Chapter 2

LYNN

Lynn looked down from her perch in the tall maple tree that stood at the edge of the Camp's forest. She'd always loved heights, and her ability to climb quickly and with stealth was helping her in the game of hide-and-seek she was playing with Lindsey and some of the younger campers. As it turned out, Lindsey loved these types of games, and she and Lynn had come up with quite a few interesting variations, one of which involved having to hide in Bunker 9 without being seen by either Leo or whoever was It. The result was normally everyone, including the person who was It, hiding, squealing and giggling, as the sleep-deprived Leo stumbled around his bunker trying to find the source of the voices he could swear he was hearing, but couldn't tell if they were real or not, since he was pretty sure he was hallucinating.

Louis had gotten over his fear of Lynn, and they were now friends—if you can count all of Lynn's teasing, mocking, laughing at and playing tricks on him as friendship. Lindsey and Louis's half-sister, Kristen Sanders, both loved watching Lynn tease Louis, and the older girl gave them some very useful pointers.

Lynn herself had started to open up, and readily joined in all the social gatherings and games at Camp, a big surprise to some of the campers, who'd mostly thought that children of Hades were distant and either shy or had anger issues.

At the moment, the version of hide-and-seek they were all playing was try-and-hit-Louis-with-a-paintball-as-many-times-as-possible-without-being-caught; that was why Lynn was up in a tree. The son of Aphrodite tended to scream and run away whenever a paintball gun was fired in his vicinity—seeing as he had no idea that he was currently It—so high-up places were best for scouting around the area and getting clear shots.

She heard footsteps beneath her, and she took aim, fingering the trigger. But Louis wasn't the one to appear. Lindsey stood out in the open, eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck.

Following her gaze, she saw the aforementioned "truck." Two adults; a man and woman; hands clasped; golden wedding bands glistening. They appeared around thirty-five or forty—Lynn was not always a good judge of age—and they seemed angry, sad, relieved, and confused all at once. The woman had dark brown hair—perhaps a shade darker than Lynn's—tied into a simple updo. The white of her eyes surrounding her striking blue irises were bloodshot, the smear of mascara indicating she had cried recently. Her cheeks looked flushed, however, judging by how pale her arms were, it could just be her normal complexion.

The man had short-cropped hair that reminded Lynn of Chris Pine. It had seemed dirty blonde at first, perhaps with the slightest red tint. His eyes were hazel—an amber splash close to the pupil surrounded by forest-green irises.

Lynn had picked up this in a matter of seconds—surprised by her own attention to detail. Perhaps she too had a demigod gift. It reminded her of that TV show she watched years ago—what was it called? That one with the private detective with a bunch of phobias…oh! Monk! She reminded herself of Monk. The thought made her smile.

Returning her focus to the Milan's—she wasn't sure when she had figured out these were Lindsey's parents, but now it seemed obvious—she realized how awkward this was about to get.

"A month, Lindsey," Mrs. Milan muttered. "A month since you vanished, our neighbor's house exploding that very night. Not a call. Not a sign. Nothing to tell us you were alright. Your sister is dead! Lizzie Amelia Milan is dead!"

"Who told you?" Lindsey said, fighting back tears.

"Chiron. We know everything. Except—why?" Mr. Milan said.

Lindsey sobbed, running to them. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry!"

And both parents, heartbroken, confused, angry even, welcomed their daughter back with open arms. Intrigued by the relationship, Lynn shimmied up higher for a better view, crawling carefully along the maple branches.

She heard a snap and next thing she knew, she was laying on the ground—wind knocked out of her. Embarrassed, she got up, brushed herself off, and apologized to the family.

"It's okay, Lynn!" Lindsey said with a laugh, wiping her tears away. "I want you to meet my parents. This is my dad, Phillip, and my mom, Sierra."

"It's a pleasure," Lynn said politely, offering her hand. "I'm Lynn. Lynn Stacey."

Mr. Milan shook it, but Sierra stood there, shocked. "Lynn Stacey? No, it can't be…"

"What can't be?" Lindsey asked. "What's the matter with Lynn Brianne Stacey, age fifteen, born June 14th, adopted daughter of Walter and Alice Stacey, actual daughter of Hades, god of the Underworld?"

Lindsey smiled broadly, giving Lynn an "I did get that right, right?" look. Lynn nodded. How she managed to remember all that, she would never know.

Sierra gasped, and Phillip wrapped his arm around her. He whispered to her, "Is she…yours?"

Sierra nodded, her mouth agape. Lynn stood there, baffled. Finally, Sierra spoke. "She's my…" She looked directly at Lynn now, her eyes burning right into Lynn's.

"You're my daughter."

They sat in a circle in the shade of the maple tree. Sierra was silent, yet her countenance seemed calculating, trying to figure out the best way to explain her impossible, unbelievable statement that Phillip had no trouble believing.

The mood had changed so dramatically, even Lindsey the chatterbox had fallen silent, picking at the grass.

Biting her lip, Sierra looked up, smiled slightly, and began her explanation.

Sixteen Years Ago

Sierra Ashby's Point of View

I was a senior in high school when I met a god. I was the introverted, fair skinned, blue eyed, dark haired beauty of my class. But I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I was intimidated by the term "future." Then I met Hades.

He came in, with his ghostly presence and his dark shades. I was drawn to him—the god who was Outcast; who didn't quite fit in; the god that lived in darkness. I could relate to him on a deeper level than any jock or techie or musically inclined guys at the school. It only took a month before I was madly in love with him. He asked me to marry him a month later. I didn't tell my parents, I just ran off with him and we got married at the courthouse, and I was happy.

But that happiness only stayed another month. I woke up, and he was gone. A note on the counter of our cheap apartment read:

"I'm sorry, Sierra Ashby, but I'm a god. Gods do not settle, it never would have worked out anyways. As it is, this breaks a treaty with my brothers—though Poseidon already broke his part five years ago, as did Zeus. I'm sorry. Goodbye. I will always look after you, but you will never see me again. –H"

In three months, I had fallen in love, gotten married, and then was abandoned by my husband. He destroyed all marital records. I was alone. And I realized who I was.

I was a fool. I was a girl who longed for love so much that I fell for the first person who showed any interest in me.

I found out a week after he left that I was pregnant. My first instinct was to get an abortion. But it occurred to me—so many religions call it murder, a sin, a wrongdoing. If those were right, would it not apply more so if I aborted the child of a god—a demigod as they were called?

So I asked for help from my high school best friend, Phillip Milan. He lent me money to pay my rent and brought me groceries and paid for my hospital bills. He told me I should try to raise the child, that there were plenty of people in the area that could help me rebuild my life and get my family situated. But I was so angry at Hades for putting this duty on me, that my heart was stone set on putting my baby up for adoption.

Walter and Alice came to the birth. They were ecstatic to have their own child. After the baby girl was delivered, I got to hold her for a moment. Her eyes were blue like mine, a soft tuft of dark brown hair like mine. And I remembered when I was twelve; how I used to come up with baby names for kids I'd have some day. One stood out and I whispered, "Hello, Lynn Brianne Ashby."

But then the Stacey's took their daughter. I didn't try to stop them, but I made sure they knew her name.

Lynn Brianne Stacey.

Before I knew it, I was dating Phillip. I told him how I regretted giving you up, but there was nothing I could do. He understood me, and he promised he'd never leave me as Hades had. He said that as he proposed. And I said yes. By then I was twenty, and I was ready to start my life over.

Sierra looked at Lynn, expectantly. "I never stopped regretting. Will you please find a way to forgive me?"

Lynn nodded solemnly. "But…would it be okay if I called you mom?"

PERCY

Percy tripped and fell. He could feel empty space beneath his feet, and his life flashed before his eyes. All this happened in a fraction of a second, and in the next second, his immediate reaction of grabbing a nearby vine saved him from certain death. He looked below him to see huge waves crashing against jagged cliffs, and Percy's heart pounded against his ribcage. The ground had dropped away so quickly that it had taken his breath away. The thick jungle he'd been stumbling through a moment ago had ended abruptly, and Percy certainly would've been killed on the sharp rocks below if it hadn't been for his honed reflexes.

Over the past few days, as he wandered through the island, he'd encountered some rather dangerous trials, and he was now always on the lookout for danger. A couple months earlier—maybe even a couple of weeks—his sloppy demigod skills—or lack thereof—would've gotten him killed. But facing all the perils in Tartarus and now on this island had quickly brought back his old skills.

Being very careful, Percy pulled himself away from the precarious edge, and planted his feet once again on firm ground. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up piece of tree bark, on which he had sketched a rough map of the parts of the island he'd explored. He had also pulled out a sharpened stick, and with this he drew a cove into the edge of his basic sketch of the island. He couldn't be sure exactly where this inlet was, but he thought that his guess was probably close enough. He sighed exhaustedly. It would take weeks, possibly even months to make a precise map of the entire island. It was small enough—Percy had hiked across it in a day, but going around the perimeter to try and map it all out had proved to be extremely difficult. But exploring the coastline wasn't the hardest part: that was trying to map out the interior of the island. From the beach where Percy and Annabeth had put up their hut, it'd looked fairly easy to hike from there to a small point jutting out to the north, and, once he'd reached the point and was looking back towards the beach, they looked to be only a mile apart. But normally, it didn't take Percy five hours to hike a mile. True, he'd been going through heavy underbrush the entire time, but Riptide had taken care of that, and he'd been sure he was going in a straight line the whole way.

The same thing was happening now. Percy had left the beach at 8:30 in the morning, as far as he could tell from the sun's position at the time, and he'd been going for about seven and a half hours, and he could now see that the inlet he'd almost fallen into was a mere two or three miles from where he'd started out. It just didn't make sense. This whole thing didn't make any sense! Here he was, trapped on an island with a pregnant wife, with no way to communicate to the outside world, and absolutely no way of knowing why they were on this stupid island in the first place! Of course, there had to be a reason…didn't there? Percy didn't know what to think. With the island messing with his mind as it was, he probably didn't even know how to think anymore.

He sighed again, and looked back the way he'd come. Annabeth would start to get worried if he wasn't back soon, and, although he had a good three hours of daylight left, he couldn't be sure how long it would take him to get back, and one thing Percy did not want on his hands was a stressed-out, pregnant wife.

Putting the map and stick back in his pocket, he turned to head deeper into the trees, concentrating hard on how he'd navigate back the way he'd come. He'd taken his first step into the jungle when he noticed something was wrong. Everything had gotten very quiet, even the crickets that were constantly chirping. There was something close by, something big, that nature was afraid of. And that something wasn't Percy.

The next thing he felt were razor-sharp claws dragging down his back, and warm blood starting to flow. The slash had reopened the wound he'd gotten when he'd met a monster after he'd first gone back to Tartarus to find Nico, and his back felt like it was on fire. He cried out in pain, and his vision turned fuzzy at the edges. His last thought before blacking-out was Annabeth.

When Percy woke up, the sun was starting to touch the rim of the horizon, but something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it…oh. No wonder something was wrong. He was hanging upside-down. His head was dangling over the same spot where he'd almost fallen earlier; he could see the same jagged rocks and huge waves beating against the cliffs below him. His back ached, and he let out a low moan. He had no clue how long he'd been hanging there, and as to how he was supposed to get free without falling to his death, well, that was a question he certainly didn't know the answer to. He also had no idea if the thing that had hung him up here was still around. He would have to be very careful how he went about this…

Percy suddenly felt himself jerk, and he slipped downwards. He gasped, and looked around for something to grab. Unfortunately, his arms were pinned to his sides by a vine that also wrapped around his feet. He knew that if he tried to struggle, there was a high likelihood that his feet would come undone, and he'd send himself to a fatal plunge. He strained his neck to look up at his feet, and he felt like someone was hammering something into his skull. How long had all the blood been rushing to his head?

The vine slid again, and this time Percy caught the sound of popping. He listed off all of the popping sounds he knew, but couldn't locate what this particular sound was, unless someone was popping popcorn nearby, which was unlikely. Then he had it: it was the vine. It must be caught against something, and that something was causing it to…uh-oh. That something was causing it to fray.

The vine jerked again, but this time, instead of going down, it went up. Percy's head swam as he was pulled upwards, and he didn't have much time to think about what was awaiting him at the top of his ascent before blackness covered his vision.