-Part One: Pressed-
The Time Locked Prophecy:
Five shall dive into the depths of the maze,
Led by the lights of the fallen sun's rays.
Flame and Shadows, united shall disperse,
The mightiest of those who bring all curse.
Owl, Eagle & Dove, take flight to the keys,
To the lost hero's mind, for when it bleeds.
Passed & returned. Another must reprimand,
For all of those who had followed command.
Bring forth the tide, the shade must rise,
Else Olympus shall meet, its final demise.
Prologue: Unknown
Disclaimer: I do not own the anything in PJO universe. Rights belong to Rick Riordan, and Disney Hyperion. This disclaimer will apply to all chapters of the story.
Note: This story takes place about 2 weeks after the dreadful events of Blood of Olympus. This series completely ignores/overrides MCA & ToA canon.
Big Thanks to the Beta, SoulHorse! For always having my back on these stories. (And my grammar)
Please Review! Fuel my inspiration with comments, flame, and what not. A simple 1-10 rating is more than I can ask for!
The late evening's fog crawled up the hills, as the chill of Long Island Sound grew with the deepening of the night.
Little overcast could be viewed from above. Only a single island of clouds dampened the waning moon's light. Besides that, the sky was clear.
The heat of the warm summer day had retreated hours ago, leaving only the chill of growing night.
A night that seemed just as inconspicuous as the last.
Nothing could possible happen that was worth mentioning.
The campers were all silently asleep, safe in their cabins. The nightly patrols wandered, doing their normal routes to secure the camp that had never found itself at as much peace as this night.
Peleus calmly snored, at the bottom of the tallest tree. A large golden glow of a fleece dotted the top branch.
Then, there was a breeze. A rustle in the leaves.
The clouds rolled away, leaving the attentive moon's light to expose the grumbling darkness.
A shadow of a figure cursed, finding himself exposed.
Anxious to quicken pace, the figure shuffled his way silently towards the cabins.
There was a flutter.
The figure dodged behind a bush, in narrow avoidance, as one of the camp's harpies flapped by.
The figure understood that he could've easily defeated the pitiful creature, though it would have in no doubt caused a commotion. And the figure did not see the advantage of being discovered.
Secrets must stay – secret.
Besides, the camp would find it…uncharacteristic of him.
Something the figure could not risk happening.
As the horrendous bird-lady passed, the figure stood up from behind the brush.
No time like the present.
Silently, the figure approached his destination.
A long wooden cabin, whose shadows seemed to look upon him with distaste. The seashell lined roofing glared at him frowning. As if everything he was about to do was beyond their approval.
Such things should not be thought upon.
The figure approached taking the first steps that led to the rickety old building's lone entrance.
It wasn't the first time the figure had seen the structure, with its mossy marble columns and its sea themed design.
It would definitely not be his last.
The figure slipped up the steps, onto the front patio.
Creak.
The figure muttered a curse, once more.
The dam old floorboards always seemed to find the perfect time to open their little mouths. It was as if they were conscious enough to send a warning when a perpetrator was near.
The figure grimed in frustration, remembering how he had taken the last demigod for granted.
That, would not happen again. The figure had learned much since that fateful day. Much, that he would have never had learned anywhere else.
He cannot not risk making the same mistakes again.
He would not make the same mistakes again.
Never again. Never again.
Never any mistakes again.
The figure stepped forwards, and pulled open the rust stained door that loosely guarded the interiors of Cabin Three.
The rusty hinges gave another loud creak that was sure to alert any occupants.
The figure starred in, with glowing eyes.
Despite that fact it was already hours past the camp's curfew, the cabin laid practically empty. Four bunks on either side, were all neatly made, and not a single person was in sight.
Not that the figure had expected to see any occupants…
The only sounds that could be heard besides his own breathing was the steady trickle of the cabin's fountain. A small reminder that this was the sea god's domain.
The figure grinned. Treachery and betrayal was best served when the other had no clue.
No idea. And the others would never suspect anything. Until it was too late.
Too late.
Left of the furthest most bunk, were the only signs of the lone occupant that occasionally made home here. A pile of belongings in no doubt to his mind, belonged to the infamous son of Poseidon. The hero of Olympus.
He chuckled to himself.
They would never suspect.
The figure had learned to be patient. Patience was key. The key, to everything.
Everything.
You just had to know when you had the right amount of it.
The figure had been planning this for quite some time.
But finally, in the past few days, everything seemingly was falling into place.
Now, it was finally time to start.
After plotting, for what has felt like eternity. Only he knew so well, it hasn't.
Just one more day, the figure told to himself.
Just one more day.
One more day.
All it takes is one day, to change everything.
How was that beginning? Meh? Good? Horrid? Mysterious? Please be honest, if you thought that sucked, go straight ahead and say it. Reviews = Updates
Best Wishes, from a Junior Scribe of Camp Half-Blood,
~VCRx
A Beta Note From SoulHorse:
Mmm…very interesting…I suspect that the figure is Percy, but why would he plot revenge against himself? Can't wait for the next chapter! :D And don't forget to RRFF! Until next time!
~ Yours in demigoddishness, SoulHorse
(Yayyy when without self-advertising!)
[Last Edited: 10.27.2016]
