Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Preface: I realized pretty quickly that no matter where I take this, at least some people are going to be unhappy about it. Honestly, I'm not really sure I can do William justice anymore, as odd as that sounds, since he's supposed to be me. I really considered just letting the story end as it did in ACoT, because there's always that risk that the sequel ruins the perception of the first.
Time hasn't been kind to my own perception of the first story, though, either, so oh well. The best criticism of ACoT I've seen was that William never actually came totally clean to the main characters, though it seemed I'd been building up to that the whole story. I was, actually, and then I got this great idea for a sequel...and then I never finished it...
I had a couple different ideas for the sequel (alternate sequels, or perhaps follow-on sequels), but all that time ago, my muse developed this one the most. You can just pretend like this doesn't exist, if you like, just like the Star Wars prequels. If such things existed, I mean.
For those of you just joining me, this is a sequel to my Harry Potter OC self-insert fanfiction entitled A Curse of Truth. I shall endeavor to explain things such that you don't have to read it, but I can't promise I'll do a good job at it. As my first long form story it has plenty of issues, but I think it's worth reading first. Just don't read this one first if you're planning on reading that one, because there will probably be spoilers.
The style shall remain the same: there will be a single PoV, first person, present tense, throughout the entire story. You'll never hear the thoughts of another character, though you will probably hear the PoV character guess as to what those thoughts might be. If I mess that up — or anything else, for that matter — I expect you to yell at me.
As I've now explained on my profile, though, I'm not really writing anymore. Although, I will say I put some work into this just now, some five years after I started, to make it more presentable. So, perhaps there is a chance... I really, really wanted to get to a certain point in the plot before I started posting, but I didn't get there. Perhaps it's best if I don't get there, though, if I'm not going to develop the story much beyond that.
I dunno. If you're still reading, I hope you enjoy.
A Curse of Prophecy
Chapter One
Not Again!
With practiced ease, I slide the key into the keyhole and open the mailbox. Under the influence of muscle memory, I start closing it again after the briefest of glances. But this time, my hand and my heart stop at the exact same moment. My mind goes completely blank when I find a single letter lying within, affixed with quite a bit of postage...international postage. No name is written with the return address—a jumble of numbers and letters I barely register as an address before I tear open the envelope. My eyes skip straight to the end, straight to the signature at the bottom. As soon as I see it, my head swims, my eyes go blurry, and my arms start shaking.
My world goes dark.
My eyes shoot open.
Or at least, I think they do, but apparently, my world decides to stay dark. My sense of balance tells me I'm lying flat on my back, but that's all I really know. Feeling around for the letter, I come up with absolutely nothing except the knowledge that the floor is a lot dirtier than any post office has a right to be. Also, there's a wall. Smothering a stream of curses at my jammed fingers, I sweep my legs outward and listen carefully for rustling paper.
Nothing. What of the letter itself? I try to picture the letter as if I could remember something from it, but all I can picture are generic paragraphs. I can't even remember if it was addressed to me specifically. But I do remember the signature: Ophion...the serpent coiled around the egg that birthed the universe, according to some story in Greek mythology. Ophion was also the subject of the pendant I had carved a lifetime ago for a dear friend. But what could that possibly mean? Was it she who sent the letter, and if so, why would she sign it like that? Perhaps her sister? Neither option made much sense, at least not without reading the rest of the letter. Damn it, what did it say?
I've got nothing.
Okay, so taking stock of my surroundings is apparently worthless, as is trying to remember the letter. I can't see, so I'm not about to go exploring just yet. It smells...stale, I guess; I smell a pervasive, earthy odor that isn't exactly pleasant but neither is it enough to be discomforting. I do hear some distant noise, but it's just that: indistinguishable, distant noise. However, my own shifting and rustling indicates I'm in some large room, but beyond that I know nothing. I feel...what do I feel?
Suddenly it hits me all at once.
I feel...magic! It's back! I mentally poke and prod at the fluid sphere of magic in my gut just like I had so many times before...before I died. I remember waking up this morning like I did every morning and wondering if it was all a dream, but here I am, lying on a dirty floor who knows where, jammed fingers throbbing too painfully for a dream. And yet I can feel my magic once again there in my gut, a comfortable presence that I had missed all that time. Is it the same? I can't tell; it seems calm at the moment, though I distinctly remember it once roiled within, eager to escape and be shaped according to my will. Was that just when I was under stress? Had it been a result of all the training I'd undertaken?
Tentatively I pull off a couple separate streams like loose threads, and they snap back healthily to the source when I release them, as expected. Obviously it's internal so it doesn't really have a color, but it doesn't feel like the pure, white magic I twice felt before in extreme situations. I wonder if I can even access that anymore, considering...what happened. Forcing so much of that magic out of me might well have been permanent. But clearly this normal magic—cyan, I decide is its color—is back. Am I back, then?
A growing clatter jolts me out of my internal diagnosis. Just as I decide that I should try to conjure a light, faintly reflected light gives me my first view of my surroundings. Massive, cracked and grayed marble walls line the cavernous room, with pillars along either side, lengthwise. In the yellowish light filtering through the doorway in the center of the wall to my right, I'm reminded of some kind of old formal dining hall in a castle, despite the apparent lack of any furnishings whatsoever. The subtly shifting, growing light acts like a single torch, casting creepy shadows of the columns along the wall behind them.
Suddenly a group of people burst through the door—four of them, as far as I can tell, since my view of the door is slightly obstructed by the columns—and one collapses on the floor.
"You people are crazy," the collapsed one says, and then pulls off a helmet. Wait, a helmet? The castle conjecture might not be too far off the mark.
I consider eavesdropping for a little while, but I really don't want to piss them off. I decide to take my chances with revealing myself. "Hello?" Their heads whip around and the one with the flashlight aims it right at me. Wait, a flashlight? So not some medieval time, and not the same magic as before, since batteries appear to work wherever we are. I quickly cover my eyes against the sudden brightness and try to blink away the tears, trying to give my eyes time to adjust after spending so much time in the dark. "Can you help me?"
"Who's there?" A female voice.
"I...uh...William," I say, deciding on the spot to use my old imaginary name. Well, one of them. It sounds odd on my tongue now. I stand and brush myself off, looking down to find myself wearing the same jeans and polo I had been wearing at the post office. "I just woke up here a minute ago," I say as I walk slowly toward them, my hands still up in front of my eyes. I figure besides shading my still adjusting eyes it lets them see I'm not armed. "Where am I?"
"Great, just what we need," the guy on the floor mutters, but the others ignore him.
There is nothing but silence behind the light for several moments, then the light turns away to reveal a short, red-haired girl dressed in normal clothing. What the hell? Didn't the first guy have a helmet of some sort on? It could have been a prop or something... "Rachel, could you—?" That's a male voice, but I don't think it's the same as the first.
"Sure, I got it," she cut in with a hint of snark. Okay, so I'm dealing with two males and two females, one named Rachel. No British accents this time. Doesn't ring a bell. As we walk toward each other, the light swings to the guy on the floor.
"I recognize you," girl-who-is-not-Rachel says to him. "You were one of the undetermined kids in the H—well, you know, years ago..." Undetermined kids? What's this? It's starting to tickle a memory now.
"Yeah, and you're Annabeth. I remember." I go rigid at hearing that name — as uncommon as that name is, I understand the implications immediately. Annabeth, Rachel, undetermined kids...that must be Percy Jackson!
Aw hell, not again.
"What was that?" Rachel's voice startles me, and the light swings back to me. Damn it, can I not internally monologue here? That would really suck. Hey, I guess I didn't say that out loud.
"Uh, nothing...I'm just...surprised, is all," I stammer.
"Have you been down here before?" Annabeth's asks me. Whether it was surprise, curiosity, or suspicion that tinged her voice, I don't know.
"I don't have time for this," the guy on the ground says. I rather agree. He stands and brushes himself off and says, "look, thanks for the help, but I'm outta here."
"Wait," she says, attention once again on the formerly helmeted guy, "why were you trying to join up with...the wrong side?" Her voice falters, and I understand she's watching her words around me.
"There is no right side," he says with a sneer. "The g—your side never cared about us, why should I—?"
"Sign up with an..." She trails off, throwing an annoyed glance at me.
"Hey," I cut in, "don't hold back on my account. I believe you were about to ask why he would want to join up with somebody who only cares about him as cannon fodder."
"What would you know about it?" He spits at me.
"Better an absentee parent than an abusive one," I say. It occurs to me at that moment that we're almost certainly in the Labyrinth, and suddenly I'm really glad I stopped them. I don't remember who this guy is so I can't say anything about his godly parent, but I'm fairly certain he's trying to join up with Kronos. Unfortunately I can't play it slow like last time...I'll have to throw them some bait, get them to take me with them. "But you're right, I don't know. I don't know why anybody would expect someone like Kronos to keep his word, whatever he promised you."
That statement is met with shocked silence. "Who are you, really?" Annabeth's voice is definitely laced with suspicion this time. I wouldn't be surprised if she had a hand on her dagger or whatever it was she carried at this point. I can't see, though, because Percy has his light on me. He's probably holding that pen-sword thing, too.
"William Lerner," I say, hoping my voice isn't shaking too much. "Look, I really don't want you guys to leave me stranded. Somehow I doubt I'm going to find my way out of here alone."
Rachel had come to stand next to me and now she turns her head, squinting up at me. She's a good half-foot shorter than I am, probably more. "He's not disguising himself," she declares.
Uh, what?
The other guy scoffs. "Enough of this! You shouldn't have spared me, Jackson. Mercy has no place in this war." He picks up his helmet and jogs back the way they came. Inwardly I thank the gods that this confusing double conversation is at an end, even though I know the interrogation is probably coming. Oh well, I can handle those. The remaining occupants glance back and forth between me and the door, probably wondering which one of us deserves more suspicion.
"So, William," Percy begins.
I nod. "Mr. Jackson," I say, half questioning. I already dropped a hint that I know more than I should, but it couldn't hurt to play dumb now. They hadn't said his first name yet.
"Percy," he says quickly. I would shake his hand but I don't want to approach him too quickly just now. I don't remember much in the way of specifics about the Labyrinth at the moment since, if I recall correctly, they go in and out of it several times during that book. Either way, he's probably pretty jumpy at the moment.
"Nice to meet you, Percy, Annabeth," I say, nodding toward the lights each of them held, "Rachel." I shake her hand.
"You know about Kronos?" Well, Annabeth does get straight to the point, doesn't she?
"Ah," I say, stalling for time as I try to figure out what to say. "I do...a little, anyway."
Annabeth glances at Percy, who merely shrugs, before turning back to me. "Where did you find out?"
Well now, this isn't going at all like I planned. Time to play dumb again. "I...I'm not sure," I say, scratching my head again. "Everything sort of went fuzzy there for a while. One minute I'm standing in a post office in Denver, the next minute I'm waking up in complete darkness here. And...I know some things...things that I have no reason to know, but I must have learned them somewhere..." I try to look around but with the flashlight pointed at me I can't see Percy or Annabeth. I can see Rachel's confused face, though, and confused is better than suspicious. "Sorry," I say, "I wish I could remember more. I know some stuff about gods and titans, that Kronos wants revenge. And demigods, which I guess you guys are."
"Us two are," Annabeth says quickly, which causes the light to move. I figure Percy just shifted uncomfortably. Rachel displays no discernible reaction.
I nod and run my hand through my hair, thinking of what I should tell them. It's not totally an act. The Percy Jackson series is far from fresh in my mind. Then I shake my head, figuring maybe this is enough. "Sorry, a lot of things are fuzzy."
Annabeth crosses her arms. "You sure? Anything else we should know?"
I bite my bottom lip, then nod. "Yeah, this is probably going to come up sooner or later, but I...uh...I can do a bit of magic." I think, I almost add. It occurs to me that I haven't actually tried it here yet.
My declaration is once again met with what I assume is a shocked silence. Annabeth is the first to recover. "You can what?" There is far less hostility than I expected after that statement.
"Like card tricks?" Ah, Percy, you might be wicked awesome in a fight, but your jokes are as bad as mine. I suppose that's not too fair, though, since this is supposed to be Young Adult series.
Instead of replying, I hold my palm up and pull out a stream of magic like I have hundreds of times before. A small, white light flashes into existence, tiny pinpricks of light like faeries swirling around it. "No, like this," I say, thankful that it actually worked. I note that the dim light took more magic out of me than I might have expected. My first thought is to recall the hypothesis that it has to do with the similarity of my magic to magic in the Percy Jackson universe. But then, I suppose I am really out of practice. It could be a bit of both as well.
Staring at the dim light, I remember the last time I tested the limits of my magic and the oddities with it in...the old place. I didn't realize how much my time without magic had dulled the pain into heartache. Standing here in a strange land, my magic once again thrumming and awaiting my will... It's threatening to rip open the wound I don't want open right now. It makes me think I never really fit in there, and it makes me think it'll feel the same here. Do I really belong anywhere? I close my hand and cut off the stream.
This time Rachel is the first one who recovers. "Um, so...why were you sitting in the dark, then?"
I teeter on that cliff of melancholy a moment longer. "Well, I did just wake up a few moments before that," I say. "If you guys had shown up a minute later I probably wouldn't have been." I take a deep breath and look at them, trying to shake the rest of the awkwardness off. "Well, I take that back, I might have killed the light until I determined you weren't a threat."
"How do you know we aren't?" Yikes, Annabeth can be scary.
I smile slightly. "Lucky guess?" Percy snorts but she doesn't seem amused.
"Look, Annabeth, I'm exhausted, let's just make camp here for a while," Percy says. His voice now reflects his exhaustion, so I think I've at least convinced him that I'm not an enemy.
"We don't know enough about him," she replies, never taking her eyes off me.
"Well if he wanted to attack us he could have ambushed us," he points out. "I'm going to look for some firewood and we can chat in a bit."
I consider trying to use magic to help out, but I really don't know enough about it here. It could wipe out my entire capacity just summoning a splinter. Instead I sit, trying to look as harmless as possible. At least Rachel doesn't seem wary of me, because she just plops down next to me. "So who's your parent?"
"My...parent," I repeat dumbly. It takes me a moment to realize she thinks I'm a demigod. "Oh! Um...I don't even know if I'm a...do you guys have a way to tell demigods from humans?"
"Satyrs can smell the difference," Annabeth says slowly. She remains on her feet.
"Shame Grover isn't with us at the moment," Rachel says, which earns her a glare. Wow, the daughter of Athena really doesn't want me to know any more than I must.
"Will he be around?" I'm pretty sure he will be, but I don't remember where they are in the story at the moment.
"Maybe," Annabeth replies tightly. Damn it, was Grover in danger in this book? I can't remember, but I'm pretty sure he lives to the end of the series. Well, he would have if nothing changed. That thought sends a chill down my spine. Thankfully, she continues, "but surely you are a demigod; normal humans can't do what you just did."
Suddenly I recall that most, or maybe all demigods have a few symptoms that I don't have, so I try to think of a way to point that out. "Are you sure that's the only way to tell?" Internally I wince; somehow that was both pushing the limit of what I should say and far too vague.
Luckily, Annabeth falls right into my trap. "Besides the fact that satyrs...and monsters...can smell the difference, demigods generally have ADHD and dyslexia; the former because that hyper-alertness aids in fighting, the latter because our brains are hard-wired for Ancient Greek."
"And I have neither," I say slowly, "as far as I know." I stroke my chin, which I realize has a bit of stubble. Hey, am I my normal age this time? My clothes don't seem to have expanded on me this time.
"Well, it's not a surefire way to tell," she says, waving off my objection. "Just like the Mist, which most humans can't see through." She looks pointedly at Rachel when she says it. Oh yeah, that was what she was testing! "Some demigods have issues with it, too. But I have no idea what a human in the Labyrinth would see when there aren't any monsters around." At her sigh, I just nod. I hadn't thought about the Mist, but we're not going to get any further on this front without Grover or some other satyr. I have my own questions, but I figure I should let her continue to interrogate me until she's satisfied. "So what else can you do?"
"I don't know, small stuff, mostly," I say with a shrug. Probably, I should add, but I don't. As far as I know, my magic is limited only by my imagination, my capacity, and probably the similarity to local magic. "Converting some of my magic into light—producing a few trillion photons—isn't difficult."
"Mystiokinesis," Annabeth murmurs, then looks up at me questioningly. "A son of Hecate?"
I cock my head back at that...I've never heard that term before. Was that in the books? I just shrug again. "My parents never told me anything like that, but I suppose it's possible one of them isn't my real parent," I lie. "I wouldn't mind doing some experiments to figure out exactly what I can do, but I get the sense that this isn't really the time."
"We are in the Labyrinth," Rachel says in reply.
I had a distinct impression that was the case, but I still grimace at the confirmation of it. Didn't I die shortly after the last time I went into a maze? I need to figure out exactly what's going on, though. "So, what are we doing in the Labyrinth?"
Rachel snorts. "You mean besides blacking out and waking up here?"
I smile at her. "Well, as I said before, I rather hope you guys will take me with you, at least at first. I don't have any pressing matters to attend to at the moment, so I might as well tag along and help save the world real quick."
She laughs, though Annabeth just rolls her eyes at me. "Real quick, huh?"
"Hey, I've got a gourmet dinner of ramen noodles with my name on it," I say. "Anyway, you guys were running away from somebody on Kronos' side. So either you also ended up down here by accident, or we're down here looking for...?"
"Daedalus," Rachel supplies, earning another glare from the other girl.
"Daedalus," I repeat, stroking my chin and trying to recall what I knew about him. "The inventor..."
"...of the Labyrinth itself," Annabeth finishes grumpily.
That's right! Though if I recall correctly he isn't exactly in control of it anymore. They were down here trying to stop Kronos' army from entering Camp Half-Blood, but I can't remember how they planned to do that. It doesn't look like Annabeth is terribly interested in letting me know, either.
Percy finally makes his way back over, after making a bit of a clatter while we talked. He drops his pile of scrap wood — a mismatched pile of what appears to be broken corkboard, chunks of smashed furniture, and, oddly enough, a couple tree branches with dried leaves for tinder. Where did he find those down here? He glances at Rachel and I, sitting on the floor, and then to Annabeth, who is still standing with her arms crossed looking us over. "So...what's going on over here?" His amusement is not well-hidden.
"Ms. Annabeth is still deciding whether or not to kick me to the curb," I say with a lopsided smile.
Rachel scoffs. "She was ready to accept a known traitor's help, but apparently not a kind stranger's."
"Why thank you, Rachel," I say just before Annabeth could jump in and defend herself.
"Well, we're not going to just leave you here," Percy says right after, once again leaving the blonde fuming.
"Of course we're not," she says, spinning on her heel and walking away.
"You realize," I say loudly enough for her to hear, "that both of you could just beat the crap out of me if you needed to. I'm tall but not particularly strong, and if I had any weapon at all I'd be more likely to hurt myself with it."
Annabeth comes back a little closer while I'm speaking, though she's apparently far from ready to completely join us. "We don't know the extent of your mystiokinetic abilities," she points out.
"True," I concede, "but any magic I'd need to take out a demigod would almost certainly knock me out for several hours." At least until I get a better handle on what I can do, I don't add. Actually, demigods are probably resistant to my magic, so I don't even know if I can take them out at all. "Passing out like that...well, it's a most unpleasant sensation, I assure you."
"Can you...uh..." Percy says, gesturing to the wood pile.
I consider that. I know that later on, Leo Valdez has some sort of power over fire. The question is, would he shoot it out of his hand like a flamethrower, or just ignite the pile directly? From my experiments on my last adventure, that sort of difference greatly affects the amount of magic I need to make it happen. I think it's more likely he would just make it ignite, so I hold my hand out and push out a stream of magic, willing the tinder to ignite. It doesn't burst into flames or anything, which I suppose is to be expected since I'm not trying to put much magic into it. Instead, the leaves sort of shrink, start to smoke, and then eventually ignite as if someone is holding a magnifying glass on the tinder. Thankfully the wood catches after a minute, and we have a decent fire going. Annabeth removes the cork before it catches, though I don't know enough about burning wood to know why. Maybe it stinks or something and is only a last resort.
"Is that it?" Rachel blurts out the question and I laugh.
"Hey, don't make fun," I say with a mock glare. "I will not hesitate to inflict mild discomfort upon you."
Rachel giggles at that, but Annabeth merely crosses her arms. "You were holding back." It was not a question.
"Well yeah," I say with a shrug. I feel like I could have "I didn't think you needed my Ritual of Divine Conflagration to start a campfire."
"Ooo, what's that?" Rachel asks.
"Something I made up once," I say, cursing myself for the reminder. After a few moments, I murmur, "a story for another time."
The others fall silent as well, apparently sensing my mood. For several long minutes, the only sound is the crackling of the fire, and the only movement belongs to the dancing shadows cast on the walls by both us and the pillars around the room. I find myself wondering how I keep getting into the situations, and the disturbing parallels between them. To avoid falling into despondency, I focus on the others. The weight of the world always seems to rest on the shoulders of mid-teens. Actually, if I recall correctly, both of the main characters were fourteen when I showed up, and they even look alike: dark hair and bright green eyes. Both had similarly strong female companionship, too, though Annabeth is a tall blonde and I think Percy already realizes she's beautiful.
"Something was wrong with Luke," she says eventually, causing me to freeze with alarm. "Did you notice the way he was acting?"
"He looked pretty pleased to me," Percy mutters. "Like he'd spent a nice day torturing heroes." Ah, yes, Luke...how could I forget?
Annabeth's jaw clenches. "That's not true! There was something wrong with him. He looked...nervous. He told his monsters to spare me. He wanted to tell me something." She seems to be reaching for an explanation, reasoning out aloud. I honestly can't remember, but I don't think Luke does anything good anytime soon.
Percy snorts. "Probably, 'Hi, Annabeth! Sit here with me and watch while I tear your friends apart. It'll be fun!'"
"You're impossible," she grumbles, then turns to Rachel to change the subject. "So which way now, Sacagawea?"
She doesn't answer right away, instead putting the finishing touches on a surprisingly detailed serpentine creature drawn with ash. "We'll follow the path," she says slowly. "The brightness on the floor."
"The brightness that led us into a trap?"
"Lay off her, Annabeth," Percy says. "She's doing the best she can."
Ouch. Not a good attempt at mediation, Percy. Annabeth stands up in a huff. "The fire's getting low. I'll go look for some more scraps while you guys talk strategy." She marches off into the shadows while Rachel continues to draw.
"Annabeth's usually not like this," Percy says with a sigh, glancing over at us with an embarrassed look. "I don't know what her problem is."
Rachel raises her eyebrows at him. "Are you sure you don't know?"
He furrows his brows. "What do you mean?"
"Boys," she mutters. "Totally blind."
I interrupt the banter with a laugh. "We are at that," I say. "But the question is, do you really want boys to figure you out?"
Rachel blushes, but Percy looks interested. "Do you know what she means?"
I grin at the still blushing redhead. "I might, but it's not my place to guess. I will venture to say that despite how they're acting, I don't think they want you to know just yet."
"C'mon," Percy prods, "just a little hint?"
I laugh. "Well, alright. First, you've got two pretty girls—" I'm suddenly cut off by a hand over my mouth and a frantic Rachel, her eyes pleading with me to drop it. I gently pry her hand away and laugh again. "Hey, I'm just sharing some observations here," I say. "Mix one part good-lookin' guy, two parts pretty girl, a big pile of teenage hormones with a dash of unrequited crush, and what do you think is gonna happen?"
"Mix what? I don't get it," Percy says, brows still knitted in thought.
"Angst," I say, ignoring him. "That's what you get. Piles and piles of angst. I don't know why girls seem to like it; seems to me everybody should just come out and speak plainly."
"Exactly," Percy agrees. "Just come out and say it."
He directs that to me, but I just shake my head and chuckle. "Sorry, Percy, I think you forgot the part where I don't feel like dying a—anytime soon." Well, that was smooth. I wonder what they would have made of it if I'd actually said 'again.'
That gets a wince and a guilty look directed at the redhead sitting next to me; quite a different response than I expected. "Look, I'm sorry I got you involved, Rachel." Ah, that.
"No, you were right," she says slowly, glancing at me as if to make sure I don't circle back to the uncomfortable subject she just escaped. "I can see the path. I can't explain it, but it's really clear." She points toward the end of the room opposite to where they entered. "The workshop is that way...the heart of the maze," she adds I think for my benefit. "We're very close now. I don't know why the path led through that arena. I—I'm sorry about that. I thought you were going to die." She sounds like she is going to cry, so I reach over and try to rub her back comfortingly.
"Hey, I'm usually about to die," Percy says lightly. "Don't feel bad."
She stares at him, then sighs as some of the tension leaks away. "So you do this every summer? Fight monsters? Save the world? Don't you ever get to do just, you know, normal stuff?"
"Half-bloods get used to it, I guess. Or maybe not used to it, but…" He shifts uncomfortably. "What about you? What do you do normally?"
She shrugs. "I paint. I read a lot."
Ah, the awkward conversations of teens getting to know each other. Percy charges through it, however. "What about your family?"
Okay, I spoke too soon, now it's awkward. I stand up and stretch, looking around for Annabeth and thinking maybe I'll help her out. Unfortunately, she's already on her way back, carrying a few more sticks that Percy probably ignored. On the other hand, my standing up had the pleasant side effect of ending the painful conversation.
"I'll take first watch," she says after eying the three of us in turn. "You guys should get some sleep."
"I'm afraid I just slept for who knows how long, so I don't think I could fall asleep right now," I say, though I'm not sure it's true. I do know I'm too wired to sleep. "I could keep you company if you like."
Her face flashes a look that says she'd like anything but. Luckily for me, though, there isn't really a way to get out of it unless someone else stays up, too. "Okay," she relents.
Percy looks like he wants to say something, but he glances at Rachel who has already wordlessly curled up with her backpack as a makeshift pillow. He gives me a tired nod since Annabeth isn't looking, then lays down as well. She and I remain silent for some time, allowing the others to fall asleep, though she never turns her back on me. To once again reinforce the fact that I'm harmless, I turn my back on her. I take the opportunity to once again poke and prod at my magic, reveling in the sensations...in the life that magic brings to me. The magic I had used previously was already restored, and since we apparently wouldn't be going anywhere for several hours, I decide I can safely waste some.
I rest my hands on my knees, palms up, and summon a dim light in both of them. Then I convert one to fire; a flickering, orange candle flame that looks like a candle wick that is about to burn out. Then I convert the other to electricity; a small, blue orb with static-like arcs dancing around it. The arcs make a slight zapping sound, however, so I close that hand and move it over so both hands look like they're cupping water. Then I try to change the flame to actual water. It requires a lot more magic, perhaps, I theorize, since the other things are just energy but water is mass. I'm up to the challenge, however. The flame changes to a mist, which gathers with streams of mist snaking in from the surrounding air to form a small bead of water, rotating about a point above my cupped hands. I let it grow to the size of a marble before Annabeth interrupts me.
"That's really amazing," she says, the proximity of her voice surprising me. She'd moved closer, watching me from the side.
I drop the ball in surprise, which splashes first into my hands and then right down the front of my pants. I stare down at enormous wet spot, and then look over to see her biting her lip and barely stifling laughter. I let out a quiet chuckle. "See, that shows you what a coward I am. A few words from you and I just wet myself."
A/N:
This chapter was originally over 10k words, but I figured this was a good place to split it. If you start expecting 10k word chapters every time, the chances that I will continue to deliver just plummet.
I got the mystiokinesis stuff from the Camp Half-Blood wiki. 'My' reaction above was accurate; I don't remember seeing any of that in the series proper. I think I found something in reference to a game, but nothing solid (and I never played any of the games). So if you know, let me know!
Note that a portion of the dialogue is from The Battle of the Labyrinth. Since my stories are canon-compliant right up until the point where I wreak havoc upon the real story, I figure the dialog should start out similar. But don't worry, I'm hoping to take this story in an interesting direction in short order, with a couple non-canonical characters and items from Greek mythology that Rick Riordan didn't include.
Also, I started writing this all the way back before The Mark of Athena, so at least some of this story will disregard any information in that book. This will become clear much later on.
I welcome any and all feedback, from gushing praise to roaring flames. I also welcome...nay, I demand notification of any mistakes whatsoever, be they grammatical, temporal, canonical, or what have you.