Percy's POV:
"What?" I looked around seeing the shocked expressions of the demigods and half a centaur looking at me. I probably should have been a little bit more discreet about the whole thing. But damn it! I can't help feeling excited about finally being not dead!
"That's not possible!" Annabeth said. I never forget a face and the name that comes with it... Okay that's not entirely true, there a plenty of faces that I forgot, but I have my reasons! They were jerks.
"Sure it is Annabeth. A dead guy can't die twice after all." I could see in her stormy grey eyes that she is trying to put the puzzle together. I'm not that forgettable, am I?
"Do you know each other?" Chiron asked leaning forward a bit.
"I wouldn't exactly say know, more like I just ran into her awhile ago and saved their butts. Didn't they ever mention me?" Annabeth's eyes grew wide and she pointed right at me.
"You're the lunatic with the flute! Chiron, I thought he was just a dream... Luke never - after we got here," Her voiced hitched, "ever mentioned you so I thought you were just a figment of my imagination or something." She mumbled the last part, but I caught it and from the looks of it so did Chiron. She went on to tell the story of our meet and didn't leave any details out. Earning quite the shocked looks from everyone present. Man, I really did come off like a lunatic and a freak.
"I think we have much to discuss - Percy?" Chiron asked, I think knowing he got my name right, but... being weird about it.
"Yep. Just Percy though, not Perseus."
"A pleasure Percy." Chiron swung his wheelchair around, "Now would you please leave us be for a moment?" He asked the other attendants. They made haste in leaving, the swish of their white coats the only sound before the heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving the three of us and two unconscious bodies alone.
After a moment of suffocating silence, broken only by Annabeth's shaky breaths, she burst out, "You promised that we would meet again! Alive! Now… Now it's just Luke and I." She began tearing up, collapsing onto the neatly made bed across from mine. Her slender shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands.
"What happened?" I asked, swinging my legs over the edge of my own bed and clenching the crisp white sheets. The antiseptic smell of the infirmary stung my nostrils. She didn't answer, just continued to sob, muffled sounds that clawed at my chest. Hopping off the bed, I sat next to her and pulled her into a hug. She was surprisingly light. She didn't resist, just let her head rest against my chest, the dampness of her tears seeping onto my chest. After a couple of minutes, her sobs subsided, turning into shuddering breaths. "What happened?" I asked again, more tenderly this time. In the corner of my eye, I saw the gnarly, familiar shape of the Minotaur horn placed at the foot of my bed – a brutal reminder of my own recent, terrifying ordeal.
"A week after our encounter with you…" she began, her voice thick with unshed tears. She recounted a week of terror – relentless monster attacks, shadows that writhed and lunged from every darkened alley and rustling tree line. They had been hunted, she explained, with a viciousness she had never experienced before. Then came the final stand, on a hill overlooking… she didn't specify, but I could imagine the desperate, last-ditch effort. And then… "Thalia… she saved us. She faced the horde alone, so Luke and I could escape." Annabeth's voice cracked. "She turned into the pine… the giant pine at the top of Half-Blood Hill."
My stomach dropped. Thalia. Annabeth's friend. Gone. Sacrificed. A cold fist clenched around my gut. I couldn't help but feel a gnawing guilt. My scent, being powerful, must have drawn more monsters after my run in with them. Maybe if I had taken up their offer… Maybe if I hadn't been there at all… "I know there is more that I can do," Annabeth whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze distant and filled with a hollow ache.
"Sorry for interrupting, but Percy, we need to talk. Alone." Chiron's calm voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. The last part, "Alone," was definitely for Annabeth. Chiron started maneuvering his wheelchair towards the door. Thank the gods. I was starting to feel suffocated within these sterile walls.
"Annabeth? Would you like to talk a bit later?" She gave a shallow nod, her eyes still red-rimmed and lost in grief. I gently squeezed her shoulder before following Chiron, making my way out of the infirmary. As soon as I pushed through the heavy oak door, fresh air hit me, and my lungs expanded gratefully. I stood on a wide porch that wrapped around the entirety of the building, overlooking a sprawling green landscape. But I didn't have time to admire the view. Chiron was already rolling away, the rhythmic whir of his wheels urging me to follow. I quickly caught up to him as he turned the corner, disappearing into the trees lining the edge of the clearing. The real conversation, I sensed, was about to begin.
The camp was absolutely breathtaking. The valley marched all the way up to the way up to the water, which glistened with a resound beauty about a mile in the distance. The rest was dotted with Greek buildings, an open air pavilion, an amphitheater, and an arena that was circular in design. All stunningly clean and white in the shining sun. Demigods and satyrs all played volleyball, while others sat in canoes in a small lake. Everyone was wearing bright orange T-shirts and seemed to be enjoying themselves. Others were practicing their shots at an archery range and riding horses or Pegasus... It honestly reminds me of home.
The promise of sunshine had been a cruel joke. Stepping out of whatever transport had dropped me at the edge of the woods, the air hung thick and heavy, pregnant with the scent of ozone and wet earth. But the weather wasn't as magnificent as I'd hoped for. As soon as I was outside a massive storm hit the borders of the camp, a furious squall that seemed to press against an invisible barrier surrounding the valley. Zeus was definitely not happy.
While charcoal clouds gathered directly overhead, casting the whole camp into a premature twilight, the campers seemed less concerned about the heavens and more… well, on edge. Like they were nervously waiting for something to drop, not just rain. I trudged around the building, a sprawling, white-pillared structure that looked more like a Southern mansion than anything else. It had a wide porch, and at the very end of it, beneath the shelter of the eaves, Chiron sat at a small card table.
He wasn't alone.
Facing him was another man. My first impression was… god. Not in a reverent way, more like a startled recognition. He was small, almost squat, porky in build with a nose so red it looked polished. Big, watery eyes, the color of old wine, blinked slowly, and his curly black hair had a peculiar sheen, nearly purple in the fading light. A loud Hawaiian shirt strained across his belly, blooming with hibiscus flowers and parrots, and he held a deck of cards, ready to deal. He didn't look like a thunderbolt-wielding deity, more like a retired butcher on vacation in Vegas.
"Who's the brat?" the man grumbled, his voice surprisingly deep and gravelly for his size, without even looking up.
Chiron, in his wheelchair and sweater, gave a small, polite cough. "This child here is Percy, Mr. D. He claims to be a son of the sea."
For just a heartbeat, the card shuffling stopped. The man's wine-dark eyes flickered up, pinning me with surprising intensity. Then, just as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. He overcame whatever flicker of interest it was, a shrug rippling through his Hawaiian shirt, and went straight back to shuffling, splitting the deck with practiced flicks of his wrist, beginning to deal for three people - an imaginary third player, I guessed.
"It's the truth," I told them, my voice echoing a little in the charged air. "It is also the reason why I'm here." I didn't bother to take a seat, the rain spitting onto the porch floor close enough to my worn sneakers. I wasn't here for a game of cards.
"Oh, so your father told you to come here," Chiron said, his tone mild and inquiring, like he was asking about the weather, not divine parentage.
"Nope." I planted my feet, crossing my arms. "I came because of the missing master bolt—"
The word hung in the air, unfinished, because just then, thunder screamed. Not the rumbling, distant kind. This was a raw, ear-splitting crack that vibrated through the very bones of the porch, a sound that seemed to claw at the sky directly above us. It was localized, too, like Zeus himself had aimed his fury purely at this little corner of Camp Half-Blood. It was as if I was the one who'd stolen the damn thing. Hmm, maybe I should have been a bit more subtle.
The purple-haired man, Mr. D, finally looked up again, his watery eyes narrowing. "What do you know, Perry?" he said, the question dangerously soft, a silken thread pulled taut. His voice, though still gravelly, now held a low growl, laced with something ancient and potent. I looked into his eyes, and for a moment, the casual facade dropped. Deep within those wine-dark depths, a purplish fire flickered, a glimpse of something far older and more powerful than a pudgy man in a Hawaiian shirt. It showed only a part of his true nature, a sliver of the god beneath.
"I didn't steal it, idiot," I retorted, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Adrenaline, or maybe just stubbornness, surged through me. "I just don't want the big head upstairs"— I jerked my thumb towards the angry sky— "to attack my father because of some unsanctioned delusion or whatever! At the very least, I would like to see my dad."
Mr. D's eyebrows, surprisingly thick and dark, rose slowly. "You should be careful with that tongue of yours, Perry. People have died for a lot less, speaking like that to their betters."
"He won't kill me," I said, a slow smile spreading across my face, feeling a reckless confidence bloom in my chest, a warmth that pushed back the storm's chill.
"And why do you think so?" Mr. D leaned forward, his gaze sharp as broken glass.
I dropped the smile, letting the insinuation land heavy in the silence that followed the receding thunder. "My family would be very upset." Let them decipher that. Let them see the barely veiled threat.
"And you believe it has to be you?" the old centaur chimed in, his voice calm and measured, breaking the tense standoff between me and the wine god.
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though inside I was buzzing with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. "I figured that the youngest appreciates a mortal stooping low for somebody else's sake. Of course, I realize I'm a little late to the party and all that jazz." I let the sarcasm drip, hoping it masked the truth, the gnawing fear that maybe I was too late.
Chiron actually seemed… impressed. A slight upward quirk of his lips was almost a smile. The wine god, Mr. D, merely scoffed, a puff of air that ruffled his purple-tinged curls, and went back to playing his solitaire game, ignoring me as completely as if I'd vanished. "But I can't actually do anything now," I added, my voice losing a little of its bravado. "I first need to heal. Then I'll be on my merry way." The bruises from… everything… ached beneath my clothes, a dull, constant throb.
Chiron was silent for a few minutes, contemplating something, maybe my audacity, maybe my battered state. He finally spoke, his voice regaining its gentle tone, only occasionally calling out the card names as Mr. D played his game. "You make a fair point, Percy… The day after tomorrow, you'll have a meeting with the Oracle of Delphi. Which gives you plenty of time to get situated and perhaps play a fun game of capture the flag."
Capture the what now? My eyebrows shot up.
"But you won't be staying in Poseidon's cabin…" Chiron continued, his gaze steady. "We have certain rules that need to be followed, and until you're claimed, you'll be staying in Cabin Eleven."
"With all due respect," I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice, "I prefer sleeping outside. I never had a bed in my life. And as I see," I gestured at the bright orange t-shirts I'd glimpsed on my way in, "I prefer the bare look. I'm not wearing that godforsaken orange, I'd rather die."
Chiron's gaze softened, but didn't waver. "We have rules for a reason, Percy. Please just follow them. I wouldn't want a mishap on your first day here."
Too late, I thought grimly, glancing at the raging storm above. Mishaps already seemed to be the order of the day. I nodded, a curt, polite inclination of my head. I didn't think I'd be sleeping inside anytime soon, but arguing further seemed pointless for now.
"Now, I want you to head up to your cabin and get situated. Have someone show you around. Then come back down here for a medical check-up before dinner."
"Aye-aye, Captain!" I saluted him with a mock flourish, then turned away, heading deeper into the camp. With every step, my body protested, aching and sore, a symphony of pain reminding me of the Minotaur's horns, of the fall, of everything. Medical check-up? Yeah, okay. But first, exploration. Responsibilities could wait.
No matter where I went, I heard hushed whispers and pointed fingers, all directed subtly, or not so subtly, at me. At the Minotaur horn clutched awkwardly in my hand. Seems that stories traveled fast around here. And everyone wore that blinding orange t-shirt. Something else I noticed: the ages. They all seemed older than me, bigger, more confident. I was suddenly acutely aware of my ripped pants and my general air of… displacement. Camp Half-Blood. It was definitely a strange place.
I turned my gaze towards the more mundane parts of the camp, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. My eyes drifted upwards to the main house, its many windows reflecting the fading sunlight. On the highest story, a curtain twitched. Just a barely perceptible shudder, but enough to set my senses tingling. Something most certainly was up there, behind that lace, observing.
I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the sprawling camp. It was a curious mix of rustic and… well, not exactly opulent, but definitely touched by something beyond the ordinary. Archery ranges with targets that seemed to repair themselves, a climbing wall that spat lava, I'm going to have so much fun on that thing, a canoe lake that shimmered with an unnatural clarity – I explored the entire visible region, taking it all in, before I made my way towards the cabins nestled in a grove further in.
Twelve of them in a U formation, each with a distinct architectural style. One was covered in bronze plates that gleamed menacingly, another looked like it was carved directly from marble, and one even seemed to have vines growing on its thatched roof – they were clearly designed to their parentage. It was impressive, in a way. But… only twelve?
A wave of unease washed over me. Only twelve… There are a lot of minor gods out there who have children too. I've read the myths. Heard the whispers. Do they just stuff them in cabin eleven as well? The 'undetermined' cabin. Khione's words from earlier, cold as ice and cutting deeper than any winter wind, echoed in my mind. "This place is just sad, Percy. A gilded cage for forgotten children." Her cynicism, usually a shield, felt more like a prophecy now.
I finally reached the cabin tucked away at the far end, number eleven, the Hermes cabin. It didn't look too out of the ordinary, more like an old cabin you'd find in any summer camp, just a little more worn down, maybe. That's it, nothing more to it than that. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside.
The cheerful murmur of conversation died instantly. Every head in the crowded, messy room turned towards me. Dozens of eyes, ranging in age from maybe ten to early twenties, assessed me with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion. Someone, lounging on a bunk with a deck of cards in hand, drawled, "Regular or undetermined?"
Regular or undetermined? Really? That's how kids are greeted after coming here? The bluntness of it stung a little. Did they see me as just another nameless face to be processed?
"Neither," I said, forcing a semblance of calm into my voice. "I know my dad, but haven't been claimed yet. Don't worry though, I'll try not to be a nuisance as much as I can. Oh, and the name is Percy."
That didn't seem to help much. Faces remained impassive. I bet a lot of kids knew their parents, deep down. Especially here. But 'unclaimed' was the camp's limbo, wasn't it? This just isn't right.
"Welcome, Percy," a voice said, cutting through the silence. A guy stepped forward from near the back of the cabin. He was about nineteen, tall and muscular, and had short-cropped sandy hair that looked perpetually tousled. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, a worn leather necklace with five beads, and sandals that looked like they'd seen better days and a thousand more miles. But it wasn't his clothes or his build that drew my attention. It was the impressive scar that started from behind his right eye and snaked down to his jaw, a jagged white line against tanned skin. That must've hurt. "You can have the spot just over there on the floor." He gestured casually behind him towards a relatively empty corner.
For some reason, his presence unsettled something deep inside me. It wasn't hostility, not overtly. More like… recognition. Familiarity. "I'm Luke," he said, extending a hand. "The counselor of the Hermes cabin."
Luke? The name sparked a faint echo in the back of my mind. Then, something clicked. My eyes widened slightly.
"You don't remember me, do you?" I asked, surprised, this has to be the same guy as before. Just, you know, older.
He squinted his eyes, studying my face, a flicker of something in his gaze, then he shook his head, a slight frown forming. "No. Should I?"
"I'm disappointed," I said, well more like sighed. "Do you remember about five years back? Upstate New York? When a seven-year-old jumped from the treetops and saved you, Grover, Annabeth, and Tha-"
Before I could finish the name, his hand shot out, clamping over my mouth, cutting off the word. His eyes, which had been friendly moments before, went cold, hard as steel. He glared down at me, his grip tight.
"You don't deserve to say her name," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "If it weren't for you, she might've still been alive."
He held my gaze for a long, tense moment, the cabin silent around us, everyone watching. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the anger seemed to drain out of him. His hand dropped, and he stepped back, running a hand through his sandy hair. "Sorry," he mumbled, avoiding my eyes.
"No," I said quietly. "You're probably right. I might have made it worse by interfering."
"I'm sorry as well," Luke said, his voice softer now, weary. "Look, it's… raw. Still." He looked around the crowded cabin as if searching for an escape.
I coughed into my hand and spoke, "If it's alright with you, I'm gonna take a walk before dinner." He nodded vaguely towards the door.
I turned and walked out of the cabin. I left nothing to claim that spot on the floor. The bow slung across my back, the flute tucked into my back pocket with the arrow, everything was still with me. Hermes, the god of thieves… who knows what would have been stolen if I stayed any longer, especially from children of the god of thieves.
Part of the way down the hill, towards the training grounds I'd explored earlier, someone called out to me from behind. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Hotshot the newbie."
I turned to see a group of figures emerging from the shadows of the woods. Leading the charge was a girl, big and husky, with five others flanking her. All wearing mismatched camo jackets and carrying what looked like real weapons - spears, swords, even a wicked-looking mace. She came up right behind me, her presence radiating aggression, and continued, "We have a little initiation for people like you." Her voice was a low growl, laced with amusement.
"Oooo, that sounds like fun," I said, a grin spreading across my face despite the knot in my stomach. "I've been itching to test my skills against other demigods!" I couldn't help the bravado, the instinct to deflect threat with challenge. It worked. I don't know what was funnier, their shocked expressions or the fact that I'd just shut up some of Ares' children. "I could tell you guys are all action, not much different from myself actually, I respect that… Six vs. one. Are you down?" I sized them up, calculating odds. I could see this going down in two ways: I beat them, and they hate my guts, or I beat them, and they grudgingly give me respect. Either way, a fight was brewing.
"We'll pulverize you, punk!" The husky girl in front shouted, taking a step closer, spear held menacingly. They were surprisingly fast. They charged, a flurry of motion and steel, reaching me quickly, before I even got the chance to whip out a dagger. The leader, spear girl, jabbed at me, the point flashing silver. I sidestepped, moving instinctively, but I felt a faint tingle slide past me, a static charge in the air, and I knew. Her spear was special. Enchanted, maybe.
Ducking under a sword swipe from another camper, I grabbed his wrist, fueled by adrenaline, and twisted his arm with a sharp crack. He yelped, dropping the sword. I snatched it from the air, the weight familiar in my hand, a crude but effective blade. Just in time to block another heavy sword coming down on me from the side. Man, these people don't play around.
Swiping my feet out in a low arc, I knocked the two closest attackers off balance, sending them tumbling. Before they could recover, I brought the butt of the captured sword down on the back of their heads, not too hard, just enough to stun them. Which I didn't like, by the way. Using a sword like a club felt wrong. Wasting no time, I rushed another one, jumping high in the air, using his momentum against him, and kneeing him directly in the face. A satisfying crunch echoed as I landed, busting his nose on impact.
Landing back down, I spun my entire body to avoid another spear thrust that was aimed squarely at my gut. Using my sword, I slid the blade down the shaft of the spear, deflecting it away and using the momentum to propel myself right up to her face. A quick, sharp jab to the temple with my fist, and she went down instantly, slumping to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Sliding past her, I came face-to-face with a brute of a guy, swinging a mace. Too slow. Punching the side of his kneecap with all my force, he buckled instantly, his face contorting in pain as he fell. I jabbed him in the gut with the butt of the sword, knocking the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for breath.
Suddenly, the same tingle I felt before, the electrical charge, came back, this time directly at my backside. The cold point of a spear pressed into my back, just below my shoulder blades, and a searing zap shot through me relentlessly. "You lose," the husky girl, back on her feet, told me, her voice smug. She insisted on putting more pressure on my bare back with the spear, the electricity burning against my skin.
"I don't think so," I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. The familiar tug in my gut, the instinctive connection to water, came rushing in. I reached for the water canister clipped to my belt, still thankfully half-full. With a flick of my wrist and a silent command, the water inside surged out, coiling around the tip of the spear that was digging into my back, a thin, shimmering tendril that traced itself back towards her hand. The water, charged with something… more than just water… slammed into her, a sudden, powerful current running through the spear and shocking her into dropping her weapon and releasing me with a yell.
Gripping my stolen sword, I spun around, the tip of the blade now pointed right at her face, inches away. "What's your name?" I asked, breathing hard, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.
She blinked, a little confused, a flicker of surprise in her dark eyes. "Clarisse." She was pretty tall, even standing over her fallen friends, and had the muscular build of an athlete. She had dark eyes, and pale brown hair that was definitely stringy, and covered in dirt.
"Not many people have had the privilege of getting behind my back, Clarisse," I said, lowering the sword slightly. "I respect that." She was surprised into silence, her initial aggression replaced by something else, something akin to… impressed confusion? Even more so when I dropped my guard completely and lowered the sword, giving her a hand to get up.
She stared at my outstretched hand for a moment, then let out a scoff, a low rumble in her chest. She ignored my hand, pushing herself up, dusting off her camo jacket. Without a word, or even a backward glance at her defeated friends, she turned and went on her merry way, disappearing back into the woods like a disgruntled storm cloud.
Dropping the sword, I went on exploring through the camp. The sword, a chipped bronze thing I'd been handed earlier, clattered unceremoniously onto the dusty ground. Weapons could wait. First, I needed to get my bearings, maybe find somewhere quiet.
My feet, thankfully, seemed to know what they were doing, leading me down a winding path that opened up to a stunning view of a lake, shimmering under the late afternoon sun. It was peaceful here, a world away from the chaotic energy of the camp proper. Sitting by the edge, I trailed my fingers in the cool water. And then I saw them. Just below the surface, shimmering shapes moved. Naiads. They were beautiful, their forms shifting and glowing with an otherworldly light. Happily, I waved down to them.
To my surprise, they waved right back, their faces lighting up with excited smiles. They gestured for me to come closer, and honestly, why the hell not? Looking around, making sure no one was close enough to witness my potential insanity – though with a lava-filled climbing wall, maybe jumping into a lake wasn't so crazy after all – I took a deep breath and plunged in. The water was surprisingly warm, embracing me like a familiar friend. I surfaced with a splash that echoed in the quiet air, feeling instantly refreshed.
Swimming over to the group of naiads, I felt a grin spread across my face. "Hi," I said, a little awkwardly. They giggled, their voices like the gentle bubbling of a stream. We sparked up a conversation, or rather, a torrent of conversations. They were bursting with stories, camp gossip (apparently, even nature spirits had drama), and tales of the lake's hidden depths. They listened intently as I told them – well, vaguely told them – about my journey, careful to leave out the monster bits for now.
They seemed fascinated by me, especially since I'm currently not drowning and talking openly. One, with hair like flowing seaweed, tilted her head. "You must be blessed by the Sea Father then! A son of Poseidon?"
I just shrugged, not wanting to confirm or deny anything. Let them believe what they wanted. It was nice being thought of as something special, even if it was just a guess. Our time, however, was cut short by the unmistakable clang of a dinner bell echoing across the camp. Damn it! I'd forgotten to get checked up, and something told me that skipping camp directives wasn't the best way to start. "Duty calls," I sighed, already feeling the pangs of hunger. "But this was amazing. We should do this again soon?"
The naiads laughed, promising to be here whenever I needed them. Walking right out of the water, dripping and refreshed, with the naiads waving and giggling behind me, was probably an odd sight. Even for a camp of half-god children. Kids walking past on the path practically tripped over their own feet, stopping dead and giving me double, triple, takes. One kid, a skinny guy with curly hair, actually walked into a tree. What? Have they never seen a boy walk with nature spirits?
But man, was I hungry. Ignoring the bewildered looks, I started running towards the direction the dinner bell seemed to be coming from, which I guessed was the dining pavilion. Rounding a corner, I practically bumped into a group of teenagers heading the same way. "Hey!" I called, trying to sound casual. "Which cabin is temporary for newbies?"
A girl with startlingly fierce grey eyes pointed towards a humble-looking cabin nestled between a boisterous group of red ones and a quieter, vine-covered set. "Cabin Eleven. Hermes cabin. For unclaimed."
"Thanks!" I waved goodbye to the naiads who were still splashing happily in the lake, and jogged towards Cabin Eleven. They were really nice, those naiads. And good listeners.
Entering the dining pavilion was like stepping into a Roman feast, only outdoors. Long tables stretched out under a starlit sky, and the air was thick with the smell of roasting meat and… something floral? At the head table, I spotted him. The skinny, curly-haired kid who'd walked into a tree earlier! And next to him, a portly, grumpy-looking man in a leopard-print shirt and a wheelchair… How can a horse fit in that? And Grover, that was the curly-haired kid's name, I remembered dimly. He looked a lot better than when I'd last seen him, pale and feverish.
I waved and called out to Grover, genuinely excited to see he was okay. I wondered about the girl he'd been with too. He must've read my emotions because he perked up at the sight of me, a huge grin spreading across his face. Maybe I'd talk to him later about everything. A moment passed as we were all ushered to our designated tables, and I found myself standing awkwardly near the Hermes cabin table, unsure of where exactly to sit. Deciding standing was easier, I just stayed put.
Chiron, the centaur, raised his glass – or rather, hoof, which was holding a goblet – and boomed, "To the gods!" Everyone around me echoed, "To the gods!" in unison. Almost everyone. I was still too new to know the drill, but I raised an imaginary glass anyway, feeling a weird sense of belonging already.
Wood nymphs, tiny and ethereal, floated between tables, carrying platters piled high with food I didn't even recognize. My goblet was empty, but I had a feeling. A smirk played on my lips. And then, a nymph appeared before me, pouring a vibrant blue liquid into my goblet. "Blue strawberry smoothie," she chirped, before flitting away. Perfect. Just like mom's. It was a bittersweet taste, reminding me sharply of the night I'd left my family, the last blue smoothie she'd made me.
Once everyone had their food, a hush fell over the pavilion as they all got up and marched towards a roaring bonfire crackling in the center. Sacrifices to the gods. Right. My plate was piled high with… well, mystery food. Some kind of roasted meat covered in a thick, savory sauce, and some leafy greens I couldn't name. It smelled good, I had to admit, but something felt wrong. I'd rather work for my own dinner, earn it somehow.
Following the crowd, I found myself last in line at the flames, the heat radiating against my face. Everyone else was tossing portions of their meals into the inferno. I just stood there, plate in hand, and closed my eyes. I prayed… for a couple of minutes… It wasn't just to my father, whoever he may be, but to my moms, to my sisters, to dad, even to Chiron, who seemed to be looking out for me already. I was grateful, and they should know that.
Opening my eyes, I made a decision. And then, I dumped my entire plate of food into the fire. Every last bit of it. I wasn't eating tonight.
I walked back to my table, the scrape of my sandals on the stone echoing in the sudden silence. I was acutely aware of the stares, the weight of dozens of eyes on me. The whole camp seemed to have stopped chewing. It was silent. Too silent. "I'd appreciate it," I said, my voice carrying surprisingly well in the quiet, "if the stares were directed at your food instead of mine."
That shook people out of their stupor. A few coughs, some nervous laughter, and slowly, conversations sputtered back to life. I could still make out some whispers, "New kid's got issues…", "Did you see him throw everything?", "Maybe a vow?". That made me smile a little. Let them whisper.
Chiron stomped his hoof, the sound sharp and authoritative, silencing the murmurs and chatter. He got everyone's attention, his wise, calm eyes sweeping over the crowd. Then Mr. D started to talk, something about camp activities and rules, but I zoned him out pretty quickly, my mind still replaying the scene at the fire, trying to understand my own impulsive action. "…Ercy!" I caught the tail end of what sounded suspiciously like my name and snapped to attention, looking towards the head table. Everyone was staring at me now, not whispering, just… staring.
No one seemed to know what to do. Right. Time for introductions, I guess. I pushed back from the table, standing a little straighter. "Hi! I'm Percy," I announced, addressing the entire pavilion. "And I'm a newbie to camp. But I'm sure you all knew that part." A few nervous chuckles rippled through the crowd. With that awkward, yet hopefully charming, introduction out of the way, we were dismissed to the amphitheater for the campfire. Nope. Not happening.
I ditched that real quick. Campfire songs and forced camaraderie? No thanks. Instead, I went straight back to the lake. The naiads were still there, their laughter echoing softly in the twilight. I took out a drachma and sat by the water's edge, wanting to call my moms. I quickly filled them in, glossing over the monster attacks and emphasizing the blue smoothies. By the time I hung up, the campfire music had faded. I snuck back to the Hermes cabin without anyone seemingly noticing my absence and found a relatively unclaimed corner to get ready for bed.
Not inside the cabin, though. When everyone was asleep, their snores a symphony of hormonal teenage chaos, I slipped back outside, drawn by the cool, quiet allure of the lake. I waded in until the water reached my waist, then just kept going until I was submerged. The naiads were waiting, their forms glowing softly in the darkness. They said it was okay, that I could sleep here, in the lake. Lucky me. And as the water cradled me, whispering secrets of the deep in gentle currents, I drifted off to sleep. That was my first day of camp. Definitely… memorable.
The first rays of dawn, weak and watery, were just starting to paint the underside of the clouds a bruised purple when I cracked an eyelid. Perfect. I slipped out of the water and padded silently towards the training grounds. The air was crisp and carried the scent of pine and damp earth. A quick session with the straw dummies felt good, loosening muscles still stiff from yesterday's… everything. It was mostly remembering what I already knew anyway; sword forms, stances, the balance needed for a clean strike. Boring.
I tossed aside the practice sword and headed for the archery range. The Apollo cabin's quiver was overflowing with golden arrows, sunlight seeming to glint even in the pre-dawn gloom. Temptation whispered. Huntress arrows were something else entirely, sharper, faster, imbued with who-knows-what goddess magic. I told myself it was research, familiarization with potential enemy armaments, totally justifiable. Slipping a few into my quiver, I strung a bow and began practicing. The difference was immediately noticeable. The arrows flew truer, hitting the bullseye with a satisfying thwack every time. Definitely didn't want anyone knowing about this little experiment.
Later, properly awake and feeling marginally less like a sack of potatoes, I remembered the girl. Jessica. The one I'd pulled back from the brink yesterday. I found her room in the infirmary, sunlight now streaming through the windows. And there she was, sitting upright in bed, eyes wide and darting around the room like a trapped bird. Panic radiated off her in waves.
"Hey," I said softly, stepping into the doorway, "Jessica, right?"
Her eyes snapped to me, widening further if that was even possible. "Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?" Her voice was trembling, on the verge of hysteria.
"It's okay, you're safe. You're at Camp Half-Blood." I took a step closer, but she flinched back against the pillows. "I'm… I'm the one who – who helped you yesterday."
She just stared, her breathing ragged. Before I could say anything else, a figure bustled into the room, centaur legs clopping loudly on the wooden floor. Chiron. Oh so that's where his back half is.
"Ah, good morning…?" Chiron trailed off, his gaze shifting between Jessica and me, a knowing look in his eyes. "Perhaps, it's best if I speak with Jessica alone for now. Orientation, you understand." He smiled kindly, but the message was clear. Shooed.
"Right, orientation," I mumbled, backing away. "Just wanted to make sure she was okay." Jessica was still staring at me, her expression a confusing mix of fear and something else… gratitude? I caught her eye and gave a small, reassuring nod before retreating.
Outside, the camp was buzzing with morning activity. The air felt lighter, brighter somehow. Everyone seemed… happier. Had something happened? I shrugged it off and headed towards the woods. A chat with the nature spirits was always grounding. They whispered secrets of the forest, the slow pulse of the earth, and their cheerful babble was infectious. Training continued, sword work against the dummies, until I stumbled upon Grover sitting beneath an oak tree, looking even more forlorn than usual.
"Hey Grover," I greeted, collapsing beside him. He jumped, startled, then a wide grin split his face.
"You're… you're actually talking to me?" he stammered, adjusting his crutches.
"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, genuinely confused. "You seem like a cool guy."
And he was. We talked for ages. About everything and nothing. About his dream of finding Pan, the lost god of the wild, a dream I oddly shared, a buried yearning for something just beyond reach. His enthusiasm was infectious, bouncing off the trees and back to me. He was… a friend. My first real friend here. It was a strange, warm feeling.
The training grounds beckoned again, the rhythmic clang of metal drawing me back. Luke Castellan was there, effortlessly dismantling a dummy with fluid, graceful movements. He was good. Really good.
"Spar?" I asked, sheathing my sword in invitation.
Luke grinned, a flash of easy charm. "Finally decide to step up to a real challenge?"
He didn't hold back, and neither did I. He was fast, powerful, and his strikes were precise. He made me work, sweat dripping down my back, muscles happily doin the dance. It was exhilarating. When we finally stopped, breathless and grinning, he clapped me on the shoulder.
"You've got talent, kid. Keep practicing like that, and you'll be a force to be reckoned with."
Another friend. Luke. That made… three? Annabeth and now Luke and Grover. Weird. Speaking of Annabeth…
I spotted her lurking near the edges of the training ground, pretending to examine a nearby oak tree, but her eyes were fixed on Luke. Not very sneaky, wise-girl. I strolled over, intending to tease her, but something shifted in my mind. Yesterday…
I pulled her away from her not-so-subtle observation post, leading her towards a quieter part of the woods. "So," I said, leaning against a tree, "yesterday was… intense, huh?"
Annabeth's usual guarded expression faltered. She chewed on her lip, picking at a loose thread on her camp shirt. "Yeah," she mumbled, looking away. "It… it happens sometimes."
"Sometimes?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Giant monster attacks 'sometimes'?"
She finally met my gaze, her grey eyes shadowed. "More than you'd think. This place… it's not always safe. Outsiders don't understand. They think it's all fun and games, gods and heroes. But it's hard. It's… scary."
The walls she usually built around herself crumbled, just a little. She spoke about the constant threat, the monsters, the prophecies, the never-ending pressure. She'd been here for years, since she was seven, running from monsters, from the shadows of her own past. It was rough, just like I'd suspected. They all had it rough, in different ways. We talked, really talked, until the conch horn blasted across the valley, signaling dinner.
Walking up Half-Blood Hill with my cabin felt… different. Lighter. Maybe it was Grover, maybe it was Luke, maybe it was just talking to Annabeth, but the crushing weight I'd felt before seemed to have eased. At the pavilion, I went through the motions of the dinner ritual, scraping the entire portion of my meal into the fire, muttering my customary prayer. I'd grab something later.
Then I saw her. Jessica was sitting at the edge of my table, looking lost and overwhelmed. I felt a pang of guilt for almost missing her. Sliding onto the bench beside her, I turned to her, mustering my most calming voice. "Are you doing okay?"
She didn't burst into tears like I expected. Instead, her shoulders slumped, and she let out a shaky breath. "No… this is all just too much. I never even met my mom, and now people tell me she's a goddess. I just wanna go home. I wanna go home." She curled into herself, knees drawn to her chest, tears brimming in her eyes. "So-o you hel-helped me. Th-thank you."
"I only did what I thought was right." I kept my voice soft. "By the way, I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything. Anything at all, just let me know. Even if you just want to talk. I owe you that much."
"Hah, you o-owe me? You saved me… I shoul-d be the one owing you."
"I don't see it that way, Jessica. I saved you, now it's my responsibility to make sure you're okay." A small, watery smile flickered across her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but the conch horn blared again, longer this time, more urgent. Capture the Flag.
"Hey, um, you should probably wait a little before playing tonight," I told her, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Don't worry," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Chiron told me I can't anyway. So I'm just gonna hit the hay."
Her words were swallowed by a sudden eruption of cheers. Annabeth and a group of others came running into the pavilion, carrying a massive banner. Glistening grey silk emblazoned with a barn owl above an olive tree. Then Clarisse and her crew stomped in, their banner a gaudy red with a bloody spear and boar's head. Athena and Ares. Capture the Flag. Suddenly, the earlier chipperness of the camp made sense.
"Heroes! You know the rules already. Creek boundary. Forest is fair game. All magic items allowed…" Chiron's voice faded into background noise as I zoned out, already strategizing. "…Arm yourselves!"
The tables transformed, groaning under the weight of weapons and armor. Swords, spears, shields, helmets, breastplates. I scanned the array, but nothing appealed. Too bulky, too heavy, would restrict my movements. Shirtless it was then, just my usual. Flute tucked into my belt, bow slung across my back, and my twin daggers strapped to my thighs.
"Athena cabin, Hermes, Apollo, move forward!" Annabeth's voice snapped me back to attention. We were on the Athena team. Obligated to follow wise-girl's orders, at least for now.
As we moved forward, I caught the crazed looks. Not because they were crazy, but because they thought I was. I rushed to the front, right next to Annabeth. She glanced at me, then did a double take when she registered my attire. "What in the Hades is the matter with you!?" she hissed, her voice a furious whisper.
"Is someone worried about me?" I teased, a smirk playing on my lips. "I'm honored."
"Of course not. I just can't believe I have an idiot for a teammate."
"Ouch. You wound me, Annabeth. How could I possibly recover?" She just rolled her eyes and marched on, muttering under her breath.
Once we reached our designated flag spot, Annabeth launched into a convoluted, overly detailed plan. Something about flanking maneuvers and strategic retreats and… I tuned her out again. As soon as the conch horn blew, the signal to start, I bolted. Straight towards their flag. No hesitation. No elaborate plan. Just pure, unadulterated speed. I heard Annabeth shriek my name and curse me, but I kept running. Guard the creek? HA! Yeah, like that was gonna happen, wise-girl.
The woods swallowed me whole, shadows dancing around the trees. And then I felt it. An eerie presence, not the usual monster reek. Something different. Distracting.
Distracted enough that I didn't see it. The snare. Hidden just on the other side of the creek. Suddenly, bronze mesh erupted around my legs, tightening, hoisting me upwards with brutal force. I was strung up, swinging helplessly from a thick branch, celestial bronze biting into my skin. No chance to escape.
"Looks like we caught one, boys!" Clarisse's voice, smug and triumphant, echoed from behind a bush. Hoots and hollers erupted all around me. And from my new, elevated vantage point, I could see their flag, unguarded, practically begging to be taken. "Oh, and if it isn't the newbie! This is going to be fun," she growled, stepping into view, followed by a dozen Ares campers, armed with sharpened spears and cruel grins. A few faces I recognized from my cabin table, now transformed into gleeful tormentors.
"Aw, come on, Clarisse," I sighed, feigning disappointment. "I thought we were friends."
Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares and bane of my existence (at least during capture the flag), scoffed, stepping closer. She brandished a wicked-looking spear tipped with celestial bronze, its point glinting menacingly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. My heart thumped a little faster. Celestial bronze nullified my powers – that much I knew. Years at Camp Half-Blood had taught me a thing or two, even if it was mostly through trial and error, and often painful error at that.
But bronze didn't nullify ingenuity. My gaze flicked past Clarisse, beyond her smug smirk, focusing on the trap she stood in front of. A net woven from thick rope, suspended between two sturdy oaks, designed to drop anyone foolish enough to wander into this section of the Ares territory. My gaze traced the ropes, the trigger mechanism, the whole deadly contraption. And then, I saw it. A weakness. The rope tying the whole thing together, almost hidden amongst the leaves, a small gap, just big enough...
My fingers flexed, itching for the comforting surge of power that was usually my go-to solution. Not today. Today was about outsmarting, not overpowering. Snatching the dagger from my ankle sheath, the familiar weight grounding me, I crouched lower, pretending to assess the terrain. "Friends who tie people in nets?" I asked innocently, keeping my voice light, my movements subtle. Clarisse just grunted, taking another step, spear held ready. Good. Distraction achieved.
With deft fingers, I worked quickly, sawing at the rope. It was tougher than it looked, thick and coarse, but the celestial bronze dagger sliced through it steadily. Just enough. A strand frayed, then another. My weight shifted ever so slightly, testing the weakening rope. It groaned, and then with a satisfying snap, it parted. The ground rushed up to meet me.
I plummeted to the forest floor, landing in a crouch, springy and balanced, just as planned. Dust puffed around my sneakers. And just as planned, I was surrounded. Ten very angry Ares warriors materialized from behind trees and bushes, their faces painted with war paint, their bronze weapons gleaming. Clarisse chuckled from above. "Not so clever now, Seaweed Brain."
I grinned, pushing myself upright, dusting off imaginary dirt. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I got a flag with my name on it." The familiar tug in my gut, the rising surge of energy, flared to life, even with the bronze surrounding me. It was different today, muted, but still there, a simmering undercurrent. Time to improvise. It was always time to improvise with me.
I thrust my hands forwards, not outwards, but downwards, towards the dry forest floor. The air crackled, not with blinding power, but with a subtle hum you could feel in your teeth. The ground vibrated.
A low rumbling could be heard coming from the creek, bordering the Ares and Athena territories, growing louder, faster, deeper. Moments before anyone could react, a tidal wave of icy cold water erupted from the creek bed, surging forward with unexpected force. It wasn't a towering, ocean-worthy wave, but it was wide, powerful, and utterly unexpected. It swept the ten Ares warriors off their feet, crashing them into the ground in a tangle of limbs and surprised yells. Clarisse, caught off guard on the edge of the net trap, stumbled and yelped as the water soaked her to the bone.
Wasting no time, adrenaline pumping, I sprinted towards where I'd spotted their ridiculous red flag earlier, flapping defiantly atop a makeshift pole near their creek boundary. Dodging tripwires I'd barely registered before, leaping over camouflaged pits, weaving through a gauntlet of half-hearted spear throws from disoriented Ares kids struggling to get to their feet, I pressed on. This was Capture the Flag, Camp Half-Blood style.
I grabbed the flag, the crimson fabric surprisingly heavy in my hand, and jumped back just as a sizzling electric charge crackled through the area where I'd been standing. Nice try, Ares team. Alerting the rest of my team – the few who hadn't been swept away by my impromptu flood – I hoisted the flag high, adrenaline singing through my veins.
Getting back to Athena territory was much tougher than I thought. Now they were alert, and vengeful. Every step seemed to lead to vines snapping at my feet, hidden nets trying to ensnare me, or some Ares jumper determined to tackle me into the mud. One particularly zealous son of Ares nearly shish-kabobed me with a spear, forcing me to roll and narrowly avoid becoming a human kebab.
But I was faster, nimbler, and the creek, my creek, was closer. Everyone converged towards the water's edge, a chaotic melee of shouts and frantic footfalls. I hopped over the narrow stream, landing squarely in Athena territory, the muddy red flag transformed in my grasp, shimmering now in the light, morphing into a glistening, cool grey.
The conch horn blew, its deep resonant tone echoing through the trees, signaling Athena's win. A cheer erupted from our side of the creek – a mixture of relief and exhilaration. Not too shabby, indeed.
"Not terrible, but if you'd listened to me, this would've gone so much easier." The air shimmered next to me, the telltale sign of magic, and Annabeth Chase materialized, taking off her Yankees cap, her grey eyes narrowed, but a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" I grinned, feeling the triumph bubbling up. She laughed, a short, sharp burst of air, but I could tell she wasn't entirely pleased with my… unorthodox methods. "You're lucky that tidal wave didn't wash away the whole flag, Seaweed Brain," she muttered, but her tone was softer now.
With one foot out of the creek, closer to the cheering crowd, ready to bask in the glory of victory, a deep growl ripped through the forest. The cheering died off instantly, replaced by a chilling silence. Chiron's voice boomed out in Ancient Greek, shouting for his bow, for everyone to get ready. A primal fear clenched my gut.
Appearing as if it crawled straight out of the shadows, massive and terrifying, a Chimera the size of a hippo lunged. At me. Just me. Its claws, thick as butcher knives, imbedded themselves into my shoulders, tearing through my camp shirt and cutting down, deep, right to the bone. Dislocating it with its sheer, monstrous weight. Hot, sticky blood poured out, a shattered dam flooding the clear creek, turning it crimson with terrifying speed. I screamed, a raw, involuntary sound ripped from my throat. The world swam, and a cold numbness spread down my arm. Damnit, I should have seen that coming. If Phoebe saw me now, then she'd probably say something stupid like, 'By all means have fun, but don't be an idiot.' And yea, maybe I was being a bit stupid.
"PERCY!" Annabeth's voice, sharp with terror, pierced through the pain. The Chimera was too fast, too strong, pinning me to the creek bed, its hot, fetid breath washing over my face. Anyone who even tried to come close was snapped at by its snarling lion head or whipped away by its serpent tail, hissing venomously. Arrows rained down, celestial bronze glinting in the sunlight, but they only pierced its thick hide or deflected harmlessly off its scales. Even Chiron, with his legendary aim, was having a tough time. Kids were everywhere, panicked, scattering, and he couldn't risk hitting one in the chaos. But also, I realized dimly, he didn't want to aggravate the Chimera anymore, not while it had me pinned, helpless.
Too bad they failed to realize I was already gone. Pain blurred the edges of my vision, but instinct took over. Water traveling. I dissolved, becoming one with the creek, flowing unseen about twenty feet upstream, under the murky brown water, and then, slowly, deliberately, rising.
I climbed out of the water, using the forest to move directly above the Chimera, hidden by the overhanging branches and the chaos below. Gasping for air, I grasped my dislocated shoulder, the pain a white-hot fire. Bracing myself against a thick branch, using sheer force of will and teeth-gritting agony, I swung my arm hard. POP. The sickening, disturbing sound of bone grinding back into place echoed in the sudden stillness of my mind amidst the roaring pain. He still had one massive paw planted firmly on where I used to be, too distracted by the panicked humans below to realize I was gone. Believing I was still crushed beneath him. The blood swirling in the creek, my blood, covering up my watery escape. It was utter chaos, and in chaos, there was opportunity.
Ice coalesced around my hand, forming, solidifying, shaping itself into a long, wickedly sharp sword of pure frozen water. My lungs burned, my vision swam with black spots, but adrenaline surged again, stronger this time, fueled by desperation and rage. I fell forward, not gracefully, but with the full force of my body weight behind me, pushing my makeshift weapon down, down, down.
I felt weightless, suspended in time, as I plummeted, the screams of the campers fading into a strange, muffled silence. It felt like minutes, an eternity, had gone by. No one saw me, no one noticed the impossible angle of my descent, until it was too late. My ice sword penetrated the Chimera's skull with an audible crack that echoed through the forest, punching directly into its brain. Instant death. The monstrous creature shuddered once, then twice, and then dissolved, not with a bang, but with a whisper, showering the area in fine, shimmering gold dust. Sending him back to Tartarus.
I landed hard on one knee, my breath ragged, the ice sword dissolving back into water in my numb hand, as everyone registered what had just happened. A Chimera, inside camp borders. Impossible. And yet, undeniably true.
"Di immortales!" Annabeth whispered, her voice awed, horrified. "That shouldn't… be possible!"
"Normally I'd agree, but It's not like we had a normal circumstances these past few days," Chiron stated grimly, his gaze sweeping the panicked faces of the campers, finally settling on me. Their eyes, everyone's eyes, were glued to my blood-soaked body, to the gaping wounds in my shoulders. But something else too. The water from the creek slid against my skin, around my wounds, not just washing away the blood, but… healing them. Incredible speed.
Yet, when I looked around, no one was actually looking directly at me. Their gazes were fixed right above me, at something behind me. "I don't believe it," Annabeth breathed, her voice barely audible.
I looked up, my neck stiff with pain, and there it was. Projected against the sky, shimmering like a mirage, a holographic three-tipped trident, pulsing with a soft, underwater light, with a light flurry of snowflakes swirling around it. My heart stuttered, then slammed against my ribs. I glanced around again. Everyone was kneeling.
"Hail! Perseus!" Chiron's voice, clear and strong despite the tremor of awe that ran through it, boomed through the clearing. "Son of the Sea God! Poseidon! Earthshaker! Stormbringer! Father of Horses!"
I was no longer undetermined. Finally. I was claimed. Thanks dad. Nice flair Khione.