Cursed Heritage

Percy already knew very well he was dreaming. His vision in dreams were always slightly bleary, and now matter how many times he shouted for attention that he was there, the people in his dreams would just completely ignore him.

Two people stood in front of Percy steadily. The one standing on the right was a man with long silvery hair that was neatly tied back to a ponytail. His features were ominously sharp, but his eyes simply told a completely different story. They were a soft, pine green hue.

He wore a dark bloody red tunic that Percy had first thought was pure black. He also couldn't tell if the man was in his late thirties or if he was very old. The clothing the man wore certainly reminded Percy about the word 'ancient.'

The other person opposite the man was a young girl no more older than ten. She, no doubt, exceptionally looked terrified of the man in front of her. Her hair was a wavy brown color. Something about the girl's features reminded Percy of someone he prominently knew, but he couldn't seem to put his finger on that person.

"Daughter, look at me," said the man sternly as the girl continued to stubbornly refuse to gaze into his pine green eyes that Percy found endearing, "I know it'll be hard to be separated from Elijah and to see him in between long periods of time but—"

The girl shook her head violently and retorted in a cold tone, "I don't want to join the Hunt, Father! I want to stay with Elijah; he needs me." The last few words echoed in his ears.

The man's face remained emotionless despite his daughter was looking so close to strangling him. There was a livid look on her face.

"Faith," he coaxed out as there was a tone of plead in his voice, "listen to me. This is for your safety," the man added quickly, "and for your brother's too.

It was nice to know that the father was trying to plead her to follow his demands rather than forcing her to doing his likings.

The youthful girl, Faith, looked like in the verge of tears unlike a few moments ago where she looked like she wanted to kill her father with no regrets.

"Okay," she said and hung her head low, as if about to regret what she was about to do, "for me and Elijah's safety . . . but from what?"

The silver-haired man froze, unable to think of what to say. Faith had spoken again before her father could, "Is it from the monsters who killed Mother?"

The man nodded, looking rather displeased. As if he forced himself to, the man whispered in a croaky voice, making his sharp features turn soft and round, "I'm sorry you and Elijah were born cursed, Faith. I wanted to tell you this when you were mature enough — but I can't always hide everything from you, can I?"

The brunette simply nodded. Shock yet confusion with a hint of curiosity was displayed overtly on her face. She gestured a wave (which Percy had wrongly thought was a obscene hand gesture), as if telling the man to continue what he was saying.

"You know well enough I can't say everything I know, Faith," said the man as he saw the look on her face, "you are bound to know everything when time comes; all you have to do is wait. But for now, I'll tell you some words which you should keep in mind."

Faith pursed her lips, as if biting her tongue from retaliating. She nodded again to her father, who began to use a soft yet gentle tone.

"You are the key to saving your loved ones," whispered the man softly. Sadness shone in his eyes—Percy realised he was gripping his left wrist tightly with his right hand as if in nervousness. "Yet saving them would cost your own soul. Once again, I'm sorry you had to be born cursed."

"Why?" asked Faith suddenly. She didn't sound bitter, she didn't sound remorseful either.

"You can either save or destroy. Two simple choices, just pick of what you think is right," the man continued, ignoring her question, "but, there are consequences. You would have to die as a worthy sacrifice for the people you love."

The man looked away, those pine-green eyes looking sunken. "And if you don't seem to realise your great importance to the world, others would use you to choose whatever they want even if it's against your will."

Without complaining or arguing any longer, Faith nodded once more. Not only the man, but also Percy wore rather similar shocked faces. The girl was very brave despite what being told in such a young age.

"How about Elijah?" asked Faith sourly, "Will he also suffer what I have to go through?"

The dream started revolting around Percy. Darkness came and embraced him as the world spun alarmingly fast. He could only make out a few of what was left to be said in his vision.

"I'm sorry," the man said, his voice distorting into no more than a barely audible whisper as a pitch black color evaded Percy's peripheral vision. He could hear distant murmuring now, which definite did not come form the dream.

Percy could only make out a few more words from the silver-haired man: "I'm sorry you both would have to endure pain and live with a curse you carry."

There was an anvil somewhere. Percy could hear it as clear as day—the sharp end of a hammer was now colliding within the irons of the anvil, making fiery sparks fly. It was so loud that he had the urge to scream for it to stop. The next thing he knew, he bolted upright so fast it made him dizzy.

There was no anvil, or hammer either. Bunkers along with the clear figures that possibly belonged to the hunters were the only thing he saw.

He soon realised the pounding was coming from his head and was still ongoing, but this time it was growing fainter and fainter by the second. Percy caught Estelle staring at him with a confused look on her delicate face. She, too, looked like she'd just woken up.

Percy silently watched as Estelle made her way to his bunker with a graceful flop. Her hair was ruffled into a mess, but otherwise the look actually managed to look adorable on her; unlike he, who of course, always looked like an deserted bird nest that had just been pooped on whenever he woke up in the morning.

"I overheard you mumbling in your sleep," said Estelle conversationally. She turned to look at him, her doe brown eyes already saying her unspoken words.

Percy smiled jokingly. "Is it possible to change the subject?" he asked. Percy himself did not know if he was joking or dead serious. He, indeed, wanted to be alone and think of the dream he just had.

"You can tell me anything, I won't judge," Estelle said quietly. This time, it was his turn to look at her with confusion. "I've seen how you look at her," she added with a smirk playing on her thin lips.

Percy stared at his half-sister with an incredulous look on his face that was mixed with confusion. "What do you . . . what was I muttering in my sleep?" he bluntly asked with a pink tint coating his cheeks from embarrassment.

Estelle giggled. "I won't tell you," she sing-songs and smiles sheepishly and catches the look on his face. "You don't know what you were muttering, do you?"

Percy, as much as he loved and cared for the younger, was definitely not appreciating how she was taking his 'dream', which Estelle had probably mistaken as an euphoric sensation.

Percy started to feel uncomfortable and wished he hadn't spoken at all. "Er . . . it's not what you think it is. It was a vision...one that others should take seriously as it can be helpful for the future," murmured Percy with pang of remorse. His last few words were slightly bitter, which he wanted to take back.

"I'm sorry," said Estelle humbly, "but do you wanna talk about it?"

Before Percy could reply half-heartedly, a certain hunter had already done so in a blunt way, saying in a matter-of-fact tone, "He doesn't want to talk to you for the meanwhile, but he's just too polite to say so."

Thalia came towards the two with a poker face. Percy was rendered speechless and winced, waiting for the blow from his half-sister, but it never came. Instead, there were giggles from Estelle.

"That's true," Estelle said with an unmistakable grin appearing on her bright features. "Okay, I'll leave. I might stumble along Faith and Phoebe in the Big House with the weird-looking horse," she added (Percy thought by 'weird-looking horse,' Estelle meant Chiron) and strode towards the oak wood door. It shut with a slow creak before Percy could tell Estelle about her untidy hair.

He averted his gaze towards Thalia, who had sunken bags under her lightning blue eyes. Percy had his guesses that the daughter of Zeus overslept, but he never questioned it further. Instead, Percy stated whispering to her as the dream of Faith and the silver-haired man started flooding back. He eagerly began telling Thalia of what he had just seen, and hoped for she knew who was the silver-haired man—which was quite stupid of Percy as he should've asked Faith.

As expected, those were the exact words Thalia had told him. "Ask Faith about the man, not me. I personally think — oh! There she is!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the door. It was Phoebe first who entered; her knee-length boots making a click-clack sound against the floor, followed by Estelle and Faith.

Percy felt something brush against his lower leg. He glanced down to find a sleeping Aegeus warmly curled up in the floor (despite the fact the floor was as cold as hell), his tail unconsciously rising and grasping his leg.

"Chiron said they'll be replacing the window this coming afternoon," said Phoebe as she sent a wary stare in the direction of the empty windowsill. Percy saw the frown of disapproval Faith gave to Phoebe silently as the latter lounged on her grubby bunker.

"There is also a meeting in the Big House after our timely breakfast in the dining pavilion, and it is a long discussion about the next Great Prophecy and rumors," Faith heaved a purposeful small cough to garner the others' complete attention, "—that assume the gods have locked themselves up and taken camp at Olympus. Thalia, I suppose you know what to do—?"

"I do." Thalia's lips thinned grimly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell them anything of what Lady Artemis had said to us."

Faith sighed softly. "Very well. By the way Phoebe, there was no need to lie down again; they're gonna call us for breakfast—"

A strident and high-pitched sound interrupted her from speaking. Faith smugly smiled, her eyes sparkling with the words 'I told you so' imprinted on her facets.

Percy had ran a hand through his disheveled jet black hair twice or more before leaving the cabin. He observed himself in the scratchy mirror closely.

His sea-green eyes, which he always believed was the most unique feature of himself, were as bright as ever—though it was so brilliant it practically radiated happiness, it betrayed to hide the sad and empty look in his eyes.

It was not as if a part of him was missing, but instead, it was as if there was a huge crack—a ravine so deep that would've taken hours to reach the bottom.

"We're gonna be late for breakfast if you don't stop admiring yourself in the mirror, Jackson," teased a voice Percy knew too well. The aforementioned swiveled around in incredulity. He was so infatuated with himself he didn't even realise no one was left in the cramped room with him except for Faith, who was merely unveiling her look of laughter.

"I — I wasn't —" spluttered Percy.

Faith shook it off with a light wave, the smile not leaving her face. "Come on, we're seriously going to be late."

Percy silently followed her towards outside, forgetting his planned retort.

He then cursed himself for losing the only glimmer of chance to ask her about his vision; it had occurred to Percy it wasn't a dream at all, and it indeed took quite a long while to tell the difference.

Percy followed Faith as so to approach the long table that stood ever so softly upon the wide stone floor, those pillars made of strong pearl white beams, beams that held up the roof of the pavilion.

He gently took a seat (attentively careful to avoid the screeching noise a chair usually does when you scrape it along a floor) down the middle from Thalia and Estelle, who were sending him bewildered looks that flickered between him and Faith.

Dryads, who were undoubtedly looking as beautifully humanoid as always, came towards each table in firm pairs, holding a silver platter of food. They carried fresh bread, different assortments of fruits, and cheese on each of their metal trays.

As silver goblets appeared on their table and filled up with any drink the hunters desired, Percy was vaguely reminded of his dream. He felt a sudden urge to not let it stay unknown to others for a long time, and he mentally agreed with his own thoughts. It would be better if others knew, they might indicate something of some sort. Surely he didn't have the dream for absolutely nothing?

Percy jumped slightly due to someone pinching him harshly in the arm and covered it immediately as an instantaneous cough.

He looked up to the person who pinched him and saw Thalia bobbing his head as she glared at him. Percy thought she was having some sort of fit until he saw a wood nymph glowering at him.

He gulped nervously. "Just the toasted bread . . . please . . . ," added Percy promptly. The wood nymph huffed with clear annoyance and displeasure and snapped her spindly green fingers. Toasted bread appeared on his plate just as he asked for. The dryad kept her look of discontent as she passed every other hunter.

When the wood nymph was likely out of hearing, Percy grumbled as he rubbed the reddening spot Thalia had mercilessly pinched, "That hurt!" to which the latter replied by rolling her eyes as she took another rather tiny bite from her plate of scrambled eggs.

There was a throaty grunt beside Percy from Aegeus. The son of Poseidon offered the wolf with a toast of bread, which he wasn't sure if the creature even liked or ate at all.

Percy distinctively reached over to ruffle Aegeus's head because he defiantly felt like it and the fur might as well be softer than butterfly silk. As he combed his slender hands through the dark coat of fur, he felt something fiercely burn his fingertips. Percy pulled back in astonishment with a million question buzzing around his head. He swore there was a feeling of fiery sensation when he touched something beneath Aegeus's soft fur.

In mere curiosity, he brushed his hands again against the wolf's head. No doubt, his suspicions were correct. Something gleaming with a deathly dark red aura was...carved...into the creature's flesh. It was an odd symbol, and it freshly reminded him of the one he'd seen before in the forest when Artemis and the Hunt went hunting for a boar.

It was clear as to what it was. A Fyrmarc. But, yet again, why would Fyrmarcs just randomly be lying around in such places? Did it have a secret coded meaning? It indeed is true every single symbol Chaos created had a translation in modern English...Maybe they were warnings, perhaps?

Percy shook his head in denial. He was sure he was massively overthinking the situation. Anyways, if it were really a Fyrmarc, Percy would inform Artemis and the others—which would include difficulty as the gods have locked themselves up in Olympus from their inner cowardice and are possibly persuading Artemis to stay and cut connection from the hunters too; which Percy knew the goddess wouldn't allow so easily.

Percy (who took his mind off Aegeus for a good while) was wonderfully glad breakfast was momentarily over. He cannot the stand the mysterious and doubtful stares he got whenever he had the chance to walk around by himself without the other hunters.

Percy would sometimes overhear hushed whispers about him, whether he was actually the real Hero of Olympus. A few days back—when the campers had started theorising whether her really was Percy Jackson—he started a daily schedule. The different periods of time were all written over by the same sentence that be found quite useful nowadays: Ignore the campers.

He would sometimes see his dear old friends walking by past him, but it wasn't he who was staring at them; instead, they were doing quite the actual opposite.

Percy hated it—he despised it. 'It' referring to the attention he always got. He really wished for hatred thrown at him instead of looks of sadness and regret whenever he'd cross paths with a friend of his. This made him feel irate, and his feelings were confused. It made Percy feel almost sorry for the campers, resulting in the odd feeling of wanting to be welcomed back cheerfully into the camp with no hint of emptiness at all.

"Hey," said Faith in an undertone as her elbow nudged his arm. The campers began scattering throughout the stony floors, off to whatever they wished. Percy raised an eyebrow at the healer in question and asked, "What?"

He traced where her eyes were intently on. Percy found himself staring at the direction where the Canoe Lake was. By a distance, he could almost feel the sea breeze going by his face.

"Would you fancy a walk with me?" she asked all of a sudden. A few of chattering campers must've overheard what she had said because they burst into fits of giggles. Faith looked like she instantly regretted the words that escaped her lips.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she said in a hurry, "It's nothing personal, I swear! Thalia told me you wanted to tell me something serious that might relate to the prophecy. I wish to know, since I'm tagging along with her to the Big House later on for the meeting."

Percy proceeded to throw a glare towards Thalia menacingly, but she was somewhere in the middle of a group of hunters to do so. He softly mumbled a 'sure,' trying to hide the growing embarrassment flaring inside him.

Percy kept a good few inches away from Faith. As they strode towards the Canoe Lake without talking, he glanced nervously at her, opening his mouth to utter the fact that the hunters might question this but Faith had interrupted him nonchalantly.

"I've already told Thalia about it, don't worry," reassured Faith.

Percy started. "B–but I thought the meeting is starting after breakfast—"

"Not necessarily, we still have . . . let's say . . . twenty more minutes or so before the meeting will be held," said Faith.

Percy stopped walking and felt himself smile longingly at the mesmerizing scenery in front of him; the Canoe Lake. Looking through the waters of the lake was like peering though perfect glass, the sand clear from any footprints.

The stones at the bottom were as many hues of brown and grey as there are on a painter's wheel, likely more. After a few minutes of looking Percy could notice some that were some more reddish or closer to white. The earthen path stretched wide to their left and right making a complete loop around the edge just behind the trees that grew directly on the bank.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It's pretty self-explanatory why this was your favorite spot to stay," whispered Faith as the cold winds blew her hair out of her face.

Without looking at him, still gazing at the crystal lake, she said, "Tell me what you wanted me to know."

Percy awkwardly played with a loose string from his midnight-colored sleeve. "I got a vision of you and a silver-haired man . . . and you were somewhere around ten years old, I think . . ."

Faith didn't seem fazed, but she did seem a little annoyed by the fact Percy was snooping in on her private life—he could tell. Before she could say anything, he continued to explain what had happened. Percy watched over Faith's blank expression after he finished speaking.

"That silver-haired man you're talking about is my father, Daehros. I suppose all of it is obvious, then?" questioned Faith, her eyes still fixed on the lake. Percy shook his head in reply, now clutching his wrist in fear the other might explode by the level of undertones her voice dangerously reached.

Faith sighed exasperatedly, kicking a tiny pebble from the sandy ground with her leather boots, sending it flying towards the lake, making a tingling sound in the clear water.

"Don't you get it? Me and Elijah are children of cursed!" Her voice became throaty at the mention of her beloved brother, whom was not yet to be found no matter how hard the satyrs and party ponies searched.

Percy's face remained blank. He put two and two together, and it all made perfect sense. Children of the Cursed—Faith and Elijah were children of Daehros, the god of curses. No one would've guessed who Daehros was or what he represented as a god because, according to Faith, no one really bothered to pay attention to her minor godly father.

"You know what awaits you, then? Both you and your brother?" the plume of Percy's breath billowed out, and quickly dissipated in the cool morning air. "You know what are the consequences when you make your final choice?"

Percy's voice dropped into complete horrible silence when he realised Faith's usual bright brown eyes were glassy. She refused to meet his worried gaze.

"Yes," she whispered sadly, "I know what will happen to me and Elijah. I have a feeling the time has come for the both of us — at least let it be quick and painless."

Percy's breath hitched. "What?" he exclaimed incredulously. "Surely there must be another way?"

"There are always more ways than one to different problems, but for this one there isn't."

There were a few more moments of silence. Percy frowned: It was all unfair, unless Faith had been the one who chose her fate, which is unlikely.

"Faith—"

"I'm cursed, Jackson. The same goes for my brother. There's nothing we can do to change the future."

Percy lost his voice, making it hard for him to retaliate and disagree. He believed there was always more than one way. It was excruciatingly unfair—

"I will always die in the end." The words stung him to the core like he'd never expect it to.

Faith saw his horrified facial expression and smiled thinly, her dimples showing on both sides from her soft smile.

"Hey, atleast I'd die knowing I did something useful in the world for once."