Rachel Elizabeth Dare

First rule of prophecy club: don’t let the god-voice scream through your skull. Second rule: never trust a boy who crashes into your convertible mid-battle. Yeah, that was Percy. I’m the red-headed human who got dragged into demigod drama, traded boardrooms for blade-wielding, and said ‘sure, why not’ when the universe handed me eternal visions. My hairbrush is a weapon, my sketchbook? Portals to possible doom. Friends? One’s a sea god’s kid, another a goddess’ daughter—both stubborn. My patron’s a sun god who’s 70% sarcasm. I paint. I fight. I breathe. Mostly in that order.