I've known who my mother has been for longer than many people have expected. For longer than even the professors here have had the slightest ideas. They never understood why I was unclaimed. That usually meant Hermes. I was too different to be his child. But that had never bothered me. It had never bothered me to be a part of the messenger God's cabin. I even kind of liked it, I dare say. The people being around me at all times of the day had almost been comforting. You see, I've always been socially awkward. No one feels that they can familiarize themselves with me. Especially not those in the Hermes cabin, although they tried valiantly.
I looked different than they did. My hair is a darker shade of golden blonde. And its wavy, not curly. And my eyes... They're a mix between a storm gray and a brilliant blue. Though they are on the darker side, more towards the gray. That was my first clue towards my true parent.
Second was my brilliance, my tactical thought.
Third was Jane.
Or no... I mean, third was her voice. I heard my mother's voice in my head.
Well, that was probably because of Jane. I mean... Well, perhaps it is better if I explain the way that it had happened. Perhaps that would make this easier. All of them staring at me right now is not easy, by any means. So if one thing could possibly be made easier, then I will do what I can...
It was a normal day. As normal as many of them had been for me, and as many would prove to be. I was curled up beneath a tree at the edges of the training grounds, my pegasus grazing contentedly beside me, to my right. She was a pretty creature, with a white blaze starting beneath a small gray forelock, stretching to the tip of her nose. Her coat was a slightly golden shade of gray as well, with white speckles spread over her hindquarters and back in a slight snowflake coat. On her back legs, she had pure white socks, which ended in ragged lines half way up her cannon bones. The bones of her wings were speckled like her coat, but the feathers were either white or storm gray. She was tiny, only about fifteen hands, but she made up for her size in heart. I used a rope bridle on her, with no bit, only a nose band with fleece padding wrapped around it, and split reins. At the side of the training grounds, I was reading a book. And it was not a book in Greek, but in normal, run of the mill English. Unlike many of the children here, I was not dyslexic.
Ah, I forgot to mention. I was seventeen years old. My name was Maura Isles. And I was a resident of Camp Half Blood.
They thought I was a Demi- God.
Now, I'm thinking they might have been a bit off in this initial assumption.
My name is Maura Isles.
And as it seems, at the present moment,
I am a God.