Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

From "Invictus" - William Ernest Henley

To My Dear Readers,

Hello. Welcome. Bienvenue. Bienvenido. Namaste. Guten Tag.

That's just about all the manners you're going to get from me. Soak them in. It's all snark and bitterness from here on out.

My name's Maximum Ride, but call me Max if you don't want to get killed. I'm thirteen (for your purposes), and depending on how you look at it I either have five or thousands of siblings. I tend to stick with the five, it makes things easier.

"Thousands of siblings?" you ask. "But that's not possible!"

Well, we'll get to that. Also, I'm not very possible myself; so don't expect anything normal from me.

(Fang says I'm "impossible" all the time but that gets him a broken nose and a death glare courtesy of yours truly.)

But you're not here to hear about my siblings. (Well, not really, anyways.) You're here to read about me. It may be a little conceited but, honestly? I'm pretty special. I just never knew how special until recently.

My family and I (that is, the five siblings, not the thousands) were "raised" as science experiments in a laboratory called the School. We were given avian DNA before we were born and let's just say it made us extraordinary.

We have wings. And modified bones. And enhanced healing. And did I mention the super strength? Yeah, we're pretty great.

Unfortunately, the scientists, who we not-so-affectionately call "Whitecoats" (yeah, I know, give us a break we were kids when we came up with these names), thought that our greatness was meant to be used as a weapon. World domination, genocide, you get the picture.

Fang, Iggy, and I were stuck there for ten years before Jeb- our adopted father, of sorts- got us and the other half to our group, Nudge, the Gasman, and Angel, out and into a safe haven in Colorado where we've been living in hiding ever since.

But that's not what this story is about. You can read that some other time.

This story, dear readers, is about something else entirely- something even the twisted scientists at the school, for all their grand scheming and nightmarish ideas, could never even have dreamed. There are forces in this world so beyond anything we've ever seen before.

The gods came into my life and wrecked every preconception I had about the world. I'm about to do the same to you.

You can't even imagine the way the world works. And that's a good thing. The Mist is there for a reason. It keeps up the wall that separates the mortals- that's you, if you're lucky- from the mythical, and it keeps them safe.

If you keep reading, you'll tear down that wall, and I doubt you'll like what you find.

There is so much to this world I still don't understand- things even the gods don't know- and probably never will. I'm still being blindsided every day, for all my experience in the realm of the weird and warped.

Be careful, dear readers. If you keep going forward, you'll never be the same.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. You're here for a story, not an existential crisis.

Once upon a time, dear readers, there lived a young, badass, mutant bird kid out on her own and angry at the world, and an equally young (though he'll deny it) son of Poseidon who just wanted to get the girl he loved back. (If he ever sees that, he'll kill me, so let's not tell him, shall we?)

This story, my wonderful readers, is not a fairytale. It's the story of how I met one Percy Jackson, and how he changed my life.

Forever.

(I like to think I changed his a little, too.)

Who's Percy? Well, you'll find that out soon enough.

So sit down, get some snacks, and get ready for the ride. You're going to be here a while.

Yours Featherly,

Maximum Ride

P.S. Seriously, if you call me anything but Max, I'll kick you. And it'll hurt. (Super strength, remember?)

P.P.S. One last warning before you continue: This isn't going to be pleasant. It's going to be bloody and heartbreaking and horrifying. And I'm not one to sugarcoat things. All I can say now is be careful. If you feel something stirring inside you reading these pages, get help immediately. And not just from anyone. Believe me, I know not everyone is trustworthy. But there's a camp- well, there's more than one, and there's more than one thing you can be sensing, but we'll get to that later. The point is, if these words call to you, seek help from the people in these pages. You're not alone. And if you're really a part of this world, you'll be able to find us.

P.P.S. I lied; I have one more thing to warn you about. You might hear from Percy in this story too. Don't trust anything he says. As much as I've grown to care for him, he's not the most reliable narrator. Plus, well, he and I may know each other, but he doesn't know my secrets. Just don't take anything he says at face value. He means well, but, well, Annabeth is the child of Athena, not him.

Author's Note: Hey, guys. I'm doing some major revising for this story before continuing writing it. There's a lot that I'm not happy with and I think rewriting it will make the story better overall. I'm looking to finish rewrites by the end of this month and start uploading new chapters to the sequel (The Raven and the Reaper) by June.

Love you all! AJ