Hello all and welcome to my first ever fanfiction! I had this little idea recently and decided to make it into a story. I promise I have every chapter planned out, so I won't leave you hanging for weeks and months on end. Please review, I would love to know what you think! I won't update again until I get some feedback. :)
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I own a copy of The Lightning Thief that has pages falling out due to the sheer number of times I've read it since elementary school.
Chapter One
The side of the cliff shuddered around me, causing loose rocks and rubble to tumble down the vertical slope. I grasped onto a small ledge, fighting with every muscle in my fingers to keep holding on. Above me, a dark figure in a black chariot rides through the sky, lashing bands of darkness into groups of people on the mountain. Below me, I hear a cry.
Looking down, I see a girl. She is faceless, but somehow I know she's my friend, and she's in trouble. The boulder she had been holding was toppling, bringing her with it. Without thinking, I reached out a hand to help her. I let out a shriek of pain as my palm slipped from the ledge, leaving only the very tips of my fingers holding on. It was too late. The girl was gone, fallen into the watery abyss below us. I fought back a sob as I looked again at what had attacked us.
All around me were dark winds, terrifying faces attached to deformed bodies filled with black bits of what looked like dust.
I looked back down at where my friend had fallen. Light was filtering in again, and I could see a smashed, twisted body strewn among the cliff. The only remnant on the cliff was a single green object - a four leaf clover.
I sat up in bed, gasping for breath. My lungs felt stuffed with something sharp yet flexible, like aluminum foil. I lifted a trembling, sweaty hand to the my cheek and felt something wet and dripping. Tears.
Glancing out the window, I saw a peek of the dawn coming through the darkness. The sky was painted with all my favorite colors, light pinks and purples. Just the sight of it made me calm down a bit.
I clambered out of my bed and opened the window, to further greet the dawn. I was still shaken from the dream, though. For the past two months, ever since I had turned fourteen, these vivid nightmares came nearly every night. And they always were about the same things - the cliff, the dark chariot, and the faceless friend dying in different, gruesome ways.
I sighed heavily and pushed myself away from the window. I hated dwelling on bad thoughts, I'd rather face them in a bright and calm manner. And I had spent too much time stewing over my bad dream today. It was not going to be a good day if it wasn't a good morning.
But still, I was a little bitter. It was Saturday, the first bright and sunny Saturday in months, and my dad was out. Flying different routes across South America for two continuous weeks. His demanding job as a pilot left him gone often and me alone even more often. It was hard to love your father when he was so absent, but he was the only family I had, and I had to make an effort to keep him on my side. He felt bad, I knew. He'd smile at me sadly and say, Not this time, Elena. Maybe next Saturday. I'm sorry.
As I got ready for the day, I was confronted once again by my negative thoughts. I was possibly one of the most anti-violent people ever, and here I was, having horrible dreams about wars and battles.
I knew just the place to go clear my mind.
An hour later, I was strolling through Central Park. Watching all of the families and happy couples walk by was bittersweet, but I forced myself to smile at them and not show through my facade. I found an empty bench - surprisingly hard to find on such a pretty day - and just sat. Without worry of nightmares or absent fathers, I could almost imagine I was at peace.
That was, until I looked up and saw a blonde woman sitting on a bench across the way looking straight at me.
She was pretty, and tall, with curly blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. They seemed to stare into my soul, questioning every wrong I had ever done, making me want to confess crimes I had never committed.
It seems like I'm exaggerating, but I'm serious. Her eyes are that powerful.
Eventually, I got creeped out by the staring.
"Excuse me, can I help you?" I ask sweetly, hoping that she'll say she was just zoning out or something.
The young woman blinked, and suddenly the spell was broken. "I'm so sorry. You just… look like someone I'm supposed to… never mind. Forget I was here."
And with that, she got up and walked away. I could tell she thought she was throwing me off the scent, but I followed her with my eyes to see her settling back down on a bench next to a mom feeding her very loud kids crackers.
Within seconds, I had created my own little drama explaining who the woman was, why she was in Central Park, and why she was so curious in me. The story made me more comfortable, and I enjoyed working my way through the kinks, figuring out the best way to make it believable yet most outlandish at the same time. This was what I did best, making up stories. It had got me expelled from my old school and was only my way of passing the time. I tried to explain to my principal that the story about my planned flooding of the school using the water fountains and sinks was fake, but she didn't believe me and kicked me out anyway. It makes sense. A good way to get rid of the sweet girl who had dyslexia and severe attention deficiency disorder.
I got up from my seat, planning on going home and probably painting or doing some other random chore to pass the time, and headed for the path. Easily I walked out of Central Park and back into the city streets. This was a typical way to go for me.
I was just crossing the street to go through the alley shortcut I always use when I saw her. A tall, dark, and slim woman's figure, half hidden in the shadows. She stepped out as I neared the sidewalk and I saw her in more detail.
She was young, probably a little older than the young woman I had just seen. She had pale skin and blood red lips, with gleaming eyes. Her outfit was weird - she seemed to be wearing a Greek toga, and I couldn't see her feet. The scariest thing, though, was her smile. It shone with all the pleasantness of a serial killer.
Figuring that I shouldn't get caught up in whatever mess she was involved with, I made the executive decision to go the long way. But she followed me.
I whipped around to confront her, and was paralyzed with terror. Her smile was huge, and her teeth - fangs - were gleaming sharp.
"Ah, yes," she muttered to herself. "My mistress will be very pleased."
"Excuse me?" I asked politely. Maybe she needed directions.
"She said she wanted you alive, but that doesn't mean that I'll necessarily bring you unharmed."
"I'm sorry, what was that?" I repeated. My legs seemed frozen still. For someone who normally had to be moving all the time, this new sensation felt unnerving.
The woman slowly drew a small, thin dagger from a slit in her toga.
"Are you going somewhere? I don't know if any conventions are this weekend…" I trailed off, thinking that maybe she was one of those adults who dress up as characters for fun.
She smiled again, that terrifying, huge smile. "Die, Aurora!" Hissing, she threw herself on me.
Finally, my legs started to work. I ducked her blade and rolled to the ground. How was this supposed to work? I was being attacked in an empty alley by a woman with a sharp-looking dagger and I was rolled up in the fetal position with no weapons.
Ouch. Her dagger struck my back, tearing my shirt. Definitely sharp.
Figuring I had to do something in self defense, I reached out my hands and scraped up some dirt from the cement. Bracing myself, I turned around and flunked it in her eyes. She let out a cry of pain and dropped her dagger to grip her eyes.
I stared at the dagger for a few seconds. Why not? I thought. All's fair in love and attacks by creepy demon women in alleys. And I want to live. Picking up the dagger, I ran further into the alley. The demon woman, now relying on her nose, cornered me in the dark.
Screaming, I climbed onto a garbage bin next to me. Don't ask me why, it seemed logical in that situation. From my higher vantage point, I could try and stab her with the dagger. She shrieked and reached up. Her hand gripped the blade.
Eww. Gold blood dripped out of her hands. Her knuckles were white with effort and she used that exertion to pull herself up.
The sun passed under a cloud. I felt a rush of weakness and I dropped to my knees on the lid of the bin. The demon used the opportunity to regain hold of her dagger and she slashed a deep cut in my arm.
I fell. I had tried to hold on, but it was too hard. Darkness creeped into the corners of my vision. I sank down to my side, breathing heavily. I'm about to pass out when I see a flash of blonde and hear the clash of metal on metal.
Looking up, I see the woman from the park, brandishing a bronze dagger at the demon.
"So it's young Chase I get to battle now?" The demon smiled, her eyes glinting. "This isn't the first time you've seen me! And now I'm at my full strength!"
The blonde woman shook her head. "I don't understand. How did you get out?"
"Why, Mother, of course. You'll be seeing quite a lot of us in the future."
"I hope not." The young woman said, then continued the intense fight. It was so dramatic and fast, I'm surprised the occasional passerby didn't look surprised at the brutal duel occurring below me.
The battle wore on. Finally, the blonde squatted down and buried her dagger in the demon's ribs. The dark lady let out a shuddering cry and dissolved into thin air.
I took the opportunity to let the darkness wash over me and pass out.
Thank you for reading! Just to clarify, this story will take place after Heroes of Olympus, without Magnus Chase or Trials of Apollo. It was just too hard to work that into the book, so thank you for understanding!
Please review and have a lovely day! :)