A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfic ever, and I've decided I would do it on the obscure niche of Percy Jackson. For those who have read the Son of Magic by Haley Riordan, then you're all set for the ride! (It's located in the back of the Demigod Diaries) If not, read at your own risk! There are spoilers!

Disclaimer: Seeing as we're on , I don't see why I have to do this... oh well. I don't own any of the characters except Verena, Cookie and Nathdaniel. Everyone and thing else is Rick Riordan's!

Key:

Ѧlαвαstєr tσrríngtσn: Ѧ

νєяєиα ѕкιℓνєи: Ѷ

Third Person: ʘ

chαptєr σnє: Hello. You're Going to Wish You Never Met Me.

-Ѧ-

I couldn't believe this.

And I believe in Greek and Roman gods, the undead, magic and my Titan mother. Make of it what you will.

I sat in the darkest corner of the room, sulking as one Dr. Howard Claymore registered me. Where? Perhaps at an über-useful military camp to prepare me for battles ahead? Maybe a Latin school to teach me more spells?

Neither.

The almighty Dr. Claymore, proclaimed genius, was putting me in high school

Let me repeat those two words: high school.

With hormones, drama and general chaos, I was beginning to question Dr. Claymore's loyalties. Perhaps he was sick of me and was going to kill me through pointless seminars of boredom.

After a good two hours of sulking, Claymore gestured for me to get up and out. More accurately, he waved his arms in a manner of which stated, Move before we attract monsters, or worse- we have to argue in front of this person.

Before I delve further into the miserable story that is my existence, I believe introductions are in order. You should at least know my name before you read of my demise. Apparently you are required to feel remorse and sympathy.

The name given to me at birth was Alabaster C. Torrington. I was born and somewhat raised by my father, whom I barely knew. Who I am though, at the core, will continue to take up a whole new paragraph.

I am a demigod, the son of a mortal man and a goddess. Or, more accurately, I am a demititan. My mother is Hecate, goddess of magic and secrets, wielder of the two torches and guardian of the crossroads. She was, and technically is, a Titan. She sided with the gods, however, in the First Titan War. And what did she get? A demoted title, and free residence in the gloomiest of the godly realms; the Underworld.

In the Second Titan war, my mother contacted me. She said that it was most likely that the Titans would prevail and overthrow Olympus. Being the strongest of Hecate's children, I led them into battle. Victory was so close we could feel it; the magic on their side was breaking. Kronos himself was marching on Olympus!

Yet… when he reached the top…

Kronos was slain by a demigod, a son of Posideon. Just like the prophecy said. Except it was suppose to have another ending, where he helped us! Where the lost and forgotten rose up! Kronos united the hopeless demigods and gave them a purpose again. And yet, by some wicked twist of fate, the gods won. I lost more siblings in that war than any other demigod, Hecate more children than any god.

I was exiled after the war, for I wasn't broken. I felt like we could win still; there was still a chance! The gods, however, put down any rebellion. Bloodshed like never before followed, and my mother was left with a choice; take a cabin in Camp Half-Blood and exile me so I won't corrupt the other children, or watch me die and be cast away with the other Titans. She chose the way she thought was best; the way of a mother. She chose the cabin. She chose for me to be exiled.

At first, it was alright. But then more and more monsters came after me, and I didn't understand. The source soon showed itself; Lamia, my demonic sister who hated the gods more than any other demigod could. She blamed Hera for the deaths of her children, and then let every monster be able to smell the demigods; it was her that turned our lives into nightmares! I sought out help for Dr. Claymore, the world's foremost mortal expert on death, but then Lamia came after him. Then he sought out my help. In the end, Dr. Claymore made the ultimate sacrifice, and Hecate used the magic released to separate Lamia and I for a very, very long time. Afterwards, Dr. Claymore swore allegiance to Hecate and promised to watch over me.

As previously stated, I believe he was trying to torture me.

"Alabaster, you cannot neglect your studies," he said after I blatantly refused to go to school. "Just because you are a demigod and the other demigods do not study, does not mean you have an excuse to degrade into an idiotic twit."

And so that was his excuse. I still do not understand why Mother didn't give me a 3x5 card to so could make Claymore disappear whenever I wanted him to. He ghostly figure looked down at me, peering over his glasses.

To most, he was a perfectly solid man. But to children of Hecate and immortals, he was translucent, flickering like a hologram from Star Wars. But Claymore wasn't a mourning ghost; he was a spirit stolen from the Underworld and turned into a Mistform. A shade, if you will. A servant of Hecate. Supposedly. If he wasn't… well, then he'd be a mourning ghost soon.

"You start tomorrow," he commanded as we started to walk back home. Or what was my home at that moment.

At this new turn of events, I may move again.

As we left the school, a couple girls giggled at my scowling face. One even waved.

I was tempted to scare the Hades out of them with a Mistform hellhound.

I wasn't in a good mood. You think I would be, with two girls making doe eyes at me, but no. I, unlike some people, have standards.

a) Being associated with a giggling mortal who looked like a painted clown? No.

b) With the constant monsters chasing me, do you think I have time for girlfriend problems?

c) What would they make of my parental lineage and the fact I probably won't make it over 20?

d) Would any girl date me if they knew I was making this list?

So no girls. Dr. Claymore has no romantic hindrances himself, so he didn't question my dark look towards them. Even if I had one, how long before they dumped me? I looked scrawny, with dusty brown hair and unnervingly green eyes. There were plenty of better looking guys to go around. (Unless America has gotten lazier in the time I had been gone fighting gods). I should be left alone.

When I got home, I slammed the door like a ticked-off teenager –which I was- and flopped back onto my bed. Shining green runes decorated the walls like a mural of glow-in-the-dark stickers. I rolled a green crayon between my fingers. It was my favorite, scribbled with a rune of its own to ever run out. I didn't quite understand why I kept it; I'm no sentimental. Sighing, I decided to sleep to avoid the dread that would follow waking hours. I blocked Claymore's shouts from the door and turned off the lights with a magic command. Then I closed my eyes and felt myself slipping away into the realm of Morpheus.

It was dreamless; Mother was watching over me…