~AI~

I dreamt of a long passageway. There were no windows, the ceiling low, the walls unadorned and the floor covered in a colourless carpet. There was a distinct lack of light sources, yet everything was washed in a dull monochrome grey.

My muffled footsteps padded down what one could liken to a colour-leached office corridor.

I was attentive to my surroundings, but the only distinguishing features of the walk were the lack of features itself.

That changed with my next step. There was an outline on the walls. Identical and parallel, it looked as if someone had sketched a human sized rectangle on the grey paint.

My body did not stop to examine them as I passed yet another identical pair a moment later.

The walk continued with this new trend.

The rectangles grew more and more defined as I went. They began to gain depth, sinking into the walls slightly. Grooves along the outlines appeared as I walked further down.

Soon enough I realised them for what they were:

Doors.

I was walking down a spooky office corridor of blank doors.

The doors had no handles, I noted.

Everything sped up, as if the dream was rushing to it's finale.

I reached the end of the corridor. There was yet another door before me.

Unlike every other door that I passed in the rapid blur, this one boasted a handle, but more notably, it was slightly ajar.

My body once more acted of its own accord, hand rising to the handle without another moment wasted.

I felt the sensation of warm metal beneath my fingers.

~AI~

I woke up.

My hand stretched upwards reaching for the ceiling, touching only warm air. I let it flop with a sigh.

Almost immediately, the vision I just slept degraded slightly, like a photograph fading from its corners. This was the norm.

Fortunately, I don't believe there were any pressing details I passed on the outskirts of the dream. The core of the photo remained intact.

I sniffed.

Pulling the duvet up other my nose, bleary eyes wandered to a window. It was unlit. The sun had yet to rise.

Ugh…

Snuggling deeper into my bed, I discontinued any notion of arising while embracing the lazy warmth. I turned my mind to deciphering my latest dream… or, affirming it anyway. The meaning was fairly obvious.

It was a rather simple one.

A featureless corridor, my body walking inadvertently. False doors without handles. Then that ending, a rushed finale. The corridor ending in a door not only with a handle but already opened.

Yes, the meaning of this dream was rather simple:

My head slipped under the duvet entirely with a soft groan.

The illusion of choice.

More displeased sounds came from within. I curled up. My eyes now level with my knees.

I let loose a long, resigned groan.

My blissful childhood nears its end...

~AI~

Mrs Sanders. The history teacher Mr Bruner has replaced. A side character by any definition…. And my current prey.

I had to find her.

I needed to confirm something.

I was not accompanied by my Percy today. By my side instead was my Domi. A most fearsome beast, yet seldom would you find a creature more pure and loyal.

Today, her function is not dissimilar to a hunting dog. She's my magic sniffer hound.

The streets were fairly empty, only those free of the standard work hours could enjoy the sun at this time… or those choosing to ignore their educational responsibilities like us.

Confirming our place on the map I held, I looked at my partner and then nodded towards an alley. Domi, significantly quieter when on our hunting trips, inclined her head in acceptance at the non-vernal instruction.

Not that she had ever denied me anything… a tad worrying to think about...

The alley was hardly clean, crisp bags, lolly sticks and gum were prevalent, but it was not outright disgusting. The three of us had tolerated far worse on our stints over the years.

I sat while Domi knelt behind a steep access ramp that led to a bricked up doorway. The map was laid out in front of us, each of its four corners held down by palmwood cubes soaked in my own blood.

I handed the albino three of my coins; these were fairly small, only 6cm across, and hung like medallions by pieces of string thread through them.

Domi, still silent, accepted the coins in cupped hands. My friend looked strangely pious at times like these. Whenever I, or sometimes Percy, gave her one of our trinkets to use, she always slips into this weird mood.

She treated the stuff as if they were actually important, and not made of my spit and paper-mache.

Frankly, it worried me.

I was not stupid. Domi was reacting to us, but I did not know why or how. Her heritage was still a mystery to me, a fact that irritated me greatly. I could only keep her in mind as I moved deeper behind the mist.

One day I will find a definite answer, one that I can use to help my friend.

Oblivious to my expositions, Domi had laid two of the coins flat while she tied the string of the third around her index finger.

She looked to me for permission, I nodded. She held her hand, coin dangling from a finger, over the map.

It was obvious to any who might care to look, we were up to some serious voodoo.

My partner waited for me to initiate the second part of the divination. "Domi." Domitia. "Find Mrs Sanders." Find Clare Tina Sanders. I made sure to annunciate my orders very clearly.

The coin that hung from a string on Domi's finger started to swing.

Domi, very slowly, moved her hand in the direction of the swinging as the strain of divination made itself known on the coin. Green mist and bronze paper crumbles trailed behind the coin on the map.

This was a method inspired by Ball Dowsing divination. In the past, people would attach metal or crystal to a small chain and use the way it swings to determine water sources.

I do the same, but with far more accuracy and variance in target.

It was using this method I tracked down an offshoot pack of Ungrateful Strays not so long ago.

However, Domi was simply better at using them than I. The way I imagine it; the coin, by swaying, tugs the user in a certain direction. I am too large to properly "pull" but Domi is "small".

Domi is weaker than I, and thus more responsive to the small pull of the coin.

That said, she can't "trigger" a reaction by herself. She is small and weak, lacking the force behind her words to move my coins into action. That is why I have to tell her what to find.

I give her the scent in a name. She sniffs it out.

I craft, she channels. In this sense, Domi was my instrument, my medium… my oracle.

The thought, nay they mere term, left a strangely bittersweet taste in my mouth. Being similar to… that, yet being closer to Domi… My feelings on the matter far too jumbled to properly analyse.

… I really have some major dad issues.

The coin finally gave, crumbling into shiny paper dust and green mist.

Domi moved clockwise from one side of the map to another. There she repeated the process, she tied the string to a finger and let the coin swing freely in a certain direction.

The coin crumbled.

Domi used the third coin from the third side of the map.

The coin crumbled.

Finally, she returned to my side where I was marking the general lines of the three angles. I circled the area where the lines crossed.

A small park, shops, a coffee place, a restaurant and… my eyes narrowed as my instincts went ping, a rather nice apartment block.

I tapped the square on the map.

"Here."

I would use the state Mrs Sander to gauge the approach of Chiron and determine what actions I should take moving forward.

~PJ~

Yan decided it was his turn to make my lunchbox...

Darn.

I analyse the unidentified lumps with wary eyes. In reality, it was only really bad half the time, and recently there has been a general improvement, but the traumas committed against my taste-buds were not so easily forgotten.

It smells like… beetroot? Pungent beetroot. Russian?

Solidified borscht soup? Borscht meat jelly? How do I even know what that is?

I poke the lumps with a spork. They wobble. Why must they wobble?

I sigh.

If only one of us had the heart to tell Yan he wasn't as good at cooking as he thought he was… no. No that's a lie, he is as good as he thinks he is, skill-wise, it's just… these self-made recipes are fucking shit!

Curse our bleeding hearts!

But how the heck are we supposed to tell him no when he smiles like that?! It's too hard! In the first place, Yan only smiles honestly on super, super rare occasions (not counting his ma), and no, smirks, smug smiles, and sadistic smiles don't count.

But when he cooks, makes something, he always has this small, little, tiny, minuscule content smile. I've only seen similar when he was sleeping or after I finished a difficult training session and he thinks I'm not looking.

How do you deny that smile huh? C'mon, tell me! Yeah, that's right, you can't.

That thing is practically invincible.

The only upside of all this is Yan hasn't realised how effective the thing is, else who knows what he's have us (me) doing.

I have a recurring nightmare wherein we are standing at the open doors of a plane at high altitude. Below was a rolling tide of thundering clouds as far as the eye could see. I looked at Yan, he smiled.

I'd wake up in a cold sweat and the sense of falling every time.

Thing is, if Yan thought having me try to fly would toughen me up, that asshole would make me do it without hesitation.

Goddamn spartan.

I hide a sigh. The things we do for love.

*Chomp*

… Not.. bad...?

The taste of the stuff is decent I suppose, but the texture is really off putting…

I've had worse.

I sigh in relief. It's edible.

I don't really think I should have to confirm something like that though, nor should it be a cause of celebration really.

The things we do for lo- wait, I've already said that.

I wish Domi and Yan would hurry up and finish their hunt already. It's lonely by myself.

I sig- I smell something. It's a scent that has steadily become familiar over the past half-week. I very carefully do not tense. Now I sigh.

Half swivelling on the steps I'd chosen as my lunch spot, at look at the figure wheeling himself towards me.

"Heya Mr Bruner." My voice is light and breezy.

"Hello Perseus." His timber rich as old oak.

I really hate doing this stuff alone, but looks like I gots no choice… crummy fishsticks.

Hurry back you two.

~AI~

The centaur in disguise had said Mrs Sanders had taken leave "due to the unexpected, but joyous news of pregnancy," word for word.

How... convenient.

Therein lies the clue.

There are three results I foresee.

When Mr Bruner said the news of pregnancy was "unexpected, but joyous" it really was just that and nothing else. Mr Bruner simply saw the opening and took it. This does however mean that we have been under observation for some time by people other than Percy's father. That is not good.

Second; Mist or similar supernatural persuasions were used to gloss over the entire affair. Mrs Sanders isn't pregnant, she's just been directed elsewhere. A simple conclusion, but also lazy.

Might this indicate sloppiness, even arrogance, from the Centaur?

Third was a mix of the previous two. The Centaur, or whoever was in charge of these things, convinced Mrs Sanders to get pregnant.

She is a Mrs after all, would it be quite easy to get her and (presumably) her husband horny no?

This was perhaps slightly amoral, but the most sure way. "Mrs Sanders has gotten pregnant thus needs replacing for a while," nothing said is a lie.

With that in mind, one must know the mist is not a fix-all mind control power, it is hypnotism. And forcing such a large change in a short amount of time, will have consequences on the subject.

There is residue. Leftovers Domi and I can analyse.

Hopefully.

How much of it was coincidence, and how much of it was manipulation. By investigating this, I will be able to better understand the character that is Chiron.

Now one may think this all unnecessary, after all, what reason do I have to doubt the trainer of heroes? Not only that, but the half-guy was nothing but benign in the books, the prototypical wise teacher with a storied background.

So why?

To answer: I'm bloody paranoid.

This land, is. Not. Canon. It is reality. And fact is stranger than fiction. I shall make no assumptions. Previous knowledge will be accounted for, but never solely relied on.

This mentality has proven beneficial over the years.

Like when facing those damnable baby hydras or the tentacle monster and even those stupid flying fish things that made bee noises…

Reality had long since eaten canon for breakfast.

So for all I know, Camp Half-Blood is a brutal child-labour camp or an institute producing demi-god assassins for Olympus. It could be a place that you can't leave after entering.

… That's exaggerating a bit, my instincts tell me the centaur is not a bad man.

But my wariness, after it's served me so well, is now habitual.

I am completely okay with that fact.

"You okay?" If it protects this… Domi snuggled further into my shoulder, nodding silently. "We can wait a bit more if you need it."

We were sat on grass, my back to the base of a tree, Domi previously napping on my side.

After a few deep breaths, Domi rose, her eyes bleary and unfocused. We were resting under shade in a park near the apartment block our search led too. It was near midday, but Domi was looking ready for bed.

Channelling… me, I suppose, was taxing on her.

She just barely managed to not flop forward into my chest once more. "M'fine." She mumbled.

I frowned. Despite her sunhat, her second-skin sleeves, her sunblock and us resting under the shade of a tree for the past half-hour, her skin was still a splotchy red. It looked irritated.

Placing a palm on her forehead I realised she was warm to the touch. My instincts were certain she would be running a high temperature tomorrow.

I will nurse her better, I decided.

We've done enough today anyway. We've got a place, looked around the surrounding area and familiarised ourselves with the outside of the building. Finding Mrs Sanders herself can wait till another day, for now, let's head ho-

"No." Domi headbutted me… or, tried to. More like she touched her forehead to mine softly. "Let's… finish this t'day." She was almost slurring.

"We dunno how long you 'n' Percy 'ave left…" She blinked away her tiredness, "we dunno how long it would take for me to get better," she sat back, "Let's finish this today."

She is a child, my paranoia has influenced a child into acting like this. I felt like shit, but when do I not? This might not even be necessar- no, I can't think that.

Even if it's not necessary this time, there has been plenty of other times it has. I am the oldest of us three, and as the oldest I have a duty of care.

Even if she suffers now, this will she is showing and the selflessness to persevere for another will serve her well later in life.

This is making her strong, and the knowledge we seek may be crucial in the future.

That's what I must keep telling myself.

"Okay." Holding Domi's had I stood and then helped her. "Let's do this." I gave her hand a squeeze. "And head home quickly."

My paranoia is hurting her, but if my paranoia might also protect us?

If it protects us, who cares if I'm paranoid.

…

..

.

"Jean? Jean Sanders? She and her husband went missing two days ago. No one knows where. All their things are untouched, most of us thought she'd gone to surprise her parents, but they were the one to phone us! I'm sure they're fine though, probably with some friends out of town, got some bad reception. She was well liked after all, the block even celebrated the news of her pregna..."

I tuned the man out as he continued to ramble. Domi shifted by my side. I felt a sense of unease. Mysterious disappearances were hardly uncommon to us.

And so soon after being replaced by the Centaur.

"... Still, I do hope they're alright…"

I glanced at Domi, the red of her skin even more pronounced.

"Come to think of it, wasn't Jean a teacher?"

I grit my teeth.

"Are two of her students? Wait, why do you want to know where Jean is anyway?"

By the time the too talkative man regained his senses, we were gone.

What a waste.

.

.

.

AN: Hello... It's me. I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet…

Yeah. Been a while.

This is not a full chapter unfortunately. I've actually been sitting on this half complete for quite a while. This is the chapter of writer block, it has also spawned a few other stories as a result.

Still, I decided to poop this out now instead of waiting till it got to the usual length, because god knows how long that would take.

This is the part where I say updates will get more frequent, alas that is not to be.

I am entering my Final Major Project (FMP) period, which is basically the exam you do for art courses, but it's done over the course of 3-4 months.

I need a specific grade to be accepted to my University of choice, so I'll be buckling down, focusing on academics.

That said, it's not like I won't be writing, it's just the writing I'll do will be me venting stress, and not writing for pleasure. Then again, some of the best chapters I've written were under stress, so eh.

What comes, comes.

The likes I receive after so long were like stabs to the heart. The guilt aided me quite a bit in getting out of the writers block, so congrats! I guess.

I hope you enjoyed.

PS. I've rewritten, reworded and reordered this so many times, it's almost certain I've missed typos or made grammar mistakes. I wouldn't be surprised if lines or even paragraphs are out of order too. Just point them out and I'll fix it asap.