Hi hi! What's this? A reasonably-timed update? Amazing! Ok, so quick note about my writing schedule at the moment. I have the next chapter more-or-less written, and I'll post it within the next 2-3 weeks. As you can tell, I don't have a good reserve of chapters going on, so you'll have to bear with me. My summer's extremely packed, so updates will depend on my schedule (like they always do). Sorry, I just had to get that out there. I'd feel bad getting any hopes up and then crushing them without a warning
Anyway, serious info aside, thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed last chapter! It really does mean so much to me to know that you guys are enjoying it and thinking about it. I've been getting very insightful comments, and I love reading about what you guys think will happen next, so please keep that up! But enough of my rambling. Please read, enjoy, and review! Thanks!
Limbo
July, 1914: London, England
The door to the carpenter's shop opened, followed by the soft chime of a bell. The bespectacled man behind the counter looked up from his inspection of the store's finances to greet his newly arrived customer, "Hello, sir. How may I help you today?"
"Ah, yes, is Mr. Quacey in today?" The customer asked.
"Yes, sir. That would be me," said the man, dropping his paperwork on his desk with a dull thud and removing his glasses, "What can I do for you?"
"Good day, Mr. Quacey, I am Joe Park. I would like to purchase a crib from you. A friend of mine recommended you to me. Says you are the most brilliant carpenter he's ever met."
The carpenter laughed heartily and ran a hand through his greying hair, "Now, now, I wouldn't go so far as to say that."
"Well, I saw the headboard you made for Dan's bed, and I must say I agree with him."
"Oh, enough of the flattery, lad. Let's take a look at the selections we have to see what you might like. May I offer my sincerest congratulations as well on the new addition to your family."
"Thank you, sir," the customer grinned proudly, "My wife and I have been trying to have children for several years, but to no avail. We were ecstatic when the doctor delivered the news."
"Well then, allow me to double my congratulations. Now, if you would follow me, I have a few designs in the workshop that you might like..."
Percival Quacey was a familiar name to those living in Bloomsbury or other districts in the Borough of Camden. Though he owned a simple and rather inconspicuous shop, his skills as a carpenter were well-known to those who chose to enter his store. The nearly fifty-year-old man and his shop had been there as long as anyone could remember; though, mathematically speaking, some of the senior Bloomsbury residents should have known a time without the kindly carpenter. However, nobody bothered to dwell on this incongruity. The aging man and his little shop were an integral part of Bloomsbury. To the residents, the neighborhood would be incomplete without these two things.
Once Mr. Quacey finished showing off the last of his designs, Joe was speechless. He himself had come from the affluence of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, and never before had he seen such fine craftsmanship. In these days of booming industry, people often failed to appreciate the skill of a simple artisan, a mistake father-to-be Joe Park vowed never to make again. He told the carpenter as much, and there was a smile on both men's faces as Joe departed from the shop later that day.
The day wore on, and Mr. Quacey had just set down the parts for Joe Park's crib and got up to close up shop when the door opened once more. It was a girl this time, seemingly no older than ten years. As the man stood to greet his visitor, he caught a glimpse of her eyes and froze. The newcomer, unaware - or simply uncaring - of the shopkeeper's strange behavior, walked to the counter and asked, "Hello, are you the owner of this store, by chance?"
The carpenter remained silent for a moment more before smiling and nodding, "Why yes, young lady, that would be me. Percival Quacey at your service. How may I help you?"
The strange girl smiled knowingly and said, "Percival, a name derived from Sir Perceval of Arthurian Legend. It sounds oddly similar to the name of an old friend of mine, too. Oh, and Quacey, an uncommon name. Scottish in origin, I believe. Meaning 'of the moonlight.'"
There was a moment of silence in which the man and little girl carefully observed the other. "Hestia, what are you doing here?" The carpenter asked at length, his voice a low, hoarse whisper. Yet Hestia could hear the fear in every word, plain as day.
"Do not fear, old friend," Hestia winked amicably, "I mean you no harm. I come with a warning."
"How did you find me?" Mr. Quacey didn't seem to hear a word she said, "I hid myself so completely, even the moon herself would be unable to track me.
"Oh, my clear-sighted friend, one doesn't need to track you to find you. Often it is an accident that accomplishes what a serious search cannot."
"Why are you speaking in riddles? Answer my question!" The man's voice shook with his mounting panic.
The girl, Hestia, quickly laid a hand on his arm. Her eyes, already a bright amber that seemed to flicker like a flame, suddenly flared a glowing orange, like the dying embers of a fire. Mr. Quacey felt a soothing warmth wash over him, and his panic slowly faded away. "It's okay, Mr. Quacey. Remember, names have power. I would avoid saying certain ones to avoid detection by those you do not wish to find you. As of now, you are a clear-sighted mortal, Percival Quacey."
"I see," Mr. Quacey stated shortly, "Again, how did you find me?"
"It was quite the fortunate accident. I was monitoring the world's hearths and heard a man living in Chelsea recommend a carpenter named Percival Quacey to make a crib for his friend. I made the connection from there. You know, my family has searched for you for nearly fifty years - not very successfully, I might add. Now, I can see why. You have completely hidden your godly aura and built yourself a life in a place they never would have expected. While they have not come close at all to finding you, it is only a matter of time before they do. External forces are pushing them to Europe. There is a great war coming, one that spans continents. This is especially dangerous to you and those around you."
Mr. Quacey felt somewhat reassured, knowing they - meaning the gods - have not figured out his hiding place. However, news of the brewing war made his blood run cold. He knew exactly why Hestia came to warn him. He knew exactly why he was at risk of discovery because of the war. The war gods would follow the path of war, and the two strongest war gods, Ares and Athena, were the ones probably most eager to find him. That risk in itself was daunting, but both he and Hestia knew the even greater risk the war posed. He could feel the pressure every day, mounting ever higher. Hatred was a constant in the world now. He knew it was only a matter of time before his power overflowed once again. He had become better at containing his powers for long periods of time, but he couldn't do it indefinitely, and it only made the backlash worse. After about a millennium, he was almost at his breaking point. He could potentially hold out for the duration of one more war, but by then, he would be at the end of the line.
"No," the man breathed in horror, "what can I do?"
"You must find a place where the gods cannot go and where you can harm nobody."
"Alaska, then," Mr. Quacey said immediately.
Hestia shook her head, "You cannot go there. The gods lose all their powers there. That includes your power to unleash destruction."
"Then all the better! How have I not thought of it before?"
"No! You don't understand. You would be unable to unleash the pent-up hatred either, so the power will still be trapped inside of you and growing. You would basically implode from your bottled-up powers if you went to Alaska."
"Then where do you suggest?" The carpenter growled in frustration. Hestia got up and walked to the shop window. He joined her. For a solid ten minutes, the two seemed to stare pensively into the empty sky. Suddenly, a black speck materialized in the air before the setting sun. The speck grew larger and larger until the two observers could clearly see a man with black feathered wings, swiftly flying eastward.
Thanatos.
"The Underworld," Percival murmured. Hestia merely nodded.
December, 1937: Underworld
Perseus hissed in pain as another wave of power washed over him. The intensity and consistency of the hatred reminded him eerily of the start of the First World War just over twenty years ago. Perseus hoped, for his sake as much as the world's, that this would not escalate any further. Stumbling from his quarters in Hades' palace, Perseus slowly made his way to the throne room, where he knew the Lord of the Underworld would be. With each step, the waves of power increased, and the more he struggled to stay in control. Perseus flung the throne room door open without a thought of what he might be interrupting. Thankfully, it was just Hades in the room. The God of the Underworld took one look at Perseus and frowned, "What's wrong?"
"My powers are overloading. I have to go somewhere isolated to blow off steam. I can't risk harming anything or anyone," Perseus grunted.
Hades' frown turned into a scowl, "There are gods in the underworld too. They would all be able to sense you. And many won't hesitate to turn you in. Then that would get me in trouble with my wonderful littlest brother, and I hope to avoid that as much as possible. You can't have your temper tantrum in the underworld. We agreed that my job was to hide you from the gods. I have no space for you to 'blow off steam in the Underworld.'"
"Then send me down to Tartarus," Perseus growled.
"What? Are you insane? You came here so you could avoid that hellhole, not go willingly to it!"
"Not permanently, Hades," Perseus snarled, "Can you think of a better place? The Pit is about as good as it will get. Just hurry, we don't have much time. Unless you would prefer I blow your palace to smithereens instead?"
Hades finally relented with a sigh, "No, come on." He grabbed Perseus' shoulder, and a moment later, they were breathing the acrid, burning air of Tartarus. "Hurry up with it." With that, Hades was gone, leaving Perseus in what looked like a giant canyon. Taking a breath, he started slowly releasing the built-up energy. He watched as boulders along the rocky canyon walls dislodged and rolled down with a crash. Perseus had barely started the process when somebody cleared their throat. Spinning around wildly, Perseus turned his glowing red eyes on whoever was stupid enough to interrupt.
His eyes landed on a Titan. One of his own brothers, Perseus thought darkly. It was Hyperion. Perseus recognized the burnished copper skin and blazing eyes and armor from the visions he got when he was a tree on Delos thousands of years ago. He scoffed mentally when he remembered he used to think that Kronos was innocent. The visions told him things, but only certain things. They conveniently left out the part where Kronos swallowed his own children to keep his power. That made Kronos no better in Perseus' eyes than Ouranos. "Hyperion…" Perseus snarled. This was one of Kronos' most loyal followers.
"Perseus," Hyperion said simply, "I come in peace. I, on behalf of Kronos and our other brothers, would like to extend an invitation. You must hate the gods as much as we do. Look what they've done to you. Mistreated you, banished you, thrown you into Tartarus. Come, join us in reviving Kronos, so we can wreak the ultimate vengeance on the gods and Ouranos himself."
To put it simply, Perseus wanted no part of that. He was about to make the fact clear, when the Titan's immense hatred for the gods, his father, and the world crashed into him like a tank. The new wave of hatred flowing into him overrode any last shred of control Perseus had. "No!" Perseus choked, knowing he was fighting a losing battle for control. He was pushed to his knees by the force of the power. "I-I don't accept. Get out of here! Leave, now!" After barely releasing any energy earlier before being interrupted, Perseus' power core was already extremely unstable. This one added push proved to be too much to handle. His power exploded out from him. Huge chunks of canyon rock were blasted from the walls. A fissure split the ground in two as the ground shook with a rumbling roar. The air itself seemed to have caught fire. In an instant, Hyperion's armor was ripped clean through. He howled in pain as he disintegrated into dust to reform in an even deeper level of Tartarus. There was another scream of pain, and Perseus realized Hyperion hadn't come alone. Iapetus, too, went the same way Hyperion did.
Perseus hunched over as the suffocating pain and pressure continued. The ground trembled, sheets of bedrock crumbled down. After what felt like hours, Perseus felt the pressure finally begin to ease. The earthquake he caused stopped, and rocks stopped falling around him. He barely had time to register Hades retrieving him before the enormous drain on his power caught up to him, and he fell unconscious.
August 18, 2000: Chicago, Illinois
A man strolled leisurely along the shore of Lake Michigan. He stopped near a bench, simply breathing in the fresh air. The man's bright blue-green eyes traced the horizon, attempting to memorize the picturesque scene. The gulls sailed above the lake water as the blazing red of the setting sun slowly sank below the horizon. Perseus was, for the first time in decades, truly at peace. He had come out to enjoy the world while he still could. He knew he would be unable to appreciate its beauty again for a long time. As the Windy City's famous gusts blew across his face, Perseus thought of all that had happened to him since his banishment. He couldn't recall a day when his heart didn't ache for his old home with the Hunt, and the pang grew tenfold at the thought of the goddess who still resided there. Perseus lifted his head to the sky and saw the faint crescent moon hanging behind the clouds. He imagined Artemis looking down at him from her chariot and waving. Of course, it was pure fancy. Perseus had taken painstaking steps to avoid detection by any and all gods. He had learned to mask his godly aura to the point he himself would hardly be able to feel it. Living among mortals further hid him from Olympus' many prying eyes.
After leaving the Underworld following World War II, Perseus had traveled the world, witnessing the horrors of mankind, as well as its many triumphs. Not once did he use his godly powers. For all intents and purposes, he was a mortal.
Despite that, he had always kept an ear peeled for word about the gods. Occasionally, Hestia would slip away from her hearth for a few minutes to update him on how Artemis and the Hunt were doing and inform him of any major godly developments. (The Big Three's pact to abstain from having more demigods after the disaster of World War II had been a surprise. Perseus greatly doubted Zeus' ability to keep his word.) After leaving the Underworld, Perseus had heard nothing at all from Hades, which was to be expected. At least he had left the grumpy god on good terms and could rest easily knowing a Fury wasn't about to be sent out for his blood any time soon. He guessed that that was the upside to being on fairly friendly grounds with Hades.
Everything was simple enough in the mythological world for the decades after World War II, despite the turmoil in the mortal world. That is until several years ago, when Perseus had received some highly alarming news. Hestia had come to him with worry etched all over her face and told him the gods were going to resume their attempts to revive Ouranos. Now that the gods were out of any wars, Zeus felt it was the time to revive what he saw to be his saving grace from his enemies. By Zeus' logic, the gods must eliminate all threats before the threats could eliminate them. His recent knowledge that Kronos was slowly gaining power primarily fueled this search for Ouranos.
Perseus knew that, as an exiled god, he would have no chance of stopping Zeus' insane plans, and he couldn't leave Artemis to handle it all by herself. He knew he would have to gain allies among the Olympians, a task easier said than done, considering Zeus was breathing down the gods' necks at all hours.
Thus, it had been a pleasant surprise when, one day a few months ago, Hestia had appeared to him and brought him down to Poseidon's palace in Atlantis. Perseus had panicked initially, wondering what kind of death trap the goddess had taken him to. However, when Poseidon appeared, he greeted Perseus with an unexpectedly warm smile and a firm handshake. To say Perseus was confused was the understatement of the century, but Poseidon quickly cleared it up.
It would seem that Perseus and Artemis were not the only ones to disagree with Zeus' plan. Poseidon had been against the idea of reviving Ouranos from the very beginning, but since the primordial of the sky was scattered in the world's seas and oceans, Poseidon was in a precarious situation. On one hand, he knew the repercussions of reviving the primordial would be dangerously high. But on the other hand, he had Zeus constantly breathing down his neck to gather together Ouranos' scattered body. Poseidon had delayed the search for as long as he could, but he knew he couldn't hold out forever without Zeus catching on. Not knowing what to do, he had gone to Hestia for advice, and she told him she knew of Perseus' whereabouts. She knew Perseus to be openly against the plan to revive Ouranos, and she knew gathering allies would be important.
Hestia herself strongly objected to Zeus' plans, but since she was so often overlooked, she didn't have any power over the Olympians' decisions. When Poseidon had come to seek her council, she had realized that without Perseus, they wouldn't get very far. After all, two powerful gods could not suddenly defect. Zeus would be thirsting for their blood even more than for Perseus' if they did that. Perseus, who was already on Zeus' bad side, had more freedom in his actions to oppose Olympus. But what they really needed now was intel. Not only on the gods, but also the demigods, who would undoubtedly be recruited by either Olympus or Kronos in the coming years. They knew the demigods would be the ones to decide the fate of Olympus and the world. Unlike Zeus, Poseidon and Hestia were under no delusions of the half-bloods' unwavering loyalty. They knew that the demigods were the ones to carry out the gods' will on earth, and that in itself put the gods at risk. If they defected, the gods would lose their most valuable allies.
Thus, Poseidon had requested to meet with Perseus to discuss how they were to gather information about the demigods' loyalties. Over the course of that meeting, Perseus, Poseidon, and Hestia had listed out potential allies and drawn up a plan. A risky, stupid plan, but a promising one none-the-less. As per Perseus' request, no other gods or potential allies were to be informed of their plan. After all, the fewer people who knew, the less likely they would be discovered. Unfortunately for Perseus, this also meant that Artemis was to remain in the dark about his whereabouts and their mission. Perseus hated doing that to her, and he knew she would be furious with him when she found out, but it had to be done.
They would be setting their plan in motion later that night…
The crack of a breaking twig snapped Perseus out of his thoughts. His head whipped around in the direction of the noise, and he was surprised to find a little blonde girl hiding behind the bench. Upon closer inspection, the girl looked alarmingly thin and dirty. Perseus had to wonder where her family was. When the girl noticed him looking at her, her eyes widened in alarm, and she shrank back further behind the bench. As she did so, Perseus caught a glimpse of her eyes, and he realized who this child was. Her startlingly grey irises were a dead give-away.
Perseus was immediately on guard. If he had heard the twig snap, so did any monsters lurking in the area, waiting for their demigod snack. And there could only be one reason why a demigod would hide in the first place. Perseus felt around in his pocket and closed his hand around a familiar pocketknife.
A low growl from the trees a couple yards away alerted him to what was coming. In the blink of an eye, Perseus had pulled out his pocketknife and flipped it open. As he did so, it magically lengthened in his hand until he was holding a long, silver hunting knife, one Artemis had given him as a gift two centuries ago.
The growling turned into a full-blown snarl as the hidden hellhound saw the blessed silver. With an ear-splitting roar, the monster-truck-sized canine leapt out of the trees toward Perseus, teeth bared and ready to rip this mysterious "mortal" to shreds. Perseus sidestepped the monster and stabbed it as it flew past him. The hellhound howled in pain and jumped away. It faced Perseus down, red eyes blazing and slobber dripping from its mouth. Without warning, it lunged again. Perseus quickly jumped back from the teeth and slashed at its face. His knife scored a direct hit to its eyes, and the monster howled in agony again, clawing at its eyes which were dripping dark, tar-like blood. Seeing his chance, Perseus ran forward and rammed his knife into the hellhound's head, watching as it froze and dissolved into golden dust. Perseus scanned the surrounding area for anymore monsters before turning back to the bench. The daughter of Athena was still hiding behind it, shaking with fear and clutching a small hammer like a lifeline.
Perseus caught her gaze and slowly put away his knife. He lifted his empty hands to show he was unarmed and said, "It's okay, sweetie. You're safe. The monster's gone, and I won't hurt you. Can I come over to you?"
Perseus saw her grey eyes rove over him, analyzing every detail about him, searching for strengths and weaknesses. If he had any doubts before about her parentage, they were completely gone now. He felt like he was being scanned by Athena herself.
After a moment of tense silence, the girl nodded. Perseus gave her his warmest smile and slowly walked over to her, crouching down to sit on the ground near her. He could feel her mistrustful stare boring holes into his head. Perseus remembered his knife and pulled it out of his pocket, handing it to her. The child stared at it and him in shock for a moment before taking it and putting it in her backpack.
"I promise I don't have any more weapons," Perseus said, turning his pockets inside out to prove his point. All he had were his wallet and keys. "I'm Percival Quacey. What's your name?"
The demigod stared at him for another minute before deeming him not a threat. "Annabeth," she said quietly, looking down at the ground.
"It's nice to meet you, Annabeth," Perseus smiled and stuck out his hand to her. Annabeth didn't shake it. Perseus waited a couple seconds before coughing awkwardly and pulling his hand back. The pair descended into an uncomfortable silence.
Finally, Annabeth spoke up, "Are you a half-blood like me? You don't seem like one."
"No, you're right. I'm just a mortal, but I'm clear-sighted, which means I can see through the Mist," Perseus explained.
"The Mist?" Annabeth asked in confusion. Perseus guessed she had only known about the mythological world for a short time.
"The Mist," Perseus said with a nod, "It's the force that hides the mythical world from mortal eyes. That hellhound I just fought would have looked like an ordinary mastiff to any passing mortals." Perseus could see Annabeth's brain absorbing this information and storing it for later use. Like mother, like daughter, he guessed. "Annabeth, it's not very safe here. Other monsters probably heard the commotion and might be aware that you're here. Why don't we go back to my restaurant. I promise it's safe, and there will be mortals around. Most monsters won't attack in the presence of mortals."
Annabeth hesitated for a moment before nodding. Perseus smiled and stood up, offering the girl a hand up. Once again, she paused, but she didn't reject it like she did his handshake. Perseus counted that as a small victory. The two walked back toward the city, coming to a stop in front of a lively restaurant. The sign above the door read "Crescent Grill." The pair walked in and were greeted by a large crowd of people. Perseus held back a curse. He had completely forgotten that it was Friday, and that droves of people would be flocking out for dinner to kick off the weekend.
At the podium, the hostess was scrambling to write and cross out names on the waiting list. Perseus approached, and the frazzled woman said, without looking up, "One moment, please. The wait will be about thirty minutes. May I have your name?"
Perseus laughed, "Relax, Leslie, it's just me, and I'm not even dining, if it makes you feel better."
"Oh! Mr. Quacey, didn't see you there. Wait, I thought you were off this week," the hostess said, frowning at her boss in confusion.
"I am. I was showing some family around the city since they're here on vacation, and they stuck me with babysitting my little niece here," Perseus invented on the spot, "Say hi, Annabeth."
Annabeth mumbled a hello, and Leslie smiled back distractedly as she continued to scribble down names, "Hi, sweetie. It's nice to meet you. Well, if you'd like to go to the kitchen and get her something to eat, I'm sure the chefs won't object." Leslie waved them away before looking up to face the next customer.
Perseus led Annabeth through the crowded floor and into the kitchens. The chefs stopped the chaos in the kitchens long enough to greet their boss before resuming their work. Perseus led Annabeth to his office and sat her down. "Stay here for a moment while I get you some food. You look like you could use a meal." Perseus popped back into the kitchens and grabbed a plate, loading it with macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and a bowl of chili. After grabbing a glass of water, Perseus returned to his office and its seven-year-old occupant.
When Annabeth saw the food, her eyes lit up, and she dug in right away. She stopped chewing to give him a quick "thank you" before returning to her meal. Perseus didn't think he'd ever seen a child eat quite so much or quite so quickly, as the entire plate of food was gone within minutes. Perseus had to warn Annabeth to slow down several times, unless she wanted to choke on the food. Perseus felt a wave of guilt crash down on him as he watched the little girl. She should be safely enjoying her last week of summer vacation before school resumed, not fighting monsters or living on the streets without decent meals. Once again, Perseus cursed the Ancient Laws that prevented him from directly helping Annabeth, or any of the demigods he'd encountered in his travels. The best he could do was give them a meal and direct them toward Camp Half-Blood.
Once Annabeth was full, she smiled at Perseus for the first time, and he felt the guilt ease ever so slightly. Even if it wasn't much, he was still helping to the best of his ability. Perseus smiled back and pushed his sad thoughts aside. "Annabeth, it's getting late, and I bet you're tired. You're welcome to come home with me and stay the night."
Annabeth, like any child after an exhausting day and a full meal, was nodding off in her chair. She looked up at him sleepily and nodded, lifting her arms in the universal sign that she wants to be carried. Perseus chuckled and picked the little girl up. She yawned loudly against his shoulder and was asleep within seconds. Checking to make sure she wouldn't be jostled too much, Perseus set off in the direction of his apartment.
Perseus walked into his apartment and set off to put Annabeth in a bed immediately. He was so focused on his task, he almost didn't notice the intruder that he had attending his hearth. Perseus froze and doubled back, realizing it was Hestia. She was probably there to take him to Poseidon. Checking his watch, Perseus groaned. He should have been back to meet her half an hour ago.
"Hestia," Perseus whispered, careful not to wake the girl in his arms, "I'm so sorry! I found Annabeth earlier and saved her from a hellhound. I couldn't just leave her…"
Hestia silenced his rambling with a warm smile and a shushing motion. Perseus shut up. "It's okay. I already IM'd Poseidon saying we'd be late. He will understand," she whispered back, "Now hurry and get her to bed."
Perseus nodded his thanks and hurried to his bedroom. He tucked the demigoddess in before walking back to his living room, where Hestia was waiting. "Wait, let me write her a note first, so she won't be alarmed that I'm not here in the morning," Perseus muttered, looking around for a pen and paper. Hestia watched him struggle for a moment before conjuring the supplies for him. Perseus thanked her and quickly set about his writing.
Dear Annabeth,
I apologize for not being here when you woke up. I had to go to work very early and didn't want to wake you. I have some very important advice for you. You must go to New York City. There is a camp for special people like you where you will be safe. It is on Long Island, near a strawberry farm. I'm sorry I cannot accompany you on your journey.
Feel free to make yourself breakfast if you can and help yourself to all the snacks in my pantry. I left my knife in your backpack for you. I think you need it more than I do, and it is much better for fighting monsters than your hammer. I wish you the best of luck.
Sincerely,
Percival Quacey
P.S. Please destroy this note as soon as you can. I don't want anybody bad to find this note and track you.
Perseus taped the note on the bedroom door and turned to Hestia, "Please make sure she's safe tonight and that she sees the note tomorrow."
"Of course," Hestia said, looking sadly toward the bedroom, "Right now, I have to take you to Poseidon. And maybe, you'll see Annabeth again someday."
"Maybe," Perseus said as Hestia teleported them away in a flash of fire.
Later that night, a minute before midnight, seven-year-old Percy Jackson woke with a start in his New York City apartment, wondering what his strange dream was all about. He vaguely recalled the moon, a blonde girl his age, a girl with eyes like a dying flame, and a man who smelled like the sea. Dismissing it with a shrug, Percy yawned, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep.
The next morning, as he ate one of his mom's delicious blue cookies and glared at Smelly Gabe, he couldn't even remember having the dream in the first place.
Ta-da! So there's everything Percy's been up to since his banishment. I hope the whole Percival Quacey alias didn't confuse you too much. This is the last brief-overview-of-history chapter b/c we've successfully covered 3000 years of background info and are officially about to enter the main action of the story! Woo! Anyway, thank you all so much for your support. Until next time!