CHAPTER 1: Shifting tides

"Why did Kronos eat his children?" Nana asked as we stared at her with varied levels of interest. She was the one in charge of schooling the younger children, and taught literature, history, and social sciences to those of us of middle school age and up.

When no answer came, she gave us a sharp look, deep brown eyes frowning at us with disapproval.

"Care to answer, Percy?" she asked, her eyes finally landing on me. I looked up with a start from where I had been in the middle of doodling in my notebook.

"Uhm," I scratched my head with my pencil, "Kronos, right… so he was the king god—".

She raised an eyebrow at me, "god?"

"Titan—," I corrected myself as Jonathan snickered at my mistake. Like he would know, yesterday he had confidently claimed Zeus married Gaia. "Kronos didn't trust his children, who were gods, because… there was a prophecy that one of them would be greater than him, so his solution was to eat them."

"Very good, Percy, and what happened after that?" She looked at Jonathan whose yellow eyes had strayed to look out the windows. "Jonathan, why don't you enlighten us?"

He groaned. At sixteen, Jonathan was the oldest of us still within school age and seemed to think literature and the arts were a waste of time, only bothering to show up for the teaching session out of respect for Nana. "Right," he mustered, gathering his thoughts. "After Kronos ate his children he—".

"All of them?"

Jonathan was left fumbling for an answer, and I almost took pity on him, almost; I was still salty after he stole a rabbit from me the other day.

"He didn't eat Zeus," Lilith quipped in, unable to pass up the chance to show up her brother, "Rhea, Kronos's wife, tricked him into eating a rock instead of baby Zeus, whom she hid away until he had the chance to grow up and could stand up to his father. He then fed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him puke out his other five children, who were now fully grown gods, and all together fought against their father and killed him."

Jonathan scoffed at her from across the table, "I totally knew that."

She gave him a sarcastic smile, "Sure you did."

Lilith was the best student among us, naturally smart. She grasped the concepts we were taught with ease and would, on top of that, throw herself into studying on her free time as well, putting her way ahead of the rest of us academically, despite being only fourteen.

Nana looked between the two siblings with a sigh, "Excellent as always, Lilith, but next time let your brother at least try."

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, "Whatever, I don't see how we would have any use for this stuff in our real life. None of us are even going to college, so what's the point?"

"Hey," Micah protested, "I like myths. Besides, it beats Don Quixote."

There was a collective groan from everybody around the table, except from Lilith, who looked ready to argue in favor of the literary prowess of the "Masterpiece" that was The Adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha.

"Okay, that is enough," Nana said, drawing the attention back to herself. "I think Jonathan actually posed a very excellent question: What use can we have in real life for this? Does it truly matter?"

The table went quiet, all of us looking between each other as if questioning if Nana had finally lost it because the question seemed to make no sense. Greek mythology was just that—myths, legends, entertaining stories. I'm sure Nana had the best of intentions, making sure that even in our isolated little colony we got some general knowledge; however, when it came down to it, we had even less use for it than the average person.

Lilith seemed deep in thought, pulling at her braid like she always did when she was thinking hard. "Well, I think—" she began, but Nana interrupted her.

"Actually, perhaps it would be better if Percy answered."

Lilith looked surprised, though this was fast turning into a common occurrence ever since we started the segment on Greek Mythology. Nan seemed to have developed a sharp hyperfocus on me, constantly asking me questions and not cutting me the usual slack in written assignments.

Her eyes were piercing as I fumbled for some sort of answer. "Well…I, I don't know," I finally said, in defeat.

She tapped her nail on the tabletop as her gaze seemed to hold me in a trance. There was something like disappointment in her eyes, but also worry, deep constant worry. "Well, I hope you think about it, think about it hard, and try to find the answer, Percy. What I'm trying to teach you here is vital."

Now, all sets of eyes were on me. Similar confused expressions on all of my cousins' faces. What Nana was saying was certainly weird, bordering on the bizarre, and her expression had lost its usual gentleness, replaced by a sharp intensity that was almost frightening. It was rare to see her this serious about anything.

I swallowed nervously, finally not bearing it anymore and looking down at my notebook, more full of doodles and aimless traces than actual annotations. "Yes, ma'am," I mumbled out.

Like a switch had been turned, her expression was back to normal. "Well," she addressed us all, "I think you kids have had enough for the day, so run along. I'm sure you all have chores to do, and don't forget your homework for next Monday."

Jonathan was already halfway out the door of her small house the moment he heard the word, and the rest of us were not far behind. I trailed after them but faltered at the doorway, unable to resist the urge to look back at Nana, still weirded out by her whole attitude change just moments ago.

Nana's house was not really an independent house; it was attached to my grandparent's house, which was the biggest. Despite this, it was its own little separate space, complete with all she needed. I had asked her when I was younger why she just didn't take a room in the main house with my grandparents, like Mom and I did. She just made a face and informed me she loved us all very much, but living with werewolves could get exhausting. I wouldn't understand since I wasn't a Lycan like her.

She certainly had a lot more inclination towards interior design and decoration than the rest of us. Her walls even had wallpaper, and she had stuff like couch pillows and vases full of flowers that the rest of us saw little point in keeping but that clearly made her happy.

Her little house was always at just the right angle to be illuminated for most of the day, and currently, the early morning sun came through the living room window, bathing her in its gentle light as she was left behind alone, sitting at her dining table with a faraway look in her eyes. The soft light illuminated her once blond hair that was pulled in a neat bun. At first glance, she would look like a woman in the tail end of her middle age; however, she was way older than that, and her eyes seemed to reflect the burden of her many years.

She turned back to look at me, sensing my stare. "Didn't you hear me, Percy?" she asked, a hint of playfulness in her tone. "Go pester somebody else, unless you are feeling particularly studious today and want some extra credit homework? Because that can be arranged."

I didn't need to be told twice and was bolting out the door in an instant, shouting at Micah and the others to wait up.

"Percy, quit spacing around, I think you rinsed that shirt plenty enough already!" Aunt Joanna's voice cut through my thoughts, abruptly bringing me down to reality. I had my hands submerged elbow-deep in the cool water of the mountain creek, allowing the soft current to rinse out a dirt-ridden shirt.

Micah, on the other side of the creek, snickered as I sheepishly pulled the shirt out. "You do that all the time, you know?" she said, in between vigorously slapping a pair of soapy pants against a rock.

"I just like the water, I guess." It was more than that, of course, but how could I explain to her? How sometimes, when I concentrated, I almost felt like I could connect with the water, sensing every small current and the way they layered against each other, how they parted around obstacles or dragged things along. I was certain it was all in my mind, but regardless, I still just liked to pretend I really could do that. I had always loved the water and the feeling of it against my skin.

Everybody tells me it had always been like that. From the moment I could crawl, they would take their eyes off me for a minute, and little me would be halfway to the creek. To this day, washing laundry was my favorite chore, even if all my cousins hated it.

"You seem more in your head than usual," Micah said, now seeming that she had gotten every bit of grime out of those pants as she began to rinse them. "Are you worried about your birthday?" I paused in the middle of sifting through my assigned pile of clothes to glare at her. "No, but now I'm thinking about it. Thanks a lot."

She sat back to give me her full attention, her face having gotten that "I'm about to impart some wisdom" look. I hated when she did that; she was only two years older than me! She didn't have to act all high and mighty about it.

"Turning twelve is like a huge deal for us, so I understand if you are nervous. We all were our first time shifting; after all, it's a painful and incredibly stressful process—."

"I don't want to talk about it," I growled. "And the adults have already had this talk with me like… fifteen times by now. I don't need it from you as well."

She looked annoyed, crossing her arms. "Hey, I'm just trying to help! No need to be a jerk about it. Listen, from somebody who already went through this, you just need—."

I scooped a handful of water and flung it at her mid-sentence, meaning to only splash her to get her to shut up. But what happened, I have no way of explaining, because it was not a handful of water that hit her; it was more like a small wave, nearly sweeping her into the current and completely drenching her.

The entire forest seemed to go quiet, the chatter of voices abruptly cut, as all eyes turned towards me. I stood frozen, my hand still extended towards her. She looked just as stunned, her blue eyes wide.

"What… what just happened? Did you do that—?" she began, but her mom, Aunt Joanna, was suddenly behind me. "Percy, did you push Michaela into the water again?"

I stood up, turning to face her. "What? No… how could I have doen that? She is on the other side of the creek!"

Aunt Joanna, blue eyes glaring down accusatorily at me, crossed her arms "Is that so? Well, I know what I saw; you pushed her in."

I looked past her to the other people present. Apart from Jonathan and his older sister, Sarai, all my older cousins didn't look surprised by what had happened. Some had gone back to their washing, muttering about pups and their "usual antics."

Jonathan began to speak out, "Percy didn't push her in, there was a—." Matthew, his older brother, shut him up with a slap to the back of the head, eliciting a defensive growl from Jonathan. "Go back to washing, both of you," he told both Sarah and Jonathan, who looked ready to argue, clearly as confused as I felt.

"See! Jonathan saw, I didn't push her," I tried to reason with Aunt Joanna as Micah, dripping wet, lightly jumped over the creek to our side.

Joanna looked at her daughter with a slight frown as she spoke on my behalf, "Mom, you have to listen. Something else happened; Percy didn't push me in. It was like a wave, a huge one hit me all of a sudden."

"A wave, in the middle of a small creek. Is that what you two are going with?" There was skepticism in her voice. "Really? Just admit you were horsing around and not doing what you were supposed to; wouldn't be the first time."

"No, seriously, you have to believe me—" I began, but Micah was already talking.

"No, wait, let me explain. See, I was definitely not beside him, but he did throw water at me, and that is when—."

"Hey!" I protested, "I was only trying to splash you a little bit; whatever that was, I have no idea how it—."

"That's enough," Joanna cut into our escalating argument with a low growl that shut us right up. "I don't know why you kids are making such a big deal out of this, but I won't listen to another word on the matter. Both of you, go back home and help the littles weed the gardens; you are off laundry duty until you learn to behave."

I wanted to argue; this was my favorite chore! I hated weeding the garden, but her eyes left no room to argue. So we did the only thing we could, and obeyed. Muttering all the way, we headed back to the houses, while aunt Jo rejoined the others and went back to her work, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and we had just been messing around like usual.

Everybody was acting so normal, they didn't even give us a second glance, conversations that had been paused were back in full swing, as they busied themselves with their chore once again . I could almost believe nothing had truly happened, that somehow we had misunderstood what we had seen, it was hard not to, considering just how normal our family was acting, but there were two notable exceptions Jonathan and Sarai. Their wide eyes followed our retreating forms, looking as confused at what was happening as we were.

Micah pulled me close as soon as we were out of earshot. "Jonathan and Sarai definitely saw something" she whispered "Did you see how Matthew shut them up? Something weird is going on, and they are leaving us in the dark!"

I scratched my head. "What should we do? It's clear they are pretending that nothing happened. It's not like we can keep on pestering them about it; if we annoy them too much, we will end up doing extra chores."

Micah smirked, like she had it all figured out. "We don't ask the adults, of course," she said, as if she had it all figured out. "We are going to question Jonathan as soon as we can. He can't lie his way out of a paper bag; he will definitely spill."

Seeing her expression, I couldn't help but match her grin. "Oh yeah, Jonathan can't keep a secret to save his life. We are getting to the bottom of this."

She slapped me on the back hard enough to probably dislodge a lung. "That's the spirit, Percy! In the meantime, we've got a garden to weed."

I groaned. "Ugh, please don't remind me."

"Percy, you missed that spot!" Chloe called out in exasperation, putting her little hands on her hips in an attempt to appear more commanding as she came to stand in front of me, as I crouched over the cucumber plants.

Eight-year-old Chloe was the oldest of the littles and their leader, so to speak, a role which she took very seriously, especially today, having the added bonus of being in charge of Micah and me. She was evidently having a great time bossing us around.

I looked down. There was a sad little leaf left behind on the spot she was pointing at with the tip of her foot. Seriously? "Sorry, Chloe," I muttered, as a few rows ahead of me, three-year-old Noah was more interested in trying to dig out and eat earthworms than doing any actual work, while his older brother was trying to stop him, telling him repeatedly they were yucky.

That was a lesson we all had to learn the hard way, one way or another. Werewolf babies and toddlers just had a tendency to try and eat any small critter that they could get their hands on; our natural hunting instincts developed from a pretty young age.

Micah, who was pretending to go over my work, by which I mean, not doing much, leaned in close as Chloe was distracted breaking up an impromptu dirt fight some rows behind us. "There!" she hissed, looking towards the small group walking through the nearby forest loaded with baskets full of freshly washed laundry. "They are returning from the creek; now is our chance!"

We both looked towards Chloe, who was still trying to break up the fight, growling at the younger pups. While she was busy with that, we slipped away, lightly jumping over the garden fence and trailing the group that had come from the river, but always being careful to stay out of earshot.

As expected, they had headed over to the clothing lines and were busy hanging the freshly washed clothes to dry. Considering the piles of laundry we all managed to put out, it would surely take a while. So we settled down among the thick berry bushes.

We waited for what seemed like hours for them to finish and begin trailing back to the houses. By this point, Chloe had surely noticed our absence; however, she couldn't go after us and leave the younger children unsupervised. Meaning our desertion wouldn't be reported for the time being; but our luck was bound to run out.

It was a fight against time, and just when we were about to give up and go back to the gardens, some god seemed to smile upon us because Jonathan was singled out from the group, sent on a different path by some command from Aunt Jo, surely to fetch something for her. We followed him closely, until we were a good distance away from the group.

He was halfway to the tool shed when we pounced on him, nearly making him drop the large basin he had been carrying. Normally, when we pulled stuff like this, he would only growl at us for annoying him. But this time, for some reason, he looked nervous, clear apprehension in his face as he regarded us like one would a stranger.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in the gardens?" he asked, trying to maneuver around us.

"Jonathan, what did you see in the river?" Micah asked, bluntly ignoring his question. "Like, when Percy supposedly pushed me into the water, you know damn well that is not what happened." He opened his mouth hesitantly, as if ready to defend himself, but she didn't give him the chance. "You saw the wave, didn't you? The one that just burst out of nowhere."

He swallowed, his eyes darting around wildly as if looking for some way to escape. "I have no idea what you two are going on about. Percy pushed you, Micah, that's the end of it," he said. "Now, I have stuff to do, so run along."

I jumped in front of him. "You are a terrible liar, Jonathan. Back there, you were about to say something, but Matthew shut you up. What gives? Why the change of mind?"

He looked down at me like he had never seen me before, his eyes taking in every part of me as if he could find some secret revelation in my features. "I…I'm not lying, Percy. There was no wave, okay? You made that up. It's all in your head. Now, I really must go—"

Micah grabbed him by the arm, stopping him, as he growled a weak warning. "What the hell, Jonathan? What's gotten into you?" she said. "You know that's not what happened. Why won't you just admit—"

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief as he hurried past us, while Matthew just kept on silently glaring, as if not quite done with us. "You know what? Since you both seem to have so much free time on your hands, go into the forest and bring back a couple of good trees. We need the wood for a new shed."

We both groaned. "Seriously, Matthew?" Micah asked, pleading. "We promise we won't leave the gardens again—"

"I think the littles can handle that. You two are way too old to be doing that anyway, so get going, unless you want to miss dinner."

Judging by his expression, we weren't getting out of this one, but we could still complain about it. We dragged our feet dramatically, already dreading the afternoon of chopping down trees and carrying them back here. Making sure to mutter under our voices about Matthew and the injustice of it all, we reluctantly grabbed the axes and the rest of the stuff we would need from the tool sheed, all under his critical eye.

It was like he believed we would try and make a run for it and avoid our responsibilities. I couldn't fathom where he could have gotten that notion.

As we set out overly slowly, axes and ropes in hand, giving him one last puppy-eyed stare, begging for mercy, he called after us, making us believe for one fleeting moment that we had been spared. How naive,

"Remember to stay out of trouble, and if you see anything weird in the forest, you come right back."

I frowned at him. "Weird how? There is a lot of weird stuff in the forest."

He brushed our concerns away. "You will know. Now, move along; it's getting late."

"Ugh, why is everybody acting so freaking weird?" Micah all but shouted as she swung her ax against the tree she had chosen. "I mean, first the thing this morning in the creek, then Jonathan suddenly pretending like he didn't see anything, and now that cryptic warning Matthew gave us?"

I shrugged, giving one last push to the tree I had been cutting, silently watching as it finally gave way and toppled over. "I don't know, I feel like they are all hiding something from us." To top it all off, Nan's words were still bouncing around my head like a broken record. What use were the Greek myths in our life? I still didn't have an answer for her.

While Micah finished cutting down her tree, I began to chop away the branches and roots off mine so we could have an easier time dealing with it. We had already done two previous trips carrying freshly cut logs back, with the addition of these ones, there should be enough to satisfy Matthew. Besides, night was falling, and hunger was gnawing at us.

With quiet resignation to our movements, we began tying the logs together to form a single, more easily carried bunch. I was in the middle of tying a knot when suddenly Micah, beside me, stiffened, her eyes turning towards a distant place in the now partially dark forest. Instantly on high alert, I followed her gaze, only to find that I didn't quite understand what I was looking at.

A young woman stood several meters away from us, her dress made of oak leaves, her long, luscious hair full of flowers and acorns.

Before we could fully process what we were witnessing, she made a little sound of surprise upon noticing she had been spotted, turned tail, and ran deeper into the forest, her steps completely silent even as she ran. She gave us one last terrified look over her shoulder before she ran into an oak tree, and I don't mean she slammed into it; no, she literally disappeared into the tree, like its thick trunk swallowed her whole.

"What... what was that?" I mumbled out. "Did you see–?"

Micah shook her head slowly. "I don't know... It looked like a woman, but... I couldn't smell her, could barely hear her. How did she sneak up on us?"

Suddenly, my throat felt very dry. "More like where did she go? She disappeared into a tree..."

Micah turned back to look at our pile of logs, thought her eyes seemed almost unfocused, scared. "Percy... I think we are truly losing our minds. First, this morning with the creek fiasco, and now this? Nothing is making sense all of a sudden and I think— We... we should probably just head back now."

My eyes wandered to the place where the mysterious woman had been. I felt something like a chill going down my spine as I remembered Matthew's previous warning, and suddenly I had the unsettling feeling of being watched. "Yeah... I think that would be for the better."

The trip back was awfully quiet as we strained under the weight of several logs. Since Micah was taller than me, it just made it all the more difficult. Usually, we would be shouting, growling, and threatening each other, but this time the only sound was the shuffle of feet and the occasional groan from the effort.

We were still deadly quiet, even when we dropped our load next to the other logs we had brought in earlier, not even pausing to admire our hard day's work. Our hearts seemed to be going a thousand miles and hours within our chest, even as we did our best to pretend we weren't freaked out and one loud sound away from bolting like scare rabbits.

As we walked silently back to the house, making sure to stick to the well-worn paths through the forest, our eyes occasionally darted around as if expecting some other strange occurrence or danger to be lurking in the increasingly darkening forest.

The well worn path snaked through the forest which alive with the singing of birds, and the distant call of night creature beginning to stir from their sleep, all seemed well, calm, noting out of the ordinary, and our fear began to slowly subside, as we neared the houses, passing by an old shed that had been abandoned for a long time. It was falling apart, nature attempting to reclaim it. It hadn't been used for years; nobody had any reason to be in there. So why were there voices coming from it?

"We all saw it, Sally, there's no denying it. I tried to convince him he had imagined the entire thing, but I'm certain he didn't buy it." We both froze. It was Aunt Jo's voice.

"Sally, dear," that was Grandpa's voice. "You can't keep him here forever. Eventually, he will begin asking questions. The boy is nearly twelve; eventually, something will happen that we can't explain away. The older he gets, the more the danger increases."

There was a pause, during which I could distinctly hear somebody pacing around the shed's rotting floor. We both were barely breathing, trying to not be detected.

"He is safe here," my mother's voice sounded just the slightest bit shaky, like she herself was not convinced of what she was saying. "Between all of us, nothing will dare touch him. Besides… if I take him there, they are just as likely to accept him as to kill him. You know the risks, Father!"

Grandma's voice cut through the discussion, as sharp and authoritative as always. "Monsters are not what we should be worrying about. If his father's brothers catch wind of his existence, who knows what they will do? We would be powerless to defend him. He is more likely to survive there than—"

She paused abruptly, sniffing the air. "We have company," she muttered, already walking towards the shed's old door. We bolted before she could throw it open and catch us red-handed. No doubt she knew it had been us; Grandma's sense of smell was scarcely inaccurate. However, there was no point in sticking around and receiving a scolding right then and there.

We ran wildly, breaking through the underbrush and swallowing more than a few insects on the way, before we burst into the main clearing and entered the closest house to us. It was Uncle Caleb's house, and he and one of his older daughters, Rachel, were busy setting up dinner in the kitchen while his wife, Aunt Martha, was trying to deal with a fussy baby.

Uncle Caleb gave us a weird look as we burst in, out of breath, our eyes wild and our hair full of leaves. "Everything okay?" he asked, as we tried to pretend nothing was amiss, easily mixing in with his own kids. It wasn't unusual for all of us older children and teens to trade houses during meal times, or even eat in several if nobody caught on to what was going on. However, despite our best attempts to pretend we had just invited ourselves over to dinner, he could evidently sense that something was amiss..

"Um—" I began, though my mind had gone blank.

"We are just running away from… Jonathan!. We pissed him off," Micah jumped in, plastering a smile that looked so stiff I was surprised her face wasn't spasming from the force of it.

He didn't look the slightest bit convinced but seemed to decide to drop it for the moment. "Right, do you kids want to stay for dinner?"

It had been nearly a week since that day. I had expected Grandma, or Mom, or somebody to confront us about our eavesdropping. However, oddly enough, they seemed to be pretending like nothing had happened, which was somehow even worse.

For the last week, I had been torturing myself, trying to figure out what they could have possibly been talking about. It was evident I was the subject of their conversation; that was a no-brainer. But everything beyond that eluded me.

Was I not safe? Why had Grandma mentioned monsters? And then the mention of my father's brothers possibly wanting to hurt me? It was unsettling, and the fact that nobody was telling me, the subject of the conversation, anything, was just making me increasingly frustrated.

I had never met my father; he died before I was born. Though my mind must have conjured up some sort of hallucination of him because at times I almost felt I could recall him. A blurry face gazing down upon my bassinet, or the soft smell of salt, water, and sand – what I imagine the ocean must smell like accompanied by a deep, gentle voice, like rolling waves, that murmured gently down to me.

I wished I could have met him, but hunters had gotten my father, and my mom hardly spoke about him. I knew he must have at one point lived with us here; they must have had plans, dreams. If he had lived, there would probably be four houses in the clearing today, and I would have been constantly surrounded by a hoard of younger siblings.

There were no pictures of him, none of his clothes or belongings left. It was like he had never existed, and I was the only proof of him ever being here. Mom was vague on the details of how they had met, but I knew it had been by the seaside. She had been young and rebellious, trying to find herself, so she had gone out into the world and away from the Colony, eventually finding herself by the had loved it so much she had stayed until she had just so happened to meet my father.

"He was strong and handsome, Percy," she always said the same things when I begged her to describe him to me. "As a matter of fact, you have his eyes and his dark hair", her face would always get a far off melancholic look when she talked about him "He loved you so very much. He wanted to meet you so badly…" By this point, her eyes would become misty and she couldn't continue. His death clearly haunted her to this day.

The one thing I had never heard her speak of was my father's past. Surely, he must have come from another Colony, perhaps one that was already overcrowded, and that is why he had come to live with us. Up until now, it had never occurred to me to think that I probably had other uncles and aunts, another set of grandparents, and many cousins from my father's side of the family. So why had I never met any of them?

Surely, if I had been his first and only child, my paternal grandparents would have liked to at least meet me, since I was all that was left of their son. But I had never heard from them or anybody really, and now the first mention of them was of my uncles possibly wanting to hurt me?

Going off the conversation I had overheard, I could deduce I needed to go somewhere safer than here. If I stayed, I would be in danger. But no place seemed safer than here; I was certain of that. Perhaps a more isolated Colony, but that still left the point of why? Why was I in danger? What made me so special?

So many doubts and questions had been bouncing around my head for the past week that my ability to concentrate on my schooling was even worse than usual.

"Percy, this is unreadable," Nana said, as she tried to make something out of the essay I had turned in. I refused to look her in the eye, rubbing my face tiredly. "I really tried," I muttered, "But there are so many weird names and worlds in Greek mythology. I could hardly make head or tail of it all."

Her expression softened. "I see. Why don't you try writing the names in their Greek form next time?" she suggested. Lilith snorted. For once, I had to agree with her; that sounded like a terrible suggestion. I already had enough trouble with normal written English. Trying my hand at Greek would be a disaster.

"Just do as I say; you would be surprised," she said with a wink before turning her gaze upon the small gathering. "Now, class, open your books to page 149. Today, we will be talking about Percy's namesake, the great hero Perseus."

"You seemed troubled," Nana commented as she sat across the table from me. She had made me stay after everybody else was dismissed, to try and rewrite the essay I had flunked; just because we were homeschooled didn't mean we got to slack off.

To my surprise, I found that writing the names of people and places was a lot easier in their Greek form, and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why.

I met her dark brown eyes, unsure of what to say, as she stared at me over a cup of tea. I could try to just play it off as being nervous about my upcoming twelve birthday. However, as I met her steady gaze, with an excuse ready to roll off my tongue, I hesitated.

Nan was probably the person I trusted the most, after my mom, and when it came to giving me straight answers, she was probably the most willing to talk out of any adult. Maybe she could help me.

"I've just been doing some thinking," I began tentatively, "About my father."

She added another cube of sugar to her tea, stirring it slowly. "Your father, you say? What about him?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said with a shrug, attempting to sound casual, "Like, his side of the family. Why I never met them, why they never come to see me. Is it because their Colony is far away?"

She frowned, not quite meeting my eye as she stared into her cup of tea, seeming to be carefully choosing her words. "Yes, that is partially why," she began slowly, "But also, our… family's, they don't get along, to put it one way."

Essay forgotten, I leaned forward. "Don't get along? Did we have a territorial war or something?"

She sighed, putting the cup down, seeming to give up on drinking it for the time being. "Something like that, Percy. Both your parents risked a lot when they got together," her eyes had gone far away, to times long gone, "They were stupidly in love, that is for sure. However, we didn't know about their relationship, your mother was far away and would only periodically contact us to say she was okay. Imagine our surprise when one stormy night, when a hurricane seemed to be angrily brewing in the skies, she was suddenly at her parents' door, pregnant and with a man we had never seen by her side."

I listened in stunned silence, barely breathing, afraid she would suddenly realize just how much she was saying and would stop; this was all news to me. "He explained who he was, and that his family could never find out about you, especially his brothers, or they might come after you. After that, he walked into the night, leaving your mother behind. We never saw him again."

There was so much new information, my head was spinning and trying to go in several different directions, however, there was one thing that stuck out. "But… why would his brothers, my uncles, specifically, want to hurt me?"

She shook her head, her gaze focused once again. "I already said more than I probably should have, Percy. Just know, that everything we do is to protect you, even keeping you in the dark about certain things, okay?"

But—that seemed ridiculous. How was giving me less information protecting me? "That doesn't make sense," I blurted out.

"I know it doesn't," she said, patting my head softly, "You will just have to trust that we have your best interest in mind. One day, you will understand." Her eyes looked so sad in that one instant, as she gazed down at me, so worried and heavy with guilt that all the fight deflated out of me. "Okay," I whispered softly.

"Good, now don't trouble yourself with these matters," she said gently but firmly, "I promise you, Percy, we will never let anything happen to you."

"Sarai asks if we want to go down to Oakcreek tomorrow," Micah started conversationally that afternoon as we fed the chickens. Since we had been banned indefinitely from laundry duty and assigned new chores to fill in the gap, Micah had been thrilled. She hated clothes washing, but for me? Not so much. Currently, I had so much on my mind I couldn't bother to protest the matter.

Besides, I could still go to the creek to think. Its presence always had a calming effect on me, even if nowadays, somebody always seemed to conveniently find me when I was there and send me to do something for them. It was getting really annoying.

Micah had obviously noted a change in me ever since we had overheard that conversation, and she had spent the past few days trying to cheer me up while also pretending she was not trying to do that. We hadn't once discussed what we had heard, or the strange woman we had seen in the forest, almost like if we spoke about it out loud, then it would suddenly become too real, too scary, and confusing. It was evident she was worried about me, though she had a funny way of showing it.

I looked up as she attempted to shoo a broody hen from her nest. "Yeah, sure, whatever," I replied. I could use the distraction. I had long since outgrown my aversion to going into town, though I still didn't quite find the experience pleasant. Mostly, what kept me going was sheer boredom. Despite the place having little to offer, it was a change of scenery at least, and of course, there was the food. If humans had anything right, it was junk food.

She looked thrilled that I had accepted, momentarily forgetting she was in the middle of a battle as the hen jumped at her face with a chicken war cry. "Hey!" Micah shouted undignified, "You're the next one in line for the pot!"

I snorted, then burst out laughing as the small hen managed to get tangled in her hair, and she had to suppress her natural instinct to just kill it. Nana always got furious when anybody ate one of her chickens without her permission. "Percy, don't just stand there, get it off!"

I pretended to be very interested in my nail. "Hm, what is the magic word?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"No, that's not it," I wagged my finger at her just as she managed to untangle the frantic animal, her eyes glowing as she turned towards me, a low growl reverberating in her chest.

Crap.

Later, as Uncle Caleb passed by the chicken coop, trailed by some of his youngest children, he paused to stare at us. Our clothes were bloodied and torn as a result of injuries that had already healed, a situation which we ignored, going on about our business like nothing was amiss.

As we waved at him casually, he looked like he was deciding whether to address the matter or save his sanity. As his kids began to get restless, eyeing the chickens with a hungry look, he seemed to decide against getting involved and just moved along with a defeated sigh, muttering under his breath about "children."

Town was just about as exciting as usual, which is to say, not at all. Sarai had parked at the outskirts of town, proceeded to tell us what hour to meet up again to head back home, then went on her merry way. We all knew she had a secret Lycan boyfriend she was seeing, and that's why she had begun frequenting town so often, but we kept quiet about it, not wanting to lose our free rides.

"Okay," Jonathan said, looking down at us, taking charge as he was the eldest. Along with me and Micah, Chloe had also tagged along. She really liked going to Oakcreek's small pet store and staring at the fishes, even if the staff always gave her dirty looks, like they thought she was going to try and eat the hamsters, and would promptly find some excuse to kick her out after a few minutes.

"What do you guys want to do?"

"Pet store," Chloe said immediately.

Micah rolled her eyes at her younger cousin, "Internet café, duh."

"I just want to go to the grocery store…" I added in.

Jonathan pinched his nose, like getting stuck with us was terribly inconvenient, or he was having a headache; could be either or both, honestly. Inhibitors did that to you.

Whenever we went to town, we had to wear Collars because there was no way we could pass ourselves off as humans, so our best next shot was pretending to be Lycans.

Now, despite us being quite similar, a Werewolf and a Lycan are not the same thing. Though we are both wolfbloods, technically Lycans descend from werewolves, the difference being that they have human blood mixed in.

Lycans have been present for as long as human history; however, for centuries, they had done their best to keep their distance from humans, and humans were also not overly eager to mix in with Lycans. The arrangement seemed to work out, as a feeble peace was kept for millennia, up until the last two centuries when humans began developing much more advanced weapons, and the first thing they did was try to "eliminate" the perceived threat that was the Lycan population.

It was an almost complete genocide; Lycans had only survived by running towards Werewolf colonies and pleading for their protection. "Those were dark times," Nana would say, her eyes losing their spark. "Not many of us got out alive."

Eventually, things had come to a stalemate. Humanity wasn't quite able to get rid of Lycans, and after years of losing countless lives and resources attempting to do so, they were forced to admit defeat. So they had done the next "best" thing. They had attempted to incorporate Lycans into human society but never quite letting them in, and made sure to have absolute control over them.

All Lycans had to wear Collars starting from the age of two. They were bright red, had a numerical code on the side that was essentially a Lycan's ID, and not only had a tracking mechanism built-in but an electrical shock one as well. In case any Lycan "misbehaved" or got "out of control," they could easily be put in line.

The only purpose it served was to make humans feel safe, assuring them they had complete control over these creatures that far surpassed them in strength. It made Lycans appear like barely controlled rabid animals, and often people treated them as such.

As if this wasn't enough control, Lycans were given the "option" to take a daily dose of S4-Cell blockers, a pill that was supposed to help them be more "calm" and "gentle" and make them good citizens. In truth, it was a sedative; humans, Lycans, everybody knew this. However, those who didn't take the blockers lost their government assistance, and when Lycans weren't allowed into most jobs and almost all professions, most couldn't afford to lose that extra help.

"Okay," Jonathan spoke, seeming to have come up with a plan. "How about this? We go to the pet store first—" we were so getting kicked out of there in five minutes; it didn't really matter "—then to the internet café, and Percy can go over to the grocery store since it's next door. How does that sound?"

Nobody had any complaints on the matter, so we set out.

In order to pass off as Lycans when we came into town, we also took a good dose of S4-Cell blockers, or S.C, as most shortened it to. We had to take about double the dose that Lycans would take so that if we got blood checked, our S-Cells would be around the same levels as a Lycan's.

This method was effective, and allowed us to pass under the radar, the problem was that, since we weren't used to taking blockers, we always ended up a bit lightheaded when we did. Sometimes it could make us dizzy or really exhausted, and it always gave us a headache within the hour. It was a great motivator to get everything done as fast as possible and not stall around.

Humans didn't know Werewolves existed; we had kept ourselves hidden for millennia, leaving humanity, and most Lycans, to believe we were merely myths. Much like Greek gods, for example, in the same way ancient civilizations had used the idea of "gods," powerful beings, to explain the origins of humanity, we Werewolves were a mere fairy tale to explain away the origins of Lycans.

Something about that thought made me pause. Where had that comparison come from? As I mulled the thought over, it almost felt like I was at the edge of some great revelation, like I was about to connect the dots to some huge mystery. But my train of thought was abruptly interrupted as we arrived at the run-down pet store.

"Please don't do anything weird," Chloe pleaded with us as Jonathan pushed the door open, "I don't want them to ask us to leave too soon…"

Jonathan patted her on the head affectionately, though there was hidden anger in his eyes. "Of course, Chloe, we will be on our best behavior, right, guys?"

We both nodded obediently. "We promise," Micah said, even as all of us knew that no matter how well we behaved, how little trouble we caused, how small we tried to make ourselves, the moment the staff saw our red collars, they would start finding a way to get rid of us. That was simply how the world worked.

Grover had been in Oakcreek's Middle School for months, looking for, well, he was entirely sure by this point, something? someone? divine intervention, it's anybody's guess by this point. He had been originally supposed to only stay perhaps a month, sort through the students, and move on to the next assignment.

He knew he was getting the short end of the deal, having to go through all these small rural schools that had little chance of having demigods, however right now he was willing to do anything for the Elders to give him a second chance at earning his searcher's license.

He had already meticulously combed through the elementary and middle schools, and had found—nothing. He was pretty certain that there were no demigods in either, yet something, a gut feeling maybe, had kept him here for perhaps longer than he should have.

As was often the case when he was passing himself off as a student, he had been the target of constant harassment; he looked like an easy kid to pick on, he guessed. So it was not surprising, when that particular afternoon, after class had let out, that he had found himself surrounded behind the school, intercepted before he could make a hasty escape.

It was Nancy Bobofit and her gang. She was the daughter of the mayor and got away with pretty much everything, and thus would surround herself with older kids eager to leech off her influence.

"Why didn't you let me copy your answer during that math test?" She was demanding, as two older middle schoolers pushed Grover against the wall, resulting in him losing hold of one of his crutches.

"I needed to pass that test to not fail that class!" she ranted on, fuming, "Now I'm going to be in trouble and it's all your fault."

Grover shook his head, resisting the urge to hit her over the head with his remaining crutch. "I won't partake in academic dishonesty of any kind—"

She paused, scrunching up her face, as if those had been too many complicated words in one sentence for her to manage. "Whatever, you are about to learn to not disobey me ever again, crutch boy."

The hold on his arms tightened to the point of being painful as the larger middle schoolers, who frankly looked like they had been held back more than one grade, looked down at him with gleeful smiles.

Grover closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself for a first blow that never came.

"Hey! Leave him alone."

Four pairs of incredulous eyes turned towards the source of the voice. It was hard to tell who was more surprised, them or the Lycan who stood at the end of the street, holding a grocery bag in one hand, his eyes widening with horror, like he couldn't quite believe he had gotten himself involved in this.

Grover's nostrils flared as he detected the young Lycan's scent, his heart quickening as he realized he didn't quite smell like a normal Lycan. There was something off about his scent, almost too potent, but he barely registered that over the impossible fact that he could smell godly blood in him.

He didn't want to believe it. It was forbidden for all gods to have children with Wolfbloods. It was forbidden, an abomination; the resulting children were too powerful, too dangerous in the eyes of Olympus.

He wanted to have made a mistake, an error that would spare him from this knowledge. He wanted so desperately to be wrong. However, as he looked into the boy's blazing eyes that seemed to contain all the fury of the ocean, he couldn't deny it: a god had broken their oath, and now they would all have to deal with the consequences.