Prologue

Hi, everyone!

Here's the story behind Shattered: I wrote about 55000 words of it during NaNoWriMo 2012. Then I stopped. It is currently about 80% written, and will most likely be about 75k words. I'm finishing it as I go, and I hope to be able to fill in and edit enough to post one chapter a week until it's done at maybe 35 chapters. Unless there's a plot bunny, which there probably will be. Then, it will most likely be a bit longer. Tl;dr: thanks for reading! More to come on Sunday!
Happy Reading,
Sep

This story is mainly going to be from Travis's and Katie's perspective first person with a few others as needed. I hope you like it.

At this point, Travis is twenty-two, Connor is twenty, and Katie is twenty-two as well.

Prologue: Chick Flicks. Friday, the fifth of August, two thousand eleven. Travis.

The character names of The Percy Jackson and the Olympians series are owned by Rick Riordan. The original content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Separate Entity, two thousand fourteen. Please do not copy, reproduce, or translate without express written permission.

Content Warnings for the chapter: language and blood.

The day I died started out uneventfully.

Friday night. The fifth of August, two thousand eleven. Close enough to the war with the giants to still give me nightmares sometimes. Connor and I were sitting on my couch, eating popcorn and watching The Parent Trap. No, we did not like chick flicks. Well, I couldn't speak for my brother, but… Whatever. Really, though, we watched this one for the pranks. Who knew girls could be so inventive? Actually, never mind that. We knew. We had sisters.

See, I bet you were freaking out just now. Wait, Travis, you're going to die in this story? Hah, I can't believe you fell for that! Fangirls. No, I didn't really die. But something big did happen that day. Something that changed my life forever. But enough with the dramatics. On with the story.

"Can you imagine what would happen if Mr. D walked in on one of our pranks like that head counselor?" Connor asked, shoving a handful of buttery goodness into his mouth.

I laughed, then winced. "We'd be toast," I said. "Burnt toast. Or maybe burnt dolphin toast. Pass the popcorn."

"I finished it."

"Gods, Connor! That's the third one! Go make some more."

My brother flung a fistful of kernels at me, then left the living room. A moment later I heard the microwave whir to life. Turning my head back to the television, I was just in time to see Miss Whatever-Her-Name-Was sentence the twins to the isolation cabin. I winced. Even Cabin Eleven wasn't in as bad shape as that shack was, and at least we never had to worry about rain.

The thunder onscreen was the reason I missed the first few bangs at the apartment door. What I didn't miss was Connor yelling for me to answer it.

I did not know why I bothered answering the door. At this late hour, the only possible person it could be was crazy old Mrs. Evans from the apartment downstairs. Though, to be fair, she did make excellent cookies. Almost as good as the ones at camp, but not quite.

I peeked through the peephole. Peeped through the peekhole? Whatever. It was a girl, and after a moment I recognized her as Katie Gardner, a daughter of Demeter that I knew from camp. How did she know where I lived?

I opened the door and she all but fell in. I gave her a brief look. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress with an abstract red pattern. Her hair was tangled like hydra heads, and she only had one shoe on.

Katie stumbled again, and this time I caught her. That was when the smell hit me. The red on Katie's dress wasn't a pattern at all. She was bleeding.

"Connor!" I yelled.

"The popcorn's not ready yet, you nincompoop!"

"Connor, this isn't about the godsdamned popcorn! Get some ambrosia over here, now!"

I turned my attention back to the girl in my arms. "Katie? What happened? What kind of monster did this to you?" I was running through the possibilities in my head. Katie still had all her limbs attached. There weren't any scorch marks that I could see, and no evidence of poison. A hellhound, maybe?

"I-I tried to stop it," she gasped, "but Celestial bronze doesn't work on mortals."