Why a year? Demigods have so many advantages, I need a reasonable amount of time to give my oc a fighting chance... even the weakest demigod starts off super strong, faster, durable and they all heal faster. Some more so than others, I needed a realistic time to develop.

I am sorry for the change, but the last story sucked bad. All tell and no show...

Everything about this story is superior...

They were pretty miserable that night. They camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

Rowan was disgusted by the pollution, he had always made an attempt to clean up local areas when he camped out.

They'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's and decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take first watch. Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

"Go ahead and sleep," Percy told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble."

He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, Percy."

"What does? The fact that you signed up for this stu pid quest?"

"No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

He glared at Percy "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast ... ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

Turning to Percy, Rowan said. "Pan, Percy, the god of the Wilds and so many other things. He is Grover's lord, the lord of all Satyrs...Charlie told me about the search, that the Saytrs are looking for him."

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rain-water, things that might've once been in these woods.

"Tell me about the search," Percy said.

Grover looked at him cautiously.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for othe satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"And you want to be a searcher."

"It's my life's dream," he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there-"

"Oh, right, sorry."

Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."

"Hang on-the first?"

Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

"Not once in two thousand years?"

"No."

"And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?"

"None."

"But you still want to go," Percy said, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

"I have to believe that, Percy. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."

Rowan sighed. "Grover, have you ever thought it better to actually try cleaning the world instead of searching for a potentially dead god?" He stopped Grover's words with a stern glance. " I am not being mean, but blaming humans while never helping undo it, when you can literally eat the garbage we can't really do anything about it wrong and backwards."

Grover just sighed. "I guess... you do make a point..."

Rowan rolled over and, before he could so much as flinch, felt his conciousness pulled out of his body, towards the endless expanse of darkness beneath him... towards the Underworld itself. He found himself settling before a man on a throne of bones and shadows. The man was beautiful, tall and lovely in all ways. He had thick black hair, almost purple in it's intensity, with fair skin and an air of power so intense it made Rowan tingle across his skin.

"Lord Hades?"

The man nodded, smirking. "And you are Rowan, I must say you are smaller than I imagined." That made Rowan roll his eyes. "But enough joking, I have brought your mind here for a reason. A thank you first and foremost. You defended my honor when so few would. I appreciate that, and you will be rewarded for that. Now, as for the next part... come to my realm and you will be honored with easy access so we can find the culprit who stole not only the Masterbolt... but also my Helm."

Rowan recoiled. "The Helm?"

"Yes, I haven't said a word about it, knowing no one would care if I said a word, that they would keep it if it was taken. No, I must rely on others, not my family... your good soul is one I believe I can trust. So I ask you, find my helm and return it to me."

"I will do my best, no matter how helpless I feel as a mortal."

He laughed. "You bested Luke Castellen, the best Swordsman in three centuries! Granted it was through magic but still, you are more than capable. Now go, your mortal body and soul can only handle astral projection for so long. Go with my blessing and hurry on your way. Remember to follow your instincts."

And like that the dream shattered, leaving him to the darkness of restful sleep.

Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.

This was a joy to write.

Love, your Ninja Overlord,

Mika.