Suspense combines curiosity with fear and pulls them up a rising slope.

–Mason Cooley

You see, my dreams are never just dreams. It's just one of the unpleasant side effects of being half Greek god, half human being.

After Kronos disappeared, Typhon was recaptured, and Olympus was saved (for now), I was sure the nightmares would stop. Maybe I'd receive nice omens; like dreaming about acing an English test.

But I should've known better.

It started out as just awkward—I was standing in an all-white room that was depressingly empty: no windows, doors, or furniture. In front of me, two people were kissing. I couldn't tell who they were, at first, but for some reason I felt sick to my stomach watching them; like I knew I wasn't going to like it when I recognized them. I wanted to look away, I tried to; but I couldn't. My eyes were frozen in place.

The two people pulled away for a moment, just to the point where I could see their faces. It felt like my heart plummeted to my feet in that one instant.

It was Annabeth and Luke.

Annabeth and Luke would be making out in my nightmare. Yuck. Just yuck. I knew it would never happen for real—Luke was dead. He'd pulled the classic redeeming-oneself-with-your-dying-breath card, so it was hard to still hate him, but I think I'd just achieved that.

Luke looked up at me, and the first thing I saw were his eyes—the golden eyes of Kronos, the Titan lord. They sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to run forward, push him away from Annabeth, but I didn't seem to be in control of my body. I couldn't make myself move, as hard as I willed myself.

They started kissing again, and I was finally able to close my eyes. I shut them as tightly as I could, and as I did, a huge weight crashed down onto my shoulders. It happened so quickly, I barely realized what was happening. Dimly, it registered that I was screaming; screaming as if it would bring an end to the pain, the torture that I'd only felt once before and had never expected to feel again. It was indescribable. I was holding the weight of the whole world—literally. I was in Atlas, the Titan's, place.

Then some of the burden was relieved. Relishing the feeling, I let go, managing to extricate myself out from under the heavy weight. Now somebody else was screaming, begging for help. I'd know that voice anywhere, though it didn't make sense that she was screaming. Annabeth is tougher than that. Like me, she'd carried the weight of the world before, and she'd done so for days without giving up.

But I only realized all this after the fact. All I could think as it was happening was Annabeth had tried to help me, and I'd been so blinded by the relief that I'd shoved the whole burden on her.

Then the weight was sinking, slowly; and I knew Annabeth was going to be flattened, squashed like a bug; I tried to run to help her but time slowed down and I felt as if I were running through molasses; I could hear Kronos' manic laughter in my head, mocking me, I wasn't going to get there quick enough—

The scene changed.

I was looking down into a dark classroom. Two figures were seated at a desk in one corner; chatting in hushed voices. As much as I strained my ears, I couldn't manage to hear what they were saying. I only caught one word—demigod.

All of a sudden, there was a voice in my ear. I jumped so hard, I nearly fell down into the room. I had a feeling that wouldn't have been good. "Percy! Thank the gods I reached you!"

I turned to see my friend Grover hunched next to me, almost invisible in the gloom. I realized with a start that I was in an air conditioning vent, and I started to wonder how much longer it would hold our weight. Or even if my weight affected it, since I wasn't physically there.

"The empathy link," I said, ignoring the fact I'd just stated the obvious. Grover had interrupted my nightmare when he'd try to contact me. Not that I was complaining.

I cast another glance down into the mysterious classroom. I wasn't so worried about the two figures and their conversation anymore. It was a bit fishy, but I wanted to hear what Grover had to say. "Grover, aren't you supposed to be organizing the nymphs on the west coast?"

"I still am," Grover assured me, but his voice sounded strained, and I could tell he was having a tough time. Before I could ask what was wrong, be continued. "But this school…the smell of monsters was so strong. I had to come check it out." In the dim lighting, I could see him trembling. "It's just what I expected. There's another half-blood here. In California. I haven't got any satyrs scouting in California yet!"

I sighed. It was a pretty inconvenient situation, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. Grover must've been seriously stressed if he were freaking out so easily. "It's alright, man. I can be out there tomorrow. Where are you in California?"

"I'm in Malibu."

I rolled my eyes. Of course Grover would be in Malibu. "Okay. Just try to keep an eye on the half-blood for me. I'll be there soon."

Grover bleated gratefully. "Bless you, Perrrrcy!" My whole body tingled as Grover ended the connection. The air conditioning vent, the classroom, and finally Grover faded until I was spiraling back into consciousness. Grover's voice was distant as he added, "And hurry! I don't know how much longer the monsters will wait!"

I woke up feeling as tired as if I hadn't slept in days. After downing a few cups of water from the tap, I felt a bit better, but still like I could do with a good caffeine rush. Spontaneously I recalled the nightmare I'd had, but I forced it out of my mind. I had to get to Grover.

I threw on some clothes and staggered into the kitchen to find my stepdad Paul at the stove, flipping pancakes while simultaneously shouting insults into the phone. Too exhausted to be curious, I crashed at the kitchen table, rubbing my eyes vigorously.

Paul hung up angrily and slammed the phone on the counter. His face was red and his brows were knit in frustration, but when he caught sight of me his expression quickly morphed into a happier one. "Ah, Percy! You're up earlier than usual."

"What was that?" I asked, ignoring his comment. I could hear the grogginess in my own voice as I spoke.

With a sigh of resentment, Paul flipped another pancake and shook his head as he explained, "One of my old colleagues. I went to college with him, and now he's after my job. I keep telling him there are plenty of other high schools in New York; but he seems to be determined to be at Goode. Ridiculous."

I nodded, even though I'd barely heard a word Paul had said. Something was making me really anxious to go find that half-blood Grover had talked about. "When are those pancakes going to be ready, do you think?"

"Might be awhile," Paul replied, eyeing me suspiciously. "I've just started on them. Are you in a rush to be somewhere, Percy?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I stood, slipped on my jacket (after checking the pockets to make sure I was well-stocked with both cash and golden drachmas) and was halfway out the front door before I remembered one last thing. I stepped back into the apartment and added, "Tell my mom I'm sorry for leaving again. I'll Iris-message her once I'm back at camp, okay?"

Paul was stunned. "Percy—"

He dropped his spatula and started after me, but I was already out the door and headed down the stairs, fishing a golden drachma out of my jacket pocket. I stood at the edge of the sidewalk, leaning against the street lamp and trying to look casual as I hailed a cab, the drachma in the palm of my hand, glinting in the sunlight. The sun had melted most of the snow and only a thin layer of slush remained, but it still chilled me to the bone, soaking through the canvas sides of my sneakers.

The cab that pulled up to the curb wasn't your everyday taxi. For one thing, it was bright blue with green racing stripes. The side read in conspicuous white letters, OFFICIAL DEMIGOD EXPRESS. And maybe the weirdest thing of all was the driver, who was half-bird, half-hag.

The harpy rolled down the passenger seat window and let out a screech, which I assumed meant 'get in'. I tossed the drachma through the window and climbed into the backseat of the odd cab, not even bothering to make sure the harpy caught her payment.

"Camp Half-Blood," I told her, and she let out a screech of approval. There was a bing from above me, and I looked up to see a brightly lit symbol of a stick figure fastening their seatbelt, like those on airplanes. An excessively cheery voice that I recognized as Chiron's intoned, "Please buckle up as your ride will be bumpy! Have a safe trip, demigods!"

I'd never used the Demigod Express before. It was a recent thing, put into place just before the previous summer session of camp had drawn to a close. Specifically meant for half-bloods, if you hailed a cab like you normally would while holding a golden drachma, the Demigod Express would show up no matter where you were. It wasn't always in the form of a cab. It might appear as a water taxi, or a helicopter. It all depended on the half-blood's location. The cleaning harpies from camp took turns driving the Express. We're pretty sure they only volunteered because they wanted more chances to eat the campers, but Chiron made them swear not to.

The harpy let out a cackle and stomped on the gas, sending the cab rocketing forward. I had barely buckled my seatbelt before I was blasted backward into my seat, feeling as if someone had just tried to squish me in between two loaves of bread in an attempt to make a peanut-butter-and-Percy sandwich. I was clutching the edge of the seat so tightly my knuckles were white. My stomach lurched as the cab flew over a speed bump. The harpy driver hadn't bothered to slow down, and it sent the Demigod Express careening a good three feet into the air. It landed with a jolt, and the harpy gave a shriek of excitement. "Hold on, tasty demigod! Almost there!"

I closed my eyes, trying not to groan. For the next few moments, it seemed as if the cab had flipped upside down and all the blood was rushing to my head. I don't know why, and I didn't plan to find out. I kept my eyes shut, scrunching them up in desperation.

The cab came to a halt just as abruptly as it had started. I flew forward and gagged as the seatbelt locked into place and dug deep into my gut, stopping me from going head first into the windshield. The harpy tittered madly and announced, "Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Long Island, New York!"

"Thanks," I said weakly, my head reeling. The cab door swung open before I even touched the handle, and I stumbled out, holding my stomach and grimacing. I looked up and realized I was seeing double—two Chirons, two Camp Half-Bloods, two of Thalia's pine tree. My knees buckled, but the two Chirons reached forward and placed their hands on my shoulder, steadying me. I blinked hard, and my vision fixed itself. I hunched over; feeling as if I were about to pass out.

"Percy?" With some difficulty, I righted myself and managed to meet Chiron's eyes. His brows were knit with worry, and the corners of his mouth were turned down just slightly, as if he were… confused. "Just how sick are you feeling, exactly?"

"Like I just downed a bottle of Kampe's poison," I answered. Probably not the most accurate analysis, but it explained it well enough. I cleared my throat and tried to look as if I weren't about to puke. "But, uh, I've got to get to Blackjack—did Grover happen to Iris-message you?"

"He did," Chiron confirmed, reluctantly taking his hand away from my shoulder. "And he explained about the half-blood, and that he contacted you through the empathy link. But Percy…"

"I'll be fine, really," I persisted, taking a few unsteady steps forward. The dragon who guarded Thalia's tree, Peleus (who was growing bigger and bigger every time I saw him) made a disbelieving noise in his throat, as if he'd been in on our conversation. Or maybe I was just imagining it. My head throbbed, and I felt myself stumble again. Chiron rushed to my side to keep me from tumbling forward, face-first onto the ground.

"Come, Percy," he said, his voice quiet and contemplating, "Let's get you to the Big House. You need to rest."

When I opened my eyes next, I was in a room I didn't recognize—all the curtains were drawn, preventing any sun from lighting it up, and it was completely empty except for vintage sofas lining the four walls and an ancient-looking rug in the middle of the floor. In the very center of the rug there was a large crystal ball—bright green mist swirled inside, sending chills up my spine. I'd know that mist anywhere. The mist was the only source of light in the room, and it created eerie, dancing shadows.

I was on one of the sofas, covered up with what felt like a thousand layers of thick blankets. Annoyed, I tried to toss them off, but as soon as the stagnant air touched my skin I let out a yelp.

"Cold, isn't it?"

I whirled around (well, as best a person can whirl when they're trapped under a mound of dusty old blankets), startled. My sort-of mortal friend Rachel Elizabeth Dare stood behind me, looking as if she were trying hard not to smile. Her wild red curls were pulled back away from her face by a green bandana, and she wore loose and drape-y clothes that reminded me of a fortune teller. It wasn't very Rachel-esque, but I tried not to pay much mind to it. Instead, I examined the room more closely, noticing for the first time that there were no doors.

"We have to keep the air locked in and chilled, so I can make my predictions more easily." Rachel shrugged, as if the below-freezing temperatures didn't faze her. They probably didn't.

I sat up, careful to keep the blankets on me this time. "Haven't seen you in awhile. How's school?"

Rachel made a face. "I really wish you hadn't brought that up. I've been here all winter break and managed to forget about the Academy, but soon…"

"You'll have to go back." I swallowed the lump beginning to form in my throat. I knew how it felt, to go straight from an exciting life to trying to be molded into shape by everybody else, trying to be told what to do and how to do it properly.

There was a sad, faraway look in Rachel's eyes, as if she knew something she wished she didn't. But then she blinked and it was gone. She smiled at me and made her way over to her crystal ball. The mist inside it swirled more furiously, as if Rachel's presence agitated it.

"That aside, Percy, you must realize you have a reason for being here besides the idle chitchat." Rachel waved her hand over the crystal ball, and the mist froze, and seemed to brighten until the whole room was lit with the unnatural green light. "Did Chiron manage to tell you anything before you passed out?"

"No," I said, wishing I could fight off the odd feeling of dread that had lodged itself in the pit of my stomach. "Just that I needed rest, but that doesn't really count, I'd guess."

"Mmm, well, you certainly did. We gave you some nectar and ambrosia, and you were out cold almost immediately."

"I don't remember any of that." The bad feeling grew stronger, and I swallowed hard. Rachel shot me a concerned look before she sat, cross-legged on the old rug, facing me and her crystal ball.

"Ask me a question, Percy."

"Okay." I thought for a second, but couldn't come up with anything. "Uh… aren't crystal balls a little stereotypical?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and made fast, delicate gestures with her hands, and the mist inside the ball moved, as if she were pulling on it. "Since I'm new, Lord Apollo's been doing everything he can to make it easier for me. This helps me see the pictures I need to put into words—the prophecies. Now ask again, and ask a real question this time."

I shook my head. "I dunno what to ask, though."

"Think hard. I'm sure you'll come up with something."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to imagine I was reaching into the depths of my mind and pulling out something I'd been wondering about for awhile. I felt like there was a question on the very tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't word it right. It wasn't working.

"Rachel," I complained, "Can't you just tell me the prophecy?"

To my surprise, that did the trick. With a gasp, Rachel straightened and looked straight at me, her eyes glowing the same eerie green as the mist in her ball.

Rachel opened her mouth, as if she were about to speak, but instead, a violent shudder shook her body and she flung her arms out behind her to keep from falling over. She closed her eyes and bit her lip; and I knew she was back in control. But the expression on her face was one of pure terror, and I felt the feeling of dread festering in my stomach again. This didn't look good at all.

"Percy," she whispered, her voice impossibly quiet. "Oh, gods, Percy…"

"Rachel?" I asked tentatively, my hands tightening into fists around the blankets. I wasn't really sure I wanted to know what she'd seen. Rachel let out a soft sob and slapped her hand over her mouth, looking away evasively. "What is it?"

Her eyes shining with tears, Rachel met my eyes and shook her head, as if she couldn't believe it. Then she averted her gaze, and she seemed to be looking everywhere she could except for at me. I could see that she didn't want to tell me, but my curiosity was growing. I was ready to jump up and shake her until she told me, but the ridiculous temperature kept me from doing so. If it was so terrible, then I had a right to know. Besides, wasn't it the Oracle's job to tell the truth?

"What's the prophecy?" I asked again, hearing the frustration in my own voice.

"There is no prophecy. I didn't hear any words, Percy, only images." Rachel inhaled shakily, and then crossed her arms tightly, as if she were trying to hug herself. "Horrible images—hundreds of them. Maybe thousands, even. That's bad, very bad. It's not a prophecy, it's a warning. You… you should've never… oh, gods." She cast a helpless glance toward the ceiling, then made a three-fingered claw over her heart and pushed outward, a gesture for warding off evil.

Finally she looked back at me, her expression pinched as if she were about to cry. "It's the curse of Achilles. Something's gone wrong. It's wearing off, Percy."

A/N: I started this before, but deleted it thinking I wasn't interested in it anymore. I guess I was wrong, because when I went back and read it, I found I really wanted to continue it. So since this was originally written a good while ago I revised it and now, obviously, I'm posting it for your pleasure. Well, I hope you enjoy it, at least! (Let me know in a review, aye?)

A few things I just want to mention. I randomly decided that I'm going to put a different quote at the beginning of each chapter, because that's fun. The quote will always relate to the chapter. Maybe not directly - it might just relate to the general theme of the chapter, or the mood, or whatever. I may even put a few quotes in here that give some foreshadowing. *eyebrow waggle* Who knows?

Also, last time I got at least one review telling me "Achilles doesn't wear off, your mythology is wrong, blah blah blah." Um, thanks, but I know that. Don't I have the right to be creative? If you're picking about everything being exactly correct, then don't even bother to read any further. I'm going to be taking a lot of the real myths and either twisting them a little or expanding them. I'll have an explanation for everything, nothing's going to be totally out of the blue or insensible or whatever. I don't want to be blatantly ignorant, I just want to be able to be creative, and I definitely need to be to make this plot work. So if you read something that you think isn't true, it probably isn't. For example, no, the curse of Achilles isn't able to "wear off" in the true Greek myths, but that's okay. It's called FICTIONAL writing, after all. In the FANTASY genre. On fanFICTION dot net.

I think I have my point across, so on that note, I'll be leaving you. Well, for this chapter. Tata for now!

Flock xx