Chapter One: A Branch

Percy hated his life.

Scrap that, he hated people. Life in New York was already hard enough but add in the rush of people on the subway who paid no heed to a 14-year-old teenager as they squirmed to get out of the train, scraping their wet, dripping clothes against his fallen form, and well, that didn't help. He picked up his paper bag from the ground, desperately making sure that no one stepped onto the near-rotten fruits that he had scoured to find hidden cozily within the depths of a school dumpster. His jacket was a little muddier now, but it wasn't as if anyone stopped to notice that his worn-down jeans had tears and stains permanently imprinted across the surface of his light gray shirt.

His knee nearly buckled as he got back up - a friendly reminder of not eating for two days - but he managed to walk out of the turnstile and head outside into the bustling street, only to be met with more rain and the sounds of distant thunder invading his ears. The rain he didn't mind at all, rather, he enjoyed the small droplets of water falling onto his pitch-black hair. It almost seemed to revitalize him and invoked a strange sense of familiarity, as if each drop had a history he had once been privy to.

That was rather strange, wasn't it?

Even stranger was the fact that he never seemed to get wet - ever. He tried to understand why, but after realizing it was scientifically impossible, Percy decided to ignore this strangeness. Perhaps it was some kind of weird medical condition. There were a lot of weird people and he certainly qualified. Better to just chalk it up to that.

But back to the weather.

It was raining, but that wasn't the weird part. The weird part was that it had been raining every day for the last two weeks, with yellow streaks of lightning littered across the always gray skies. Some days he would pass by TVs framed on the outside of big shops and it appeared that this new weather trend wasn't isolated to New York but instead was being seen all across America.

Rain wasn't the only thing either. Flooding across shorelines had dramatically increased and waves seemed like they had a mind of their own - seeking and destroying all that dared to impede its way. Ships had been cautioned to avoid travel until the storms had settled down, but that was rather hard when the storm was plaguing the entire country. Local headlines were filled with new stories every day of those lost at sea, or families who had lost everything after waves tore across their homes. He'd even seen a rather interesting piece about several boys who'd been struck by lightning while celebrating a friend's 21st birthday. All of them died.

Percy always argued that he was a funny person, but that his humor was just dark instead. Given the odds, getting struck by lightning is rather amusing - in a very completely insane way. Honestly, he was quite surprised that he hadn't been electrocuted yet. After dozens of encounters with collapsing power lines, faulty sockets, and even a battery that he swore flew straight at the crown of his head, Percy much preferred avoiding any kinds of electricity whenever possible. Getting fried was not on the top of his to-do list - especially by millions of volts of electricity.

Some on the news pointed fingers at global warming while others said it was a natural irregularity, but something deep within him stirred - he just knew that something else was going on. Percy couldn't place a finger on the what or why, but something unsettled him; the feeling of danger made the hairs on his neck stand up. An entire country's weather just doesn't go nuts randomly.

Hopefully, it wouldn't get worse - that would make getting home rather inconvenient. By the gods, he didn't need anything else to not go his way.

He frantically wiggled his way through the busy street, cuddling his bag of food to his chest to prevent it from getting wet. Percy couldn't say he was good at much, but after three years of living on the streets, at least he knew his way around the city by heart. Living within back alleys and next to dumpsters did that to someone, and before long, Percy found himself in front of an abandoned warehouse that he'd called home for the last few months. It was obvious that no one had entered it for weeks given the rows of cobwebs and sheets of dust that decorated the front entrance. Careful not to set off any lingering alarms, Percy used his makeshift step stool to climb onto the second floor and jumped through a broken window - just missing roughly shaped glass - to arrive at his final destination: his "apartment."

Well, "apartment" would be giving it too much credit. Really, it was a small gray room dominated by a single piece of furniture that lay at its center - a half-deflated bed that had seen far better days. Still, it was something and after how his life had dramatically taken a turn three years ago, he couldn't afford to be picky. But he would appreciate it if insects would stop crawling around everywhere. Spiders scared him - just a little. He hated the little things; they never failed to find him and unleash their tiny bites all across his arms. Percy could spy one particularly vicious spider lurking in the corner of the ceiling - he'd keep a close eye on that one.

Percy collapsed onto the ground and hungrily looked at the bag of fruits he'd managed to score from earlier. He had long ago given up his haughty pretenses of eating clean food, and given how much his stomach was roaring within him, he doubted his body cared if there were brown spots across the peaches he was ready to devour. Food was rare this time of the year, and he'd much prefer to stay alive - if possible.

It wasn't always like this.

He remembered a life that seemed almost foreign to him now. Percy could still imagine the smile that would always be on his mom's face when he came home from school. He tasted the gooeyness of the melting blue chocolate chip cookies that she would make on special occasions for him. As he bit into the overly sweet fruit, Percy instead imagined he was shoving down candy - blue, of course - that she'd sneak home from the candy shop. Lying on the creaking mattress surrounded by walls painted in a gray that instead belonged in a psychiatric hospital, he wished he was tucked into his old bed with a soft pillow to lie his head on. A few tears slowly slid down Percy's cheek before he quickly wiped them off on his shirt, arched his back upwards, and adopted a serious look.

He had a mystery to solve and it would do no good living in the past. Percy faced the board that he'd been building over the last few months: dozens of hand-drawn pictures shoddily connected by yarn that he stole from a school supply cabinet god knows how many months ago. At the center was a disfigured cow next to a stick figure construction of a woman (his artistic abilities peaked with macaroni drawings in 1st Grade). It had been months since Percy had first drawn it, but it was almost silly how that picture could so easily invoke so much hate, anger, and depression all at once.

But to him it wasn't silly - it symbolized the moment his life would irreversibly change. The day that blue chocolate chip cookies would turn into near-rotten fruits he'd scavenge from dumpsters. Thanks to his stepfather - whom he'd never mistake as his biggest fan - the outside world thought he was an insane delinquent who ran away from his home after his mother died in a freak accident, but they'd never understand. But Percy knew the truth. Or rather, he didn't know the truth, but instead, was certain about one thing.

Something was seriously messed up in the world.

And it all started on his 11th birthday.

Three Years Ago - Manhattan

School sucked as usual. Honestly, he didn't remember a day when he enjoyed spending half his day in his personal hell. Teachers despised him for not paying attention in class and would go out of their way to make a show out of him "accidentally" falling asleep. His classmates were even crueler in the way that only eleven-year-olds can be - moving far away from him when he tried to sit at the lunch tables and whispering "Freak" between themselves as he walked through the halls as if he wouldn't notice their pathetic attempts to mock him.

And to be honest, he didn't blame them. He WAS a freak. It took him ages to even read simple letters and he never could stay still. He was eerily quiet in class and few had even heard him talk. Percy only had one friend - Grover - but sometimes he could even see Grover sneak glances out of the back of his eye as if something was seriously messed up with Percy and he was trying to figure out what. Naturally, in a contest between a devout vegetarian - who he would sometimes see suspiciously pocket tin cans and disappear with them, leaving behind no evidence - isolated to live in a wheelchair and Percy, he was still the weird one.

But still, Percy was thankful Grover was there; his one friend - as lame as it sounded.

The times he would collapse in the middle of class certainly didn't help either. It was becoming increasingly worse and the worst part was that no one knew what was happening.

He'd randomly fall into a deep sleep for hours and wake up with no recollection of what had happened. The school nurses had no idea what was going on, and over time, he just came to accept it as part of his freakiness. He could point to a few bruises across his body that were the result of a few … untimely collapses - one permanently purple-shaded bruise across his knee was thanks to falling two flights of stairs after his body just powered off mid-step. Percy grimaced - having three broken bones when he woke up in a hospital bed was an unpleasant and confusing awakening.

Having those bones heal within days was especially odd, but internally he passed it off as a small fracture and made sure to wear his cast for longer to avoid suspicion. Better to avoid more stares.

There was a small part of Percy that felt some kind of familiarity with the dreams he'd have during his trance-like state - a feeling that he should know something. That there was something he was missing. That what he saw was important somehow.

But for now, he could ignore those thoughts. His birthday only came once a year and for just a few days, Percy didn't have to worry about everything else in the world. He could just go to Montauk Beach with his mom and all would be right. As soon as the bell rang, he said goodbye to Grover and rushed through the streets to get back to his mom's apartment. Normally, he'd invite Grover since he was a loner himself, but Grover mentioned something about a "business trip" that Percy knew was completely fake. For one, Grover was 11 and crippled. And second, Percy could tell whenever Grover was lying; it was quite easy to notice that Grover refused to make eye contact whenever he was stretching the truth, always opting to pretend that something was wrong with his wheelchair instead. He'd be awful at poker.

But Percy could ignore that for now - he'd have plenty of fun just with his mom anyways. His excitement was visible as he weaved his way through the crowded Manhattan traffic and swept aside the uncomfortable stares that some passing by would shoot him.

Percy jumped up the stairs of the apartment building, two - sometimes three - at a time, barely concealing his not-so-hidden eagerness. He shuffled through his backpack to find his keys and pushed them through the door, opening the treasure inside. If you excluded Gabe of course. His stepfather, whom he had lovingly nicknamed "Smelly Gabe," was there to meet him in the small, but cozy, living room as he smirked at Percy.

Gabe immediately shouted in his loud, croaky voice as he held a beer in one hand and a TV remote in the other, ordering Percy to make some bean dip for. It certainly wouldn't have hurt Gabe to shed a few pounds by getting up himself.

Normally, Percy would jibe back at the unemployed man who was legally his step-father, but in reality, just an overgrown bully who lived rent-free in his mom's apartment. Still, for today, he opted to keep his mouth shut and scurried to the kitchen to give Gabe what he wanted - and silently hoped that nothing would happen before his mom, who always came back home from the candy store a little after he did, was ready to drive out to the beach. In hindsight, he should have prayed a little harder, and maybe everything wouldn't have turned out how it did.

A few hours later, Percy was sitting next to his mom, Sally, after they packed their two light suitcases into the back of Gabe's car. They didn't talk much - they didn't need to. He just enjoyed his mom's company without having to ruin the moment by using words, which most of the time, offered nothing positive for him. He stared out the window and out into the expanse of sand that was seemingly endless, laying as a precursor to an even more endless pool of water. Sometimes he could point out a few people walking along the side of the beach, hands held as they built sandcastles with their little children. Percy could inwardly feel a sense of somberness staring at the happy scene, wishing that his life wasn't the way it was - that just maybe, he wasn't the freak that all others reminded him he was.

Percy inhaled the salty breeze as his hair slicked back from the rough winds that greeted him through the window. But he wouldn't have it any other way. Something about the smell was beautiful to him as if it was within him - a part of his blood. The ocean called out to him and within a few minutes, he would be ready to answer the call.

But sometimes, a few minutes can make all the difference in the world. It only takes moments for fates to change irrevocably, branching into paths so parallel, so different that it can be almost unrecognizable that they were once brothers - from the same, and forever intertwined.

The bright skies transformed from a mesmerizing light blue to a dull gray color and the once-raging winds that met Percy stopped to a standstill. The kids stopped chirping along the sand and the cars that blanketed Gabe's car on all sides in a busy road seemingly vanished, as Percy and his mom drove further along the now uneven pavement, nearing the Montauk cabin which he could make out in the distance.

But no one would be staying at that cabin today - or for years, three shriveling old women mused in unison, as they stood upon a cliff miles away in the expanse. The three aspects of a single Fate gazed upon the scene in front of them, as they had done for millennia and would do so for ages to come. All three held in one hand a piece of red string drenched in blood, and in the other, a pair of sharp, piercing scissors that had small crimson stains along its blade. The three Moirai stood for different aspects of life: one for birth, one for life, and one for death. But today, all three unflinchingly knew that they would be harbingers of death, not for life. They slowly moved their bony hands within the scissors as time stopped around them, and the scene was finitely held in place.

First, Clotho, the spinner, snapped her scissors, letting the two broken pieces fall to the rocks that adorned the side of the cliff. The pieces disintegrated into light red sand as they fell to the pit - the first life that Fate consumed.

Then, Lachesis, the allotter, pushed her fingers together, and her once whole string split and swayed through the air. Unlike the first, it would not go easily as the wind pushed and pulled the strands left and right, but slowly inching towards the ground. Minutes passed by in this minute-less, timeless bubble, but even the second string could not tame the winds that had carried it along, and it too let go of its hardships to fall to the dirt below, separating into bright blue dust.

And finally, Atropos, the inflexible, closed her hand as the sharpness of the scissors cut through the weak strands of the final string.

But the string stayed whole. Atropos frowned as she once again tried to cut the string, but no matter how much she tried, how much force she used, Atropos could not assert her will onto this seemingly tiny, unimportant object in front of her. Her will was being outmatched in a battle she could not even see, feel, or understand. For the final time, Atropos attempted to cut the string, but suddenly, she was frozen and her hand could not move. A presence filled the air around her, Lachesis, and Clotho, holding them in place, just as they held time around them. A presence which to them had once been so intimately familiar, yet even they, immortal and never-ending, could not remember in their millions of years of existence.

The presence whispered across the cliff, like a single water droplet causing ripples across the entire ocean surface. It spoke an ancient language lost to most, but not to the three that stood in front of it. Chilling yet mesmerizing, deep yet soft, the voice radiated an old power. It uttered one word:

Defy.

And for the first time in their existence, the three fates saw the string turn from red into a brilliant cyan: the color of blood to the color of the seas. Like a small worm wiggling in the beak of a bird, it struggled against the pressure that trapped it. For the string, this was a matter of life and death. Like the infinite strings that came before it, its destiny was to be cut. It would happen at some point; maybe not today, nor tomorrow, but eventually and inevitably.

Today would not be that day.

It would not fall - it would not die! The string finally escaped from the clutches of Atropos' hands and instead of falling downwards, rose upwards into the sky. Carried by the wind it flew further and further away, until it disappeared entirely, hidden from the omnipotent gaze of the fates.

Suddenly, the fates were let free from their frozen prison as they stared into each other's eyes, unbelieving of what had just transpired.

A mortal child had altered destiny.

No - he had not only manipulated fate, but shrouded it altogether! A blind spot from the unwritten rules that Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos would always write - for all, even the gods.

Soon, they were let out of their stupor as they shifted their eyes back to the scene that lay before them. For the first time, they did not know fate, despite being its embodiment. One - Atropos - gave a small laugh as shock gave way to amusement. As an entity viewed as inflexible, today it had been forced to cede control. Well, it would certainly be interesting to not know how something would unfold for once. Perhaps a little surprise was in order.

They would see this child once again - that they knew - but for now, all they could do was disappear into the air, realizing that their influence, though limitless, could not change what would transpire here today. To them, today was the birth of the one who had defied destiny at its doorstep - an impossible, but auspicious moment; yet, the first of many moments to come.

But to young Perseus Jackson, today would be a day that would never leave his nightmares.

Percy could feel a foreboding chill fill the air as his body screamed danger and adrenaline began consuming him at almost ungodly levels. Suspiciously, he looked behind the car, peeking across all corners to try and see - looking for something but finding nothing. Left and right were next, but neither the raging ocean nor the cliff towards their other side was anything out of ordinary. In retrospect though, Percy would maintain for years to come, that maybe he should have looked towards the front, and then his life wouldn't have turned out as it would. Even a split second would have been enough for him to push his mother out of the moving car as it drove along the road. And that split second would have left him with a mother, a home, and a life worth pushing for. Maybe in another world, his mother wouldn't have died and he'd have a person to go back to when he needed comfort. He'd grow up knowing that someone loved him unconditionally, and despite the hardships he'd inevitably face, there would be something worth fighting for - something that rooted his will.

For a quick second, images flashed greedily across the corners of Percy's eyes: shirts of orange huddled across a fire with laughter and cheer intertwined within them, a gentle ocean breeze passing through him as he hugged an unfamiliar man wearing a red, Hawaiian shirt, and blonde hair messily draped along his shoulder as he sat next to another, staring out into an ethereal lake-side view. The images crashed upon him with so much familiarity, yet it felt wrong - he knew that it could have been real but deep within him, he rejected this path.

And a second passed.

His fate branched off from its main path. The roots of fate grew upwards into a proud, tall trunk but within that second a new branch simultaneously constructed itself from nothing. It was fragile, but it now existed - forever separated from all else within the tree.

And from atop the sky, the presence that even scared the three fates lurked, watching as it always did. Just observing. Never acting. Until it did act. It cupped the little branch with its nothingness and gave it shape and form. Suddenly the fragile twig grew, empowered by this foreign energy until it could hold its own against the forces that battered against its surface, testing its need to survive.

A light golden tint covered the underside of the branch.

The presence smiled.

Another second passed.

An enormous force crashed into the car and it was sent flying into the air, rotating in the air with such grace that seemed almost cruel. Percy had yet to comprehend what had happened before his head slammed against the back of his seat with the force of a train and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

When he woke up, he felt blood running across his face as he slowly pulled chunks of glass out of his cheeks. His vision was blurry and his ears refused to stop ringing. His body ached as he could feel his shattered ribs pointing in awkward directions, poking his lungs as he wheezed for a breath. Percy pushed the broken door out of his way as he crawled outside to the crimson-stained dirt that met him - and for a split second, he could have sworn he saw gold mixed into the red that was no doubt spilled from his own body.

His focus cleared, his natural reflexes readying him for what was to follow, an instinct that was drilled into his very genetic make-up.

Where was his mother?

Percy looked frantically to spot a sign - anything - of where his mother had landed. But then, he saw unmistakable evidence and lay his eyes upon a sight that would be forever burned into the back of his mind, like a tattoo being permanently imprinted onto one's skin.

The scene would give him nightmares for years to come. His mother's body was roughly bent across the surface of the grass, shards of glass pointing out from every angle, small pieces of debris mixed in. Dried shades of red matted her clothes. Hair covered her entire face, some covered with chunks of dirt, while others were doused in the oil that leaked out of the still-burning car. Percy swept all of it aside but his worst fears were realized as he stared into his mother's lifeless eyes staring up at the clouds above. He closed her eyes.

There would be no last words, no last reminder, or message that Sally would utter. Those are fabrications that exist only within stories and fairytales.

Fake.

For Percy, the reality sunk in as he crawled over to his mother's body, ignoring the screams that were betraying to escape his mouth as his body begged him to stop moving. He desperately searched for a pulse or heartbeat. Anything that would convince him that his world hadn't just shrunk by one - the most important one - and collapsed onto itself. But Percy found nothing, except a blue chocolate chip cookie that was loosely stuffed in his mother's pocket. He stared at it, numbly realizing that his mother must have baked it for him to eat at the cabin at Montauk. And then he threw it aside.

He didn't want that - he wanted life. Yet, life would be something always just out of reach for Percy.

He hated it.

His shock turned into hate as he stared upwards at the sky, cursing the fates for what had transpired. Percy could tolerate his own life being a melting pot of cruelties, but for someone as pure and innocent as his mom to be thrown into it? That was the breaking point, the line that wasn't supposed to be crossed, but instead, it was. The fates watched on as they realized the divergence in their domain, helpless to stop and set things back to the way they were meant to happen.

Percy heard the sound of loud steps approaching him and soon a shadow came into focus too. He stared up and instantly, all his feelings went numb. A monster would be far too kind of a description for what he saw. From the bottom, he made out two metallic hooves protected by pounds of unnatural muscle. As he stared up, the creature's body extended upwards like a human with a noticeably scarred, tanned chest. The worst was the face. It was that of a bull, with its horns arched backward at a threatening angle. Its dark, midnight eyes stared deep into his soul - an apex predator looking at its helpless prey. The creature inched closer and lifted the handle of its wooden ax as it prepared to launch the final blow. Percy lay shocked and his mind was filled with a flurry of sorrow, shock, and anger.

The minotaur charged.

Percy tried to lift himself to his feet, but his body betrayed him as he fell to the ground with a thud.

20 feet…

He rolled over his side, using his arms to support his battered body.

10 feet…

Using the last reserves of his energy, Percy bent his knees and lifted upwards.

5 feet…

Percy stared at the black eyes.

3 feet…

Percy readied himself for the swing of the ax, inwardly hoping to join his mother soon in the unknown lands that awaited him.

2 feet…

He looked to the side, seeing the broken form of his mother. Something stirred.

1 foot.

He turned towards the bull once again, but this time his eyes held no acceptance within them. They held anger, rage, and pain. They wept dry tears for injustice.

The minotaur swung its ax - but it would not land its blow.

Percy's eyes shifted from sea green to brilliant gold.

The world shifted as energy rushed through the air, all emanating from a single spot alongside the side of the bloodied road. Waves of power disintegrated everything in its path. The fallen body of Sally Jackson turned into golden dust, forever disconnected from the mortal world. What was once grass and vegetation turned into bare rock and dust. The eyes of the Minotaur transformed from the color of the night to the shade of the sun, as it too was laid to waste. All that was left was a single horn that fell helplessly to the side of an 11-year-old boy's body.

Percy collapsed.

Percy awoke from his trance face-down back in the run-down abandoned building, with the half-eaten piece of fruit crushed against his chest as its juices added another stain to his already disfigured gray shirt.

He pushed himself off the ground, turned his head, and stared at the last reminder of that fateful day in Montauk when everything had changed.

The horn of the Minotaur lay nested on the side of the wall.

AN!

For my first ever chapter, I think it went well and I can't wait to develop Percy's character and give a little deeper glimpse into his past in the next few chapters. Super excited to introduce new characters and put a little twist on them.

Here's to hoping that the next chapter comes sooner rather than later!