We appeared. We were in the place where my people had lived, for generations.

"You remember?" my enemy asked me. "Remember the dining…what did they call it? Dining pavilion?"

"I will kill you," I promised, and lunged for him. But my hands went right through his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "We're not really here, having just traveled back to the collective memories of every man I have. So you see, we'll only be able to see anything that my men saw, or that I saw. You can't kill me, since we're not really here. Your body is limp on the floor of your cell, and my body is frozen above you. Just…save your strength."

He looked back. We were standing on the hill. The same hill I'd come down every day of seven years. But now, in the middle of summer, there was no snow. Grass, leaves, shrubs, abounded.

"Well, well, well," my enemy said. "It's just another day in…what was the name of it?"

"You know full well," I growled. "Don't be an idiot."

"Well, we'll wait to see if this jogs your memory," he said, and looked to the sky.

My people were going on their business in the tiny, village-like area below. I saw my father, my mother. I even caught a glimpse of myself.

But seeing my parents brought pain back to my heart. For seven years I've been hard, I told myself. Don't break down now.

But seeing my father again brought a sob to my throat.

Then the semi-peaceful scene below ended.

With a whistling scream, the first bomb dropped. Hitting the outside of the main living area.

The people below froze in disbelief. For centuries, no one had attacked.

And now their safety was gone. They panicked, screaming, running in all directions.

The next bombs dropped. Hitting buildings, people, vehicles. The hill we were on, splintering the great tree.

And the first wave of trucks rolled over the hill.

Inside the lead truck I could see my enemy, younger, but just as evil. My enemy standing with me now frowned at his younger self.

"Did I wear that on my day of triumph?" he muttered to himself. "Gah."

The troops in the trucks leaped out. The first wave, thirty of them, charged down the hill, waving their swords.

The younger version of my enemy nodded. He said something to his aide that I couldn't hear over the noise of battle below, and his aide nodded.

"Open fire!" he shouted to the rest of the troops.

Twenty men, each carrying a disassembled turret gun, jumped out of the trucks and ran to the crown of the hill. In seconds, the turrets were up and firing.

"Let's walk among them, shall we?" my enemy asked me. He waved to follow him.

I followed him down the hill. At the bottom, my people fought the soldiers, hand to hand. But the turrets from above rained death down on them. So many were dead from bullet wounds.

I spotted my father. He was fighting two soldiers. They were no match for him, but he had to protect…

Me.

I was running down the street, screaming in terror, and he was following me, shouting curses at the invaders.

"No!" I yelled to him. "Leave me! Fight back! Wipe them out!"

He could. He was the greatest warrior in history.

But he was stuck protecting me.

With a shout, he kicked one of the soldiers in the stomach. He spun and sliced through the other one's chest.

Then he ran after me. He picked me up by my shirt and took me to where we lived.

By the time he got back to the front lines, my people had lost.

A pile of their bodies lay at the entrance. Then there were maybe twenty, who were tied, prisoners.

He put away his sword. "Don't kill them," he pled with my enemy. "What do you want?"

"To wipe you out," my enemy's younger self replied. "Tie him."

Three soldiers ran over and bound my father.

He bowed his head. "What will you do with us?" he asked my enemy.

"Well, first I will kill you all," he answered. "Then burn your houses, then take any young ones and take them prisoner."

"Why are you doing this?" my father asked. "How did you know of us?"

"To answer your questions," my enemy said. "First, because I hate you all. You should never have existed. And secondly. There are many things I know. And many ways I know them. I know your names. Your numbers. Your strengths and weaknesses. Yes, I believe I know everything about you."

He smiled. "Percy Jackson."