Finally Back on this site and boy does it feel good. Again, my deepest apologies for taking so long with this story. I promise that I won't leave you all with a three-year wait ever again.

If you are new to me or this story, then welcome! This is a sequel to my story The Fall of Percy Jackson I wrote when I was 14/15 years old. That was super fun to write and is a good read. It is dark Percy themed and completely finished. You can just start this one, but a lot of things will be unclear and make zero sense. So read that story (it's a short 100k words, don't worry ;) ), come back and start the sequel up!

Anyway, again, thank you all for the support. So glad to be back.

Now, Let's get to it, shall we? Remember to review! That's what drives me to keep going! :)

I do not own PJO or HoO, I only own my OC's and plot ideas.

A boy, clutching a horn in his left hand, stumbled onto a wooden porch, before collapsing, hitting the deck with a loud thud. Two stern faces stared down at him, one of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. Both looking down at him, the girl said, "He's the one. He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside."

The lights and colors distorted, haze seeping into the image, before refocusing inside of a summer home situated on Long Island.

He was being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovered over him, smirking as she scraped drips off his chin with the spoon

When she saw him open his eyes, she asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" he managed to croak.

She looked around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," the boy mumbled, "I don't..."

A loud knocking on the door could be heard, and the girl quickly filled his mouth with pudding. The next thing the boy knew, she was gone.

The image twisted and contorted in a serpentine manner, with no clear geometric pattern in the visuals dancing about. The picture settled one final time on the deck of the same Long Island house.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," she replied.

She shared the same age as the boy, perhaps having a couple of inches of height on him. With her flowing blonde hair and deeply tanned skin, she resembled the stereotypical southern California girl, except her eyes failed to match the look. They were gray stormclouds, dancing about her irises like the overcast in the breeze.

She stared at the Minotaur horn in the boy named Percy's hand, and much to his shock, failed to comment on it. Instead, she stared him directly in his sea-green eyes, and said the following:

"You drool when you sleep."

The image flashed about, the colors caressing around the girl named Annabeth, before fading to black. Except it wasn't black, but more like the absence of all color. A man floated alone in the darkness, searching for any sign of life around him. He was met with a deep laugh filled with an archaic tone, as he began to fall, colors now spiraling around him, dancing in their serpentine manner, coming closer and closer and closer and–f

"Percy..." the blonde haired girl said. The image jumped back to the base of a hill, a pine resting on the top.

She pursed her lips. "you won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least...not without sending me an Iris-message?"

The boy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

The warm breaths of the woman at his side awoke him from his sleep. Eyes blurry, squinting in the light, he tried to focus on the heap of blonde directly in front of him. As the image settled, he smiled, the sun gleaming off his beautiful wife's golden hair, curling at the end, and floating just above her right eye.

"Oh Annabeth," he whispered to himself. The two of them had been through so much that it would seem unnatural to wake up without her by his side. Quests stretching across the world, to the heavens and down into hell, retrieving ancient artifacts, fighting Gods, Titans, and monsters galore, as well as each other for a period that lasted far too long in Percy's eyes. His otherworldly after his resurrection had restored his vision of her and erased the betrayal he felt during the war. After all, she was his Wise Girl.

His gaze left her, jumping around the beautiful architecture of the room, designed by Annabeth herself. The bed rested atop a cloud, the pathways leading up to it and the floor of the room being transparent, with a full view of New York City below it. Water streamed around the fringes of the room, gently flowing in a calming manner. The architecture was black as night, contrasted with the stark white of the clouds, but they preferred it that way.

The Mendins, small yet burly workers, along with a few demigod children of Hecate, had constructed this room following the Second Primordial War. After all, they lived to serve their Primordial masters, especially their ruler above ground: the fabled Percy Jackson.

Percy's eyes returned to Annabeth's face, examining each and every detail that he knew like the back of his own hand; the curve of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows, point of her chin. He knew every inch of her and loved it as if it were his own. Percy smiled, her warm breath blowing onto his face.

Annabeth's eyes fluttered, slowly peeling open in a groggy wake-up daze. He gray eyes struggling to focus on the image around her, before resting on Percy, causing her to smile. She leaned in for a kiss, and Percy happily met her in the middle.

"Good morning, Seaweed-Brain." Percy grinned.

"Hey there wise girl. Sweet dreams?" he asked her. Annabeth opened her mouth– cutting herself off with a grin– and then proceeding, saying, "It as more of a memory. Do you remember the first time we met, that summer more than 60 years ago?"

"I just had the same dream," Percy said, smiling at Annabeth. "You spoon fed me ambrosia, wiping the–"

"–drool from your mouth!" Annabeth laughed, play hitting Percy on the shoulder. "You were such a dork."

"Hey, I still am a dork, Wise Girl!" Percy teased. Annabeth laughed again, rolling out of the covers, revealing her beautiful bare build to her husband. She snapped her fingers, and was immediately covered in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and black Converse shoes. She turned to Percy, who was biting his lower lip, and winked.

"It's far too early in the morning for that, Percy. You're gonna have to wait." With that, she walked out of the room, and across the cloud pathway back to the main section of Olympus, hips swaying with each step she took. She still had the build of an early twenty year old, blessed with the gift of immortality by the Primordials of Night, Darkness, and the Pit. Percy was the same. Locked in the body of a youthful lord, intelligent and reasonable, yet agile as he would ever be. A deity's gifts were not to be refused.

Percy yawned, hopping out of bed himself, reflecting on the events leading up that moment, starting with the dream he had had. Why was his dream sequence of the first day he met her? Why was the dream focused around her? And why did it shift in the middle to something that seemed... he didn't know how to describe it. All he knew was it was abnormal. He and Annabeth didn't normally share dreams. In fact, it was a rare occurrence, happening only in dire times in the past.

He shook it aside. Nothing significant had bothered the two of them in a full year since Zade and Thalia's disappearance from their service. He and his Primordial lords scoured the earth for them, but they came up with nothing. It was as if the siblings had vanished into thin air. The children of thunder were the few remaining echoes of Zeus, the lightning in the skies dormant for the past 50 years.

"A lot has changed since then," Percy muttered to himself, dressing himself the old-fashioned way. As much as he liked the gifts from his masters, he preferred to live life as normally as he could, despite living in a palace in the clouds above New York City.

Percy walked to the throne room after getting dressed, admiring the architecture and redesign of Olympus. Streams flowed on the side of every path and road, flowers blooming all around, and the gardens were more beautiful than ever. Many nymphs, satyrs, and nature spirits sided with the Primordials after the war in order to preserve nature, their home. A wise choice, Percy thought.

After ten minutes of walking, stretching his legs on the trek to the throne room, Percy finally arrived. The fireplace in the center of the room crackled, but what caught his eye was a familiar looking gray-eyed boy of about 17 years old. He had jet black hair and a goofy smile like a particular son of Poseidon. Percy smiled at his son, standing next to Annabeth.

"Orion! What are you doing here?" he asked, excited to see his son. Orion had spent the last year training with Adrastos at Camp Half-Blood, where he trained the campers who had sworn allegiance to the Primordials instead of living out their lives in Tartarus. Another wise choice, Percy thought.

The thought of his old friend and comrade brought back foul memories of being killed. Percy dreaded that day, as his honor was temporarily harmed. He was bested by his subordinate, who was clearly less powerful than him. Percy brushed the feeling aside. His death was necessary, after all.

"I'm just visiting for the day. I've been working so hard on learning these knew combat techniques that Adrastos and the other camp leaders gave me today off!" Orion exclaimed. Annabeth smiled at her son's excitement. They only got to see him about once a month. He had lived with his parents for so long that the Primordials, and even Annabeth and Percy, had thought it would be best for Orion to learn to be more independent.

"Man, I haven't been up her in ages," Orion exclaimed, wandering to the edge of the throne room, to be able to look over the side of the pathways. "You can't beat that view of New York City." Percy followed his son, patting him on the back.

"You're right about that, Orion. You're right about that." Annabeth smiled at her husband and father of her child. Despite their split 50 years ago when Percy was banished by Zeus to Tartarus, they had ended up together like they always wanted. She stroked the ring Percy had gotten for her all those years ago; two diamonds on either side of a sea-green emerald, engraved with the words: I will always love you, Annabeth. She never expected the Olympians to betray her as well like they did Percy.

At least that was what she thought. Deep down, Percy knew that the Primordials had altered her perceptions of the past. It made it easier to keep her in line and Percy happy after winning the war.

Orion yawned, tired from his many weeks of rigorous training.

"I'm going to sleep for a few hours, guys. I know it's morning but I am absolutely exhausted. See you soon," Orion said, walking off to his room. Percy and Annabeth smiled at the image of their son walking away from them, independently living out his life. They exchanged a look of approval with each other, a we did it! sort of look, before locking lips, with all the passion of their youth.

The two stood there for a minute, embraced in this passionate kiss, like they were the only two people in the world. They separated, but not because they wanted to.

A strange feeling entered Percy's mind. Something he hadn't felt in decades, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. It was as if a warmth engulfed him, but it wasn't pleasant or too discomforting for that matter. It was just kind of... there. Like an itch he couldn't scratch. He pulled away from Annabeth and gave her a concerned look.

"Do you feel that?" he asked worriedly. Annabeth nodded, looking around the room, confused at the presence entering their personal space. It seemed to be looming with more power, growing in pressure and warmth with each passing second. Percy was oddly affected by it more than he should have been in the throne room of all places. After the war, much like the Primordials, he retired many of his god-like powers to the throne room, as harnessing the raw power coming from the blessings of three Primordials everywhere he went could have ripped his soul apart, despite his immortality. He was still strong and powerful, similar to when he was first blessed by Tartarus and Erebus, able to shadow travel and control the power behind his name.

The warmth became almost scalding. Annabeth and Percy's anxieties continued to grow. Their eyes darted around the room, their uncomfortable auras only feeding off of each other, as if the heat was melting them from the inside out. Percy and Annabeth both began to sweat, feverish beads of water sliding down their now pale faces. As Annabeth's breathing became more erratic, Percy struggled to walk the few feet between them in order to help her. For a brief moment, Percy had the inkling of a thought that this could be the end, until a loud CRACKLE could be heard from the fire pit in the middle of the room.

The heat receded, and the presence dissipated from the air.

:) HOW WAS THAT? Please let me know in the comments. The first few chapters will be slower. Gotta build the plot before the action, so stay tuned. I can assure you that you will most certainly NOT regret sticking with this sequel.

Again, I'm super happy to be back and doing this again. I really love this book series so much and writing my own take on them it a phenomenal feeling, and it makes me even happier that I have gotten so much support from all of you.

So, the wait will be short before the next chapter comes out, but until then, review, favorite, follow, and get ready for shit to go down!

DEUCES!

-PD