This is an old story I began writing a while ago, never finished and deleted from my profile. I've had a bit of resurgence in writing as of late and felt like continuing this story. Temporarily, it will be placed under T but there will be suggestive things later on that will be for a more matured audience.

D

I shall mark it so when it comes to it, there will be a double linebreak before and after the paragraphs, like so. It is your choice, however, to read them you have been warned.

E

For now it will be placed under T as it does not get much traffic on M and since nothing raunchy or other things have been suggested, just the odd vague description, the very rare strong language, in my writing I tend to steer clear of foul language, It shall be T until further notice. If you are not comfortable with topics that will be brought up later, the scenes will be marked as such, as shown above, for your convenience to avoid.

This story, however, is very unconventional in the world of PJO and is Extremely AU and OOC, this will not be your typical PJO fanfic, roles have been shuffled, characters and associations have been changed and mention of the Greek gods themselves will be very little.

It is a crossover story in the sense that I'm taking the storyline from another book series, not very creative I know, The Legend of the Seeker/ The Sword of Truth series, and adding my own twist to it with the PJO characters. Never the less I hope you enjoy!

I however definitely do not own the rights to either of these book series and am only writing them for fun, I in no means intend on breaking any copyright issues, even though I probably am, and will try to make this story its own separate thing, away far enough from the original story it is based on, while loosely holding similar features.

Again I do not own the rights to this story, it is just for fun.

Pronunciation: (Use the Audio function, if available)

Picarion: Pic-Ah-ree-on - Benton: Ben-Ton - Othrys: Off-Freeze

Osmia: Oz-Me-ah - Veseechia: Vess-each-e-ya - Ebonara: Eb-on-are-ah

Chapter One

The vine he examined was a peculiar looking thing. The dark obsidian leaves around the stem, thorns jutting from the sides of the thick base, dangerously. The stem hugged the base of the tree, the entire forest around him, holding each tree in a death grip. He frowned as he watched sap drip from the wounded trees, the sticky amber substance looking like tears as they dripped from the deep grooves in the logs. Vessels, dark as night, sprouted from the harsh looking vine, inside he hoped contained seeds.

He looked around him, the area he'd found the vine, deep in the forest. This part of the woods was never ventured, only by the Watch, men that ensured people steered clear of the boundary. Percy rubbed the back of his neck wearily, fearing what all of this situation meant. He pulled his satchel from his hip, unwinding the cord clasping it together, producing the vine of similar design and colour.

His face paled.

He held it up to the plant around the tree, the limbs swaying and groaning around him from the force of the wind. Something he wasn't expecting in the slightest was the vine to strike. The pointed stinger inside the petaled vessel was as sharp as the point of a dagger. He ripped his hand away in shock, ripping the flesh away from his hand, a sense of wooziness washing over him.

It surprised him further when the vine hissed at him, preparing to strike once more. He brought out his dagger, swiping at the plant, severing it from its base. The vine lay on the moss-covered rock in front of him, writhing in pain, as he crushed it with the heel of his boot. Removing his foot, he examined the odd mix of colour left behind covering the greens and reds of moss, blood and a white and green liquid that he didn't recognise.

Frowning, he picked the odd flower up by its peculiar leaves, ignoring the slowly spinning world around him. He placed the two plants back into his pouch, placing it back to where it hung by his side previous, the satchel swaying as he strode toward the clearing. He examined the puncture wound in his hand, fingering the gash, fear rising as he realised the stinger had secreted the white and green liquid into the flesh. His heart jumped into his throat as he watched the liquid absorb into the wound, blood and pus began to flow freely.

He moved his hand in a frantic gesture, trying to relieve the pain that followed from the sting, pushing the thought of the white and green liquid to the back of his mind. He frowned slightly as he made a mental reminder to see his old friend about it later on. His eyes wandered around the woods, looking for the Ambrosia plant underneath a birch. He found one, relief washing over him, as he plucked the blooming plant from the ground by its stem. He squeezed the stem, a small amount of thick balm coating the wound. He rubbed the area carefully with his forefinger, coating the gash with the healing balm, feeling the wound numbing in an instant.

He planted the flower once more, burying the stem in the mud before him, hoping the plant would take hold and begin anew, something which was common in the Ambrosia plant. He pulled some gauze wrap from the medical side of his pouch, wrapping his hand in a temporary bandage to keep the dirt away. He turned as he rested his hand on the head of the wood chopping axe, hung on his hip, running his calloused hand over top.

Having spent a large portion of his life in Demeter Forest, the knowledge Percy possessed on plantlife was vast. Give him a plants name and he could describe it to you: where it grows, how it grows, its properties and uses. He knew each and every plant by name and sight. This was attributed to his old friend, Chiron, who took him on adventures when he was a boy, searching for herbs and flowers. Chiron taught him everything there was to know about each specific plant thus his love for the outdoors was born. Chiron always treated him as an equal, quenching every burning question Percy threw at him, the boys hunger for knowledge vast and extensive.

Besides it being his job, being a woods guide, helping travellers from neighbouring towns and villages find their way through, he was on a different agenda these past few days, worrying his lip as he was lost in thought. His mind cast back to the first time he'd encountered the vine, the reason why he was out in those woods this day. He had found the curled vine in a pot he'd made for his mother when he was a boy, something she treasured greatly, in his father's home.

His father was a teacher in the quaint village of Benton, teaching those few children that lived in the small village to read and write. But on other days he was a trader in search of rare and exotic items from all over Picarion. Higher class people and collectors tended to come to him, interested in what he'd found. In his younger years, Percy tended to spend his time with Chiron while his father was away, his mother having died three years ago in a tragic accident.

He was fortunate enough to have two brother's to help each other through the time, Triton, who was twenty-five years old and Tyson, who was twenty-six. Percy was the baby brother being a couple of years younger than Triton, twenty-three, this summer past. Triton was one that had no interest in the outdoors, least of all Chiron. It was understandable, Chiron was a peculiar old man, some finding him hard to be around. Instead, Triton preferred to be around those of importance, the people his father dealt with from time to time, after his travels, finding their discussions of politics and the happenings in the world, more interesting than an old man's rambling.

Tyson, on the other hand, was much like Percy. He didn't mind the calm nature of the forest but preferred being near the lake in the centre of Demeter Forest in his downtime. He found the calm waters a comfort to his everyday life, especially sharing his work life with his slightly younger brother. Triton was the first to move out, followed by Tyson not long after, their busy lifestyles and growing importance, making them out of place in their father's small home.

Percy was last to move out from his father's home, a year after his mother's death, buying a small plot of land with the money he earned from his job as a woods guide. Some were generous in his helpings, grateful for his assistance, weary of getting lost in the dense forest. He would try to refuse the absurd amount of money some offered, but they wouldn't hear it. With that money he'd saved, Percy bought supplies from the neighbouring village, building his home he'd slept in ever since.

Unlike Triton, having little time with his busy nature and less in comparison to Tyson, Tyson visited his father when he could, leading as much of a busy lifestyle like his slightly younger brother. Percy visited Paul every day or when he was around anyway. On the days Paul was travelling, off finding his next exotic item to peddle, he would leave a note in the little clay jar for Percy to discover.

A week ago his father was murdered.

He'd just finished escorting someone into the village of Benton, his spirits high as he counted the money handed to him for his job well done. He'd decided to visit his father, have an early dinner with him like he always had, the man returned from his latest venture. His pack drop from his shoulder as he took note of the open door, rushing into the room, with his hand clasped around his daggers grip. He'd startled those inside, their words stopping in an instant as they looked up to him, their words lost on him.

He looked to the corner, spotting his two brothers, surprised to see an ounce of concern and despair on Triton's face. Tyson stood off to one side as he held his face in his hands, the colour drained from his face, looking as if ready to vomit at any second.

D

He couldn't get a good look at his father's body, the people inside, members of the Watch and one of his personal friends, keeping him from the sickening sight. There was nothing they could do from seeing the state of the house: the room's being torn to shreds, expensive vases and jars his father couldn't bear to part with or recently collected, shattered on the floor. There was no stopping him from seeing a glimpse of Paul, his body lying lifeless in his own blood around him.

E

Percy took note of the room once more, the people inside trying to stop him from seeing his fathers body. They stopped mid-sentence, their words turning to that of sympathy, drowning them out in an instant, a numbed nod in response. He'd caught a mans words closest to the door, one word was enough to stop him in his tracks.

The talk of magic.

He'd heard of things like this often from the Watch, talking in hushed tones around him whenever he went to see his good friend he'd known since he could talk, protecting those of the village from creeping too close to the boundary. He'd heard rumours from others in the village, things happening in the night, livestock being taken in the dead of night, dead turning up faster than they can bury them.

Talks of things coming from the boundary.

Looking around the room, he noted the state of disarray the room was in once more, paying close attention to it all. He noted the books thrown around the room as if someone was looking for something, drawers and chests open to the elements, clothes in a pile by the base of a dresser. The only thing that wasn't smashed or thrown around the room was the little clay jar. It was taunting him as if the killer had purposefully placed a book like a tent over top, begging him to look inside. Inside laid that spiralled vine and his mother's wedding ring, placing both in his pouch.

He came out of his reverie as he scolded himself, why did it take you this long to look here? He frowned. He felt uneasy, the wound on his hand had nothing to do with this matter. It felt like eyes. Eyes on the back of his head, watching him. He turned, frowning as he saw nothing, the grumble of his stomach interrupting him. He produced an apple from his pack as he rubbed it on his jacket, taking a large bite as he chewed, thinking. He should have known the strange vine had something to do with the boundary, or close to it, he was positive he'd seen it before in his travels; he didn't want to voice what he thought it meant, either. He boiled it down to grief, limiting his confines to people of the village, asking those if they'd heard anything from his home. They hadn't.

Theoretically, he wasn't meant to be here right now, wasn't meant to have any involvement with the investigation whatsoever. But there was something that didn't sit right with him, in the pit of his stomach, the back of his mind, something was irking him about it all. What had the killer been after? Nothing was taken, just thrown around the room haphazardly or shattered. His eyes were attracted to the books, to begin with, something in the back of his mind telling him it was about that but he pushed it away in an instant.

Finding the vine had given him no sense of closure, didn't answer his burning questions inside. Just added to them, fueling the flames even more. His attention drew to the snap of a twig, his eyes alerting to the thick trunks around him. He watched a family of deer scatter, birds fleeing from their nests above. His apple fell from his mouth as the large black shadow flew over the top of him, flying towards the boundary. Recalling the rumours he'd heard about the boundary of late, he took off in a sprint, trying to get a look at the mysterious creature in the sky. If it was what he thought it was, there wasn't meant to be things like that on this side of the boundary.

He panted heavily, feeling the burn in his sides as he hurtled over fallen trees and roots. his eyes darting to the sky as he followed the mass in the sky. He stopped in the clearing, by the lake in the centre of the forest, catching a glimpse of the colossal wingspan, the glint of gold as the sun danced off of its hide, its tail swaying as it flew. He swallowed thickly, knowing all too well what he'd just saw, only hearing about them in stories of old.

Dragon.

He hoped his eyes deceived him, but there was no mistaking that for a common bird or flock of them. Dangerous magic, including creatures, was something purged from this side of the boundary, long before he was born. Picarion had been free of magic for at least two decades, around the same time as Chiron had settled here, being from Osmia before the boundary was put in place.

Percy collapsed against the base of a thick fir tree, his head in between his knees as he breathed sharply. He drew shapes in the dirt before him with a stick, as he looked over the waters below him, sitting on a slight cliff's edge overlooking the waters of Neptune Lake. He watched as largemouth bass swam in the waters, a delight for fisherman on their calm weekend trips. He thought over what he'd just witnessed in his mind, playing it over and over as concern fixed itself further onto his expression.

Maybe he should tell Triton? Tell him of his findings, the vines killing the trees, the golden thing he refused to put to name in his mind once more. No. Triton would think of it as a jest, worry little about it. Triton would be angry with him, tell him to stop chasing ghosts. He was already upset with him when he discovered he was disrupting the village with his father's death, this would cause his mood to worsen, both of them would.

He knew he didn't mean it, knew his brothers meant well. They were only looking out for him, scared of something attacking him, or worse. Tyson was a lot more lenient about it than Triton though. He somewhat encouraged him to ask and look around, but even Percy knew this was going too far out of Tyson's meaning, he'd be angry too.

Triton and Tyson both worked for the people, both of them in charge of Picarion. Before it was just Benton, now it was the entirety of Picarion, responsible for everything: the people's needs, ensuring the welfare of their people, in charge of the banks, taxes - which they'd made fairer on the people, even in charge of the military. Surprisingly it was the younger brother, Triton, that took the role of leadership. Tyson was his right-hand man and was happy to be, it was too much pressure on his shoulders. Triton had nerves and a face of steel, anything he said people would listen, even from a young age he was like that. Percy leaned his head back against the trunk behind him, ignoring the pain from the knot that dug into his head.

Paul had returned from a faraway place, in the South of Picarion, a dig site called Ebonara. He had heard rumours of an area that hadn't been discovered, south of the fortification. He'd helped the men dig, finding lots of different treasures inside, realising it to be a sort of armoury or a war room for those in need, hundreds of years ago.

Inside they'd found swords, shields, strange devices remade to this day called Crossbows, along with 'new' and innovative plans preserved perfectly depicting siege weapons. To Triton, Paul was a graverobber, selling someone else's trinkets or weapons, vases or tomes. Percy knew differently, however, he knew Paul to be of good nature, selling the things found to museum owners or reputable collectors. He never made much money from his discoveries though, refusing more than a few silver most of the time. Other objects he tended to donate for free to collectors or museums, seeing little value in them To Paul, what he did was just a hobby.

He'd returned happy, planting a kiss on his wife's cheek, giddy about a decorative shield he'd brought back. Percy could understand his father's happiness, it was a beautiful shield. A golden staff with swirling golden spirals, on a cream background, the shield's design not fit for battle with its Baroque design.

"What's it this time?" Sally grinned knowingly with a tone and mannerisms akin to someone not from this part of the country, her accent relatively posh and well-spoken, a loving gaze towards her husband.

"This is a decorative shield we found in Ebonara, it's truly beautiful." Paul grinned, his accent thick like a farmer, due to his parents and area he'd grown up in. "Could fetch a piece of gold for this beaut, aye reckon." Percy watched his mother's eyes widen for a split second, her posture turning rigid, before it melted away in seconds. The movement was so minute that no one noticed, except for him. Percy frowned as his eyes cast over to his brother.

Triton, who was of sixteen years of age, tutted as he looked to his father, shaking his head.

"You're a fool if you think you can fetch little more than a gold for that." He frowned, his accent leaning more towards Sally's, well-spoken and slightly posh. "Give it 'ere." He demanded lightly, his father's way of speaking shining through.

Surprise was written on everyone's faces as Paul handed his son the shield, leaving through the front door. He returned as his mother was serving the stew for tonight's dinner, throwing ten gold and five silver onto the table before them. His father stared stunned at the coin, spoon midway to his mouth before he dropped it to back into the bowl.

"How'd you-" Paul began.

"I told them what they wanted to hear." Triton shrugged, interrupting his father. Paul reached over to the coin before him, Sally running his fingers through Triton's hair. They all blinked in shock as Triton's hand reached out to his father's slapping the back of it in shock. "No, no. You said you could only fetch one gold. That's all you get, expect better and you'll receive better. That, Paul, is the lesson of the day." Triton finished cooly, sliding the coin to his father, pocketing the rest.

"Triton, what have I told you about calling your father by his name?" Sally frowned, slapping his arm lightly.

"Sorry, mama." He began, his eyes meeting Paul's, "Sorry father." It was a quiet dinner that evening.

Percy shook his head, coming out of his daze as he thought about that memory. Triton wasn't all bad, however, the next day he'd used the rest of the coin to pay off some of his father's debts, buying somethings as well for Paul and Sally. Then it all changed when his mother died. After their mother's death, Triton began calling their father by his name from then on, he still wasn't sure why. Watching the sun glitter and dance on the water's surface. He watched the weeds growing from the water sway lightly in the breeze, the sound of leaves rustling above him as they waved to their neighbours all around them. His eyes caught the other side of the lake, the site of Pan's Trail spotted weaving in and out of the trees, rolling over crests and behind rocks.

He'd walked that trail thousands of times, it was the trail he tended to use to help those get to his home town. They'd had a terrible season just passed, thunderstorms and torrential downpours were common that time of year, lasting all season. The trail tended to become poor to travel on, but even still he knew it like the back of his hand. He knew every root, rock, dip and climb of these woods.

He closed his eyes for a spell, his breathing had calmed once more as he produced a pear, bring it to his lips as he leaned his head back on the tree. He was about to take a bite when he heard a small yelp echo through the trees. His eyes opened in an instant, scanning the forest around him, looking for a sign of movement. He caught it briefly, watching as someone clambered to their feet, brushing themselves off briefly in a clearing, before quickly continuing onwards.

He hummed to himself, thinking nothing of it, to begin with, thinking it to be a traveller. He couldn't see them from here, could've been a man or a woman. He sighed as he stood, realising he'd have to get to work, rather begrudgingly what with it being his day off. He began walking before movement caught his eye once more, something moving in the corner of his eye. He turned looking over the lake once more.

His heart stopped.

He saw, from what he could gather from this far away, four men. Each one was covered from head to toe in armour, the chainmail and plate catching the sun every so often. They were five, six hundred paces behind the person in front, stopping occasionally behind thick concealment, rocks or trees, watching the person. They were stalking them.