Disclaimer: I don't pretend to be able to rise from my lowly station to claim any sort of equality or ownership connected with the excellent Rick Riordan. But, Mount Olympus and the gods were my original idea. The Greeks stole 'em.

…Kidding about that last one.

Chapter V: I Encounter Dreams, Love, and Other Deadly Weapons

So, naturally, after a day in which I'd been wrenched from my normal life into a crazy, supernatural world of gods and monsters, in addition to learning that my mom, rather than being a divorcee, was in fact Athena the eternal goddess of wisdom, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep immediately.

I hope the sarcasm in that last paragraph was sufficiently evident.

Personally, I've always been an extremely vivid dreamer. Some people have told me that when they dream, it's just a tangled mess of sensations, but I can't even picture anything like that. My dreams have always been as vivid as the waking world, whether they depict things that have actually happened to me—which is pretty common—or more bizarre visions. Annabeth tells me now that this is another demigod thing—our dreams apparently tend to show us our destinies, or the murderous plans of our enemies.

Lovely.

Anyway, it would seem that getting to Camp Half-Blood was something of a trigger for my dreams, for as soon as I'd gotten used to all the unfamiliar sets of deep breathing that surrounded me in the Athena Cabin and nodded off, I found myself in a coffee shop.

If I'd been physically present in the dream I would've blinked in surprise. But it looked like I could only observe for now, so I started scanning the area. The place seemed pretty normal—abstract art setting the tone of the room, muted saxophones and sugary smells wafting through the air, harried-looking teenagers in aprons preparing lattes and ringing up pastries. But my eyes were drawn to the customers at the front of the line.

They all seemed to be around my age; most of them were girls, a few were boys. The girl nearest to the counter, though, looked somehow familiar. It was something about the mahogany hair, the pale skin, the forest green hoodie…

I could've gasped. It was none other than Ashley Summers, the girl I'd met the previous day.

I forced my consciousness to drift closer to Ashley, who seemed to be arguing with one of her friends. "Come on, Heather. No matter how cool this camp is, I told you, I already have plans for this summer."

Her friend frowned, absently fiddling with the necklace she was wearing. "I just wanted to make sure you've decided. I think time is running out."

Heather's nervous tone reminded me strangely of Flint. Ashley shot her a puzzled look, her emerald-hued eyes shining in the cloudy light of the storefront windows. "You mean for the application deadline? I really don't think I wanna bother. Like I said, I'm gonna be really busy with all those extra music lessons and everything. Besides, I don't really want to get on their mailing list."

Heather nervously twisted a strand of her long hair and stared at the coffee-stained floor tiles like they were the last twenty pages of a really compelling novel. "Actually, I wasn't talking about the deadline," she mumbled.

Ashley noticed that she was next in line and the barista was looking impatient, and so she turned away to order, seemingly glad of an excuse to break off the conversation. I, meanwhile, was starting to feel kind of bad about intruding on the discussion, but I couldn't make myself wake up.

Heather's next words sent a chill sweeping through me. "Ashley, does something around here seem kind of odd to you?"

Ashley was starting to look just a little annoyed. "Well, yes, but besides you…"

It was the exact same exchange that had taken place between Flint and myself yesterday, seconds before the blackout and the Fury attack. But before I could mull this coincidence over, something else interesting happened: the counter exploded.

In a sickeningly familiar transformation, the barista had become some sort of scaly monster and lunged toward Ashley and her friends. Muffins and coffee went flying; patrons screamed and dashed for the exits (although a few guys with laptops sitting in the back of the store didn't even look up.)

"Di Immortales!" Heather shouted. She leapt nimbly onto what was left of the counter, crouched down, and started chanting, her eyes closed tightly.

Ashley and the rest of her companions were slowly being corralled into a circle by the serpentine monster, which was built along the lines of a human but slithered around on dual snake tails. "Monthsss," it hissed ominously. "I have been here for monthsss, ssserving caramel cappucinos to the mortalsss in thisss wretched place. But at lassst, I have found out what I needed to know. Isssn't that right, Ashely SSSummerssss?"

Ashley was rooted to the spot, staring at the monster and swaying back and forth slightly. I had an awful feeling that the thing's golden eyes were hypnotizing her. "I don't – what are you talking about?"

Behind them, Heather's chanting had gradually been getting louder and louder. Finally it concluded with a shout, and all of the coffee shop's customers collapsed simultaneously to the floor, apparently knocked out. A sharp, sudden herbal scent stole into the air, and a green fog hovered over all of the unconscious patrons. Only Ashley, Heather, and an aloof-looking guy with dark hair who'd been with their group were still standing.

The serpentine woman laughed, which was far from a pleasant sound. "Yesss, go on, you pitiful excusssse for a nature ssspirit. Protect the mortalsss while you can. A poor ssssubstitute for you failure as a protector. And now, godlingsss, I shall devour you. And if you don't mind, I'll keep the change."

But the creature barely even had time to lunge forward before she exploded into a dingy shower of dust with a final, echoing shriek, leaving only the damage she'd caused in the shop and a gold nametag reading "Elise." Heather stood behind her, apparently having jumped down from the counter, holding a short dagger which she shoved back into her shoulder bag in disgust. "Oh, I hate stabbing things. Ashley, Colton , are you okay?" I noticed that the rather stylish wool hat she'd been wearing had been dislodged by the battle, revealing her long, pointy ears.

All things considered, I didn't think Ashley could be blamed for screaming.

Heather sighed and looked nervously around her. A few of the coffee store's patrons were beginning to stir. "I only have time for the short version. Basically, I'm a dryad, a nature spirit, like the dracenea said. Heather isn't just my name, I'm actually … yeah. We need to get you out of here."

She turned to face the other guy, looking seriously exasperated. "Colton, why didn't you tell me you were a demigod? I had no idea!"

He shrugged, looking weirdly complacent given everything that had just happened. "Well, I didn't know either."

The dryad blew her bangs out of her face and started picking her way through the maze of unconscious caffeine addicts that stood between her and the door. "Come on, let's go."

The door swung open with a little ding and the three of them left just as my vision dissolved.

The following morning I woke up rather more suddenly than usual, blinked a few times, and, looking around, found that I was still in the Athena Cabin.

Well, by golly.

Before I had time to really process anything, I was interrupted yet again, this time by one of the other Athena kids (possibly Steven, judging from the accent. I realized that it was going to take a while for me to get all of my new siblings straight). "Whenever you're ready, Jason, you can join the rest of us for breakfast in the dining hall. It's that big open building at the top of the hill, you can't miss it. We got you a camp t-shirt, too." With that he tossed one of the eye-wateringly orange shirts onto my bunk and turned to go.

"Thanks, I'll be there in a second," I called after him. He nodded and left.

Well, I told myself, by this point the evidence seems pretty clear that the events of yesterday weren't all just a dream after all. That's … something.

Deciding shortly thereafter that any further introspection could wait until after breakfast, I pulled on the camp t-shirt and the only pair of shorts to which I currently had access – the ones I'd arrived in – and strolled out the door.

I found myself looking up at the sky on my way to the mess hall, as if to see whether it looked any different now that the Greek gods were, apparently, real. Just as I was concluding that it didn't, someone I had never seen before in my life threw her arms around me.

I came down to earth. Quickly.

My mind, which had been extremely busy a second ago, now only seemed to have room for two thoughts:

There's a hot girl I've never met before hugging me, and

…Well, actually, I guess that first one was pretty much it.

Whoever it was detached herself from me with a giggle. "Hey Jason."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I silently cursed myself for not being half as smooth as Biagio in times like these. That was largely due to lack of experience – like I said, I'm a total geek, and up until five seconds ago hadn't even been able to picture something like this happening.

My mind scrambled for an explanation, and in a few seconds one clicked into place. "Um, are you, uh, sure you're not confusing me with that other Jason, the son of Zeus? Apparently, we look pretty similar. I'm Jason Williams, though. I just got here and ..."

The girl cut me off, her coffee-colored eyes sparking. "Oh, yeah, I know who you are. Biagio said you were a son of Athena, right? I think that's totally awesome. I just wanted to be one of the first to introduce myself. I'm Melanie Adams, daughter of Aphrodite."

I blinked and coughed a bit, not at all sure how to respond to all this. Bear in mind, I've never been on so much as one date in my life, and whenever a school dance is coming around, girls avoid me about as much as vampires avoid garlic. It's to be noted that this is one of the many, many factors that make me different from Biagio.

Even though everything around me had suddenly changed forever, I'd been taking some comfort in the fact that I was, at least, still basically the same person. But now, this girl Melanie was making me doubt even that, and it was all getting to be just too much to handle.

Deep psychological concerns aside, it's also pretty hard to think clearly when somebody like Melanie is looking at you, with a few strands of hair falling past her eyes and that teasing sort of half-smile that …

Snapoutofit, Jason!

"Um…hi," I said with great verve and intelligence. I suddenly realized that that was the same brilliant conversation opener I'd used with Ashley the previous night, and experienced a strong urge to disgustedly smack myself in the face.

I made a feeble attempt to salvage the conversation. "So … I … yeah. Uh, what's it like being a daughter of Aphrodite?"

She shrugged. "It's kind of different, now. We just got a new counselor last winter – this girl named Piper McLean."

I grinned. "Not related to Tristan, by any chance?" I imagined that she probably got that a lot – having the same last name as a celebrity means that no one can resist making the same cheap jokes over and over. I should know better, though, since people keep asking me about my dad's next film score …

I was, therefore, rather startled at Melanie's next words, which were "Yes, actually. She's his daughter." "Oh come on, Jason," she continued, "don't give me that surprised look. Gods always go for humans who make a name for themselves in the world. They think it's cute. I don't need some famous name, though. You …" She backed up and corrected herself really obviously –"ahem, I mean I'm better than that."

She was really standing uncomfortably close to me. My mind was babbling at about a million miles an hour, but I couldn't understand a word it was saying.

I must've missed the clearing of throats and mocking laughter some ten feet ahead of me during the general rush – feeling like you face is on fire does that to you – but as Melanie (thankfully) backed away, I noticed a bunch of supermodel-type people in orange shirts standing in that direction. "Come on, Mel, if you don't tear yourself away, you're going to miss breakfast," one of them admonished her.

"Sorry! See you around, Jason," she told me. "And I'm sorry I sort of jumped on you like that. I'm just looking forward to … getting to know you." And with that, she was gone.

I guess we'd been walking away from the cabins during the conversation – or something – because a Greek-columned pavilion filled with what looked like most of the camp now loomed ahead of me. It smelled remarkably like pancakes, so I concluded that it was the mess hall.

Food. That was good. That was something else I could concentrate on.

Shaking my head, I continued up the hill, determined not to think about what had happened for a while.

The passing of a few minutes found me in the pavilion, standing in a long line with the rest of my cabin and holding a plate of waffles and bacon. I had been informed when I arrived that apparently, it was a mealtime tradition at Camp Half-Blood to sacrifice the best portion of your food to the flames as an offering to your godly parent. I supposed that made sense, although I looked with regret at my choicest bacon strip as it was immolated in the flames of the brazier.

A few seconds later, I changed my mind. A shimmering veil of smoke rose languidly from the brazier, smelling like any number of wonderful things. I caught the earthy, pungent smell of olives, a sharp smell like a stronger version of the pine trees outside, spicy hints of garlic, even a touch of double cheeseburger. Anything but charred bacon, essentially. Nearly as soon as I detected it, it was gone. I closed my eyes for a second and awkwardly tried to send a thought to Athena, whom I still had trouble thinking of as an actual, living entity.

I slid back onto the Athena table's marble bench, feeling like the newbie member of the Blonde Squad (the guys closest to me were laughing uproariously over some injoke that seemed to involve the Apollo cabin, a wild boar, and a Greek trireme). I'd slowly been starting to realize just how hungry two monster attacks between as many meals could make you, and set to work savaging my waffles.

I had a lot on my mind, and it took Annabeth three tries to get my attention. At length I heard her and looked up. "Sorry, what?'

I heard a few chuckles among my siblings. Malcolm looked at me thoughtfully until I started to feel like an exceptionally difficult math problem. "Hang on, I've seen that blank, flustered stare before," he eventually said. "Someone from Aphrodite's been after you, am I right?"

You probably know enough about me by now to know that I was way too flustered to say anything, but my total lack of a poker face spoke volumes. A wave of wry, knowing grins spread around the table, like everyone had seen this before.

Annabeth sighed. "That must be a lot to deal with on your first day here. The Aphrodite cabin can be kind of like our opposite sometimes – love isn't always rational. It can make you do stupid things. And when Athena and Aphrodite kids meet, something dramatic usually happens. I'm not saying that's a bad thing – wisdom sometimes needs love to balance it out. But my advice? Don't think that means that they're airheads over in Cabin Ten. They're always planning something or other."

I digested this, impressed by how perceptive my new siblings all seemed to be. I wondered if Sherlock Holmes was in the Athena family tree somewhere.

"That aside," Annabeth continued, stabbing a piece of toast in a let's-get-down-to-business kind of way, "Since you're a new camper, and since I'm your head counselor, I'm going to be showing you some of our weapons, to see if we can find out where your strengths lie. With some cabins it's obvious – like Apollo and arrows and Ares and, well, everything – but since Athena is the goddess of battle, I have no idea what your specialty might be."

Malcolm grinned. "You should've seen Percy Jackson trying to shoot an arrow. Nearly offed a couple of campers in his day."

"But then, if you gave him a sword, he was brilliant," commented another Athena girl, someone with shorter blond hair who I didn't recognize. "We'll be able to figure out your schedule for this summer if we know what you're good at."

As they all started chipping in – talking about ranged and melee weapons, fighting styles, and trying to be at least somewhat proficient at nearly everything – I was getting increasingly nervous. Fleeing in terror was one thing – and, indeed, it had at least gotten me to this point alive – but I wasn't at all sure about starting to handle actual weapons.

Furthermore, it appeared that I had finished with my breakfast, thereby depriving myself of my one excuse to stall. Great.

Well, the nerd in me (at least 62% total) might think I was crazy, but if I was a Greek hero now, I wasn't about to betray any fear. I'd seen enough movies in which the hero turns out to be surprisingly adept with a blade to conclude that this was worth a shot.

When in Rome, said my brain, delighting in the irony. I sighed. "Okay. Where should we start?"

"Oh come on, Jason," Annabeth complained. "That's got to be the first time I've ever seen a straw dummy look like it was winning."

It was about half an hour later, and I was standing in a dusty amphitheater, holding a sword made out of something called celestial bronze and trying to keep the sun out of my eyes. So far, I'd been doing miserably at swordfighting. Holding and swinging a sword properly had turned out to be a lot harder than your average epic fantasy movie implies, and as soon as I'd summon the guts necessary to take a stab (ha) at one of the basic maneuvers that Annabeth had shown me, I'd lose my balance again. I was sweating like crazy, my hands were covered in calluses, and I felt like a total freshman, in the worst possible sense of the term.

I made another flailing disaster of myself, thanking the gods (I was trying to get into the habit) that I had at least kept all of my limbs. For now. "Y'know, I just don't thing swords are really my thing. Should we try something else?"

Annabeth, who for a moment had looked like she was trying not to laugh, nodded quickly. "Maybe archery?" she suggested. "That's more like our cabin, I suppose. It could be that swordplay is just too personal and in-your-face for you…with a bow and arrow, it's all in your mind. Precision is the key. Let's see how you do."

She jogged out of the arena and I followed, drowning in a sea of second thoughts.

The Apollo cabin happened to be practicing archery at the edge of the lake, so Annabeth and I grabbed a couple of extra bows and got in line with the rest of the group. I quickly discerned exactly how much of a fool I was about to make of myself—as I watched the Apollo kids shoot, I began to remember that their father was, among other things, a god of archery.

It showed. The more experienced campers treated dead-on bullseyes like they were no big deal, and even the newer half-bloods were showing off some extremely impressive skills.

Suddenly, I noticed that one of these new demigods was none other than Ashley Summers, who'd apparently been claimed the previous night. I was reminded of the odd dream about her I'd just had, and was so lost in thought that I missed most of Annabeth's hurriedly whispered instructions about how to nock an arrow. I hoped the Cliffs Notes amount I'd actually heard would be sufficient for now.

Annabeth took a quick turn after the Apollo kids to show me how it was done—naturally she was incredible, although she'd admitted earlier that knives were more her thing. As I vaguely watched the arrows whiz through the air, the gleaming sunlight making them look like flashes of lightning, I realized that it had been almost exactly twenty-four hours since the whole crazy adventure had started.

I was still grappling with the stark revelation that your whole life could change, just like that—yesterday morning I'd been wondering whether I could finish my Basic Psych homework during study hall, and now everything I knew had been ripped away, and here I was now, about to shoot some arrows at a camp for children of the gods. I felt like I'd suddenly absorbed an encyclopedia—there was a whole new world I had to come to terms with all of a sudden.

And here I was, trying to get a solid footing on the sandy lakeshore (apparently Cabin Seven had been practicing there for the extra challenge) and string an arrow at the same time. Trying to remember what I'd been told, I pulled the string back and let fly.

A sudden, jagged flare of pure pain, and then darkness.

Groggily, I tried to force my eyelids open, but only the right one seemed to work. When I persisted with the left, it hurt – a LOT – so I gave up.

Disorientingly, I was now in a bed with crisp sheets and vintage-y looking blankets, surrounded by posters that all seemed to be rather cheesy mythological riffs on those school-infirmary "stay healthy "ones. The one exception was a massive painting in a style that reminded me of Leonardo da Vinci. It depicted a bearded, toga-clad shap and his pet snake, and was labeled "ASCLEPIVS." Licking my lips, I caught an out-of-place aftertaste of grilled cheeseburger – the ones like my dad would always make, grilled with all sorts of fancy techniques, marinades and seasonings just so he could show off. Even the vague aftertaste brought memories rolling back. A thought drifted out from the depths of my pain-addled cranium: Biagio had said something similar about the ambrosia he'd been given, only with lasagna.

It was about five rather boring minutes later – I'd memorized the details of ASCLEPUVS' beard for lack of anything better to do, and was starting to get seriously annoyed by that pain in my left eye—that Annabeth stopped in and found that I was awake. She was followed by two other campers – an in-charge-looking guy I remembered from my archery session, and none other than Ashely Summers.

Annabeth surveyed me critically and asked if I felt all right, but was interrupted from behind by a loud "SNERK" as the Apollo guy frantically struggled to stop himself from laughing.

From this, I was beginning to piece together that something with the archery lesson had gone rather badly awry, but still I felt too addled to get any further. "Um, what … what happened here?" I managed.

The Apollo guy gave up and melted into hysterics. Annabeth shot him a look. "You, um, let go of the arrow at the wrong time, and it snapped back and hit you in the eye. Mr. Sensitive here, Will Solace, says you're gonna be okay."

"I'm – s – sorry," Will managed between gasps. "Just never seen anyone do that before. Anyway, this was right up my alley, since Apollo's the god of medicine as well as archery. We gave you some ambrosia, patched up the wound – don't touch it! – and you should have peripheral vision and everything back in about a week." He saluted casually and sauntered out, and to his credit didn't laugh again while he was still in earshot.

Ashley stepped forward with an apologetic sort of half-grin, her usually pale face going all pink. "Sorry – I just wanted to tag along and stop in – I felt really bad about your …"

" Making a total fool out of myself?" I supplied. "No, it's cool. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, I suppose."

Looking at her, I couldn't get that strange dream out of my head. It felt odd that I had seen part of her story without knowing how – like I was keeping some sort of secret that even I couldn't identify.

I decided to change the subject. "So, you were claimed by Apollo, I guess?"

She nodded. "I stayed at the Hermes Cabin last night – I just got claimed early this morning. I guess it makes sense – I'm a music geek, and I even took some archery lessons once. Apparently that's pretty common for—for us."

"My name feels like some kind of sick pun, now, though."

I chuckled, "I guess I'm just lucky that I wasn't called …" I reached around for the right name – "Um, Jason Owl, or Jason Socrates, or something."

Ashley and I made awkward demigod-hospital-bedside small talk for another minute or two (something I hope you never have to go through) and after she left, Annabeth asked to talk to me alone for a second.

For what felt like several minutes she paced around, studying me closely. Anyone who's ever thought of gray as a boring color, trust me, you've never seen an Athena kid's eyes when they're really concentrating on something. I started to worry that her intense gaze would cause me to just quietly burst into flames before she finished her analysis.

"Jason…" Annabeth said eventually, and I was surprised to hear something of a tremor in her voice. She had always seemed totally in control in the short time I'd known her, but now she almost sounded scared. "I don't want to tell you too much. This is a dangerous subject, and regular campers aren't supposed to know, but Chiron thinks there's something odd about the way you got here. Just don't tell anyone I asked you this."

She collapsed onto an uncomfortable-looking chair in the corner of the room. "Does the name Gaea mean anything to you?"

I thought about it. "Umm, isn't that the earth spirit that hippies…" I remembered the connection halfway through my sentence. "Oh, wait, wasn't she the first goddess in Greek mythology?"

Annabeth nodded pensively. "Right. Do you recognize these lines? Seven half-bloods will answer the call, to storm or fire…no?"

I'd been shaking my head, feeling increasingly puzzled. Annabeth got up and turned to leave, then stopped herself and asked one last question.

"Do you know any Latin?"

I thought about this for a moment, then repeated, as best as I could remember, the motto I'd seen over the Athena cabin's door the previous day. Annabeth froze in her tracks, looking severely shaken. "Jason, it doesn't say anything like that, and it's in Greek. Do you have any idea why you saw it that way? I'm at a loss."

I shrugged, resisting the urge to rub my wounded eye, and crashed back down onto the mattress. "Sorry, I don't know anything."

Never in my life had I felt more like that was true.

Hey all, this is Maecenas, back again after a notable Jason Williams absence.
This one, however, has a definite cause: "The Lost Hero" was released in the time after Chapter 4, and those of you who have read it probably noticed some strong similarities to my story. It goes far beyond a blond hero named Jason (great minds, eh?)—a lot of things I'd planned for later on in my series were similar to stuff in the Heroes of Olympus. I guess I'm pretty much just a mini-Riordan, or something…

Therefore, I reworked my long-term plans for Jason Williams a little, and I think it's going to be a better story for it. The challenge was actually helpful in refining some of my long-term plans. In addition, you can expect to see chapters 1-4 getting some minor alterations in the coming weeks (including a bonus manticore attack!)

Meanwhile, I hope you liked Chapter 5! Thanks for reading as always.

Maecenas out.