Chapter 1:

Thou shall be my love for better or for worse…

"One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

'Vain man,' said she, 'that dost in vain assay,

A mortal thing so to immortalize;

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And eke my name be wiped out likewise."

Edmund Spenser

It's usually strenuous when people ask how you feel and you only wished not having to speak about it, but then you find yourself in an endless swing that torments you. The bare memory of what happened is like the sharpest dagger prodding the outline of my open heart. I feel as if my very essence had been meticulously drained out drop by drop, like my very soul had been continuously sucked by an outside will, beyond my self-control. That's how I found myself in the current mess that my life has been reduced to. In the cruelty of remembrance, I could recall everything by beginning my story where it once was supposed to end, a time when I was known as: "Perseus Jackson, demigod son of Poseidon, lord of the seas; the twice hero of Olympus, bane of Titans…" or somewhat around those dreadful lines.

It is said that the worst pain comes from love and the deepest love, set upon endless pain. I once was a man who loved, sadly now, only the wish remains. Deep inside me, I'm profoundly scratched, with wounds I know not how to heal. My insides bleed to the faint image of a sweet kiss, to golden curls waving in the breeze, but above all, a pair of grey eyes that look at me with mirth. We sit upon a green hill, a distant chant and crackling fire accompany us, we hold our hands while looking to the stars, while we salute them on behalf of a departed man, whose sole wish we then abide. A wise girl points out, that in a sense, this wish could only be fulfilled by us, since a lost granddaughter there laid in the sky, a Persian princes imprinted in white; who's elder wished too, to greet for last. Remorse floods me and I'm paralyzed, other words resound in my head, a similar motive in the form of a dying lad. A partner in silver resting in the rock trusts me with a gift I already had, her lost gaze sets upon the firmament and proclaims to her maiden lady, with happy eyes, she could see them again, the twinkling white lights.

I wake up sweating, another nightmare it is. They aren't new to me. I dress up into my jeans and that old t-shirt, whose engraving is now vanished, the bronze dyeing too stained in red and the cloth too torn apart. It's winter and it's freezing cold, the waters already turned to ice and the snow keeps falling since yesterday's evening, but I step outside in search of a new place to stay. I must be swift if I wish not to be caught, a mistake at this stage would be fatal and I'm not short of enemies, all I lack is proper rest and food. I cough. Last night's climate only worsened my condition and I fell my lungs tearing apart. I step wrong and immediately slip off to the cold sheets of ice. I should have lighted a fire, but the stakes were too high. I relax myself for a second and focus only on the sound of the woods. I try to figure out a distinct sound, searching for the trot of a deer.

Once I surrender to another morning without breakfast, I enter a well of ice to wash me swiftly and then whisk myself dry. A cold shock, but needed. I'm now completely awaken, my senses on high alert. I pick up the black hoodie that I used as a blanket, put it on top of my shirt and checked that the pen remained in the pocket. When done, I prepare the scarce belongings and scraps I happen to call equipment, readjust my brother's watch and make a prayer not specifying the end receivers of my meaningless rant. I'm a fugitive in the end, can't risk using my powers, nor alerting anyone in the mythological sphere. By pure chance a rabbit is jumping nearby, I pick-up the javelin and throw it, but I miss again. Not the best weapon of choice, although the alternative is not even an option for myself.

I hear a twig breaking in the distance and when I turn around, I see an Owl looking intently at me. I've been found. I run away as fast as I can, while my feet are swelled from all the fleeing lately, I ignore the pain and keep running. My lungs ache, my throat is dry and my breathing uneven, but I must not yield ground to my pursuers. They certainly won't think twice at the prospect of killing me, after all, to their eyes I have betrayed their trust and now all they want is revenge. Leading them are two girls I happen to know pretty well, one was once like my sister, while the other I still love. Then it clicks in my mind, I forgot about the most dangerous member of the hunting squad. The goddess to whom all hunters ow their allegiance, a certain auburn-haired athletic girl, with piercing silver-yellowish eyes and a particularly strong disdain for members of the sex I happen to be.

I found a way through a clearing and jump over a ledge, I march through a winding gap between the mossy rocky hills, covered in a white foam until I see at my right a silver deer. Panic courses through my brain and I'm speechless, then the pain hits. An arrow is protruding from my right arm and I know I won't be able to fend off my attackers now that I've lost my biggest advantage. I decide to keep running until I reach a chasm. The sound of the running water, clashing with the rocks invades the quietness of the morning, the sun is now fully out and I'm faced with a tough dilemma. I make up my mind and choose to face my odds with the rocks rather than the angry girls shouting my name from far behind, at least with the river, there was a slight chance for survival. I count to three and jump without warning. I hear the cussing and threats that are being violently spat by the mouths of my "enemies", but despite all that, I can't bring myself to hate them, nor blame them for what is happening.

My determination rekindles again with furor. I shall clean-up my name and recover my past life. I don't know how long it will take or if I'll even be able to succeed in this self-imposed quest, but I must not waver, or else I will indeed lose everything. The sound of the arrows speeding through the wind and impacting the rocks reverberates in my ears. I found myself partially drowning, my fears come true once again. I fight back the temptation to use my gifts to save myself and appeal only to my raw strength and abilities to keep on surviving. I hold on tightly to my hope and start swimming as fast as it could be possible for a human. Thanks to the river I'm going to survive, but I've not escaped unscathed, the rocks constantly cut and bruise me, while the arrow that was embedded in my shoulder has broken. My wounds are immediately healed by the waters, but new ones quickly take their place. I start to feel drowsy and sick; the arrows must have been poisoned; I conclude.

I come ashore some fifteen minutes ahead, I dry my clothes as best as I can and decide not to lose any more time. I quickly take the last remaining ambrosia cube and chew a third of it to form a paste. I apply it on the wound and instantly fell the pain and the burning sensation. Once it resides, I place my shoulder into the water and let it slowly heal me. I found that this was the best way to save up on ambrosia, since it wouldn't seem I would have it easy to come by some of it in the near future. I quickly go back to my fleeing mission and I sprint away as fast as I can. In the end, I'm able to leave the woods and reach a nearby town, where I found refuge in a random farmer's shed. I hide between the bales of wheat, which I find to be quite comfortable and notice that they might be able to provide some much-needed warmth. I also find a piece of old burnt bread in the ground, I clean it and with slight hesitation ingest it without giving in much thought.

Through the night I found myself being unable to fall asleep, and start thinking back on all that happened recently and I trigger a cascade of memories that are too painful to recall. It all began when out of nowhere, lady Styx appeared at Olympus. She claimed that I was a liar and a traitor and that I would be the doom of those that chose to love me. My father had gotten angry at the goddess for such an insult to his son and ranted to no avail, since Styx was gone as quickly as she had appeared. To this day it seems weird such a behavior and above all the things she said. I gave no thought into her words, once my dad told me what had transpired and kept on minding my own business. Then a series of events started to unfold that would ultimately end with me fleeing a party at Olympus.

The constant in all that transpired, a tall woman cladded in a grey gown, with white eyes and silver hair, barefooted and someone I knew well, for this powerful lady was Ananke, primordial of inevitability, destiny and necessity. By her hand, my destiny had been altered. By her actions I was misjudged to have time and time again betrayed those I love and even though, at the beginning, none of them doubted me, as the months passed and more incidents passed and escalated in severity, one by one felt betrayed. It all climaxed at a party held on Olympus, celebrating the anniversary for our victory against Gaea. Hera, Amphitrite and Hestia had gone to a chamber to speak some private matters. I saw as Ananke materialized and secretly followed them into the room. I told quickly Grover, who happened to be with me at the moment; to warn Annabeth and the rest about the goddesses being in imminent danger and to come into the chambers as quickly as possible.

When I reached the place, I was surprised to see the goddesses drugged and their clothes torn apart. In the moment they saw me, the retreated in fear and started to shout for me to stop and not to do what I was about to do. In that precise minute, just as I tried to calm the goddesses by assuring, they had nothing to fear, everyone entered the room. The way in which I had been caught, was everything but unsuspicious. It appeared as if I were trying to force myself upon them and the fact that they were cowering back only worsened everything. I tried to explain myself but I couldn't form any intelligible speech, because the look I saw in my father's eyes and on my beloved Annabeth's could only be described as the utmost betrayal and the toughest pain. What followed is best described as utter mayhem, but before anyone laid a finger over myself, I swore over the river Styx that I was innocent of all crimes accused of. Just then, the unexpected happened a black bolt descended to where I was and I barely managed to evade it, afterwards and out of the ground came lady Styx with an expression that rode anger. She exhorted me to be reasonable and quit the lies, to which I could only answer with disbelief evident in my face. It appeared though, as if I were astonished to be caught in my crimes and everyone just couldn't hold it anymore.

I proceeded to jump off the window by breaking it during the jump, then ran away from where I was. The first three days I had to hide inside New York, but I was soon found, I left the city as quickly as possible and headed trough the woods as far as I could think of, while now being pursued by the Hunters of Artemis, with their latest member, a certain daughter of Athena who happened to be now my "Ex-girlfriend". I have been on the run for two weeks since that incident now, but the pain is as fresh as new. I regain composure, close my eyes and breath deeply. I repeat time and time again in my head not to let this control me, to remain calm and think clearly. That seems the only way to clear up my name. But to do so, I'll have to first find Ananke and understand what's going on and why she did all that against me.

The only clue there seems to be, lays in the underworld. To be more precise, flows through the underworld and I must head there and get as much information as I can, while remaining hidden from Olympus. Sleep finally comes to me and my eyelids start to feel heavy, my eyes close by themselves slowly, while I'm taken to Morpheus' realm for another night, to be tormented by nightmares of horrors that have already passed, since the time of Tartarus, as a dreaded stitch unfaded by time. I fall asleep at the prospect of hope, but also fearful for the dangers ahead, dangers that I shall endure.