The Rising Dawn

by Demititan28

Percy didn't just survive after his sacrifice, he thrived. Locked in ice for over 20 years the world he comes back to is not the one he left behind. But he doesn't have time to mourn his missed years, a threat is rising in the east and the survival of humanity is on the line. If Olympus has any hope of survival, it rests on his shoulders. Eventual Pertemis

31. I Seem to Have Misplaced My Entire Life

Chapter 31: I Seem to Have Misplaced My Entire Life

Percy had never really thought about what it would be like to die of thirst. But now, he couldn't remember having been so thirsty in his life. It started as an itching sensation in the back of his throat, the feeling of papery skin rubbing together. A constant irritant that turned into a death sentence when the colour of his pee began to scare him. Before long he stopped rowing the raft entirely, having surrendered himself to stare listlessly at the distant sky above him. Initially, he had watched the horizon, feeling a sense of misguided hope that salvation would emerge from that murky line. But as the reality of his damnation became clear to him, he turned his head away from the listless waves of the ocean. Ironic, considering that he was…what was he again?

Why was that ironic?

He briefly considered racking his brain to try and figure out why it was ironic, but the effort to do something as tiresome as think had long since passed. Instead, he returned to giving his full attention to the darkening sky above him. It was almost time, the part of the day that excited him most in his new condition as a condemned man. When the canvas of the sky began to shift from a blue desert into an orange, red, purple and pink inferno that set his world ablaze. Finally being cooled by the winds of dusk into a comfortable indigo, and it was in the indigo that the magic happened. He used the last vestiges of his strength to pull his meagre blanket over his shoulders, sheltering him from the cold of the night.

Ready…

Set…

Go…

As though the sky were his symphony the show began, roaring into life through the glistening of a thousand stars. The sky, moments prior dark and empty, was now full of twinkling diamonds. He felt a smile sneak up on his face, maybe it was him being a New Yorker all his life but there was something magical about being able to see the stars.

New Yorker?

What did that mean?

He felt a spasm run through him, different from the ones he normally got when coughing. This one ran down from head to toe, sending tendrils of pain to the tips of his fingers and toes. Whatever he had been thinking of was ripped from his thoughts, and he submitted to returning his wandering focus back to the main event.

The main event was the moon of course, as it began its heroic ascent through the cosmos. Initially merely a pale, ghostly disc, it soon bloomed into light, bathing the sky in a gentle, silvery light. The stars seem to grow twinkle with fervour, as if in acknowledgement of the moon's reign over the night. Its velvet blue embrace carried him away from the squalor of his current situation.

For a moment he was not alone. Not trapped upon the waves. Not helpless to being forgotten at sea. Not condemned to die alone.

It was that thought that kept him company as he closed his eyes for what he presumed would be the last time.

It was the sensation of liquid running down his throat that brought him back from the dead. At first, it had been nice, and he had been content to gulp hungrily at wherever the cool water was coming from. Unfortunately, he was too eager in his drinking, and all it took were a few droplets down his windpipe to turn him into a spluttering mess.

It was as he coughed heavily that he felt a warm hand on his back, gently patting him as he forced the rogue droplets from his lungs. He tried to open his eyes to see who had brought him back from certain death, but as he pried his eyelids apart the blinding light of the sun filled his vision. He let out a groan and moved his hand to cover his eyes, but it was kept in place by his unseen saviour.

"Who…?" he croaked out, his voice rough and leathery from days without water.

"Relax," A female voice told him, "Everything will be explained after you rest."

He wasn't thrilled about it, but it was hard to argue with the soothing voice, and so he settled back into their embrace and allowed them to resume feeding him water drip by drip.

Now that he wasn't coughing his lungs out he found the warm sun a blissful feeling on his face. The rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves lapping against the shore made it all the easier to sink into this stranger's embrace. The gentle rustle of leaves in the palm fronds above whispered softly and occasionally the distant call of a tropical bird pierced the air.

Beneath him the sand was warm, and it was only then that he realised he was clad in nothing but underwear. He blushed in embarrassment but did nothing to change the situation, he was far too comfortable. The breeze carried over the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers, and he took a break from drinking to let out a content sigh.

Footsteps approached from behind him, and his shoulders tensed. Something deep inside of him stirred and he tried to free himself from the nice stranger's embrace in order to protect them both from the new one. But he was still too weak, and as he tried to writhe out of her grasp she merely squeezed his arm reassuringly.

"Don't worry, it's a gift," the woman whispered, and it was then that the aroma of freshly cooked fish, seasoned with herbs, wafted towards him, stirring a hunger he hadn't realized was there. As if in agreement his stomach groaned.

He blushed again, and the woman laughed softly. The footsteps that had brought the food now set off from whence they'd come, and Percy couldn't help but be embarrassed that he hadn't thanked them.

"Than…than…thank…"

The woman pressed a finger to his lips, "Relax handsome, you're never going to get better if you keep using all your energy."

Now he was blushing for a completely different reason, and so he resigned himself to simply enjoying the moment. The sun on his face, the waves in his ear, and a kind stranger slowly feeding him fish. He'd always liked fish, except for when they started talking to him. Fish that could talk…that was funny…except…

A spasm ran down him, and whatever he had been thinking of was ripped away from him. The stranger pulled him closer into their warm embrace and put a straw to his lips. He settled back down from the spasm and began to sip cautiously. The liquid was warm, which concerned him at first, but when the flavour hit he couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment. It was like liquid chocolate chip cookies. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but it tasted somewhat familiar. It was a feeling of nostalgia that he couldn't quite shake.

The euphoria of the drink gave him the strength to shade his eyes and look up at the person nursing him back to health. Amongst the blinding light of the sun, he could make out long blonde hair dangling tantalisingly out of reach, covering a smiling face.

"Annabeth…" he whispered.

He didn't know where the name had come from, or what had prompted him to say it, but it felt right. He closed his eyes once more and faded off into the realm of dreams thinking about his blonde-haired saviour.

When he awoke this time, he was alone. His eyes fluttered open to a world and he was relieved to see he now had protection from the blinding light of the sun. He lay in a hammock, gently swaying, strung under the high, vaulted ceiling of an open-walled beach pavilion. The hammock itself was surprisingly soft, and it felt as though he was sleeping on a marshmallow, a warm embrace he was struggling to find the strength to leave.

The pavilion itself felt like a lost piece of Atlantis, an underwater reverie crafted on the shore. The pillars were adorned with shimmering mosaics, tiny tiles catching the light and scattering it across the room. Nettings draped from the beams, tangled with shells and starfish that swayed in the breeze like chimes. Each breath of wind carried the salty tang of the sea and resulted in the rhythmic ringing of the shells against one another.

As Percy lifted his head and looked around, he was in awe of the view. In front of the pavilion, the beach unfolded before him, a crescent of creamy white sand edged by the caress of clear blue waters. Behind him rows of palm trees fringed the scene, their leaves rustling softly overhead, casting playful shadows on the ground. Beyond the palms, the jungle grew thick and lush, and the distant sound of animals drifted back to him.

Percy sat up, the world tilting slightly as he did so. He sat on the edge of the hammock and swung softly. He stared out at the horizon and tried to remember how he ended up here. He remembered the blonde girl on the beach, and before that, he remembered staring at the moon as he thought he was about to die. But before that...nothing.

That couldn't be right. He clawed at his head, as though ripping out hairs would somehow bring the memories back to his mind, but it was a hopeless effort. Memories of whatever life he had lived that had brought him here were as elusive as the sea breeze that drifted gently through the pavilion. The sound of people in the distance broke him out of his musing, and he remembered that he owed someone, maybe a few someones, his life.

The ground was cool beneath his feet as he stepped out of the hammock. His legs were still weak, and he almost crumpled as he put weight on them for the first time in what must've been a while. But after a few shaky steps, he regained his footing. On a small, driftwood table lay a conch shell as large as his head, its spirals a greenish-blue hue. He lifted it to his ear, half-expecting the ocean's roar, but inside, there was only the sound of his own breathing, slow and steady like the tide. It was strange, he could have sworn that conch shells were meant to sound like the ocean. He returned the conch to its prominent position on the table and walked to the edge of the pavilion, where the structure met the soft, warm sand. The sea beckoned, and for a moment he had an almost overwhelming urge to sprint towards it. Then he remembered how the waves had abandoned him as he lay dying on the raft.

Almost as if listening to his thoughts, he suddenly noticed the raft lying on the sand just outside of the pavilion. There were still two rowing oars, but one was splintered and broken in half. He glanced back and forth a couple of times between the marshmallowy hammock and the dingy little raft. He wondered what god had been kind enough to save him. He pondered for a moment whether he had been a religious man in his old life, one who had believed in higher powers. The thought left a sickening feeling in his stomach and so he assumed he was probably not a religious man. Nonetheless, something had saved him from damnation.

Shaking the thoughts from his head he set off in search of the voices. The sand was warm beneath his feet, and it was at this moment that he decided to take stock of what he was wearing. Or rather, what he wasn't wearing. The only thing keeping Percy from rocking a birthday suit was a pair of tattered boxers. The second thing on his to-do list after thanking the people who had saved him was to get a new fit.

The beach curved away from him, disappearing behind the jungle. He continued his trek and began to follow the curve, sticking to the shoreline. It was a short walk, maybe five minutes, before the narrow shoreline opened up and widened into a large bay. An island village lay sprawled along the edge of a small bay, where the turquoise sea met sun-kissed sand. Thatched cottages dotted the landscape, their walls painted in cheerful hues of aqua, lemon, and coral, contrasting with the lush greenery that surrounded the island. Each cottage boasted a neat little garden, bursting with tropical flowers that danced in the gentle sea breeze. Above them, the inlet gave way to thick jungle and, as the terrain rose, eventually to a daunting peak. A volcano towered above them, faint plumes of smoke gently rising into the sky above. The image alone was breathtaking, but something felt unnatural about the whole thing. After all, why would a village be located at the base of an active volcano? On top of that, it all felt too perfect, with not a single leaf or blade of grass out of place.

As Percy made his way towards it he found himself on the main pathway through the village, a sandy track lined with coconut palms and interspersed with colourful market stalls. Villagers moved about their daily routines without paying him so much as a second glance, despite the fact he was only wearing boxers. Some tended to their stalls offering handcrafted jewellery and baskets filled with tropical fruits, whilst others chatted under the shade. It was as though he was completely invisible to them, despite his near nakedness.

It became clear that near the shoreline was the place to be, as a group of villagers, young and old, had set up a makeshift volleyball net between two tall palms. The game was in full swing, and while most players leapt and dived with athletic ease, there were two players who stood out amongst the rest.

The first man stood at well over six feet, a beast of a man who was dominating the game on one side, making dives that seemed to defy human capability. The other man seemed shorter, but far more athletic. What the first man demonstrated in strength, the second made up for in speed. As Percy drew closer, he realised that they also appeared very different from the people around them. The first man, enormous and strong, had only one eye in the centre of his face where most people usually sported two. The other man had two eyes, but his skin was green.

He felt a spasm run through him, originating in the back of his head and coursing down his spine. He collapsed to his knees on the sandy track and gasped for breath, fighting back the urge to vomit up whatever had been fed to him earlier. In the back of his mind, he could hear a rhythmic beeping, but a gentle hand on his shoulder suddenly brought him back to reality.

He glanced up and found a stormy gray eyes staring down at him through a parting of blonde hair. They looked so familiar, but there was something off about them. It was as though they lacked the life that they were supposed to be so full of.

"Annabeth?" he gasped, before another spasm shot through him, causing him to keel over once again. He didn't know where the name kept coming from, or why it caused such a reaction in him, but right now it was the only thing he could focus on.

He felt the girl grab his hand. It was soft and warm to the touch, and just being in her presence made the pain begin to melt away. "I'll be your Annabeth," she whispered in his ear, and that was the last thing he remembered until his world faded to black once more.

He awoke in the same hammock he had been in the last time, except this time there was a rocking chair next to him. Its occupant was a woman, but not the one that had been with him when he passed out. As he stirred, she looked up from the book she had been reading. Her hair was still blond, but instead of the stormy grey eyes he had seen before he passed out, hers were silver. Her face seemed to shift for a moment, before settling on one that seemed strangely familiar. As it did though the colour of her hair changed with it, moving effortlessly from blonde to auburn, before back again. It shifted a few times before settling on auburn with streaks of blonde. Each strand seemed to dance with the light reflecting off the waves of the rolling tides. She had high cheekbones, a delicate nose, and full lips that curved into a smile as she looked down at him. She was so beautiful he struggled to find the words to speak to her, but luckily for him, she spoke first anyway.

"You're a complicated one. Hopelessly in love with a woman who can't have you, and crushing on another in the same predicament," she murmured, eyeing him as though he were a puppy she had just found on her doorstep.

"Um…I uh…" he stuttered, struggling to think as he tried in vain to rip his eyes away from the woman's perfect face.

She giggled, and in that moment he wished he could replay that sound for the rest of his life until he died. "You're adorable," she sighed, "I understand what they all see in you, but you don't deserve it. You deserve to be happy, don't you?"

"Um…y-yeah…I guess," he replied, confused at what she meant.

"So you'll stay here?" she asked excitedly, "I'll keep you safe here, I promise."

It took all of his willpower not to say yes, but the way she asked the question made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Something was wrong, why didn't he have any memories?

Another spasm ran through him and his back arched in pain as he let out a yell. He collapsed back into the hammock and took a moment to regain his breath and collect his thoughts. When he turned back to the woman she was looking at him disapprovingly, as though he were a new puppy who had just left her a steaming brown present on the floor.

"Why do you keep fighting?" she huffed, "Can't you see that life would be perfect here? You can be with Annabeth, and live out to old age in this paradise."

This time hearing the name Annabeth didn't trigger any spasm, and to be quite honest what she was saying sounded really nice. He had just barely survived being lost at sea, why shouldn't he now settle down and enjoy life to the fullest?

He was about to nod his head when suddenly a spasm ran through him once more. This was different from the others though, as he felt no pain. There was just an immense pounding in his head, as though somebody was slamming on the door to his mind. Something was wrong, really wrong.

He let out a very manly scream when the woman sitting next to him shot out of her seat, her eyes glowing silver as she bore down upon him. She grabbed him by the hair and placed her other hand against his face. The pounding began to dull, and he could feel himself drifting off to sleep. He thought about fighting it but decided that the woman probably knew best, and so he felt himself once more slipping into sleep's sweet embrace.

"Jackson!" A voice seemed to screech out at him from the ether, reverberating from deep within his skull.

The force of the voice caused whatever the force was putting him to sleep to be shattered in an instant. His eyes flew open in time to see the woman being flung out of the pavilion by an unseen force. Some primal instinct deep inside him, some sort of fight or flight reflex that had been dormant until that moment sprang into life. He was in danger, this woman was a threat. Almost of his own accord, he leapt out of the hammock towards the far side of the pavilion, putting space between himself and the woman.

He couldn't explain where it came from, but for the first time since he had woken up on this island, it felt like he was actually him. "Jackson!" He understood. It was a reminder of who he was. Percy Jackson!

The voice seemed to cackle deep within him, saying something that Percy couldn't quite make out before suddenly speaking up, "Haha, it's been taking ages. My sister is quite the force ain't she? Anyway, let me short. If you want to beat her you need to get her out of your mind first." The voice went quiet, and Percy could make out the mutterings of other voices, as though they were telling the primary voice what to say. "When you're done, don't forget the conch," The voice resumed after the pause, "And remember: in the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength. Good luck, Jackson! I can't wait to meet you!"

The voice seemed to evaporate inside of him, and as though it had been a dam protecting him, the force that had been present before roared back with a vengeance in his skull. It felt foreign and alluring and Percy knew he had to figure out a way to fight back. Whatever this woman was trying to do to him, the only way to stop it was to not fall under her spell. "Get her out of your mind" sounded a lot simpler in theory. In reality, how the hell was he supposed to fight someone who could reach into his mind?

The woman shot up off the ground and flew toward him, hand outstretched. He dove to the side and rolled under the table with the conch. Leaning on his back he kicked the table up towards her, slamming it into her chest and sending her staggering back. He scurred to get to his feet and scampered towards the side of the pavilion, finding his footing as his feet hit the stand. He sprinted towards the treeline, not even wasting the time to see how close she was on his heels. He needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and whatever the hell she was as soon as possible.

He could hear footsteps behind him, but he just put his head down and made a mad dash for it, his legs becoming a blur beneath him. Somehow, running in the forest felt as though it was second nature. He didn't lose his footing once, every step seeming to be perfectly placed, and anytime it seemed as though he was going to careen into a tree it seemed to just miss him. He didn't know if he was going crazy or not, but it felt as though the jungle itself was helping him, providing him a path deeper. His theory seemed somewhat justified as the footsteps faded behind him, vanishing before long. He ran a bit further until his legs gave out, collapsing in a bundle of flowers that cushioned his fall.

He pressed the side of his face against the petals, closing his eyes and admiring how comfortable they were as he fought to recover his breath. His thighs burned and his right calf was spasming slightly from the force exerted during the run. He'd known he had been running fast, but he hadn't realised quite how fast until the pain had brought him back to reality. He had no idea who that bitch was but she was terrifying. Honestly, she reminded him quite a bit of Aphrodite, especially with how her hair and face had changed, seemingly to whatever it was that he would find most attractive. It was a pretty smart trick, especially since it had caught him off-

His eyes shot open. Aphrodite. The goddess of love. One of the Olympians. Mother of Piper McLean. He had first met her in the back of a limo during his quest to save Annabeth and Artemis. He let out a joyful groan, rolling onto his back with a grin.

He was Percy Jackson. Son of Sally Jackson and Poseidon. He was here with Triton on a mission to rescue Tyson. He laughed manically and had to fight back to urge to cry tears of relief. His memories were back. He was back.

He sat up and took a look at the trees around him. He was deep in the forest, hidden underneath a thick canopy and protected on all sides by large tree trunks and thick bushes. It was an impenetrable fortress of wilderness that was keeping him safe from the woman who had been chasing him. The wild had protected him.

He rested a hand on the flowers. "Thank you," he whispered. He'd have to remember to pass the thanks on to Grover. He had just saved his life.

He staggered to his feet, using one of the trunks by his head to keep himself stable as his legs burned in protest. It was a slow process, but he could feel the memories coming flooding back to him. First as a trickle, and then as a tsunami, swarming him with memories ranging from the snake he had strangled in his crib to the kiss Olive had left him with before he set out on the quest. He pressed against his temple as it throbbed with the surge of memories being pumped back into his mind.

Now that he was free from whatever spell the woman had put him under, the scope of what had just happened began to dawn on him. He had been completely at her mercy, only kept alive out of whatever strange fascination she had with keeping him there. How in Zeus' name was he supposed to fight someone who could yoink his memories at a moment's notice?

He leaned back against the tree, taking a deep breath as the throbbing in his brain began to subside. He ran his hands through his hair, noting that it had begun to grow out. How long had he been on this island?

Then his blood ran cold as he remembered the scene at the beach of Tyson and Triton playing volleyball. They hadn't seemed to have a care in the world, as oblivious to the danger of the situation as he had been when he was under the woman's spell. If she was powerful enough to bend even a god like Triton to her will…Her eyes!

Annunaki!

The reality of the situation came crashing down around him. The silver eyes were the same eyes that had belonged to Enlil, Marduk, Enki, and Ninlil. His breathing became rapid and shallow, each gasp seeming to claw at the air. He clutched at his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart, which pounded with such intensity it felt like it might burst straight through his ribcage. He had thought they were prepared, that they were going to keep the Annunaki from breaking out of their prisons. Had he already failed?

His eyes darted around frantically, wide with fear, as if at any moment the silver-haired woman would come bursting through the undergrowth and render him helpless to her whims once more. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and they soon became damp and clammy with sweat as panic overrode his senses. The sensation of dizziness soon followed, and his leaning on the tree trunk soon became a desperate grasping to keep himself from losing his balance.

Nausea twisted his stomach into knots, and so he slid to his knees, bending over as the urge to empty his guts over the flowers overwhelmed him. He fought against it, and only the remainder of the help they had provided kept his food down. His legs were shaking as well now, and so he collapsed onto his butt, curling into a tight ball. He felt something wet on his face, and it was only after a few moments that he realised he was crying.

"Fuck…" he muttered, taking a deep breath and wiping away the tears before they could fall off his chin. His vision was blurry, so he closed his eyes and thought of nothing other than his breathing, allowing his other senses to slowly come into focus.

"In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength!"

Percy's eyes shot open. He didn't come out of the ice to keep the Annunaki from rising. That had never been the plan. A nice pipe dream? Maybe. Something to keep them occupied? Sure. But the reason he was brought back? Hell no. The real reason he came back was to kick their asses back to whatever sorry planet they'd come from.

The wave of panic that had consumed him for a moment evaporated into the jungle air. He had come here to rescue Tyson, and that was exactly what he was going to do. "You need to get her out of your mind," echoed in his head, and while he had some suspicions about the voice (especially considering he had said sister) it was all he had to go on right now, but how in Hades was he supposed to kick her out of his mind.

He scratched his chin thoughtfully before deciding that that was something he would have to figure out before he fought her. In the meantime, he needed to figure out a way to get Tyson and Triton to safety and out from under her spell. Hopefully, the only way to break the spell wasn't beating her. No, there had to be other ways, especially since some super natural intervention had saved him.

He didn't know which direction to head in, but it saved him once, and hopefully, it would help him again now. And so with that well-thought-out and structured plan, he began to wander in the first direction he set his eyes on. The journey through the thick jungle foliage was arduous, especially as his legs still burned from the sheer speed he had been running at, but luckily the deeper he walked the less he noticed the pain. On top of that, the dense undergrowth seemed to give way with each step, forging for him a path to follow as he navigated his way through the jungle. The ground was a tangle of roots and fallen branches, but he didn't even need to look at where he was putting his feet. He owed Grover a tin can or 10 when he got back to Camp Half-Blood

Any sound of the ocean and the tides was long gone, replaced by the calls of distant birds, the rustle of small creatures moving unseen, and the persistent drone of insects. He instinctively reached into his pocket to check for Riptide before remembering he was decked in nothing but tattered underwear. The sun, though obscured by the thick canopy overhead, sent shafts of light through the gaps in the leaves, creating a dappled pattern on the forest floor. He appreciated the cover, especially since he had no idea what an Annunaki was capable of and flight certainly wouldn't be the craziest thing. Not least of all because he had seen Enlil himself demonstrate flight in his vision in Grover's lake.

After what could have been 10 minutes or 2 hours, the terrain began to slope upwards. The undergrowth became less dense, giving way to the trunks of massive trees that soared towards the sky but still fell short of the volcanic peak. Ahead of him, the last of the vegetation gave way to rock and slate all the way to the summit. Grasping at the roots of the nearest tree, Percy hauled himself up and began to scale the tree. Sure he was exposed briefly, but he needed to get a vantage point to see everything.

The wind felt nice across his skin after the humidity of the jungle, and even the sounds of the jungle began to fade as he reached one of the thick upper branches of the tree. He cautiously edged out across the branch and watched with a grin as the world opened up before him. From this vantage point, he could see the tops of the trees, the canopy looking like waves of green in an ocean of jungle. Beyond that, the true ocean spread out, first a turquoise that looked as though it belonged in the Caribbean before the shelf fell off and became a dark blue that sparkled in the light of the sun. A bird squawked behind him, and Percy turned to see that on a branch on the other side of the tree, a small nest was huddled against the trunk. A mother eyed him suspiciously, and so Percy held up his arms, the universal gesture of 'I'm not trying to eat you'. Clearly, the birds understood that as well, because the mother soon turned their attention back to their chirping children.

Percy turned his face back to the ocean, enjoying the view as he scanned the shoreline for what he was looking for. It didn't take him long, but what he found himself looking at was not at all what he expected to see. With a surprising degree of clarity, considering how far away he was, he found that he was not looking at a quaint island village, but instead an industrial port that looked to be in the process of preparing for war. There was a hive of activity along concrete docks as ships were being loaded with materials from the low-lying buildings and burning forges. There were none of the hand-crafted jewellery and tropical fruits he had seen, instead weapons ranging from spears to rocket launchers were being carted up and down the streets, everything moving in a hurried, almost frenzied manner. Ships of various sizes, from nimble dingies to imposing warships, lined a sizable pier, their hulls freshly painted and cannons prominently displayed.

Cranes and pulleys of various sizes were being employed to lift crates of ammunition and caged creatures onto the decks of the ships. Though he couldn't hear it up here, the gestures of the men and women on the move suggested that orders were being thrown left and right. He could see into the forges on the far side of the dock, seeing burly blacksmiths working tirelessly, sparks flying as they shaped weapons and materials. Soldiers, some decked out in modern military getups and others in classic armour that would look more suitable at Camp Half-Blood, marched in formation along the docks. At the heart of the port, an enormous golden command tent stood with its flaps closed.

None of that was what terrified him to the core though. What did that was the two figures on a patch of sand next to the command tent. One with a single eye, the other with green skin. Two brothers playing volleyball as though they didn't have a care in the world.

Authors Note: It has been a long time coming. The semester is over, thank the gods, and so I finally had more time to put towards writing. The problem was I didn't really know what direction to take this in. This chapter has gone through a couple of iterations before I found one I'm happy with. It's not the most action-packed chapter, but this is the start of one of the arcs I'm most excited to write. Now I know how it starts, and I can't wait for you to see how it ends.

I also wanted to give a heartfelt thanks to the entire community following this story. Your feedback couldn't have been better. Genuine constructive criticism, new ideas, interesting takes and theories. For the first time writing this, I truly felt part of the community. And I love that and want there to continue to be a community around the story. It felt more like a reddit post than fanfiction reviews. So please keep sending messages and theories and ideas and things you didn't like and things you loved and things you want to see. Everything!

I have wanted to tell this story for years, and to see people invested in it means so much to me. I can't wait for you to see what I have in store. It's only up from here, I promise!