Waking Up
I'm waking up
Where was he? Who was he? He couldn't remember a thing. No, he did. Just one word. A name.
Annabeth.
To ashen doors
He was lying on the ground, staring up at bright stars. Around him were crumbling brick walls and charred wooden doors. It looked like a house that had burnt down a long time ago. It was cold; his thin T-shirt did nothing to keep out the chill. Somehow that shirt seemed important to him, like it came from home, but he couldn't place it.
I wipe my brow
He stood up carefully, noting as he did so the weight in the pocket of his jeans. Reaching for it, he found it was nothing more than a pen. How strange.
The pen also seemed important to him. He felt attached to it, like they'd gone through a lot together.
And I sweat my rust
Suddenly, a large, grey wolf appeared from one of the shattered windows. She – he just knew it was female – wrinkled her nose slightly, showing sharp white teeth.. Smaller wolves milled around her. Their voices wriggled into his mind somehow.
He's the one.
He must be.
Had he heard those words before? Where they something to do with Annabeth?
Enough. The larger female wolf stepped forward. Show us your weapon, boy.
Almost without thinking, he clicked the top of the pen. It flew upwards, expanding in his hand until he was holding a metre-long bronze sword. It glowed in the darkness, illuminating the wolves' alarmed expressions.
How could oversized dogs have expressions?
It is bronze. How can this be?
Look at the inscription!
He glanced down at the blade. Near the hilt were carved strange characters, like hieroglyphics. No, they were Ancient Greek. But how did he know that?
This child should not be here. Lupa!
Part of him was slightly wounded at being called a child. He knew he was at least sixteen, because something big had happened on his sixteenth birthday. Something…bad.
He couldn't get past that. There were straight thoughts or words, just a basic instinct that what had happened had been bad.
The she-wolf named Lupa appraised him. No, he is indeed the one we have been waiting for. He has been sent by the goddess.
Goddess? That should send a flicker of alarm down any normal person's spine, but he just accepted it, like he'd always known it.
She has taken many months, but the timing had to be right. Now this boy will save us. Her lip curled. The goddess plays a bold game, child. You may not be worthy of our attention. What is your name?
His name. Such a simple thing. He hadn't given it much thought before now, but it had always been there. Those two things, floating around in his brain. The two names. Annabeth Chase and-
He took a deep breath. "My name is Percy Jackson."