Hey y'all… I'm back. Don't worry, I didn't abandoned the story and don't intend on doing so, but the school year got a bit out of hand between exams and work load, but now it's summer!
Anyways, these next three chapters are rewrites and have been reposted (and I'm hoping to get the rest of the story up on a somewhat consistent schedule). As I was going through the editing, I realized details were not lining up :( and I failed to explain certain things (whoops) but now it's ready to go, so enjoy!
Disclaimer: All rights to PJO or related material go to Rick Riordan, except for my OC's … 'cause I'm a little attached to them
**chapter names by Sleeping at Last "Earth"
Chapter 1: I dig til my shovel tells a secret
Someone once told me that the life of some are harder than others. The life of a demigod is no exception. Like some, my story started out simple, easy. I missed the second Titan and Giant War. Although none of the stories I heard prepared me for what was to come.
Ever since I was little, my grandfather told stories of honorable warriors and brave soldiers, sinister forces and the cunning heroes who raced to stop them. Everyone holds that kind of strength inside them, my grandfather would say, You have that strength. The blood of the gods runs through your veins.
See, my family is ancient, literally. We come from a long line of half bloods, nymphs, heroes, gods, etcetera. We are deeply entwined in ancient history; Greek, Roman, you name it. My grandfather isn't a demigod, nor my aunt, uncle or father. Pretty much all that ancient blood I talked about, almost doesn't exist, with those ancestors living a long, long time ago. Nevertheless, I was always raised to always respect the gods of old times.
My name is Elisabeth Laskaris. I'm a bit of a nobody who's been living with my grandparents ever since my father has been on tour for the last year and a half. My grandfather owns a large estate. Dozens of acres of bellowing green grass overlooking glass ponds and and tall swaying pines. Gleaming silver gates stand guard before a long gravel road, leading up to a modest mediterranean style house. Behind it, a dusty stable, filled with horses of great strength and speed.
Most of my days were spent running across the seemingly endless fields with my cousins: Daisy, Brady and their step brother Arnold. They live twenty minutes down the road and often come to the house. Daisy and Brady's mother is nearly nonexistent, the only proof being my cousins themselves. Their father, Uncle Vernon, was a stern man, ruling his house with an iron fist. His current wife, Julia, cold hearted and jealous, with the notion that her children are to be the best at everything. The only take away you need to know is that she hates me, and my uncle doesn't exactly get along with my father.
Despite our parents feuds, we live normal, happy lives. We climb trees, play in the hayloft, ride horses, watch scary movies, share secrets, basically normal kid stuff. Everything was perfect…
… that was until the styr knocked on our door, beginning the craziest story of my life.
It all started one fine summer morning. It was the first time in months that we were all able to enjoy a family breakfast. My dear grandmother made her famous swedish pancakes, and even Aunt Julia stepped up with an unfortunately tasteful platter of deviled eggs. Lucky her I was hungry. We were laughing over a poorly delivered joke by Arnold when a brisk knock echoed through the house. The room went silent. We were definitely not expecting guests. My grandfather opened the oak door to find a styr trembling there. He was a nervous creature, just under five feet with stick straight brown hair and an oversized green t-shirt.
"Are you the Laskaris residences?" He asked in a timid voice.
"Yes," answered my grandfather with a hint of caution.
"I was sent from Camp Half-Blood," he replied, his hooves pawing at the ground, "for three demigods."
A gasp went up from the table as Aunt Julia stood up. She only got so far as to open her mouth before Uncle Vernon pulled her back down, his head lowered in shame. The four of us kids peered around the corner in awe and disbelief. My grandfather, on the other hand, gave a small sigh. Somehow he knew that this day would come.
We invited the styr in and offered him some blueberry pancakes, which he quickly nibbled on, eyes darting around the room. My grandfather stared at the styr with an unreadabe gaze. The only sounds in the room was the great clock, tick, tock, tick.
"Well," my grandfather said after some time, "pack your bags."
The four of us dashed upstairs, landing in my room on the upper right side. For some reason, we all subconsciously choose my room as a meeting place. Perhaps because it had the best view, overlooking the paddocks and the back half of the property.
"What are we going to do?" asked Daisy, flopping onto my bed which was obnoxiously centered in the middle of my room.
Brady punched the bedpost, "What do you mean? We go of course!"
"It's not like we have a choice," I reasoned.
Daisy picked her nails, "But what about the monsters?" My stomach dropped. This could actually be dangerous.
"We get to learn how to use swords." Brady picked up a lightsaber from under my bed and twirled it around. "Like real swords. And knives. And spears."
"Sounds like fun," Arnold sulked. I felt bad.
"Not as much fun without you, HP," I told him. He shrugged. "Well, we better pack."
I pushed them out of my room and began filling a small duffle bag. With in a few minutes we were all downstairs. Saying goodbye wasn't easy. The next thing we knew, Daisy, Brady, the styr and I were in a taxi zooming away from our ordinary life towards a great adventure ahead.