Author's Note: This is my first shot at a Percy Jackson fic, so please don't bite my head off. I kind of need it. Some things you may want to know: this takes place after the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series and before the Heroes of Olympus.

I'm sure I'll think of something else to say later, but aside from that, if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask.

Chapter One

Impending Doom

Percy Jackson gazed into the distance, surveying the thin line at which the sky touched the calm waters of the Long Island Sound. Dipping toward the horizon, the sun blazed against a dusty, rose-tinged palette, and waves curled across the sand, frothing against his bare toes. A light breeze ruffled his shaggy hair, and a tumble of locks fell into his eyes. He cast them aside with a quick shake of his head, swallowing over the sharp taste of salt coating his tongue.

Nature seemed to be in almost singular harmony . . . and maybe that explained the unsettling churn of his stomach. It was too quiet- too serene. Everything in his life had been for the past half year. Normal had never suited Percy, and especially not at Camp Half-Blood.

A summer camp for demigods practically implied 'adventure'. Yet nothing was happening. He had never considered the fact that being descended from a Greek god could ever become remotely monotonous or routine.

But it had.

Recover Zeus's Master Bolt? Percy had been there and done that.

Behead Medusa? You bet.

Recapture the Golden Fleece? The proof was hanging in the branches of Thalia's pine tree.

Traverse the Labyrinth? That had been a piece of cake.

Save Olympus? Check that off the list.

Battle the Titans? He'd wiped out that threat, too.

Then some time had passed. At first, Percy had relished in the simplicity. After everything he had been through in the past few years, a break was much needed and much appreciated. But he was a demigod, a son of Poseidon nonetheless. There was a little thing he had called ADHD, and it was kicking in- big time.

Except then, more time passed . . . and more . . . and more. Campers went about their daily lives, and he had no choice but to follow. He waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. Still, no quests were issued. At least not any of real value.

Percy wanted to attribute the acid boiling in the pit of his stomach to his own boredom, but he knew there was something more. Something was wrong. This was the realm of the gods he was talking about. Nothing was ever in perfect order. Nothing. For the entirety of western civilization to be in such a calm state surely indicated that something had, or was quickly approaching, going amiss.

A foreboding sense of chaos and calamity clamped hold around his windpipe. This –whatever it was- wasn't going to last for much longer, that he was sure of.

"Hey Seaweed Brain."

Percy glanced from the gentle sway of the sea, watching as Annabeth approached. Her sneakers left imprints in the grains, expanding toward a grassy slope. She halted, gray eyes trained on the length of the shore, before turning to meet his gaze. He smiled, clenching his fingers to resist brushing an unruly strand of blonde hair from her forehead.

Yeah, she was his girlfriend . . . but it was still strange for him.

"What are you doing out here so late?" she inquired, raising a slanted eyebrow.

Percy took a moment to respond. The sunset blurred over her shoulder, as his focus zeroed in on her. She continued to give him a curious look. Generally, she could practically read his mind. He guessed his emotions had been a bit out of whack recently, though.

"Nothing really," he replied, tacking on a shrug, "just . . . observing."

Annabeth snorted in disbelief. "You think I don't know you better than that? Come on, give me a break. You've been acting all out of sorts, and reminiscing as you gaze off into the horizon is just topping the matter . . . What's going on inside your head, Percy?"

He sighed. There was no deterring her.

"I just . . . this doesn't feel right. Any of this," he attempted to explain.

Her stare was piercing, and he suddenly felt as if he was under a microscope. Fidgeting from foot to foot, he fumbled with the hem of his cotton t-shirt. He set his sights on the estuary once more, swallowing thickly. He felt like she was already beginning to pry his brain open.

"You're bored," she clarified resolutely. "We all are. I certainly am. None of us are used to this . . . nothing-ness, either. It does no good for you to bottle that up. Talk to me. I may be your girlfriend, but I'm also your best friend. I'm here to help, whether you ask or not."

"It's not just that, though. Yeah, I'm bored out of my skull . . . but I also have this feeling in my gut. With all this time of peace, something has bound to have been building up. What am I supposed to do now? Wait for the explosion?" Percy demanded, gritting his teeth.

She, for once, was at a loss for words.

"I can't do that, Annabeth. I can't wait for impending doom. It's not me. It's not in my blood and it's not hardwired in my brain. I just can't."

She sidled closer, taking his hand. He twined their fingers, applying equal pressure. They stood, together, glaring into the fading rays of the sun. She felt it now, too- that mounting, oppressive weight that loomed in the near future. A mass –a mass of some dark, evil thing- was writhing and grasping for purchase in the universe. The tension Percy had been struggling beneath for the past few months was pronounced and utterly tangible in the atmosphere.

"I tried not to think about it," Annabeth admitted, gnawing at her bottom lip with the dull curve of her tooth. "I tried to ignore such a sentiment about as much as you shoved your own feelings down."

Percy shook his head, frustration bubbling to a dangerous peak. The entire situation was unnerving. He was used to a certain extent of ignorance. Not knowing what the next day (or hour, for that matter) held was not a foreign concept. He'd been on enough quests to know that wasn't an unusual occurrence. This, though . . . this was entirely too much.

"What should we do?" He couldn't mask the pleading note to his words. If anyone had an answer, it was Annabeth.

She remained quiet for a few moments, mulling the prospect over. There was no easy, definite response. What could they do? She recognized that Percy was right: they couldn't just sit around and wait. Waiting was not in demi-god fashion, and especially not in Percy and Annabeth fashion. But they couldn't just leave camp and go traipsing off on an adventure they'd concocted on their own; a quest with no basis and no circumstantial evidence would undoubtedly be shot down.

Besides, they had no clue what to do even if they were to go off on their own.

"Maybe we should consult Chiron. He might be withholding information from the campers that could help. If something really is stirring when concerning Olympus, he'll probably have heard of it," Annabeth suggested, shrugging. It wasn't the best idea, but it was all she could muster up under the given circumstances.

Percy nodded. Even if Chiron didn't have anything to share, he'd take their concern into account and attempt to glean the occasional valuable hint. For now, there wasn't much else to be done.

"We should head to the Dining Pavilion. Dinner's probably started by now," Annabeth prodded, indicating the darkening horizon. A layer of ink was settling over the orange and pink sherbet of sunset.

"We'll talk to Chiron after," Percy remarked decidedly.

They turned their backs to the sea spray, picking their way through the sand. Percy inhaled one last gulp of the salty air, vainly hoping it would calm his jittering nerves. Annabeth squeezed his hand comfortingly. Her smile assured him that everything would be okay.

A son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena, matched with their other wide array of companions. They were a deadly combination for any foe. Whatever was nearing, they could handle it. Whatever violent storm was coming to pass, they could endure it. They would endure it, simple as that.

"What if he doesn't take us seriously?" Percy inquired doubtfully, as they strolled down a dusty path toward the pavilion.

"He will," Annabeth stated matter-of-factly. "We've never given him a reason not to. In any case, you and I are surely not to only ones who've realized something is off. He may even just be waiting for us to come to him about it."

Annabeth, always the voice of reason. Percy wasn't sure what he'd do without her. In order to avoid a disgustingly romantic scene, he leaned over, quickly brushing his lips against her cheek. He withdrew just as swiftly, smirking at the blush crawling up the side of her neck.

"What was that for?" she asked, mouth curling in an abashed grin.

Percy shook his head, hair flopping into his green eyes. He tugged on her arm, lugging her into motion. She shuffled after him, before settling at an easy pace at his side. As they neared the pavilion, voices surged toward their ears. The murmur of campers and the clatter of cutlery stood in stark contrast to the understated swishing of the ocean waves they'd previously been shrouded in.

"Try to relax," Annabeth instructed, as the two of them rounded a corner and the pavilion came into sight. "Working yourself into an hysterical mess won't do either of us any good."

"I'll do my best," Percy replied, forcing himself to separate their intertwined fingers. He felt immediately colder, but adopted an affable grin in reassurance that he was fine.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, seeing right through him. "We'll get some answers soon, Seaweed Brain."

Percy bit back a sarcastic retort. He desperately hoped she was right.

The constant buzzing concern in the back of his mind had shattered upon spilling all his worries. Now, it had morphed into full-fledged, nerve-wracking anxiety. He wasn't sure which was better, and which was worse. On one hand, he was glad he shared his apprehension with Annabeth. On the other, it seemed all too realistic now.

Gray smoke curled from the pyre in the center of the pavilion. Campers breezed past the fire pit, dropping offerings to the gods into the bed of coals. The long tables stretched across the length of the floor, brimming with chattering demigods. They all appeared at ease and carefree. Percy wondered what it was like, not feeling a nauseous wave roiling fitfully in your stomach. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't experiencing some form of such a sensation, even before discovering the other portion of his lineage.

He knew -had always known- that nothing was ever as it seems. He knew that even in seemingly ideal conditions, there was always something prepared to set off alarms. That was him. That was his entire life . . . and he wouldn't change it for a second.

Percy's attention had wavered, but he was plucked from his thoughts by a sudden commotion. After a brief surge of exclamations, the population of the pavilion dwindled into complete silence. He, still standing upright in an aisle, peered around to find the source. His gaze met Annabeth's, where she had one leg slung over a bench, prepared to sit amongst the other sons and daughters of Athena. Her stormy gray eyes were swallowed in an overly alert sense of confusion.

Someone coughed, and whispers spread like Greek fire through the hall. They echoed off the columns, shooting into the open air. Heads turned, and Percy squared his shoulders. After a second, he realized he had misjudged the location of their wide stares. They weren't looking at him. Their sights were trained on an entirely different individual, slowly strutting in his direction.

A cluster of satyrs stumbled to the side, making a path for the small figure charging through them. Percy clenched his jaw, lest it go slack in shock. Rachel Elizabeth Dare approached, halting a few feet from him. She was clearly under the influence of the Oracle, which meant . . .

She was issuing Percy a quest.

Author's Note: Good? Bad? Continue? Leave now and never come back? . . . Let me know what you think. Review, review, review. I like when people do.

(ten points for that unintentionally rhyme-y phrase . . . it helps if you say it in a sing song-y manner)