A/N : this is the rewrite.

All rights go to Rick Riordan; I do not own anything.

Reviews are appreciated

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.

You might think I'm crazy for saying that. Who wouldn't want to be half god?

Well, it's not as simple as it sounds. And way less fun that you think it is.

Don't believe me?

Well, let me explain.

It began several weeks- no months— ago. I woke up, alone, confused, inside a large building that looked like an abandoned castle from the sixteenth century. There wasn't much left of it besides a few walls that were made up of roughly hewn beams of wood and deep brown brick that looked like it would crumble at the slightest gust of wind.

I didn't know where I was, and what I was doing.

This wasn't something that happened to just anyone. I wondered if I was special. Some type of hero.

Or maybe just a really, really lost hiker.

By now you may be wondering, what the heck is going on and who is this kid?

I'm Percy Jackson, by the way. But you can call me Percy.

I'm a skinny thirteen year old with black hair and green eyes that look like the sea— at least, that's what people tell me. I'm ADHD and dyslexic, but besides that, I'm just a regular teenager.

I think.

See, that's the annoying part.

I don't remember anything other than that.

I know what you're thinking. Who lives thirteen years of their life and doesn't remember anything?

Well, me.

It's like someone has stolen my memory. I know it's there— it's just, well, hazy. Like there's this huge wall of fog barring me from accessing whatever else is there in my mind.

The more I try to remember, the more I struggle and forget the little I know about my past.

I know I went to school somewhere. I must have— I'm not dumb enough to think I was born with the ability to speak fluent English. I didn't become a die-hard fan of the Philadelphia Eagles just by being born.

I know my name and age. And it's really frustrating that I can't really remember anything else, but no matter how much I try, I just can't.

Somehow I know that I suck at algebra though. Even though I have no recollection of ever doing math. Or going to school, for that matter.

I sometimes get flashbacks. I see my mom— curly brown hair, brown eyes and a kind, tired smile. As if she'd been carrying a stack of bricks the whole day and just wanted to take a nap. I never remember what her face looks like, though.

On special nights, I remember my dad. Nothing more than green eyes, like mine, and a warm smile. And the warm, salty smell of the sea. A hint of laughter, deep as the ocean.

The earliest memories I have other than that, of course, were waking up in the ruins of the Wolf House.

It's the castle I was talking about. I was really confused, because normal thirteen-year-olds don't wake up with no memory in the middle of the forest. I really thought this was some type of Maze Runner shit, before I was surrounded by wolves, all dark colored, with slick fur and beady eyes and teeth that looked like they could tear me apart in a second.

The biggest of them— Lupa— explained things to me.

That I was a demigod, the son of a god. Neptune— that's who she told me my father was. God of the seas, storms, earthquakes and, well, horses.

But there was something off in her eyes as she said it. Like she didn't believe herself as she said it. Like there was something deeper to it. As if she was lying to me, and some part of my mind instinctively knew she was— but I couldn't really understand what it was trying to tell me.

But I could never get the courage to ask her about it. Because she was a six-foot tall wolf with teeth as long as my forearm.

I did, however, ask her about my memories.

She told me that if I had such 'issues', it meant that the gods had done it for a reason. And that I just had to wait, and they would eventually return to me— if the gods willed it.

If they didn't, well, I'd just have to ignore the first thirteen years of my life and live the rest as if they had never happened.

If I managed to live, that is.

See, demigods are real— which is cool— but so are the rest of the Roman myths. Monsters, gods and Titans— all that. It's crazy cool but also crazy scary. And the worst part?

Monsters like to eat us demigods. We're basically walking buffets.

The few monsters I'd seen when I was with Lupa were scary enough. Like the one I saw, once, in the middle of the night.

I wasn't able to sleep, and kept tossing and turning over.

The fact that the flooring of the Wolf House was uneven and covered with tiny grains of sand that irritated my skin didn't help either.

That was when I heard a distant thump and got up to investigate.

Far off into the night, it lumbered. It was huge. It towered over the pines around it, and though a small opening between the bricks I could see it lumbering through the trees, its dark, chunky body outlined in the moonlight.

Then it sniffed the air real hard, and looked straight in my direction. Eyes as dark as night stared into my soul, and the monster opened a mouth as large as a subway train, revealing rows and rows of serrated teeth.

That mouth could swallow me whole— and still leave room for a bus full of people.

But then Lupa had come up to the Wolf House and scolded me for staying awake. She told me to go to sleep.

I don't know how I went back to sleep— but I did.

The monster wasn't there the next day, but a few days later, when I got the courage to head towards the section of the woods where I had seen it, I definitely knew I hadn't been dreaming.

Most of the trees in that region had been torn down, or straight up flattened. There was a lot of blood on the ground—and several bones. They looked like they came from a pack of coyotes, which was sad, but honestly, I was glad I hadn't been eaten that night.

That just made me wonder more though.

With monsters the size of apartment complexes, and gods that liked to kill mortals, how did I manage to survive the first thirteen years of my life?

I asked Lupa that, and she just told me to focus on training.

Oh yeah, Lupa was training me.

She pushed me beyond my limits. I workout out so hard that I puked multiple times— eventually vomiting bile and blood, since my stomach was empty. I tore muscles I didn't know I had. I broke bones I didn't know I needed.

But more than that, I did things I didn't know I could do.

Like this one time— a spear came really close to impaling me. Sure, it was a practice spear, but those were still sharp. And out of nowhere, a wall of water rose from the lake and battered it away.

Lupa licked her lips and told me that was just my godly heritage showing. That I was a son of the sea, and that it would aid me in my time of need.

Basically, I discovered that the water was my element.

No, I don't mean in the Michael Phelps 'water is my element' way. I mean literally— I can control water. Breath underwater. Water heals me. I can talk to fish.

That's about all I can do now. Lupa told me that later on, as I grow older and more powerful, I'd be able to do things that would make this seem like a party trick.

But of course, she wouldn't teach me those things, for the safety of those around me.

If I learned those on my own, then I was worthy of using those powers. Because I would have to master my emotions first, before being able to control them. And that those powers were closely linked to my destiny.

Whatever that means.

Lupa also taught me how to use weapons— most importantly, the sword.

She had given me a sword in the first week. She told me was loathe to give me "such an old and rusty" weapon, but my father had commanded her to, so here it was.

I asked her how she spoke to my father, but she told me that was not my place to ask. And that my time would come.

Although I hadn't asked for it,the sword helped me slightly get over the resentment I felt due to my father's absence. He never spoke to me, or showed up once. No how are yous or holiday cards. He never even answered my prayers— the few times I tried to speak to him, anyway.

But he did give me a cool sword.

It was a pen, but when I uncapped it, it turned into a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs.

The blade was shaped like a leaf, and it was three feet long that weighed about five pounds. It was perfectly balanced in my hands, and when I used it, I could feel the power of the sea behind it. It was like an extension of my arm, almost like it knew where it had to go before I moved my arm.

Lupa told me it was a sword forged for those of the sea, which was why I could use it well. She also told me it had a long and tragic history, with most of its previous owners dying painful deaths or becoming gods themselves.

I hoped for the latter. It was better than dying a painful death, any day.

When it was in pen form, it was basically your disposable dollar pen, with a plastic body and cap. Only, on its side, the words Anaklusmos were written.

Which stood for riptide.

Lupa had taught me how to read Latin— because duh, every Roman demigod needs to be fluent in Latin, apparently, but this— this wasn't Latin.

I knew the language too well for that.

This was…far older. Far more powerful. It was something foreign to me— yet surprisingly familiar at the same time.

Anaklusmos— this name was ancient Greek.

When I said the name— when I read it— something stirred in me. My gut began to tighten, and my mind began to burn. The huge fog that seemed to be in it parted.

It opened something in my mind that had been asleep this whole time.

I saw glimpses of a camp. Of a campfire. Of kids in orange tee-shirts, some eating marshmallows, some climbing a lava pit, and others flying atop pegasi. All of them were laughing. Some of them were singing horribly out of tune songs around a campfire at night. I even saw a boy flying, his blond hair floating in the breeze.

But as soon as they came, the images went.

There was something in my mind.

Something that had been dormant this whole time.

It was like— I knew something. There was some reason this was in Greek.

But that feeling died as soon as it came. And Lupa told me to focus on wielding the sword rather than its name. And that she had high expectations of me.

I didn't get any flashbacks after that day. Everything stopped, as if the entire universe was telling me to stop thinking about my past and focus on my future.

Apparently Lupa got the memo too, because the day after she gave me riptide, she became harsher. Her training drove me even more over the edge than it used to be. She told me again and again that if I was to be the hero I was supposed to be, there was no room for error.

Sure, if you say so.

Most of the days I cried myself to sleep from the pain. My knuckles were always bleeding from sparring, and my forearms always screamed in pain, covered with slashes and bite marks. My knees always felt like they would dislocate at any moment, and my head always swarmed with thoughts of monsters and blood.

But I grew stronger with Lupa's training. There was no denying that.

And she told me that I was a roman— and a roman does not complain.

I shut my mouth and worked harder.

And got a bit better.

Then she decided one day that I was ready, and told me to honor my principles and to become the most powerful of them all. Then she told me to go to Camp.

I was confused.

Why would I need to go to a summer camp?

But Lupa didn't answer my question. She didn't answer anything, actually. She just disappeared.

When I tried to go back to the wolf house, the pack, which till now had been my family, bared their teeth at me. They snarled and howled.

I got the message when Nipsy, the wolf I was closest too, the one I cuddled with at night, nipped me. I could see the hurt in her eyes as she did so, but that didn't stop the bleeding in my arm.

But I understood.

I was no longer welcome. My time here was done— and I had to leave.

I found it hard.

Gods— I didn't know the first thirteen years of my life.

And the past few months were the only thing I knew. Training with Lupa was the only thing I knew.

And now I was forced to leave that behind. And 'seek my destiny'.

Whatever the hell that was.

I took the first bus I could find to Caldecott tunnel.

Lupa had told me to try my luck there, which was why I was right now right outside the four lanes of the tunnel, stretching my toes in my trainers to see if I still had feeling in them, because I was pretty sure my feet had fallen asleep in the bus. She had told me there was a fifty-fifty percent chance of me finding Camp. Either I found it or I was killed my monsters before I did.

Around me, I could see the asphalt turn to gravel, which eventually became dirt. The first three sections of the tunnel were functional, but the fourth was closed for maintenance.

But there was something out of place about it. Lupa had told me about the Mist— the layer of magic that separated our world from the mortals— which meant that a lot of magic hid demigods under plain sight. And when I squinted, it was as if the boards across the tunnel disappeared, and there was light inside it.

I headed towards the tunnel, only to be met with a spear at my throat.

As if they'd been invisible, two kids my age stepped out from the bushes.

They were both decked in golden armor, all the way from golden chest plates to what looked like hockey shin guards decked in gold, like they'd just finished shopping at a thrift store that only sold armor that was pure gold somehow. Both of them wore compression shirts under their armor, with cargo pants.

The one of my right had tanned skin, white hair and blue eyes. His armor was a bit darker, and he had some sort of necklace above his chest plate. His chest plate had several claw marks across it, like some kind of huge mutant tiger had scratched it diagonally.

The girl looked like a pirate. Her dark hair fell in curls around her shoulders— she had no helmet on. It was tied up loosely in a bandana. She had chocolate colored skin and dark brown eyes.

She also held a spear to my throat.

"Identify yourself!"

I yelped, and stepped back, raising my hands.

"I'm Percy Jackson. Lupa told me to come to this Camp or something and—"

When I mentioned Lupa, both of them relaxed. The girl lowered her spear, and grinned.

"Demigod?"

I nodded.

"Parent?"

I turned to the guy who had spoken.

"What?"

He continued. "Who's your godly parent?"

"Oh. Neptune."

They both stepped back in shock, and the girl actually partially-raised her spear again.

"No-no way. You've got to be kidding."

I was a bit confused. They were acting like being a son of Neptune was horrible and dangerous. But Lupa had told me he was one of the top gods in the pantheon—second only to Jupiter.

"Do you, uh, not get kids of Neptune often?" I asked.

"Dude— there hasn't been a child of the Big Three— by that I mean Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto— in over a hundred years! The last time we had a son of Neptune at Camp it was total—"

"What my friend means to say is," the girl interrupted, "welcome to Camp."

I could see that 'the friend' had more to say, judging by the dark look he gave me, and the way he kept muttering, but I decided not to butt in. After all, I didn't want to get kicked out of a Camp I hadn't even gotten into.

She smiled. "I'm Anahita, by the way. Daughter of Apollo. And this is Haniel, son of Notus."

Lupa had briefed me about the gods before sending me to Camp. I remembered enough to remember that Apollo was the god of…music or something. But I had no idea who the Note-guy was.

My confusion must have been evident, because Haniel sighed.

"Notus is one of the four anemoi. You've heard of them, right?"

Anahita give him a are-you-serious? look, and I just stared.

"Aren't anemone those ocean things—"

"Not anemone. Anemoi. God of the wind."

"Whoa," I gasped, finally understanding, "your dad is a god of the wind? That is awesome dude! Can you fly?"

Haniel chuckled.

"Nope. But yeah— I'd admit, there are a few cool things I can do. Maybe I'll show them to you sometime. If we end up in the same cohort— but I hope, for your sake— that you don't."

I chuckled, as I walked with them towards the tunnel.

I could already feel safer the closer I got to the tunnel, like it was a beacon of hope and safety. Although there was no road, the tunnel was well lit by several lanterns placed periodically, hanging off wooden supports that seemed to hold the place up.

The tunnel was damp, and smelt like an old attic— full of dust and cobwebs. But it wasn't stiffling. There was a cool breeze that blew from one end of the tunnel to the other, and with it was the smell of earth, with the distinct smell of sweat and a hint of barbecue.

Several crates were littered across the tunnel. They had warnings too, like 'Live puff-adders. HIGHLY VENOMOUS' and 'IMPERIAL STASH #42'.

One of the crates was doubled padlocked, and shook violently as I passed it. I heard a ferocious growl, and I could hear the distinct sound of a creature scraping its claws against the wood. It rasped, and I could hear it sniffing the air, but Anahita and Haniel simply shook their heads and continued walking forward.

"What's a cohort?"

The cave seemed to echo my question, and both Haniel and Anahita glanced at me.

I doubted you could see it in the dim light, but I flushed.

"It's a group, basically," Anahita explained. "You're stuck with that group the entire time your part of the demigods of Camp Jupiter. Until you can graduate— or die in battle, which is more common."

"Yikes. So…which group are y'all in?"

I was expecting them to say something like, 'We're with the jocks' or 'we're part of the musician group', but Haniel told me something like 'fifth cohort'.

"So a cohort is like a—?"

"A division in the army."

Ah.

I frowned. "Why are we divided into cohorts? And an army? It's not like there's any war going on now, is there?"

The last war I knew of was World War II, which had happened, like, a billion years before I was born.

Haniel and Anahita just looked at each other and continued walking.

"Why is your chest plate scratched?" I asked Haniel, because my ADHD wouldn't let me forget it.

He shrugged. "Dragon claw. We had a recent, uh, situation."

He didn't say anything else.

As we neared the end of the tunnel, I squinted, my eyes complaining at the abrupt transition from dark to light.

"Any advice for me before I enter Camp?"

Anahita sighed. "As far as possible, keep your powers to yourself. Don't let anyone know who your parent is. If it was Jupiter or something— well, that would be a different story. Just, well, be careful. You never know who you can trust. The worst monsters aren't out there; they're in here."

"Right. Thanks."

She chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just try not to die."

I shook my head and followed them out of the tunnel.