Note: Right into the near-middle of Son of Neptune we go! For a memory breakdown, and more mystery.

Please, review and comment(And criticize, if you have a few). I do not own Percy Jackson or any affiliated material.

Who Am I?

Chapter 10

An Amazon hand shoved me roughly from behind, and I heard Ragnarok berate me mentally for getting caught so easily.

"Just shut up, will you?" I said, accidentally thinking out loud. "oh, not you," I said, seeing the murderous looks the Amazons were giving me "I was talking to my sword."

The one standing behind me spun me by my shoulder and punched me in the stomach. I dropped to my knees in front of one of their storage shelves. "Picture of hospitality, you are." I said, smirking up at her, and received a swift kick to my face. My head slapped the floor on its left side(my face, not the floor).

"Stop!" Hazel yelled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something familiar.

I scrambled up and pointed towards a large glass case, propped against a far wall. "What's that?" I said.

"Why do you care?" Kinzie asked.

"Cause whatever's in that case, I think I recognize. I've had…memory problems for the last six years, and whenever I've encountered something from my past, I've gotten a bit of my life back. So, please, may I see that case?" I could see they looked skeptical. I sank to my knees and clasped my hands. "I'm begging on my knees here. I'll come quietly, won't cause any trouble afterwards. Just…please." I put my heart into that bit, and they took it.

They marched me to the case. Now that I was in front of it, i could see what was inside: a large sword, like a slightly small, old-school broadsword, broken into two pieces, covered in black script along the blade and hilt.

"Where'd you get this?" I asked.

"Some of our scouts found it in Vietnam in the 60s." Kinzie said.

"I….I think this was mine." I said, uncertain, but somehow subconsciously positive.

I reached out, and touched the glass separating me and the pieces of the sword.

A searing pain shot through my head, burning my mind. I dropped to the ground, fairly certain I was screaming but too out of it to care.

Words, terms, places, people, images, sensations flooded my head. This was worse than when I'd first found Ragnarok, or when Ragnorak had sent me on a forced introspective look at what few memories I had.

I heard someone babbling. "The Lightbringer. Last chance. Upset the balance. The Third War. Third War. Of Creation."

I realized it was me.

I drew back my hand, curled it into a fist and slammed it into the case, breaking some of it off into my fist to try and clear my head. It did the trick.

I pulled myself off the floor, and turned around. Everyone was staring at me with looks of horror.

"What?" I asked. Then I felt something dribbling down my face, like tears, but not quite. I turned and looked the reflection of my face.

I was bleeding from every hole in my head. Eyes, ears, nose, mouth. The works.

"Well that's just going to ruin my day." I said.

"Okay, seriously, what was that?" Percy asked me our cell several minutes later.

"I don't know."

"Is it always that…"

"Painful? Scary-as-hell? Freaky?"

"Yeah, any of those would work."

"Yes. Every time. And if I could actually explain why they happen like that, I'd tell you. But I can't." I said forcefully.

"So, get anything new?" Frank asked me.

"I think," I stopped and thought. Not all of what I had remembered was fully in place or focus, but enough of it was that I could make some educated guesses. "I think I died."

"Hang on!" I yelled as Percy hooked up the chariot rig to Arion. "There's something I need to grab!"

I turned, ran back, and leapt over the nearest railing. I made my way back to the glass case containing what I was now sure was my old sword, my original sword. i smashed the case and grabbed the two pieces. I gazed at my reflection on the upper half of the blade. For a second, I wasn't looking at myself, or at least myself as I was used to seeing; I was looking at someone with ash-gray skin, burning red eyes, swirling black hair, burn scars and a glowing, flowing tattoo going down his torso and arms, and what looked like the silhouette of giant raven wings extending behind him. Then the image vanished, and i saw only myself, my eyes turned red, a bright, deep red. A burning red. A glowing red.

"Welcome back." I said to myself, knowing I was using that phrase prematurely