Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson & The Olympians.
Prologue:
Missing in the Night
The nights of a new moon were always the darkest and most formidable to sailors. It was when deckhands kept close to the middle to stay grounded and captains held fast to their helm. Waves were less predictable and tides clashed against currents flowing in dissimilar directions.
The odd bounding waves and swift currents weren't the true hindrance for sailors though. What truly made the men keep silent and hold their tongues during such nights was the absence of the distinctive line that separated the sky from sea. Without it their world seemed to blur into a somber oblivion, leaving sailors with the eerie feeling of how small and isolated they actually were.
It was the faint twinkle of the stars from far away heavens that lead ships home to safe passage. It was all they had against the blackness that followed the lack of the usual illumining moon. But sometimes even the best stargazers were no match to guiding ships home if the Gods forbade it.
And unfortunately on one particular night, a certain God had.
Sailors near the eastern seaboard gulped back their fright when enormous, dark clouds submerged the skies from their vision during the dead of night. All hands were called to deck when the waves intensified in height and strength, showing the boats whose domain they truly were in.
Even the most experienced of deckhands and captains succumbed before the oceans sudden wrath, a storm that brewed seemingly out of nowhere.
Prayers to a particular God went unheard or ignored as ship after ship lost their fight to the waves and winds that tore them apart. Terrified men sunk along with their cargo and ships because of the fear of letting go and being lost into the rage of the storm.
Men dead and a vessel slowly being submerged into the depths, one weary captain blinked past the icy shower of rain and out onto the horizon of colossal waves. Underneath the spine jerking bursts of thunder and howls of the wind colliding with the sea, the old captain heard and felt something even direr.
He could've been delusion because of how close he was to death, but the aged captain knew what he heard. Somewhere far, far away he heard the distinct sound of a grieving and enraged father. His cries of sorrow and rage echoed across the skies as his emotions rippled through the ceaseless brutal waves.
It was then that it all clicked to the old man.
A father was is dismay over the loss of their dear child; a feeling the old captain was all too familiar with.
With his final breaths the man silently prayed that the father would find peace with his loss because there was no greater pain than losing a child.
May all those still at sea be given compassion during this dreadful time.
The child of Poseidon has been lost.
.
.
.
Or stolen.