AN: Yey, new chapter and... stuff.

I'm really sorry for how long it took for me to get this chapter out. (How long has it been? ... dear god...) It took months for me to even type the first word of this chapter, and when I did start writing, it was at a rate of 10 words a day. I don't have an excuse for this; one of the biggest reasons for my slow progress was my laziness and lack of motivation, and I'm sorry for that.

(Insert disclaimer here)

- Chapter III -

(Unknown)

The sea is always moving. Always changing. Always shifting. Never still.

Some days, the surface is calm, placid, dormant, grazed only by the occasional ripple generated by a soft, caressing breeze or a lazily drifting boat. So still that the fish beneath the water seem to draw lines on its surface. So tranquil, so restful that a single pebble dropped into the water could create perfect, concentric circles. So quiet, so peaceful that you get lost in the sight of it, that you almost believe you could walk upon it as steadily as upon solid earth.

Yet other days, the sea brings violence and despair and leaves destruction and death in its wake. Violent waves rising a hundred feet above, suspended for an instant with a strange, almost beautiful quality, only to crash down upon you, overwhelming you, ripping you from your comfortable bed of safety and devouring you like the hungry maw of some leviathan. Gale-force winds like the breaths of winged monsters, winds that topple ocean liners as if they were toy figurines. Storm surges wreaking havoc and devastation, inundating, tearing apart cities, sweeping away hundreds of lives in the blink of an eye.

Unpredictable. Implacable. Uncontrollable.

Storms overcome even the most skilled of sailors, water-logging the sturdiest of boats. Maelstroms engulf entire ships in the matter of seconds, sending hundreds down to watery graves. Rogue waves rise from even the stillest of waters, sudden killers that strike the instant they're seen.

The ocean is many, many things. But friend is not one of them.

For even under a thin facade of serene, motionless water lies a barely-hidden mass of latent, seething rage. Sometimes it is barely visible, skillfully disguised by a cosmetic mask of peaceful ripples with the finesse of a professional actor. But look underneath it all, and it is always there. Always lurking, just beneath the surface.

A shock wave can travel unnoticed thousands of miles across the sea, too small to be seen by any except for a trained eye, a deceiving ripple on the surface that does little more than sway boats, just a passing wave left behind in a distance, gone within a moment. Yet the gentleness is a deception, the ripple a mask torn off the moment the wave reaches shallow water. And in the blink of an eye, a monster awakens, a towering, hundred-foot tsunami that rips metal buildings from their foundations.

A sailor may glance at the placid waters and the cloudless sky and rejoice. But how many of the calm ripples are truly what they seem to be, ripples that wash mildly, lazily, hiding nothing beneath the gentle, sinusoidal waves? And how many of them conceal monsters? How many of them are lurking harbingers of disaster and tragedy and death, all of it just waiting, waiting for the right time to burst out?

An avalanche begins with a small disturbance. A hurricane begins with a small storm. A firestorm begins with a small flame. A flood begins with a small amount of water.

All it takes is a small push for a snowball effect to begin. All it takes is a small push for something small to become something big.

All it takes is a small push.

A small push.

A

small

Thunder roared. Fiery forks of lightning split the black, starless sky. All celestial light was blotted out by massive, looming thunderclouds. The wind rattled against anything it could find, be it a building, a tree trunk, or the face of the occasional person.

The streets of New York were largely deserted, and the few souls brave enough to venture out in the torrential rain huddled beneath overhangs, cold and wet despite wearing raincoats. Windshield wipers worked overtime as drivers strained their eyes, struggling even with their headlights to pierce the darkness and the opacity of the sheets of descending rain. A crash on Route 495 blocked three lanes in one direction and slowed traffic down to a crawl.

Waves lashed furiously at the seashore, relentlessly pounding against the New York coastline. The water was black as night, murky from the sand that was ripped from the beaches and swirled up from the seabed. The ocean churned and writhed, hurling tree branches and driftwood around and around and around like pieces of food hurled around in a blender. It was as if it was being tortured, as if it was in agony or rage or perhaps even grief. Like all the rage that it had bottled up, all the latent energy smothered under still surfaces and peaceful ripples was suddenly let out, like some godly container that held it all in had shattered, exploded. Like a monster that, in sleep, forgot about its perpetually empty stomach and boiling temper. A monster that had been suddenly poked awake by a sharp blade.

A television, the screen just barely readable from outside a window coated with water, was tuned to some news channel. At this point, it didn't matter what news channel it was; they were all saying the same thing. The breaking headlines scrolled across the screen. Freak weather incident. Meteorologists unable to predict or explain. Vessel lost at sea, search underway. Minor damage to runway at JFK airport.

Somewhere outside, thunder crashed with a monstrous roar. There was a sound, muffled by the wind and rain, as a telephone pole fell. Inside, the TV blinked once and went out.

The chaotic surf tore at the beach, tossing the sand about. Dark masses of cumulonimbus rolled overhead. Trees bent as an unearthly, howling breath of air shook their trunks and tore at their branches and ripped twigs and leaves and sent them all flying everywhere and everywhere in a deafening, ear-shattering cataract. The peaceful, moonlit beach. The beach of memories.

Rainwater ran in rivulets down the side of the hill, collecting in a small but growing lake that already submerged the entire width of the road below. An onlooker might have thought that the view would've been nicely complemented with a few sinking, crumbling paper boats in the water, but the wind would've blown them away on the path to eternity in seconds. That, and the fact that there were no onlookers.

The hill. Once a final obstacle for many, promising safety and comfort for those who could make it. Nobody ran up that hill that day.

Droplets etched their way through the worn channels and ridges of the bark of the old pine. Its branches shook in the wind, their needles fluttering wildly, some torn completely from their twigs. The fleece hung, bedraggled, soaked through with water like a wet towel, its hue a dirty yellow, a sharp contrast from the shining gold color of better days.

A tree, a hanging fleece, both with storied pasts. Tales of glorious battles.

Both dripping with dirty rainwater.

Thud. Thud. Thud. The rain bounced on the roof of the Big House like hailstones. Though it melded into the background, the methodical thudding was almost entrancing in a way, pulling attention over like a magnet pulls iron.

Dionysus sighed and took a swig of his Coke.

"I guess the old man and Barnacle Breath are going at it again," he muttered to the centaur standing across the table.

Chiron nodded. "This storm has been raging for three days now," he said. "It's definitely not a natural occurrence, especially since normal storms go around the camp's barriers. Whatever Lord Zeus and Poseidon are furious over, it's bad."

The wine god grunted something unintelligible in assent and took another sip from his can.

"You don't think it's because of...?"

"Don't say that traitor's name!"

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning fell from the sky. A flash of light. A shattering roar.

"But... there's no other reason except for... him."

Dionysus snorted. "Of course there isn't. Old Kelp-For-Brains's been throwing hissy fit after hissy fit ever since that day his stupid demigod son got executed. It's the old age, I'm telling you. He's getting senile. That Peter Johnson kid was a bad egg, all the evidence proves that, the council voted him out, and he's just gotta accept that. Effin' sea spawn. I never liked him. Always knew he'd turn out rotten, just like all of the other ones I've seen."

Chiron opened his mouth to speak, thought better, and closed it.

"I suppose so," he said.

"Huh." The god responded. "I don't suppose you still think he's another one of your innocent students."

"What? ...Of course not. The Olympian Council found him guilty of treason. ... Why would I sympathize with... a traitor?"

"Hmph. I dunno, I guess I thought you were more sentimental. I wish all the other gods were like that, you know."

"Like what?"

"Accepting that their dear little sea spawn just wasn't the hero of Olympus they thought he was."

The old centaur didn't answer at first, lost in thought as he was, lost in memories from only perhaps a few years ago yet seemed decades, even centuries away.

Memories of teaching a class at a boarding school - Yancy Academy, the name was? Memories of a boy with messy black hair and sea green eyes, a boy who had always seemed so incredibly bored with everything every time he saw him in the halls with his friend the satyr, yet always tried whenever he came to his class, as if knowing what his future held in store for him. Memories of training that boy, memories of arrows snagging in his tail and trying to get him to stand the right way whenever he shot. Memories of the pride he'd felt when that boy, his own student, saved the whole world and despite all that managed to remain humble, modest, denying immortality so he could stay with the ones he loved.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

"I am an old, sentimental horse," he finally said.

"Eh?"

"Even despite the proof, despite the verdict, I still remember... when I think of Per-him, I don't think of a traitor, an enemy... I think of that young boy whom I first met when I taught that class at Yancy Academy. I think of the student I mentored, the student I watched grow from a boy to a man. To think that he'd turn traitor... it's so, so hard to simply accept."

The wine god snorted again. "I suppose some things just never change, do they? You've been teaching for pretty long, but not as long as I've been alive. Always the optimist, aren't you? Here's what I think. Heroes are heroes. Even if a fresh crop of them seems like they'll be a good bunch, in the end it's always the same. They always grow to disappoint. It's like the god and the mortal are trying to come together and get away from each other at the same time, and in the end you just get this abomination of both. Think whatever you want, hope whatever you want, but I've lost my faith in heroes a long time ago."

"Even your own son?"

The god did not respond.

The rain had intensified to the point where the sounds of the individual drops of rain were no longer distinguishable from each other, all of them dissolving into a single low roar that hovered just below speaking volume.

Chiron looked up towards the ceiling, his eyes unfocused, staring at something, somewhere, far away. When was the last time the immortal world had been at peace? When was the last time my camp had felt anything but cycles and cycles of pain? When had my charges ever lived without the threat of death looming perpetually over their heads? What was it like before? Before it all began?

Maybe somewhere, deep in his heart, the centaur knew the truth. And maybe it weighed him down even more than shock and grief and nostalgia. Maybe it was guilt. The guilt of standing by. The guilt of thinking you could've done something, and failing to do it. Or maybe he was just a sentimental old horse after all, just like he'd said. Maybe... maybe...

"Hello? Old horse?"

Torn back to the Big House, Chiron blinked and looked around, momentarily confused.

Dionysus gestured impatiently to the cards on the table. "It's your turn."

Sighing out heavily, the centaur picked up his cards.

How far you've fallen, Percy... and how far you've taken the world with you...

The rain battered the roof of the cabin, filling the one-room building with a sound like huge marbles falling from the mouth of some god-like jar. Campers huddled in their bunks, wrapped in a sleeping bag or covered in blankets. Some were already asleep, lured off to Morpheus's realm by the rhythmic, though loud, battering of the watery marbles. Others were well on their way, in some ethereal chariot not far behind.

Annabeth tossed and turned. Restless like the haunting North Wind, her mind refused to join those of her siblings. She stared at the darkened silhouettes of her fellow cabin mates, their chests rising and falling rhythmically, up, down, up, down, once, twice, thrice. Her eyes wandered over to the library, the bookshelf crammed full, ancient tomes and modern textbooks and prehistoric scrolls shoved together, oddly complementing each other despite their differences in appearance. The engraved owl on the wall above it seemed to gaze down at her with its piercing, lifeless eyes.

To fall asleep would have been a mixed blessing. Perhaps in slumber her mind would be at rest, at rest from the constant tosses and turns that characterized Athena's children. Perhaps at rest, she would have a momentary peace, peace for her restless soul, peace that she hadn't had since the end of the Giant War.

But it was in sleep that the Dreams came.

Now, any demigod could relate. Demigod dreams were rarely if ever the dancing-on-rainbows or whimsical-candy-filled-land of normal people. If a demigod had such a dream, it meant one of two things: either they were loved by Morpheus, which was unlikely, or they were loved by the fates, which was even more unlikely. More often they were visions. Vague visions. Visions of the future. Of their own futures. And demigod futures were never bright.

But Annabeth feared the Dreams not because of that certainty, the certainty of unpleasant things to come; in fact, it was certainty that calmed her, certainty that put her Athena's-child brain to ease.

For the Dreams were anything but certain.

The scenes they showed were her memories twisted into pictures unrecognizable. Scenes like the quests she had gone on years ago, like battles she had fought in a time that seemed so far in the past. Scenes that evoked a strange feeling of familiarity, a sort of deja vu. Yet the scenes were completely alien to her, the events they portrayed incongruent with her memory. Her rational mind argued that they were false concoctions of her subconscious; but how could her subconscious be so imaginative? How could it so accurately depict the wind blowing through black hair, the sparkle of sea green eyes, all of it so strikingly real? Mysteries. All mysteries. And the one constant in the Dream, the Boy, a mystery still further.

The Boy.

She could instantly conjure up an image of him. Unkempt, jet black hair. Warm sea green eyes. A camp necklace around his neck, with five beads. A bronze sword gripped by one hand. The tall, commanding figure that somehow held both great authority and great kindness.

What made it stranger was that, in all her years at camp, she could swear that she had never seen him before.

Then why did something about him scream familiarity? Why did she feel like... they had shared some connection, or something more? Why... why, when she saw him, did she feel so much sadness?

Dreams, yet somehow more.

The first one had come just days after Gaea had been put to sleep. Rain and wind, a storm rivaling the one that now hurled barrages at the camp. A wrecked car some fifty, hundred feet down Half-Blood Hill. The Boy running up the hill, pursued by a dark shape that solidified into a half-man, half-bull monster. A satyr and another woman - maybe the mother? - close behind.

Then it was Zeus's stolen master bolt. The Golden Fleece. Rescuing Artemis. Labyrinth. War.

And the boy always by her side, like some faithful companion, the boy she didn't know, the boy she didn't know but still recognized somehow.

All of them memories easily recognized. All of them memories engraved deep into the marble of her very being. All of them memories unforgettable, so entwined with her past and her future that they had become a part of her, a part not even the Lethe could wash away. All of them familiar scenes made unfamiliar by her imagination.

Yet... her own memories seemed so alien now.

Sometimes, she really hated the fact that she was Athena's daughter. She wished her mind could just stop moving. She wished she could just... sleep.

Lingering emptiness.

Annabeth's hand hung over the side of her bunk. Blonde hair lay askew draped all over her pillow. Her eyes were closed. A thin line of dribble traced its way from her mouth... had she been awake, she would've noted it.

She slept fitfully but Dreamlessly until the morning.

Far away, in the comparable haven of the Olympian throne room, Zeus sat upon his golden throne with a scowl on his face. Ozone permeated the atmosphere, as if a bolt of lightning would fall within the room itself at any moment. The master bolt crackled with electric energy as it lay diagonally across his lap, a perfect representation of its master's mood.

The other gods sat in their respective thrones, some of them looking up at their leader with fear, others absent-mindedly doing what they normally did during council meetings and paying no attention whatsoever to what was going on around them. Hera sat straight on her throne, her scowl mirroring Zeus's. Athena sat at attention with a rapt eye turned on her father. Apollo and Artemis fiddled nervously with their bows. Hephaestus twiddled around with something in his hand that looked metallic. Ares was doing... whatever he was doing. Aphrodite stared at her reflection, one hand holding the small mirror, the other anxiously dabbing makeup on her face. Dionysus was slouched over in his throne, reading some selections from a wine magazine. Hermes was texting someone on his phone, though every so often he looked up at the golden throne at the head of the room. Hades and Hestia just sat there, whether looking attentively at Zeus or lost in their own thoughts nobody could tell.

The king of Olympus was glaring across the room at a throne. One throne in particular. A certain sea-green, coral throne. The same sea-green, coral throne that he had glared at throughout each one of the last few council meetings.

The throne in question was vacant, devoid of its owner, and had been for quite some time.

Zeus growled under his breath. The smell of ozone intensified. Little sparks radiated from his throne, the flashes of electric light crackling as they dissipated. The air filled with the singed smell of something burnt. Damn you, Poseidon...

The king reached for his master bolt, ready to signal for the fifth time that a council meeting was underway and that the Sea God's presence was required by law and that there would be dire consequences for his third absence in a row and―but before he could do so, a miniature tsunami of briny water materialized in the middle of the room, the wave arching ten feet over Zeus's head, and as the god turned his head away in anticipation for the salty sting of the ocean a single piece of seaweed launched itself from the crest and splattered over his face.

Fuming, spitting mouthfuls of seawater onto the floor, wrenching globs of seaweed from his face, the soaking, bedraggled Zeus turned back around just in time to see his brother emerge, smirking, from the midst of a sea-green flash of light.

"POSEIDON!" The king of the gods thundered. He gripped his master bolt till his knuckles turned white.

Poseidon simply looked expectantly at him, still smirking, as he sat himself down on his throne for the first time in several weeks.

"Well?"

"You have skipped the last two council meetings, and show absolutely no regret for doing so! You have shown blatant disregard for your responsibilities as a member of the Olympian Council!"

"Yes, perhaps I have. So?"

"SO?! Even now, you continue to disrespect me and the rest of the council! I believe certain consequences are in order!"

The smirk instantly melted from Poseidon's face. He was across the room in three strides. Before Zeus could charge his master bolt, before he could even move his hand, before anyone could move, his neck was caged between two prongs of a trident. The king of the gods stared in disbelief, shocked into silence, as a few small drops of golden ichor trickled along the celestial bronze that had grazed him on both sides and dripped onto the floor.

Aphrodite shrieked. Athena seemed to make a motion to get up, but thought better. The rest of the gods were too stunned to even flinch.

"You lost the right to my respect the day you killed my son." Poseidon whispered venomously. All the humor in his voice was gone, replaced by hatred. Hatred that dripped from his words into pools of black. "The day the council voted him dead. The day you murdered him. The day you all murdered him."

Zeus gulped, but then glared back with equal ferocity. "You know as well as I do that he was a traitor. He deserved everything he got and more! It's time you accepted that, brother." He spat the last word as if it were something repulsive.

The sea god stepped back. His once peaceful sea-green eyes were dark and foreboding. A dark, malevolent aura blasted the gods with power. His Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts, once adding to a benevolent look, now gave a contrast that terrified the other gods. With his right hand, he unceremoniously yanked his trident from Zeus's throne, dislodging splinters of Imperial Gold that fluttered into the king's lap. He looked once more at the god he once called brother, so many millennia ago.

"King of the gods you may be, but next time, I swear on the River Styx that I won't miss. And I promise you that nothing will be able to stop the wrath of the sea."

With the threat still hanging, tangible, in the air, he turned and stalked back over to his throne.

It took Zeus a few seconds to recollect himself, but his actions after doing so were quite predictable.

"TREASON!" He grasped his master bolt and hurled. A clear shot; and if it had gone unimpeded then it surely would've hit Poseidon as he was climbing onto his throne, and while it would not have killed him it would have hurt like hell and ignited his rage like pouring gasoline on the glowing embers ignites a wildfire, but a Stygian Iron sword deflected the bolt, sending it hurtling into the throne room's wall where it exploded, leaving a charred, blackened hole a foot in diameter.

Hades stood up. "Quite frankly, brother, I have to support Poseidon here."

Zeus opened his mouth, about to shout something else, but Hestia's hand on his shoulder silenced him. The goddess glowed faintly red, sending a warm pulse through him, instantly calming his raging temper. "Peace, brother. Let's get on with this council meeting."

A deep breath. A sigh. Zeus sat himself back in his throne, and the other gods did the same.

"Anyways..." He paused to glare back towards the coral throne, and the lip of its occupant twitched upwards. "Let the meeting commence. Does anyone have anything to report?"

"Other than my son being murdered?"

"OH, SHUT UP, BARNACLE BREATH! Your son was worthless anyway! Go throw a temper tantrum somewhere else!"

"YOU DARE―"

(New headline: people all over the country are reporting owls falling from the air, either from trees or mid-flight. The owls in question appear to be deceased, but the manner of their death has confused renowned scientists everywhere over the globe. All of the dead owls have been found coated in a thin layer of water, which leads some to believe that the torrential rain has lent a helping hand. So far, there have been five hundred thirty reported incidents. Stay tuned for more.)

"WHAT―MY SACRED ANIMAL! HOW DARE YOU―"

Both gods were out of their thrones, weapons in hand, about to charge at each other.

"SILENCE!"

Silence.

"Athena, Poseidon, return to your seats at once! We shall deal with this issue later."

"This doesn't involve you!"

"Just do it, for Chaos's sake..." Hera.

Compliance.

Reluctant compliance.

Tense silence.

"Well then, does anybody have anything to report?"

Hephaestus raised his hand. "Aphrodite cheated on me again!"

A couple pairs of eyes fell on the love goddess, who continued to apply makeup to her face with little indication that she heard what her husband had said.

Ares smirked. "Who cares if she did? Maybe you're just not a good enough husband. Not my fault your deformed, half-inch cock can't please her."

"YOU... my wife cheated on me with YOU! What do you have to say for yourself?!"

The war god shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, we did it last night on the roof of your palace. Best time of my life. I'll even admit it. What are you gonna do about it, punk? Put me in that little fishing net of yours? Ha! I'd like to see you try!"

Flames licked at Hephaestus's blackened palms. Apollo and Hermes on either side of him shifted uncomfortably away. The heat in the room was becoming unbearable.

"You... DARE..."

"Yes, you crippled, retarded wimp, I dare. I got the girl and you didn't, so now be a man about it and save whatever little dignity you have."

"Ha, that's funny! Calling me a retarded wimp, why don't you go and look in the mirror for once? How about you try creating something for once instead of tearing things down, war god? But then again, I suppose you wouldn't have enough brain cells for it anyways."

"SAY ONE MORE WORD, YOU LAME FREAK―"

"EVERYONE BE QUIET!"

Silence fell as every person in the room stared in shock at the one who had spoken.

Hestia stood at her full height, three stories tall, wreathed in flames that danced across her skin.

"I'm tired of your immature behavior! You should feel ashamed of yourselves! All of you! You are Olympian Gods, you rule over the world, yet you're acting like a bunch of mortal children!"

Ares and Hephaestus stared, frozen in terror as the warm, gentle goddess of the hearth towered over them, the power of the first-born pinning them to their chairs, swirling over them in tangible waves, almost visible like tongues of fire licking at everything within reach, itching to devour all it can, looking and feeling like some fiery, burning brand of destruction waiting to fall upon its unlucky victim and tend him to pieces.

The goddess raged on, blissfully unaware of the power blazing through the room in flaming coils of red, blissfully unaware of the terrified expressions of everyone around her.

"I'm tired of these council meetings! These pointless meetings that only serve as times for gods to hurl insults at each other! I'm tired of it! All of it! When did our pantheon become so low?! When did we begin to defile ourselves this way?! When did Olympus stop being a haven, a place of respite?! WHEN?! WHY?!"

The power surge stopped, as abruptly as it had begun, as if Hestia had just realized its extent.

"No... what have I done?" The goddess whispered to herself in horror.

The other gods were trapped, paralyzed in various states of fear, shock, and awe.

Zeus was the first to recover. "UNACCEPTABLE!" He slammed his master bolt on the ground. "In light of recent events, I deem Hestia, goddess of the hearth and fire, unfit to participate in the Olympian Council! As of this moment, you are relieved of your duties as an Olympian and are barred from attending all future council meetings!"

It took exactly five seconds for those words to sink in.

When they did, Hades and Poseidon leapt to their feet.

"UNACCEPTABLE?! YOUR behavior is what's unacceptable here, you―"

"Brother, please, you can't just―"

"I AM THE KING!" Zeus thundered. Sparks ignited the ends of his hair, crackling furiously, matching the thunder fod's own temper. "MY WORD IS LAW! Hestia's power is a threat to Olympus, a threat to the council, a threat to me! And as such, I have taken appropriate measures to deal with it! Now Hestia, get out of this room! This matter is over! My decision is final!"

"Brother, listen to us―"

"This is a council, not a dictatorship―"

"SILENCE! I AM THE KING, YOUR SUPERIOR, AND YOU WILL OBEY ME! UNLESS YOU WANT TO FOLLOW YOUR SISTER?"

Both gods instantly became quiet. Oh, the way my siblings sacrifice friends, family, loved ones, just to maintain their power, their own safety... it's almost heartbreaking to watch...

"Peace, brothers," Hestia finally spoke. "If my king wants me to leave, then I shall. What's the use of fighting over it?"

Hades stood up, once again. "Sister, I swear to you I will avenge you. I will never rest until―"

"Please, Hades," Hestia spoke almost gently. "Don't go to war on my behalf. Whatever befalls me, knowing that I've caused another war will make it worse. Please... let me rest... no worse than I am now..."

Hades looked ready to argue, but one glance from the goddess silenced whatever he was about to say.

"Very well then, my king. I take my leave. But I depart with a warning. Without me, the hearth goes unattended. Without me, the fire of the home falls into disrepair and sinks into dying embers. You have turned your back on Family, on Peace. And there will be consequences. Let my warning guide you in the years to come."

And before the stunned gods could react, the goddess of family turned away and walked out the door.

In the doorway, she turned her head to see the hearth in the corner, glowing a weak red. As she watched with her very eyes, the flame fell to a quarter of its intensity, now just a couple warm coals nursing a dying fire.

How had the hearth sunk so low?

How had Olympus fallen so far since... that day?

AN: So... chapter.

Yes, my writing style's changed a bit. I know.

And yes, I know I bent the descriptions of some people/places/things to suit my purposes. This is fanfiction, it doesn't have to be perfectly canon.

Once again, I'm sorry for the incredibly long wait. I'm even sorrier to say that my future updates will probably be just as irregular. My schedule irl is pretty tight, and I don't have time to write on many days. Next chapter might be coming in two weeks or two years, I can't tell you for sure which it will be closer to.

One thing though, I will never abandon this story. I really enjoyed writing it, and I don't want it to go unfinished.

Sorry if this chapter was a bit underwhelming or something, I was initially planning on adding more but in the end I just wanted to get it out ASAP, sooo...

See y'all in the next one,

- xShadowOfTheFuturex