I do not own Percy Jackson, but I do half way own Camp Demi! The other Half? Who owns it? I believe her profile is HauntedAngle15! Check her out!
The son of sea shall go upon a quest,
And rescue the boy who was put to rest.
To where the fire once burned, you must go.
But be forewarned- for the wind will not slow.
In a place of sand, you will continue the quest,
But the dogs of hell will strike a dove in her chest.
The daughter of thieves shall lead the way,
But the tides of the sea will deceive them with dismay.
The thought of time will be recovered, lost, and found again.
An ally from the enemy they will send.
In the end- the sea will calm, the dove shall breathe another breath,
The Winds will stir, and evil will rest.
But as the suns sets for the day,
The price of victory the children shall pay.
A young man of around the age of sixteen in an old fashioned military uniform stood in front of a house. He had ashen blonde hair and hazel eyes. He was filthy and covered in mud, but for some reason, he was smiling. He strode to the door and opened the latch. The door opened to show what a house would look like a century ago. The young man did his best to straighten his uniform, which did nothing but reveal an odd piece of blue on the uniform. It was rather difficult to read, but not impossible. It read Cade Blackwood.
A young girl of seven was sitting in what seemed to be a living room, but more fancy. Her silky blonde hair was in a braid that fell down her back, secured with a loose lavender bow. She was playing with a doll one would see at a museum.
"Lillian, your braids coming un-done." Said the young man, Cade. He smiled down at the little girl. You would think they were brother and sister by the tone he used.
The little girl, Lillian, looked up at Cade, "Can you fix it then, Cadeā¦" Suddenly, it dawned on her that her brother, possibly, was home.
"Cade!" Lillian quickly stood up and jumped up into her brother's arms, "Cade! You're home! Mum! Da! Cade's home!"
There was a loud clatter from down the house and footsteps rushing down the halls. A woman with brown hair pulled into a bun wearing an apron and a tall man wearing his Sunday best walked into the room.
"Cade? Is that really you?" Asked the woman, her eyes brimming with tears. The man next to her, perhaps her husband, stood in shock.
"Yes, Mother, it is." Cade reached out his hand to the woman, his mother. The tears spilled onto the ground as the woman embraced her son.
"Welcome home, Cade." Said the man, a smile tucking at his lips. "Tell me, did you give the German's the old heave-hoe?"
Cade winked, "Of Course. Never saw it coming." The smile broke free as the man patted Cade on his shoulder.
"But Cade, what are you doing here? The war's not over yet, is it?" Lillian asked, reminding the adults she was still here.
"Sadly, no, Lillian. The war's not over yet, but we were stopping in London to pick up some supplies and my Commander granted me permission to come and visit my family."
"And that was very kind of him." Said the woman, tears still spilling from her eyes. "I have a pie baking . . . bring it to your Commander as thanks."
The woman rushed off to return to her baking.
"I'll help her, only God knows what will happen with her trying to bake will she's crying." Lillian said with a small giggle and followed her mother.
As she disappeared into the halls, her loose braid finally fell out. The ribbon fluttered in the air and landed at Cade's feet. He bent down and picked the fabric.
"Lillian, you dropped your-"Whatever Cade was going to say was lost forever as the sound of a flying machine came from above. The phew of a bomb went through the sky, and his world was shattered into millions of pieces . . .
