Chapter 3: Control is All You Need
An hour later, we were about to leave. The trip was supposed to last three days, but something in my gut told me it was going to be longer than that.
I stuffed my backpack with the essentials—extra clothes, my toothbrush, and whatever snacks I could grab before Gabe could notice. Not that I was about to share with him anyway. My mom had packed up our things with the same quiet efficiency she always had, her expression calm but her eyes holding something deeper—something like urgency.
"Alright, Percy, ready to go?" She asked with a smile, using the nickname she'd given me forever ago.
I nodded, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Let's get out of here before Smelly Gabe finds a reason to stop us."
We made it to the door just as Gabe called out, "Don't expect me to clean up after you two! And bring me back some food!"
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, definitely not happening.
As soon as we stepped outside, I felt like I could breathe again. The air smelled cleaner, fresher, like freedom. My mom locked the door behind us and led me toward her beat-up blue Camaro, the one thing in her life Gabe hadn't managed to ruin.
"Montauk, huh?" I said as I climbed into the passenger seat. "What made you decide on a beach trip out of nowhere?"
She started the car, her hands gripping the wheel just a little too tight. "Oh, I just thought it'd be nice. You and me. Like old times."
That feeling in my gut twisted again. My mom never lied to me. But this? This wasn't the full truth.
Still, I didn't push. Not yet.
I leaned my head back against the seat, watching as the city faded away behind us. The road stretched ahead, the sky darkening as we drove toward the unknown.
I had no idea what was coming.
But something told me this trip was about to change everything.
We started our drive, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us. Gabe may as well have spat on my foot with the way he sneered at me before we left, making it painfully clear he didn't want me around anymore. Honestly? The feeling was very mutual. If I never saw his ugly mug again, it would be too soon.
Mom, on the other hand, seemed… lighter. Leaving that apartment lifted some invisible weight off her shoulders. She rolled down the window, letting the summer breeze in, and for a moment, she just looked happy. Peaceful.
I wanted to bottle up that moment and keep it forever.
Still, I couldn't shake the weird feeling in my gut. Like something big was waiting for me at the end of this road trip, something I wasn't ready for. The air felt thick, charged with an energy I couldn't place, like the moment before a thunderstorm when everything goes eerily still. Even the trees lining the highway seemed taller and darker, their branches twisting like grasping fingers. The wind howled a little louder than it should have, rattling against the car windows as if whispering a warning only I could hear.
I glanced at Mom, wondering if she felt it too. She kept her hands steady on the wheel, humming softly to herself, but there was something tight in the way she held her shoulders, something careful in the way she kept her eyes locked on the road. As if she was bracing for something.
I told myself I was imagining things, that it was just nerves from everything that had happened lately. But deep down, I knew better. Something was coming. And whatever it was, it was getting closer.
We drove for what felt like hours, the city slowly giving way to stretches of open road, winding past forests and quiet little towns. The air grew saltier, the scent of the ocean creeping in through the cracked windows, mingling with the warm summer breeze. The further we got from home, the more I felt that strange weight settle in my chest—like I was being pulled toward something inevitable.
By the time we reached the very tip of Long Island, the sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows across the dunes. The waves crashed steadily against the shore, their rhythmic roar both calming and eerie, as if the ocean itself was whispering something just out of reach.
"Are you going to send me away to another boarding school again?" I asked, my voice laced with frustration. The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn't help it. Every year, every school—it was always the same. I never fit in, and sooner or later, I got kicked out. It was like some invisible force was pushing me away from anything normal, no matter how hard I tried to hold on.
Mom kept her eyes on the road, her grip tightening slightly on the wheel. "I don't know, Percy… I think we have to do something," she said, but there was something in her tone—something careful. Like she was trying to protect me from the full truth.
That only made the knot in my stomach twist tighter. The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Is it because you don't want me around?"
The second I said it, I wanted to take it back. Shame burned in my chest. Of course that wasn't it. My mom loved me—more than anything. But the thought had wormed its way in, ugly and persistent, feeding off every time I'd been sent away, every time I'd felt like an outsider.
She glanced at me, her expression softening, but the weight of whatever she wasn't saying still hung between us.
"I have to, for your own good… to keep you safe," she said, her voice tight, like she was holding back tears.
My stomach dropped. There it was again—safe. The same word Grover had used, the same weird tension in Mr. Brunner's voice. My own mother was saying it now, and that made it feel even worse.
"From what?" I demanded, my hands curling into fists. "What are you protecting me from?"
I needed answers. I deserved answers. Too many strange things had been happening—Mrs. Dodds vanishing like she never existed, Grover's weird behavior, Mr. Brunner looking at me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. And then there was my so-called gift, the way I had melted into the shadows like I wasn't even real. The way I can learn fighting styles is by watching TV. The way I somersaulted over Mrs. Dodds. It wasn't normal. None of this was normal.
Mom didn't answer right away. She just stared at the road, her jaw tight, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, filled with all the things she wasn't saying.
And that terrified me more than anything.
"Your father… he wants to send you to a summer camp," she said, her voice breaking, her grip tightening around the wheel like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
My father.
The word felt foreign, like it didn't belong to me. I barely let myself think about him. As far as I knew, he had walked out of our lives before I could even form a real memory of him. So why, after all these years of silence, did he suddenly care enough to send me somewhere? And why did Mom look so wrecked about it?
"What does he have to do with this?" I asked, my chest tightening. "Why now?"
Mom blinked rapidly, like she was trying to keep herself together. "I can't talk about it…" she whispered. "I don't want to, because—because if I do, it might mean I'll never see you again."
Her voice cracked. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
That hit me like a punch to the gut.
"What?" I sat up straighter. "Mom, that doesn't make any sense. It's just a summer camp—"
But she turned her face away, looking out the window as if she could hide the emotions spilling over her face.
I didn't know what scared me more—her words or the way she was acting like saying too much would make me disappear.
The car fell into silence, the only sounds being the rumble of the road beneath us and the occasional distant growl of thunder. I swallowed my questions, pressing them down deep inside me, because I had the horrible feeling that if I pushed too hard, she really would break.
That night, I didn't sleep well.
The motel bed felt stiff, the air thick and humid, pressing against my skin like a warning. My mind wouldn't shut off, replaying the conversation over and over again, trying to piece together the mystery that was my own life.
When I finally did drift off, I fell into a dream that didn't feel like a dream at all.
The sky churned above me, thick, angry clouds swirling in a way that made my stomach twist. The wind howled, carrying the scent of salt and lightning, making my hair stand on end.
In front of me, two creatures clashed—a massive eagle, its talons sharp as daggers, and a wild horse, its mane whippin like sea foam in the wind.
They fought with terrifying force.
The eagle struck down, trying to sink its claws into the horse's back. The horse reared up, kicking with powerful hooves, its eyes glowing with something ancient and unstoppable. The sky roared with thunder. Below them, the ocean thrashed, waves rising like hands reaching for the sky.
I knew—somehow—that I had to stop them.
If they kept fighting, something terrible would happen.
The world would end.
I ran toward them, my heart pounding, my mouth opening to shout—but before I could say anything, the sky exploded with light. A blinding flash, a crack of thunder so loud it rattled my bones—
And I woke up, gasping, my shirt soaked with sweat.
For a second, I just lay there, my breath ragged, trying to convince myself it was just a nightmare.
Then I heard it.
The real storm is outside.
Wind howling. Rain hammering against the roof. Thunder rumbling in the distance.
"Hurricane," I muttered under my breath, feeling a strange chill creep down my spine.
A rustling sound came from the other side of the room. I turned to see my mom shifting under her blanket, groggy from sleep.
Before I could say anything, a new sound cut through the storm.
A voice.
Someone was outside yelling.
Desperate.
I shot up in bed, my pulse racing. Whoever it was, they weren't just shouting random words. It was something urgent, something wrong.
I glanced at my mom. She was already awake now, her face pale, her hands gripping the blanket.
She had heard it too.
The door crashed open with a bang, nearly flying off its hinges. I barely had time to process what was happening before Grover stumbled in, panting like he had just run a marathon. But that wasn't the weirdest part.
His shoes were gone.
And where his feet should've been… There were hooves. Like, actual goat hooves.
I blinked, wondering if I was still dreaming. Nope. Definitely awake.
"I was searching all night…" Grover wheezed, bending over, his hands on his knees like he was about to collapse. His curly hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he looked about five seconds from passing out.
"Grover?" My voice came out uncertain, like saying his name would somehow make this all make sense.
But before I could demand an explanation for literally everything, my mom shot up from the bed, suddenly wide awake, all traces of exhaustion gone. Her face had gone pale, her eyes sharp with panic.
"Percy, what happened at school?" she demanded, her voice tight.
The way she asked sent a chill down my spine. Like she already knew something, like she was waiting for me to confirm her worst fear.
Before I could answer, Grover muttered something under his breath—words that, somehow, I understood, even though I had never heard Greek in my life.
"It's right behind me! Why didn't you tell her!?"
The meaning clicked in my brain instantly, and I felt my blood run cold.
"What—" I started, but Mom cut me off.
"Percy," she said again, her voice sharper this time, more urgent. "What. Happened. At school?"
That edge in her tone—it was something I had never heard from her before. A mixture of fear and anger, like she was afraid of my answer but needed to hear it anyway.
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. Like once I said it, there was no going back.
"Ms. Dodds," I finally blurted, my voice shaking. "She—she turned into some kind of monster. And I—I killed her!"
I expected my mom to tell me I was being ridiculous, that it had been a bad dream or a trick of the light. But she didn't.
She didn't even look surprised.
Instead, her face went completely blank, like a mask had slipped into place.
And that scared me more than anything.
My hands clenched into fists. "What are you keeping from me?" I demanded, my voice rising with frustration and fear. "Why do you and Grover both know what's going on, but I don't?"
Outside, thunder rumbled again, louder this time, like the sky itself was listening. Like it was waiting.
My mom's voice rang with an authority I had never heard before, cutting through the chaos like a knife.
"You two. Get in the car. Now!"
There was no hesitation. No room for questions.
Grover and I bolted out the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. The storm outside had escalated, rain slamming against the ground in heavy sheets, lightning flashing so bright it turned night into day for half a second. The wind howled like a living thing, rattling the windows and bending trees to its will.
I barely registered the wet gravel under my feet as we sprinted to the Camaro. Mom didn't even bother unlocking it normally—she yanked the door open so fast I thought she might rip it off its hinges. Grover practically dove into the backseat, hooves and all, while I barely managed to scramble into the front before Mom jammed the keys into the ignition.
The engine roared to life.
Then we were speeding down the road, tires kicking up water as thunder cracked overhead.
I turned to my mom, breathless, rainwater dripping from my hair.
"What's coming after us?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She didn't answer.
She just grabbed the wheel tighter and pressed down harder on the gas.
"Also! Why are you a goat?!" I shout at Grover, my brain finally catching up with the fact that my best friend had just kicked down a door with a literal hoof. "And why do you know my mom?!"
Grover shifted uncomfortably in the backseat, his shaggy legs bent at an awkward angle. He looked soaked, exhausted, and—now that I was really looking at him—way more nervous than someone should be during a normal road trip. Not that this was anything close to normal.
"Well… I'm a satyr," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not a goat. Big difference."
I blinked. "Dude. You have hooves."
He sighed. "Okay, partially a goat."
Lightning flashed, illuminating his panicked expression for half a second. The storm outside was getting worse, rain hammering against the windshield so hard the wipers barely kept up. My mom still hadn't said a word; she just kept driving like she was being chased by a nightmare.
"And my mom?" I pressed.
Grover chuckled nervously, the sound not reassuring in the slightest. "Yeah, about that… I've, uh, never met your mom exactly. But I know of her. Because—" he hesitated, shifting again, "—because I was assigned to protect you."
That stopped me cold.
Protect me? From what? And why did it feel like this night was only just getting started?
"So… Are Greek myths real?" I asked, my voice rising with every word. My brain was struggling to keep up, throwing out every logical explanation it could—hallucination, prank, maybe I hit my head too hard—but nothing stuck. "And what exactly are you protecting me from?"
The questions kept pouring out, and this time, I wasn't stopping until I got answers.
Grover let out a long sigh, running a shaky hand through his damp curls. "Yes, they're real. All of it. The gods, the monsters, the prophecies—it's all true."
I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. "And what does that have to do with me?"
Grover looked at me, his eyes full of something I couldn't quite name—sympathy? Guilt? Maybe both. "Percy, you're a demigod. A half-blood. Your dad… he's one of them."
My breath caught in my throat.
"I'm—" My voice cracked. "I'm half god?"
Grover nodded, and my mom gripped the wheel tighter, her knuckles white. The weight of those words hit me like a tidal wave.
I shook my head, trying to process, but another question burned in my chest, one that hurt more than anything else. "Then why didn't either of you tell me?" My voice came out sharper than I meant it to, but I couldn't help it. I had spent my whole life feeling like I didn't belong, like something was wrong with me, and all this time—all this time—they had known.
Grover and my mom both winced at the accusation in my tone.
"The less you knew," Grover said carefully, avoiding my gaze, "the less likely you'd attract monsters."
Monsters. Like Mrs. Dodds. Like whatever was chasing us now.
I didn't know whether to scream or cry or throw something. Instead, I just clenched my fists and stared out at the storm, my reflection barely visible in the rain-streaked window.
Turns out, I wasn't just some kid with bad luck.
I was something way worse.
"Though… something worse than monsters is after you," Grover muttered, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind and pounding rain.
A shiver ran down my spine. The way he said it, like the very words left a bad taste in his mouth, made my stomach twist. I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes.
"Being?" I pressed, bracing myself for whatever nightmare answer was coming next.
Grover hesitated. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and then finally, he said it.
"Hades," he whispered. "God of the Underworld. Lord of the dead."
The car seemed to grow colder.
The name hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating. I barely noticed my mom tightening her grip on the steering wheel until I saw her knuckles turn even whiter.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "Hades," I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "You mean actual Hades. The guy with the whole underworld thing? King of ghosts, ruler of everything creepy and dead?"
Grover nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah. That Hades."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Maybe he'd start laughing, say he was kidding, that this was all some weird joke. But the way he kept avoiding my gaze told me this was all too real.
"So, let me get this straight," I said, forcing my brain to piece it all together. "Not only am I half-god, but I've also got monsters trying to kill me, and on top of that, the actual Lord of the Underworld has it out for me?"
Grover winced. "Yeah… pretty much."
I let my head fall back against the seat. Of course. Of course my life wasn't just a normal level of weird—it had to be cosmic weird.
Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the storm-tossed road ahead.
I swallowed hard. "Why?"
Grover didn't answer right away. Instead, he exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with my mom, like they were silently debating how much to tell me.
Finally, he sighed. "That… we're not entirely sure of yet."
Not sure? That wasn't exactly reassuring.
But one thing was certain—whatever was coming for me, it wasn't just some school bully or bad report card.
It was death itself. We were pulling up to what looked like a strawberry farm, rows of red fruit stretching into the distance, the scent of earth and greenery mixing with the rain. But my attention snapped to the rearview mirror. A shadowy figure was barreling toward us, fast—too fast for any normal person.
"Hold on," my mom muttered, panic lacing her voice as she slammed her foot down on the gas. The Camaro roared in protest, speeding forward.
But it was too late.
An explosion tore through the night, an earth-shattering boom that sent the car spinning. Fire and shrapnel filled the air. My vision blurred, my ears rang, and for a split second, time seemed to slow.
Then my gift was activated.
A strange sensation rippled through my body, like my very flesh was stretching, softening, expanding—almost as if I had turned into something more fluid, something built to absorb impact. It was like I had an airbag inside me. The force of the crash should've broken bones; it should've left me in agony. But instead, I felt… cushioned.
We hit the ground hard, the twisted remains of the Camaro skidding through the mud. Smoke and fire licked at the sky, the storm raging above us.
I gasped for air, adrenaline surging through my veins.
Then I heard it.
A deep, guttural growl coming from the shadows.
Whatever had been chasing us—whatever had caused the explosion—was still there. And it was close.
I felt myself shrink, like the whole world had just pressed down on me all at once. My ears were ringing, my heartbeat pounding like a drum in my chest.
"Are you guys alright?!" I shouted, my voice barely cutting through the chaos.
A groan came from the front seat. "I'm okay," my mom said, though her voice was shaky and breathless.
I turned to my right and felt my stomach drop. Grover wasn't answering. He was slumped against the seat, his head lolled to the side, his eyes shut.
"Grover?" I called, nudging his shoulder. No response.
Panic gripped me like a fist. I leaned closer, shaking him a little harder. "Grover, wake up! Come on, man, say something!"
Still nothing.
The rain pounded harder outside, the storm raging around us like the whole world was about to split open. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating his pale face for just a second.
I swallowed hard. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when I barely understood what was going on.
"Mom, he's out cold!" I said, my voice cracking.
She glanced at me through the rearview mirror, her expression tight with fear. "You have to keep moving," she said. "You are not safe here."
I clenched my fists. Not safe. That much, I already knew. But I also knew one more thing—whatever knocked Grover out, whatever was coming for us…
It wasn't finished yet.
"Go, Percy!" she shouted, desperation cracking in her voice. "It won't come after us—only you! Get to the big tree on top of the hill. Once you're past it, you'll be safe in camp!"
Her words felt like knives. Run? Leave her behind? No way.
"No! Come on, help me get Grover!" I shouted back, my grip tightening around his limp form.
She hesitated, her face a battlefield of emotions—fear, urgency, love. "But—"
"I am NOT leaving you to whatever that thing is!" I roared, my voice barely audible over the storm.
I didn't wait for her to argue. I bent down and grabbed Grover, heaving him over my shoulder. For a split second, I expected his weight to crush me, but then I felt it—my gift, whatever it was, surging through me like an electric current. Strength flooded my limbs, and suddenly, Grover felt as light as a feather.
I barely registered. There was no time to wonder, no time to question.
Lightning slashed through the sky, momentarily turning night into day. And in that flash, I saw it.
A hulking figure, darker than the shadows, eyes like molten fire.
It was here.
And it was coming for me.
We leave the car and start running towards the big tree.
"Percy! When it starts to run towards you, dodge to the side at the last second!"
"Okay!" I decide to not question that, mostly due to the fact that I am running for my life.
The thing came into view. It was a man with a bull's head. I looked at it in reverence. It was truly intimidating.
We bolted from the car, feet pounding against the wet earth as we sprinted toward the hill. The wind howled around us, whipping rain against my face like tiny knives. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move faster.
"Percy!" my mom yelled, barely keeping up. "When it starts to charge, dodge to the side at the last second!"
"Okay!" I called back, deciding now was not the time to question her advice—especially since we were literally running for our lives.
The ground trembled beneath us. A deep, guttural snort cut through the storm.
And then I saw it.
A towering figure emerged from the darkness. It was huge—easily nine feet tall, with shoulders as broad as the Camaro we'd just abandoned. Thick muscles rippled beneath leathery skin, and its head… gods, its head. A massive, snorting bull's head sat atop a human torso, horns gleaming in the flashes of lightning.
I felt a chill crawl down my spine.
I'd read about this in my Latin class.
I never thought I'd see it.
The Minotaur.
Time slowed.
I watched, helpless, as the Minotaur barreled toward us, its hooves shaking the ground like an earthquake. My mom tried to dodge, just like she told me to, but the monster was faster. Too fast.
Its massive hand shot out, grabbing her by the neck. She barely had time to scream before—
She dissolved.
Golden light flared around her, swirling like fireflies before vanishing into the wind. One second she was there—alive, breathing, fighting—and then she wasn't.
Her last word echoed in my ears, piercing through the roaring storm.
"Go!"
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.
My mom was gone.
Time no longer felt real.
The storm raged around me, wind whipping through my hair, but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. My vision blurred red as something inside me—something deep, ancient, furious—snapped.
My arm burned, and before I even processed it, my gift had fully taken over. Flesh melted away, shifting, reforming. Where my hand had been, there was now a weapon—a sword made of bone, sharp and jagged like it had been carved straight from the depths of the underworld itself.
The Minotaur turned toward me, nostrils flaring, but I was already moving.
I charged. No thought. No hesitation. Just cold, calculated rage.
The monster roared and swung a fist the size of a cinder block. I dodged effortlessly, the world around me slowing to a crawl. With an emotionless expression, I twisted my body and slashed.
Bone met flesh.
The Minotaur bellowed in pain.
The Minotaur staggered back, clutching at the fresh wound I had just carved into its side. The moment my blade touched its flesh, golden ichor spilled from the gash, shimmering in the stormy night. Celestial bronze, my mind whispered. A weakness I shouldn't have known, yet somehow, my body moved with the knowledge of a seasoned warrior.
I didn't question it. I used it.
The beast roared, lunging forward, swinging a massive arm like a battering ram. I ducked low, my instincts screaming at me to keep moving. My foot pivoted in the mud, and I spun around its attack, slashing across the back of its knee. Another burst of golden light. The Minotaur dropped onto one leg, snarling in pain.
It tried to grab me. I saw its huge, meaty hand reaching for my throat, but my body reacted first. My gift pulsed, my movements sharp and brutal. I twisted to the side, letting its momentum carry it forward, and drove my blade deep into its exposed ribs.
The Minotaur howled, staggering back.
I didn't give it a chance to recover.
I leaped, planting one foot against its chest, using the force to propel myself upward. In midair, I twisted my body, slashing at its shoulder and landing behind it in a crouch. Another golden spray of ichor painted the ground.
It turned slower this time. Weaker. But I wasn't done.
My sword was an extension of my arm, slicing through the air with precision. I fainted to the left, then darted right, slamming the hilt of my weapon into the Minotaur's gut. It doubled over with a guttural gasp.
One more strike.
I raised my blade, the storm flashing above me. Lightning illuminated the battlefield. My gift burned in my veins.
Then, with a final, merciless arc, I slashed the Minotaur's throat.
The Minotaur let out one last, gurgling roar before its massive form crumbled. Like Mrs. Dodds, it disintegrated into golden dust, swirling away into the night as if the storm itself had claimed it.
The weight of what had just happened hit me all at once. My body—my gift—no longer moved with that eerie precision. The adrenaline that had kept me upright drained from my system, leaving me weak and trembling. My arms, still feeling the phantom weight of my sword, dropped limply to my sides.
I barely had time to take a breath before my legs buckled. The world spun as I collapsed onto the damp earth, gasping for air. The fight, the fear, the rage—all of it had burned through me like a wildfire, leaving only ashes in its wake.
Grover's unconscious form lay nearby. The storm raged on, the rain soaking through my clothes. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the pounding of my heart, I thought I heard voices—distant, urgent.
I tried to lift my head to see if help was coming, but darkness was already creeping at the edges of my vision. My body had nothing left to give.
The last thing I saw before everything faded was the big tree, standing tall against the lightning-lit sky. The place my mom had told me to run to.
I made it.
And then, everything went black.
A/N: Sorry for the longer chapter, but I couldn't stop writing. Also, I apologize for no new updates for Well, I Got My Wish. I have been enjoying this story more, so that's why I am focusing on it.
Percy's power has been revealed! It's my own spin on Prototype. And he can control every cell in his body, but he can't gain biomass. So no flashy attacks yet! Anyways, see ya!