific place'?"
"Prophecies are not explanations," one tree said. "They are warnings. Possibilities. Threads of fate not yet woven."
"But I don't even know where to—"
"Figure it out," another tree interrupted. "That's what heroes do."
"Good luck," a third tree added. "Try not to die. We just got a new audience member. Would hate to lose you so soon."
The faces closed. The trees went still.
Apparently, we were done here.
I limped back toward camp, bleeding, exhausted, and with a prophecy that told me absolutely nothing useful.
Typical oracle behavior indeed.
The Return
I made it back to camp as the sun was setting.
Chiron was waiting at the edge of the forest, arms crossed.
"You're bleeding," he said.
"Myrmekes."
"How many?"
"Eleven. Killed five. Ran from the rest."
His expression shifted from annoyed to concerned. "Are your ribs—"
"Fine. Sore, but didn't rebreak anything." I showed him the shoulder wound. "This is the worst of it."
"Come. Will needs to see that."
We walked to the Big House. Will patched up my shoulder while I recited the prophecy.
Chiron stroked his beard, processing.
"Ares' beast," he murmured. "A chained beast. Could be his war dragon..."
"Shattering lord?" I asked.
"I'm not certain." He frowned. "It's cryptic. But the urgency is clear. 'Before destruction claims it all.' Something is happening. Something time-sensitive."
"But where?" I spread my hands. "The prophecy doesn't say WHERE to go."
"Hmm." Chiron stroked his beard. "That is a problem."
We were sitting there, stumped, when Mr. D walked past with a Diet Coke.
He paused. Looked at us. Sighed heavily.
"Ugh," he said with profound disgust. "Prophecy? Chained beast? Dragons? I HATE dragons."
He took a long sip of his Diet Coke.
"Fine. In my magnanimous capacity as Camp Director, I suppose I'll help."
Another heavy sigh.
"The only place you could actually imprison a war dragon would be San Francisco. Alcatraz prison. The old mortal prison. Perfect for containing divine beasts. Heavy enough for a Titan to use as a base."
He turned to leave.
"Now go away, Albert. And try not to die on this ridiculous quest. The paperwork is annoying."
He wandered off, muttering about dragons and wine shortages.
I blinked. "Did... did Mr. D just help us?"
"Apparently." Chiron looked equally shocked.
Will finished bandaging my shoulder. "You're clear to travel. Ribs should be fully healed in another day. Just don't do anything stupid like fight more giant ants."
"No promises," I muttered.
Chiron stood, his expression grave.
"Aditya. This is dangerous. If a Titan is involved, if Ares' dragon is truly imprisoned at Alcatraz..." He shook his head. "This is beyond what most heroes face."
"I know."
"I wanted to train you. Weeks of combat drills, survival tactics, strategy. Build your strength properly."
"But?"
"But this can't wait, can it?" He gestured to the prophecy. "'Before destruction claims it all.' That's not a suggestion. That's a deadline."
"So I go now."
"Yes." His voice was heavy. "You leave tomorrow morning. From then, you're on your own."
"No training at all?"
"No time." He placed a hand on my good shoulder. "You'll be going into this unprepared. Your ribs aren't fully healed. You haven't had proper quest preparation. You don't even know what you're facing."
"The prophecy found me for a reason," I said. "Whatever's happening at Alcatraz, it can't wait for me to be ready."
Chiron was quiet for a long moment.
"You're right," he said finally. "Which is why you're going. But Aditya—" His voice became serious. "Come back alive. That's an order."
"I'll do my best."
"Good." He straightened. "Now go. Eat dinner. Pack. Rest. Tomorrow morning, your quest begins."
I stood to leave.
"Aditya?"
I turned.
"For what it's worth," Chiron said quietly, "I'm proud of you. The prophecy called and you answered. That takes courage."
He smiled faintly.
"May the gods watch over you. Whichever pantheon they're from."
END OF CHAPTER 10