Sorry it has been so long. But not to worry, cause this is gonna be (Hopefully) a good chapter. On with the chapter! Also, if you notice, DotC is not here (Thank the Gods.) Just me here, so it will take me much longer to update this than Dragon of Hell because of that. That, and I haven't gotten any feedback on this in ages, so I am basically writing this for me and myself now. It will get published on my own time, unlike DoH where I am gonna franticly pump out chapters like a crazed man.

And despite it being slow, I will continue to do it. Just going to be more like two chapters a year than the normal chapter a month for DoH.

?'s Pov:

Too long… it has been too long. Too long since I saw the stars. Too long since I saw the sun or the moon. Too long since I felt grass under foot. Too long since I breathed in the cool winds. Too long since I felt the rivers lap against my legs. Too long since my hair stood on end from an incoming storm. Too long since I smelt the flowers that covered the great fields. Too long since I heard the hussle and bussle of the Olympian, Titan, or Mortal cities. And I miss it all.

It has been too long...

I can only sigh as I drag along a black claw across the crimson brimstone of my cell's floor, finishing the intricate design I have been long carving to the shape of a elegant looking tribal designed demon like wolf with a pair of large wings spread out behind it and a pair of large elk like antlers coming from its head along with a pair of ibex like horns from it as well. It also has three tails, four evil looking eyes, and eight legs.

The door to my prison opens, and I see my old friend walk in.

"Tartarus!" I crow, a smile spreading over my gray face.

"How are you, N?" Asks my old friend, sitting across from me and stares at the wolf, my only reminder of my past.

"I have been better, my old friend… But I have accepted the fact that I will never find a host worthy of my powers so I may pass on." I sigh, tapping my clawed hands on my thighs.

"Not true, my dear friend." Claims the Lord of the Pit, adjusting himself so he sits into a similar position to me, crossing his legs like and indian and resting his palms on his knees.

"We tried so many… Mortals and gods alike can't handle my power…" I groan.

"We went to Gods meant to do good, Gods meant to do evil, Heros that had fought for everything and got everything, Men that had worked their way to greatness, Men that went to nothing, Villains that turned good, Heroes that went sour, Villians that found greatness, and Villains that lost everything. But never had we a strong enough Hero that lost it all, until now." Explains Tartarus, a calming smile spreading over his trickster face, but I have learned long ago how to read him like a book. He was honest.

"Is that so… Who is this 'Hero'?" I sigh.

"Perseus Arthus Jackson, Son of Poseidon, Hero of Olympus, One of the Seven, Bane of Monsters, Killer of Titans, Slayer of Kronos and Co Slayer of Gaia, Seaweed Brain, and Leader of a group of Demigods and Monsters that are working together now." Claims Tartarus. I had to snicker at Seaweed Brain, I mean, how do you get that title?

"And pray tell, how do you think that he has lost enough to be able to make him different from the others?" I groan, shifting in my seated position.

"He managed to walk through my domain and outsmart Nyx with a girl whom was with him as both friend, lover, hero and anchor, he lost that girl to Gaia, Managed to befriend she-who-used-to-kill-and-tortures-men-for-sport, suffered from two godly wars, several quests and prophecies, is in outcast in the place he once called home which is now divided into a civil war over him and his choices, united the greeks and romans while they were at each other's throats only for the union to split because of him, pissed off at least four pantheons of gods, and now is going to save one of the only demi-primordials in almost three hundred centuries and tick off the king of Olympus… again. Chaos knows how many times he has done that." Deadpans Tartarus. Oook… This kid does got some serious issues with the fates…

"I see what you mean by that, Pit." I comment. "So, he has a chance to do it… We shall test him and see."

My old friend smiles, a creepy gesture to any mortal or god and usually a frightening one to monsters, but I am no ordinary God or Monster.

"Let us get to work, Nyctimus." He smirks, as he stares me down. The God of the Pit extends his hand to the Son of the Wolf and Cursed Shifter. Poetic beginnings, must be one of Apollo's best works if the legends of his terrible haikus are true.

Then I disintegrate into black dust and glass shards.

Percy's Pov:

Normally, when someone has a demigod dream, they would see the impending doom that is about to come, or some sort of monster plot that needs to be foiled, or a loved one blaming them for all the shortcomings and mistakes that were ever made, or it is some sort of god or hero of old giving some advice or wanting you to do something.

I never expected a man who shifts between a boy and a thirty year old man to appear. And I can tell it is a normal man/boy, and not a god.

Let me describe him to you, so you can tell as well. First off, he has wild and unruly raven hair. Not uncommon in gods, but still should be noted that it looks a lot like mine but longer. Second, he is pale. Not Nico or Hades' death pale, more like a guy-who-hasn't-seen-the-sun-in-decades-because-of-imprisonment-or-video-games-only-only-to-get-some-now pale. Definitely something most gods wouldn't have, unless they were imprisoned. Third, his eyes are a glowing yellow, and they have scarring around it. Ok, unless you are Hephesaus or Prometheus or even Ares, you don't go around with scars covering you, and especially acid scars surrounding your eyes. Even then, they also have much more mirth filled and godly like eyes, not his rather dull animalistic and… feral looking eyes. Fourth, he is wearing a suit and royal looking cape. The fact he is wearing one isn't the problem, it's that the suit, tie, shirt, pants, and even the socks look a bit too big on him and the cape is sagging into his shoulders, making him have these really uncomfortable shoulder spikes. Fifth, his hands are normal, besides the fact his fingernails are black claws, and his toes have similar black talons ripping through the black socks. Finally, he is looking at me with a look of some sort of longing and hope? A strange combo, especially for a man who looks a bit look like a monster, cause I would expect a murderous or hungry look on his face, but it is just a look of a man who has despaired for too long.

"Perseus A Jackson?" He asks, his eyes flickering all around the blank space we are in. No seriously, it is just sheet white. There is absolutely nothing here…

"Yes? Who is asking?" I skeptically reply.

"N."

"Just N?"

"For now." He chuckles, a smirk playing across his thin smile, showing sharpened teeth beneath his lips, not necessarily fangs but not normal teeth.

"Ok, N, why am I here?" I ask, reaching into my pocket, and feeling no Riptide. Right, dream. No weapons here unless you are gonna fight fairly. Which is never.

"Calm thyself." He calls, holding up his clawed hands in the mocking universal 'I surrender' position. "And as for why your here, it is to help me."

"And why should I help a monster like you?" I growl. He bows his head and sighs.

"Right, my appearance… should have known my father's curse would still be in affect, even in a dream. No matter…" He grumbles. "I am not a monster. I am a descendant of Zeus, and a victim of the backlash of my father's curse."

"Who is your old man then, if this is the backlash of his curse."

"My father is Lycan." The man deadpans, staring me down with his animal like eyes, which suddenly make sense.

"You are son of the Werewolf King?" I ask in bewitherment.

"He was just a mortal king when I was alive." He groans, "And he killed me, fed me to the people he had a thing for, got cursed, got me revived and suffering the backlash of his curse, cast out of Olympus, and into Tartarus where I hid from everything."

"O-oh… Wait your…" I snap my fingers, trying to remember this guy's name. "Nictimos!" I cheer. Thank gods for Anna… Her lessons… They are paying off quite well now.

"Nyctimus, but close enough." He sighs. "So, you know my name… And you know my folly."

"Still doesn't explain why I am here." I murmur, looking around at the STILL BLANK SPACE! COME ON! MY ADHD CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS! GIVE ME SOMETHING! ANYTHING!

The landscape shifts into a familiar and yet not familiar one. And I really don't like it.

Black glass like sand swirling into the shapes of ghosts and souls at our feet. Red and maroon cracked cliffs live with flames and lava surround us, and a boiling river of bright kool aid red cutting through the hellish landscape. The difference? The large black stones jutting out of the landscape like a spine going right next to the river, the barren black pine trees all around us, and the thousands of skeletons littering the ground by our feet, both of man and of monster.

Why, why am I back in Tartarus?

"Ah, I see you and I have found a common location that we relate on… though, I would have prefered somewhere in Greece, but no matter. As for why you are… well, here… is that I want you to free me." Chuffs the Werewolf Princeling.

I narrow my eyes at the son of a mutt, looking at him for any deception, but judging by what he just said, I am fairly certain he was upfront about it.

"And, pray tell, why or how would I do that. For all I know, you'll amase an army together and take over Olympus." I mused.

"On freeing me and to prove my sincerity of how I won't betray you and lead an army onto Olympus is simple; You must take my powers." He exclaimed, extending his hands out to either side in a show of drama.

"Ok, first off, hands down. You look like an idiot." I deadpan, blankly looking at the now blushing wolfish looking boy, who looks around 9 in age, in a brown hoodie and a pair of white blood stained sweatshorts. Other than that, he looks like before, same hair, same eyes, same fangs and claws. Just kid form.

"S-sorry." He rests his hands in his hoodie pockets, and raises his eyebrows in surprise. "I now see why people dress like this. It is rather relaxing and comfortable."

"I know, right!" I cheer. "Off track, but my second point, how would that prove your innocence?"

"Once I have my powers and abilities transferred over you, I basically detach myself from the godly world in everything but blood. I will be a clear sighted mortal in all senses but the fact I am the descendant of Zeus and can go onto Olympus. Beyond that, Monsters won't take notice of me. I'll live a normal partly immortal life." He claims with a shrug.

"Final thing, just one last thing… What are these powers I would 'take'?"

"Well, not just powers per say, more like my curse and abilities. As I was given divinity when I was 'reborn' and was also influenced by my father's curse, I gained the abilities to communicate with monsters, to bend monsters weaker than either my strength, my will, or my intelligence to their knees to serve, even if was only a few cyclopes and a stray centaur, and I have also gained the ability to shapeshift into whatever I slay. Once again, only the rouge centaur who I gave mercy to, but also a great deal of my brothers whom I killed off to lower the number of my father's forces before I was locked here. As well as my powers as a descendant of Zeus." His voice comes out as eerie and disturbing, the true power he possesses rolling off him in waves as he once again turned back to his man form, this time in a black sith like robe with the hoodie pouch and black sweatpants and black foot and hand wraps.

"What would that do to me." I inquire, shifting my foot through the glass like sand.

"I am, not sure actually. I know this though… you will be too strong to be ignored by the gods. Whether you go with or against them, that is your choice. But I recommend that you stay out of those politics until you get a strong offer to be swayn to either side." Recommended the ancient man wearing the skin of a monster.

"I…" I looked to him, to see face of a man who was imprisoned for centuries and just wanted to be free and to get away from the world that wrongfully locked him away. I didn't know the face well, but I knew the face of a man who wanted nothing more than to be free from and endless and injust cycle.

I sigh reluctantly, and took a good look at those primal and scarred golden yellow eyes. The eyes of an intelligent and wise animal, of a creature who is more than a man or a monster. One who walked both paths. And for some reason, I know those eyes, The eyes of Nyctimus, are going to haunt or bless me.

"I accept."

A fanged grin appears on his face. The beam of joy sent waves of warmth to my heart. It's the smile of a free man.

"So how do we go about relieving you of your powers?" I ask, looking to a different looking man. His scars seem to gain much more depth, sinking into his worn eyes. His mane of wild hair is now grizzled and silvery. He looks a bit thinner, and is leaning forward. His claws look dulled and his hands gained more calluses, but didn't shrivel. All in all, he looks like a healthy older man, one who didn't wrinkle or diminish in strength and power. His clothes, however, changed into a robe, with many folds and such that fits calmly and nicely upon his muscled but old frame. The robe looked like nothing special. Just a plain old light brown robe, but a gray fur pelt of an animal that I couldn't identify was thrown over his back.

He reaches out, and grasps my wrists, his feral eyes staring into mine. Then, comes the surge. Imagine getting enough adrenaline pumped into your system, enough strength that you feel like you could do anything and then more, and you are left there wondering 'How the fucking Hades am I alive and not a puddle of demigod goop on the ground.' Then, he started to change. He looked like a young man again, but his eyes were a light blue, his smile looked much more human, and the scars around his eyes disappeared. He retained his unruly black hair and pale as shit skin, but he looked better.

One look into the slightly reflective glass ground, and I knew I didn't.

My tanned skin turned sallow fast, my eyes going from sea green to a much darker poison green and the scars that were around his were adopted onto my face. My hair became much wilder, my teeth felt more pointed and straighter, and I felt good.

No seriously. I felt like I could take a scenic walk through Tartarus and Mordor right after breakfast and still make it back to camp by midnoon tea.

Wait, the fuck is midnoon tea? And where the hell is Mordor?

"See ya on the other side." Comes a rather joyful cheer. Either Nyctimus or Tartarus (Let's face it, he was watching this entire thing with a bowl of popcorn), possibly both, left the dream.

Wait, no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no -

Pop!

"I'M NOT READY!" I screamed out the moment my eyes opened up. I notice I am in the open, surrounded by monsters on all sides, and Tartarus is sitting in all his glory to my left.

Everyone, including an giant that was titan sized and had one eye that looked a bit like a monsterfied Nico, a crackling Thalia with a pair of hellhounds stalking around her like the wolves in the Hunt, Clarisse who has a Pit Scorpion resting on her shoulder like a pet and very large and furry Cyclops next to her like a bouncer.

"Why are you here, Lord Tartarus?"

And there we go! So sorry for the long wait, but hopefully with this insight on what Percy was doing and how he is getting his new powers will be worth my delay in plot.

See you when I get another one out!

-D.S.o.N.a.H.