RELATED TO THE UPCOMING CHAPTER: I think the music would be Audiomachine: Unfinished Life. I would start it just after you read the first set of lines. Set it on repeat, since this is a long performance and a rather short melody. I think it goes perfectly…tell me what you think.

I am still open to people yelling at me through reviews from my long absence. And believe it or not, I was working on this for a full five weeks. My writing style has changed, obviously. This is my third revision, I think. And my fifth idea. So please, don't come through my computer and kill me!

And I started doing little poems. For those of you who are two-timers, yes, this poem at the very beginning hints at her previous power, which on the last series was the cause of the turning point of the books. It also hints at the relative that she found in one of the later books. No, I'm not telling you newbies.

Oh, and DaughterOfAthena? Thanks for recommending my books, but I personally thought they were crap. I think you'll like this set better. Percy will have a larger role than he did last time around.

Divine Protector of Skyrim: *sheepish smile* Sorry?

Enjoy. I worked hard. Song-making is rather hard, did you know that?

What help am I,
To only foretell the past?
But what hope would I be,
To only doom the future?

—Alexis's Journal

When I returned from the sea just after sunset, torn between shock and anger—both directed at my father, not Alexis—I found her at the campfire, clearlyin her element. I had arrived just in time to see her entrance, and at first I thought we were being attacked, my hand instantly shoved into my pocket, ready to bring out Riptide.

The campfire was just starting. It was the Summer Solstice, which had always been an important date for demigods and monsters alike, but now it was an extra important date. Despite both Kronos and Gaea having been defeated in August, the demigods had decided to celebrate their falls on the Solstice. Why? I don't know. Probably because a lot of things fell into place around the Summer Solstice. Like my first quest. Ah, memories.

But I digress.

The fire had flamed and then abruptly died, to the shock of most of the campers. A lone figure stood in the sooty ashes, dressed in black from head to toe, with one exception: a teal cloak around her shoulders. She looked like a traveler. Some grinned (I realized later that it was the Hephaestus, the Hecate, and the Apollo cabins, with whom she had collaborated with her performance), but most just sat there in shock, the occasional flaming marshmallow and the half-moon the only light in the amphitheater.

And then she opened her mouth, her voice strong and unwavering under the force of hundreds of shocked eyes.

I have a story to tell
Of a young boy who dwells
In the hearts of all…

Mist rose from the ground, and music started up, soft, haunting, eerie, bouncing around the amphitheater, so that it sounded like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere. I slipped my hand out of my pocket and slipped into a ground seat next to Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Her green eyes were focused on the performance.

The girl swept around, cloak billowing dramatically.

I have a story to spin
Where a young hero has been
To recount to all…

Legs spread wide, she raised her arms slowly, her head falling back dramatically. The mist rose from the ground, coalescing into the shape of a woman with short curly hair, holding a baby, and a large, hulking man with a brace on one leg. I had expected it to stay in that bluish-white color, but then color bloomed over the two, revealing her to be Latino and he to be quite obviously a god—Hephaestus, when I finally recognized him from back in my adventures of the Labyrinth.

I speak of the beginning
A miniature babe grinning
But they knew his fate…

Having lowered her arms, she raised one once more and pointed at the trio. The music pitched. Flames erupted around the tiny, slightly transparent family. Some of the audience let out startled screams. Her arm dropped and she spun around, cloak billowing dramatically around her.

Scattered to the winds of doom
Where a goddess in costume
Trained him for his fate…

She swept an open hand around her, palm facing the sky, and figures rose out of the mist: an old lady in a rocking chair next to a fireplace with a roaring fire, singing silently, and I could just barely make out a baby in the fire, playing in the sparks. A door materialized, and Leo's mother walked through, shrieked and grabbed her baby out of the fire, coming close to punching the old lady's lights out.

The fire vanished, and the figures fell back into the foot of fog in the amphitheater.

Another scene formed, with toddler Leo playing with butcher knives happily, the same old woman standing there, doing nothing. If anything, she looked proud. The two stayed there long enough for everyone to see, then fell back into the mists.

Another scene formed. The amphitheater was transformed into a grassy pasture. A cow stood a little ways off. But toddler Leo (he was a little bit older than the last, about four) was handed a stick from the old woman, and she gestured invitingly at a snake which rose out of the misty grass. Leo looked incredulous, looking at the stick to the snake and then to the old woman. He shook his head and let go of the stick. She looked a tad frustrated when the snake looked at the old woman like, You're nuts, lady, and slithered off into the tall grass. Everything collapsed into shapeless fog once more.

One last scene built up out of the fog. On a picnic bench, little Leo was coloring while the old lady watched him and sang silently. He held it up proudly, and the amphitheater drew a shocked breath as one—it was the Argo II, undoubtedly. It was snatched out of his hands, the little mist piece of paper fluttering away on an actual gust of wind that rifled through the amphitheater. The old lady smiled and patted him on the head. She said something, and Leo beamed in that little-kid way that made you want to do anything to see that smile again. He set his hands on the wood of the bench, and fire blazed, disintegrating the pad of paper to ashes and melting the crayons. Fire rolled over the scene, obliterating it.

T'was a night of certain doom
Where Gaea raged, fires bloomed
And set him his path…

Color, fire, and mist exploded around the small figure, throwing her arms out, detailing that night in the workshop that Leo beat himself up for every day for the rest of his life. Almost the entire amphitheater flinched when 'Leo' lost control over the fire and it swarmed over everything—but left the campers untouched. Hephaestus watched from above, silently crying, a silver tear tracing his damaged cheek.

I seriously wanted to know how they did this, because this was pretty impressive. There were no electronics that I could see, so this was all magic and powers at play here. I knew it certainly couldn't be just one person.

For years and years he wallowed
No attachment, not hollowed
Scared of his own wrath…

She whirled, grabbing the edge of her cloak and sweeping in a full circle, flames billowing around her, sweeping through the amphitheater to taper off just before it reached my feet in a roiling cloud of smoke. I coughed, my eyes watering at the smoke.

Then came that day at fate's gate
Where prophecy lies in wait
Unaware of evil

She raised a hand, claw-like fingers to the curled to the sky, and Leo's figure formed in the mist, smiling, cracking lame jokes at an amnesiac Jason. A younger Hedge stormed into view, with a baseball bat and a bullhorn. A worried Piper looked exasperated at Leo, smacking her forehead.

She slashed her hands through the air and the scene dissolved. A hand raised again, and another image formed: an anemoi thuellai standing over Leo as he clung to the edge of a canyon, Leo looking rather alarmed and the monster smirking. They fell back into the fog on the ground when the lone figure in the fireplace turned.

Yes, the hero was rescued
Taken to this own venue
Wary, but gleeful

A graceful arc over her head with her hand saw a misty chariot with five people in it pulled by pegasi being followed by the anemoi thuellai.

A quest! A quest was issued
Secret he kept, continued
Powerful as ever…

Demigods gasped, startled, as Cyclopes rose out of the mist, clearly intent on eating Jason and Piper, who were strung up and trussed like turkeys ready to be roasted on a spit. Leo stood on hot coals, smirking, a maniac gleam in his eyes as the biggest Cyclops hurled a can of kerosene at him and broke open at his feet. Actual flames erupted around him, and Piper, conscious, clearly screamed his name. But Mist Leo stepped out of the flames, smirking still at the Cyclops, who seemed appropriately stunned.

To California he went
To kill her, to his ascent
Her connection, severed

A giant, misty face appeared in the fog, parallel to the ground, some of the two-timers automatically reaching for their chosen weapons. Misty Leo rose, a toilet seat in hand, and threw it into the face. Piper's snort was heard in the near-silence.

The lone figure in the ashes of the fireplace swept her hand around, and another scene rose. A cage rose, a person inside, Piper and Leo working on opening it. Annabeth, on the other side of Rachel, hissed in annoyance.

To our home he went, to build
A ship, fate still unfulfilled
A Prophecy lies…

It looked like a fancy time-lapse misty video, Leo and the Hephaestus cabin running around like chickens with their heads cut off, the Argo II slowly forming.

Across the ocean lay wait
A horde of monsters with bait
Deathless still he lies…

I searched out Frank and Hazel, to see their faces. They were the only ones with Leo when he apparently hatched his brilliant plan of busting them all out and arrived just in time to pick Jason, Nico, and I up. Both of them looked half-rueful, half-grateful, with a hint of amusement somewhere in there.

When the Two fell, he despaired
But still on he persevered
To the open maw…

Into battle, into war
Kill the one of ancient lore
To his last hurrah…

Demigods, as one, drew in a shocked gasp as color and fire and mist shot out from seemingly under the stadium seats and wrapped itself in a maelstrom of very dangerous, very destructive power around the girl in the fireplace. She thrust her hands upward, and it exploded into dozens of little scenes from the war, with the main event right over our heads, Festus and Leo and Gaea, and then Imperial Gold flying into the scene, impacting against the three of them and detonating in a huge fireball. I covered my mouth, trying not to cry as I witnessed one of the Seven's death again.

My story is almost done
For at last the war is won
But only at dreadful costs
Thank you, all those we have lost
Never shall we forget you
Here's to you, born anew!

Her voice held the last note and became louder briefly before it was cut off by the roar of the fire that erupted around her, seemingly burning her alive. But then it died again, and she was gone.

"How did you do that?" was the first thing I asked when I stepped into the cabin to see my half-sister stepping out of the dark cargo pants she'd worn for her performance. She had leggings on underneath, and apparently was not at all shy with undressing with me right there.

She laughed. "Honestly, all I did was the mist. The Hecate cabin did everything else that looked cool, the Hephaestus cabin provided the trapdoor underneath the fireplace and a hidden mike, and the Apollo cabin provided the music. I have a good voice, a flair for theatrics, and a little bit of power over water. That's literally all I have."

I swallowed. That was it? Damn, that looked like a lot more than that. "The color? The fire?"

"The Hecate cabin. One of them is a pyromaniac." She snorted. "I think he had more fun with the performance than I did."

I laughed a little, still a little shocked. "That's it? If it was me, I would've used solid water figures."

"Mist looks better with the proper lighting. Always. Not negotiable. That, and, I can't control that much water."

"What?! But—"

She cut me off. "Percy, when I was conceived, our father had just got done fighting a war. His realm was in chaos and mostly, if not all the way, destroyed. His power was all but gone. There is no way that I could have been powerful. And honestly, with the way our father treats me, you'd think that it was my fault. I'm glad that I'm not powerful, because he'd still have mixed feelings for me, and then there's the fact that it's a major miracle that you've lived as long as you have without being permanently maimed or killed because of your scent."

"Dad said—"

She slapped a hand over my mouth, looking pained. "I have no need, want, or desire to hear anything that Father wants to say to or about me right now, when I'm coming off my high of theatrics. In the morning, please, so that I can dump my milk over your head when you tell me something that I don't like."

I gotta say, I like her reasoning, despite the fact that I don't like the way she's going about it. Did that make sense? Agh, never mind, nothing makes sense with me anymore.