Disclaimer: This is Rick Riordan's brain child.

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Prologue

The main hall of Olympus was full of assembled immortals. Although impromptu meetings were nothing unusual, the idea that one would need to be called during such a peaceful era seemed unnecessary to many of those gathered.

Zeus cleared his throat. "Today, we have been called to council by Hermes." His bored gesture bid the lesser god to speak.

"Goddesses and gods, we have a very big problem on our hands. There is an army forming-" The others cut him off, whispering urgently to each other or laughing at the absurdity. Why doesn't anyone ever believe me the first time? The underappreciated messenger sighed. "EVERYONE!" The room hushed. "It's made up of mechanic…er…well, I can't say I know what they are." Hermes took a deep breath and continued while the attention of the room was finally his, "And it seems to be moving toward Camp Half-Blood."

Aphrodite gasped, "But our children!"

"We can't just let them die," Poseidon asserted.

"We should crush them! If they're too much for our kids to handle, then no rules apply," growled Ares.

Athena stopped them all. "Hermes, how great are their chances for survival?"

Hermes shifted uncomfortably. "Well...There are about four hundred demigods and the army has...uh...thirty thousand and more being recruited and…um…built, I suppose. So...not great." The shocked room burst into a cacophony of angry noises.

"ORDER!" Zeus thundered. They quieted, fear plain in many of them. "Before you panic, there's been a prophecy." The room's mood changed drastically. A prophecy meant there was hope. "The Oracle herself has agreed to grace us with her presence, so please, be polite."

A relaxed middle-aged woman with tumbledown red hair stepped out in front of the giant gods. She took a deep breath, and green mist swirled around her, taking possession of her. An echoing, raspy voice resonated clearly through the room.

"A dark storm on the horizon, a group set out in three
The last member of the party more than he claims to be
The journey wrought with danger, a brother in distress
Not with force but with a kiss he shall be made to confess
A group split apart by fang, sword, and lies
Listen for the mournful cries;
In night, love triumphs and the cursed one dies."

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Hi, guys! We know that this story is going to be a bit unconventional due to the lack of PJ characters, so we just want to explain a couple of things. First, we're acting as though Percy Jackson and the rest died. (Why? Because in the books, no one is older than their teens unless they're a myth, and being a demigod doesn't exactly fade with childhood.) It's about ten years in the future, so there won't be any flying cars. Oh, and we're acting as though the second series never happened, because we haven't read it.

Please give it a chance! We have some awesome stuff planned. :}

One last thing! The summary has been rewritten along with the story. This was previously titled "Rise of the Defenders," but we thought that was boring and scrapped it for this lovely new title, because it made us laugh.

Forever Yours,

Rachel and Monica