Chapter II – Mission and Purpose


Swimming up and down, on a pool that has no end. An ocean.

No. Not like that.

It had borders. He could not see them, but he felt it. As he tried to cross the infernal distance, they seemed to get further. His head was spinning. Like a balloon, he felt the pressure build on his skull, the pain making it seem heavy, the sensation of emptiness making it seem light. Then, he could not support it anymore. He jumped, but he discovered the air was poisonous.

He dove. Ignoring the nail-scratching feeling through his face, he plunged into the deep strange sea.

A light shone at the bottom. His stomach churned, his throat dried out. He tried to scream, but nobody heard him.

He reached the bottom.

There she was, her eyes narrowed, her hair pulled, her brows furrowed and her face furious.

He was sure she was feisty.

He wanted to introduce himself, but he could not remember his name. He rose a cup, but it was full of ichor.

What even was ichor?

A wolf with its mouth bleeding. A man that looked like him, his face covered in gold liquid.

His own hands, stained from it.

He could not ruin the moment. He knew she was important. He opened his mouth and cleaned his arms.

An angry pretty face.

"Hi. I'm…"

SLAP!

"PERSEUS JACKSON!"

He bolted right up, his right hand already gripping a bronze sword. In front of him, still unimpressed, sat the strange red wolf. With his left hand, he contained a yawn.

"You drool when you sleep."

That silver eyes. They remembered him something. He closed his own, trying to remember his dream. Only pain came.

"Your reaction time was far from ideal, Perseus." She walked around him. "Putting it mildly."

He stretched, snapping and clicking parts of the body that should not, definitely, do that.

"What do you mean?"

The red wolf looked up at the skies. "Your laziness is greater than Lord Apollo himself. That boy, always and everyday coming 'just a minute late'. Look at him now, 7am and just now he took his chariot out. Lord Jupiter is becoming soft." She snorted.

Percy blinked. That time thing, certainly, was not right. But who was he to question that, eh?

Truly, who was him?

He remembered his name. Perseus. The wolf and the slap of the faceless girl on his imagination made him sure of it.

Wait. No. This is horrible. Terrible name. Percy sounded a lot better.

Though he remembered someone calling him like that, and his acceptance towards it. Was it the girl of his dreams?

Pain. Only pain came.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Hm. Yeah. Apollo, sure, is behaving poorly."

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. And… gone.

The wolf stared at him imperiously. "At least you are reasonable. Get up, then. Do not inspire yourself by the undesirable traits of the immortals. Get up. And put away the sword, you will have no need for that today."

He glanced at his right hand, as if surprised. Corporal orientation and awareness was not one of his strong points that morning.

It was simple, if looks were to be considered. No engraving, no special design, no intricate pattern. Leather guard, bronze sticky point. Percy decided that he liked it a lot. Almost like a second nature, he put the blue cap he was holding on his left hand on the blade, a perfectly ordinary blue pen on his hand.

"Good use of discretionary equipment. The aura of celestial bronze diminishes as I speak. However, with your blood, it may be the last of your problems. What is your parentage, boy?"

A flash. A fish. A clash. A shout.

Of happiness? Of pain? He could not, for his own good, remember it all.

Was that a delightful squeal?

A hearty laugh of a strong fisher. The soulful hug of a caring mother. Green eyes, brown eyes, a cute nose from a third? And who caught the blowfish?

He did not think Lupa cared much for the ones without bronze tridents.

"Poseidon. King of the Seas, God of the Earthquakes."

Even there, in the midst of nothing but dirt, dog pee and trees, he could feel it. The embrace, the salt, the restlessness, the power. Lupa made an approving noise.

"Almost correct. From now on you must call him Neptune." She sat in front of him, her eyes fixed on his. "Perseus Jackson, you passed the test of the Wolf House. Though harsher than usual, nothing less was expected of you. A great deal more of respect is in order, and, without it, you cannot leave."

She fixed him a glare, a threatening and scary glare.

"I will teach you the names of our gods, their legends and powers. I will teach you to lead, to respect, and to obey. I will teach you no mercy. Weakness will be purged, be it by your efforts or by our claws. Do not expect me to make exceptions, Perseus Jackson. I already had blood more brave and resilient on my teeth than you will ever have in your hand."

She turned back.

"So if you think you are worthy, come with me. If you dare flee, I will give you five minutes."

She turned her face to him.

"Be warned. Never they escaped me."

He shook himself. Not because of fear. He felt… lost, albeit a little angry with himself. He felt, in the middle of nothing, in a ruined house, powerless, hungry, that he was not like that, even with all against his person. This laziness and weakness felt strange to him. Looking at the talking glorified dog, he asked the only thing that mattered.

"Will my memories return?"

The silver eyes softened, if possible. In disgust or sympathy, he would forever be in doubt.

"You know the path that will not return them. I offer you a possibility, a chance to live better and to be useful. Know this hero, you will know harshness, but not injustice from my part."

He needed to know who was the woman of his dreams, the buried face on his consciousness. What about the lady with the curly brown hair? And the little lady?

Snow and bow came to his mind in a mess of the senses.

He saw a deer, a wolf, a moose running at him. From him, with him? Who was the hero to defy that red snake thing?

And, as he felt the memories come and go, he looked at his side, bow in hand, feet on the floor and felt the pressure grow.

Laugh, dodge, shout, dodge, strike, glow.

Red hair, silver eyes, pretty smile. A thing of beauty, to love, to show. To travel the world, without letting go. And she went.

And pain replaced.

But he would not forget. This time, he was sure. She was fuel, she was passion, he would never let her go. Not again. Pain was a minor thing, if he could come back to be her king.

She was his soul, his whole: world, life, meaning, mission.

Pale skin shone brightly with the silver beams of the midnight sky. He does not lie, he missed her. He does not deny, he needed her. He would fly, wherever she may be.

He will cry, the wolf take it as it wants.

Not now, however.

Because now, he had a mission, he would not die. The wolf was just the first, even being an ally.

His sword felt heavy on his pocket, for only a moment. It tasted Ichor, Blood and Tears, he felt. It would taste again, if needed be.

A day, a week, a month, a year.

He will rise, take his prize and hold it tightly.

A chance to see her again, it does not matter when.

It only mattered that he would.

Conviction and might overcame his senses. He followed the wolf, past the house, past the forest, past his flaws. He would be strong, and prepared.

The wolf crouched, and stared, menacingly. The dark-haired one stood tall. The wolf smiled.

'They did not lie, after all.'