Author's Note:
Hi all! I realize I never put in an author's note! Whoops!
Anyway, I'm new at this, but had the sudden idea to write a story about the next generation of demigods with their own prophecy-because the old gang really deserves a break at this point.
If it wasn't clear, this story takes place fifty years after the events of HoO, and ToA is canon and happened in this world. Sometimes it might be referenced, so SPOILERS, duh.
Lastly, there's one more character who needs their introduction before we end up at our home Camp Half-Blood, but then the old gang starts popping up to advise our misfit band of heroes, so they're coming, even if this doesn't seem like "Percy Jackson" because Percy isn't here yet. He will be, I promise.
And of course, as a writer, I live for feedback on how I can tweak things to be better, so don't be afraid to tell me everything I'm doing wrong. I can't promise I'll take the advice if I don't think it's right for the plot, but I can promise I think about every piece of ~constructive~ criticism I get and try and find some way to use it in my writing.
That's it! Wow, you read the whole author's note! Wow, you're cool! On with the story!
Chapter 2
Ian just wanted to clear his head. His uncle expected a lot from him. He had just suffered through another rant about needing to take things seriously. He knew his uncle Aaron just wanted him to be successful, and it was out of love that he pushed him, but he was only fifteen. He just wanted to draw.
So he stepped out into the hot July sun, and walked down to a local park in his part of North Carolina, sketchbook and pencil in hand. As he sat down he flipped to an empty page, and began to sketch, not even sure what he was going for. Eventually, it started to take shape. A small figure standing among the shadows of giants.
Ian wasn't even sure what everything symbolized, but it felt good to draw it.
His ears told him something was wrong. Someone was approaching from behind, someone who thought they were being sneaky, someone who thought they were going to pull one over on him, steal his drawings, something. He quickly closed the book and slipped it back under his arm before sneaking a peek behind him. So it was Damien, and his lackeys then. Three rich white boys who thought they were better than Ian because-well because he was black. And not particularly rich. And he liked to draw instead of do things like play video games or sports. It was going to be one of those days.
He hoped if he pretended he was leaving, they might let it go. Maybe. "Hey Ian!"
Ian sighed. Or maybe not. He took a deep breath and turned around. "What do you want, Damien?"
"I want to see your drawings." the bigger boy said, with a grin that made it clear he had no good intentions.
"Fat chance, Damien. I was leaving anyway, so the park is all yours."
"That's not what I want, Ian Malark."
Before Ian, all three boys began to grow in size, muscles bulging, clothes ripping, teeth lengthening. Their eyes slowly morphed together until it was clear they each only had one eye in the middle of their foreheads.
"Cyclopis?!" Ian cried out and began to run away just as fast as his legs could carry him. The cyclops Damien easily reached out and grabbed him.
"Oh yes, this will be a tasty morsel."
Ian felt a part of him snap. The cyclopis must have felt it too, because something flashed in their eyes, and they dropped Ian, running around as though they had been spooked, or were just insane. A van pulled up next to the park. A boy with goat legs hopped out.
"Thank goodness! I didn't realize they were that close! I don't know what's gotten into the cyclopis, but you need to get someplace where they can't find you."
"And who are you?" Ian asked
