Chapter One

Hi friends!

Oh, where have I been? Writing one shots, mostly. And also reading quite a lot. Can you believe that in a month I spent £72 on books? Hehe, oops.

I'm sorry for not giving you guys a proper story in a while, mainly I've just been doing one shots and in the reviews for Memories Of The Past I actually thought I was going to get murdered, haha.

But I'm back and this story has been in my head for a month or so and I finally decided to get around to doing it, haha. It doesn't mean that I'm going to stop writing one shots though because I really enjoyed it :)

Also I have quite a few projects in the works at the moment. One of which is this fanfic which I hope you all will enjoy and I also had a go at writing a book that is not fanfiction and that was really fun and (maybe) I'll publish it on FictionPress which is going to be scary because it's where all the good and big writers go and... *shivers* and I was hoping to edit Voices In His Mind sometime in the month, too.

Enough about my life. Shut up Ro. Oh, that reminds me.

A lot of you guys have been asking how to pronounce my name (Roselia) so its Ro-Sie-Leah but I prefer Ro, haha.

Hope that clears everything up!

Right, let's get on with the story, shall we?

Love you all!

*Virtual Hugs*

Ro x

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Bolting upright in his bed in Cabin Three, Percy Jackson looked around the dark room, trying to regain his senses as the nightmare slowly subsided. It was quiet, the only sound was the soft lapping of foaming waves against the beach and the soft trickle of water against stone from the small fountain in the corner; the smell of spindrift and sea salt flowing around the cabin. It felt like home. It was his home.

There were very few children of Poseidon (or, at least, demigods) but Percy thought that Poseidon was probably the coolest Godly dad to have. Awesome powers, an awesome cabin, awesome good looks. The list could go on and on and on.

But there was also lots of down sides to being a son of Poseidon. Everyone was dependent on you, that was one of Percy's main hates. Responsibility? People's lives depending on you? No, thank you. There was also the deal of nightmares, one of which Percy had just woken from. And the prophecies... Percy could rant about them for days.

The nightmares came along so often that Percy was used to waking up in the early hours of the morning, panting and wondering where he was and who he was. He actually got a bit worried when he didn't wake from a nightmare.

Apparently some nightmares that demigods had could see the future or they had the tendency to come true. But with all the nightmares that Percy dealt with, he'd probably know his future like the back of his hand so he didn't really believe that there was a lot of truth in that theory. Which he was thankful for because most of his nightmares consisited of his friends dying long and brutal deaths.

A shiver slithered down Percy's spine. He looked around, his eyes catching on the window and the endless darkness outside. It couldn't of been later then four in the morning and he was wide awake now so there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He wasn't sure if he even could after what he'd just witnissed in his nightmare.

Standing from his bed, Percy stretched and then threw on some clothes because the hero of Olympus walking around in blue pyjama bottoms wasn't classy or acceptable. At least, that was what Annabeth said last time he had done that.

There was a warm, balmy breeze fluttering around camp. Percy might've thought that Camp Half-Blood looked almost peaceful. But he knew what went on behind the closed doors of the cabins. Sure, he loved camp and he wished he could stay year round. But, inside the cabins, people were mourning the deaths of fallen heroes.

Death wasn't an uncommon thing in Camp Half-Blood. Being a demigod meant that you'd have to become a hero, have to put others before yourself and do what's right even if the world is telling you to do what's wrong. But still, none of that meant that death was any easier. No one ever got used to it.

Percy didn't remember his feet moving, nor did he remember picking up a few smooth, flat stones or sitting down on the sand. But there he was. Sat on the beach with five stones that were perfect for skimming across the lake.

As he was about to throw the last one in a perfect, satisfying arc across the moonlit water, something in the forest caught his eye. If he weren't a demigod, Percy would of written it off without a second thought. But he was a demigod and he knew all about the long forgotten truths that were myths.

Nobody went in the forest. Or, if they did, they were either incredibly stupid, were new and had not yet heard the horror stories that were told around campfires or they had a death wish. Monsters and other horrific things that had been carefully carved from nightmares and the deepest, darkest shadows thrived there. Maybe they even all hung out together and ordered pizza whilst seeing who could do the loudest roar, or who had the sharpest claws.

And now he'd lost his train of thought.

Looking back into the forest, Percy made sure that Riptide was in his pocket. Obviously, it was. The blade would always reappear in his pocket. He quickly looked to the lake and then back at camp. Now, it all looked desolate and eerie and not at all comforting. He squinted his eyes as he stared back into the forest, trying to dechiper a form or shadow.

Not daring to breathe too loudly, Percy's breath fogged in front of him. A chill had over come the camp. Was everyone else aware of this? Were they awake and talking about it? Or were they still in their beds, dreaming dreams, reliving memories or suffering nightmares. As bad as it sounded, Percy hoped for the latter. That way, they'd all be safe. Fog wove around the beach and the shadows of the trees stretched across the blanket of pale white sand looking like monsters on the walls of a cave.

Ever so slowly like a bandage being taken off of a wound, Percy stood and uncapped Riptide. The bronze glow illuminated the beach and battled the inky darkness. A flash and then a whooshing sound made goosebumps rise on Percy's bare arms.

Whatever this... this thing was, Percy certainly did not want to come face to face with it in the dark, in the forest, alone. If he encountered it now... whilst he was so vunerable and had no armour on and no one knew of his wherabouts...He gritted his teeth against the pang of fear that shot through him; he was the son of Poseidon, hero of Olympus, he was one of the most powerful demigods to of ever existed and he would not be going down without a fight.

Hopefully he wouldn't, anyways.

With one eye trained on the tall, shadowed thing in the forest and the other looking at the dimly lit Big House a few yards away, Percy calculated his odds. Could he run to the big house and get Chiron or someone to help him fight it off? Or would it be too fast? Or, by doing that, was he just going to lead it straight to his friends and put them in danger?

No. No, Percy would have to stay here and go solo. A thought occurred to him suddenly, if he were to sing, would the shadowed thing run away? A small smile pulled at the corners of Percy's lips, despite the fear and worry churning in his stomach.

Focus! He screamed at himself. Percy looked back at the shadow, it was still there. Neither Percy nor the dark thing in the woods dared to move, a predator stalking its prey. Though which of the pair of them were the predator and which were the prey, he wasn't too sure.

His breathing came in short, frightened gasps. The glow of Riptide made the shadows of the trees look so much bigger, made the shadowed figure look so much taller and larger. Or did it really look like that?

Suddenly, like glass splintering, slow at first and then faster and faster, the silence broke. There was a stroking voice that spread throughout the forest, seeping into Percy's bones. "You must fall, Perseus Jackson, it is your fate."

The voice was strong and sure, yet it creaked and groaned like an old floor board. And it drew out the sound of the s like a snake. Percy shuddered, hearing it made him feel filthy, like it was a secret he should not be learning. The words replayed in Percy's mind; definitely female.

For a horrifying second, Percy feared that the voice might've belonged to Nyx. It would certainly explain why the night felt so dark, so eerie and why the shadows seemed to be watching his every move. He could not fight Nyx alone. If it were even her... how did she get out of Tarturas?

He looked back to the big house. If it were Nyx, he wouldn't be able to fight her off on his own. He knew that much. He'd have to run. You must fall... did that mean that Percy would trip and then the thing would finish him? Knowing Percy, he probably would trip. But he didn't think that was what the shadow thing meant.

Without thinking, Percy raised Riptide to see where he was going and to grab the thing's attention and ran towards big house with the sound of pounding feet following closely behind.

Is Riptide spelt with a capital R? Because it's a name, right?

Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter! Let me know your thoughts :)

I love you all,

*Virtual Hugs*

Ro x