The tree was the last thing I remembered. That lone pine sitting comfortably at the crest of the hill, a beacon to all who dreamed of what existed on the opposite side. I knew the secret that the hill hid, I knew of Camp Half Blood, but had never seen it at any point in time. It was a frustrating limitation of my demi-god powers. Being the daughter of the God of Time I had the ability to dive into the past and present in my subconscious but it seemed like the only images I could see were those of events based on choice. They were not inevitable. They could be altered. My arrival to Camp Half Blood was one of these inevitable moments that I'd spent ten years of my life preparing for.

My life…had been somewhat of an unfortunate one, with the majority of it spent completely alone. The only friends I had were those that had died generations before, masters of fighting styles that I learned my skills from, and my mother. It was a sad life, I knew that, but one I continued to live for what lay in the unknown.

Being a seventeen-year-old girl I believed I had matured quickly with centuries of knowledge but…my social skills resembled that of a ten-year-old. But for good reason. During the weeks that passed 9/11 and due to my Egyptian heritage, ill-informed New Yorkers belittled my mother and me. They did everything they could to some how fix the hurt that they felt for fallen family members by lashing out a two innocents simply wishing to live their lives. My mother had been fired from work and our apartment was torched, my mother getting caught in the flames. How I, the four-year-old, was even able to escape the mass of smoke and flames was still unknown.

But my appearance certainly could be considered exotic and matched the definition of an Arabic woman. There was my soft and symmetric features, trim and fit body, dark brown, wavy, thick, and long hair but rather than the dark brown eyes mine were a startling grey that showed centuries in the sharp pupils. I looked much like an odd traveler climbing that hill, beige and linen pants hanging on my long legs and a well-worn orange hoodie over my torso, the fabric tight and maybe too small as it exposed the every so often glint of olive-skinned midriff. Hole-filled sneakers hugged my feet and I had the mass of hair on my head twisted into a messy bun, a backpack of a few necessities slung over my shoulder.

I pulled myself to the top of the hill, a wave of relief pouring over me as I looked up on the very obvious grounds of a camp. From a distance it was seemingly normal, but as one came closer they could see the walls of lava with campers trying to climb their ways up it, the outdoor theatres, and the hordes of galloping satyrs. But as I took my first few steps down the hill I found the entire camp's eyes turning on me. The staring wasn't unnatural, I'd spent my whole life dealing with the pre-judgment of people but I had to admit that I had had some sort of hope that they might've been different. Weren't they also demi-gods? Shouldn't they be more understanding? I attempted to ignore it, striving across the grounds and up the stairs to the large white house that the camp seemed to be centered around. I'd seen the house in my dreams - or at least the door to the house - and thus made it my first destination in this new world. Of course, I wasn't exactly sure what to expect in a place where everyone was "just like me". So much of my life had been spent alone with a single goal to strive for...but now here I was and admittedly I was nervous that I wouldn't know what to do with myself afterwards.

Gently I gave a few knocks - manners being a massive part of the Catholic orphanage I had grown up in - and then a few more only to hear a heated conversation from the back of the porch that surrounded the place. Curiously, I left the doorstep and made my way around, stopping at the sight of a table of cards, a large fat man on one side, a older-looking gentleman in a wheelchair on another, a young man next to him, and a blonde girl pacing along the length of the stairs that lead to a crystal clear lake.

"Something has to be up, there is a significant decrease in the number of campers arriving or even returning!" She exclaimed, tossing her arms up in the air as the fat man took a sip from his drink before taking his turn in the table top game.

"Annabeth, it's been a year since Kronos attacked. We shouldn't be having the same masses as we did. It's been long enough." The young man remarked as the gentleman in the wheelchair nodded.

"And the dangers that demi-gods used to face outside of Camp Half Blood have practically diminished. Even if they are being claimed they do not have to come here. They never have," the man in the wheelchair, explained, seeming to annoy the girl known as Annabeth.

"I know that," she stated, turning to the one empty seat at the table, pressing her hands down on the surface and leaning forward. "But something just doesn't feel right. Like everything has gone cold from Olympus. My mother's even been to busy for a call as of recent. Come on, Percy, you were just trying to tell me the same thing last week!" Her eyes then looked up and my breath caught at the icy grey eyes of the girl. They were inquisitive, sensing more details than most. "Hi..." she breathed as I quickly averted my gaze downwards, bowing low.

The table turned to expose the other party members more. The fat man was very clearly Dionysus, sipping slowly on a can of pop. The man in the wheelchair was surprisingly fit on his upper half as well as observant, examining me with an experienced gaze. The young man had sea foam green eyes with a mess of dark brown hair. Both he and Annabeth wore the same CHB orange t-shirts. "I apologize for interrupting," I began, my voice smooth and eloquent as I slowly straightened myself. "I was lead here by Chronus-" The young man shot out of his seat, tugging a pen from his pocket and uncapping it as it extended into a bronze blade.

"Kronos is dead, you have nerve showing yourself so openly to us!" I stood there, giving a confused look but no fear rested in my eyes. I had no desire to fight the boy and thus had no reason to truly acknowledge his threat.

"Percy!" Annabeth shouted, running around the table and gently pushing down his blade. "She said Chronus, not Kronos. Besides, if she was a danger to the camp she wouldn't have been able to make it this far." Percy blinked as I gave another respectful bow of my head, watching Percy recap his pen. "No need to apologize," Annabeth continued, smiling as I gave a small and unexpected smile in return.

"You said Chronus sent you?" The man in the wheelchair questioned as I nodded.

"In a manner of speaking. My father came to me when I was just a child, awakening my gifts and informing me of the importance of coming here when the time was right."

"A daughter of...Chronus? But isn't he..." Percy trailed off as Annabeth's jaw fell.

"The creator of the gods," Annabeth finished.

"In some literature, yes," I acknowledged, "but more of symbolizes the passage of time. He does not tend to involve himself in the lives of humans but instead allows the world to proceed at it chooses. But he seems to believe that there is an event that must be stopped."

"Being?" The man in the wheelchair pulled himself up, exposing his bottom half to be a centaur, white and speckled with grey. I blinked at him, my mind shuffling through my teachings before pairing his image with that of Chiron, the teacher of heroes. But as my mind then started to sort through his question I lowered my gaze, like a scolded child.

"I...do not know. He would not tell me and I cannot see a fixed point in time."

"What do you mean you cannot see a fixed point in time?" Annabeth questioned as I sighed, I was almost shameful of the limits of my abilities.

"Time is made up of a jumble of points. 90% of them are based off of choices, such as deciding to go buy a cup of coffee and instead getting mugged versus deciding not to buy a cup of coffee and coming home safely. But 10% of these choices are fixed, such as death. The way you die may be different but in the end you will die, that cannot be altered. What I am able to see is the 90% of time, I cannot change it, cannot affect it in any way, but I can watch it, as if looking back on a memory." I explained, seeming to entrance Annabeth and Percy as Chiron nodded along, like he was grading her performance. I hadn't really explained my powers to anyone before. In fact, the majority of my speech was simply repeating what my father had said to me. I swallowed, eyes shifting away from the group yet again, "I would hope I could have somewhere to lay my things for this evening, as well as a quiet area to contact my father."

"I will make some arrangements for you...um..." Chiron trailed off as he realized my name had never been mentioned

"Nakia Alexandra Bitar."

"Egyptian," Annabeth remarked without a beat in the conversation. "How interesting." I found the response surprising considering most people seemed to sneer at the mention of my name. They all sounded Arabic and thus were quick to place me in the troubled Middle East rather than where I actually was from. And yet here Annabeth was with pure interest in her eyes as she stepped forward dragging Percy with her. "We would love to give you a tour while they arrange where you'll be sleeping. I hate to say but even with all of the new cabins we added, Chronus was not one of them." Annabeth waved at me over her shoulder as I quickly followed, Percy settling himself furthest from me as we walked, the air uncomfortable between us just by the simple misunderstanding previously.

COMMENTS: Well here we go! I haven't finished the cover art but I hit 100 pages of writing between this story and it's sequel so I figured I'd begin posting. Plan on one chapter every other day at at least 1000 words per chapter. Enjoy!