Hey guys, no, I'm not dead. Summer just makes me lazy. And thank you to all the people who reviewed during my long absence! Oh, I apologize in advance for this terrible chapter.

Perseus: Reborn

Chapter 3 | Nightmares

It was dead of night. Inky black darkness had settled over the camp, and along with it mixed feelings about the return of Perseus Jackson. Some were elated to see him, refusing to listen to what Luke had said about him during his two year absence, but most were wary and distrustful, their minds poisoned with words of hatred directed towards said demigod because of the rumors that had been swirling around after his disappearance.

They all could agree on one thing, however; they weren't sure if Percy's return was good or bad.

Inside the Poseidon Cabin, Percy tossed and turned, moaning pitifully in his sleep. He was no longer in suspended sleep, so the dreams were coming back now. Thy weren't lucid though, they were snippets, pieces of dreams melding together in his restless night.

He was in an empty room strapped to a bed. He could feel something, a spiked collar he thought, around his neck, restraining his movement. He flicked his eyes back and forth, trying to see as much as he could without turning his head. The room was cold, and barren, the gray walls resembling a prison cell. There were no windows. The light seemed to come from underneath him, but he wasn't certain. Only later did he find out he had been resting over a pit of Greek fire, inches from falling and burning. His entire body ached with pain. He glanced over his body as best as he could and noted that he had fresh wounds. They must have beaten him while he was unconscious. Again. Old injuries were reopening as well, oozing flesh blood, and old scars were now puffy and red. He was used to it now though, while he still felt pain, waves and waves of pain, it didn't bother him as much.

His survey of his surroundings done, he laid limply on the bed, wondering what they would do to him. He thought it had been a few months and he was slowly starting to lose hope. HE would've thought somebody, anybody would've tried to get nobody came. He was slowly being drained of his will to live. Bit by bit, till he was nothing but an empty shell. He heard footsteps, they were coming to him now, and the door opened. Someone, he never knew who, strode up to him and inspected his limp, worn body.

"Perseus Jackson" it sneered, venom clear in its strangely familiar voice. It walked up to a bench, something Percy hadn't noticed, and pulled out a screw driver. He walked over to Percy, grinning sadistically, a large hood adorning his head and covering his eyes.

As he brought the screw down, the scene changed.

The camp was burning. Bloodied and mangled bodies littered the ground. He ran through the grounds, searching for someone, anyone, hoping they were still alive. He found no one. He came to the big house. The magnificent structure was on fire and was slowly collapsing.

"Help!" Percy whipped his head around. Someone had called or help. Someone in the big house.

"I'm coming!" He yelled, and sprinted of into the smoldering wreckage of the big house. Thrusting out his hand, he channeled water from a nearby fountain and doused any fires that got in his way. As he passed a doorway, he noticed hooves sticking out from underneath some debris. Hooves that looked suspiciously like…

"Chiron!" He dashed over to the flaming wood and coated his hands with water. He dug through the wood until he his a warm body. He quickly summoned some water and doused the wood, then proceeded to pull of the wood covering Chiron.

He was dead.

His eyes were listless and blank, and his hear rolled back limply. A black arrow stuck out from his body, dark veins surrounding the wound.

Enraged he shouted out "Who did this?! SHow yourself!"

Receiving no answer, he sunk his head, and mourned silently.

"I am here. You called?" A soft voice startled Percy, and he spun around. He could see the silhouette of a figure through the flames.

"You…." he whispered. "You did this. YOU KILLED EVERYONE!"

Furious, he lept through the flames, uncapping Riptide and slashed wildly. The blade met nothing but air.

"I need to get out of here" Percy muttered. "I can't see well in the smoke and fire."

He exited the house quickly, keeping a wary eye for Chiron's killer. "Where are you?!" He screamed, eager to avenge Chiron's death.

"I am here." Percy whirled around in time to raise his sword and block the attack. Growling, he pushed the enemy's blade back and attacked, trying to kill the figure.

He could see the enemy's large smile underneath the hood as they fought, blocking and thrusting and slashing at each other. Growing impatient, he swung Riptide in an arc towards the figure's head. The figure raised his black sword to block it, and as their blades clashed, Percy threw a punch, and his fist connected with the enemy's head, knocking of the robe to reveal…himself.

But not himself, this person had red eyes, sharp teeth, and he wan't wielding Riptide. It couldn't be him.

"Oh, but I am." The figure spoke, sounding exactly like Percy. "You know deep down, you want this to happen. You want to kill everyone at Camp Half-Blood, make them suffer. You know this.

"No!" Percy covered his ears, trying to drown out the words of well….himself.

"You do." Other-Percy said, his voice fading as he slowly started to dissolve. "Make them suffer."

And the scene changed once more.

He was standing in a dark room, his back on the wall, adorned in a dark robe. His hands and feet were chained to a slab of black rock, and he had a spiked collar around his neck. His strained his eyes, desperately trying to find something, anything, that would clue him in to his surroundings.

He noticed a faint glow in the otherwise dark room emanating from his light. The light cam closer and closer, until his could see the outline of a sword. His sword. Riptide.

He couldn't see who was holding it, but he heard a shuffling of clothes, and a loud snapping noise. The room was suddenly illuminated by dimly lit candles, and he could see the figure much clearly now. He was garbed in a cloak, much like the one Percy wore, with the hood low on his head, masking his eyes and nose. The odd thing about him, Percy noticed, was that Riptide was chained to his hand. Judging by the burn and welt marks, as well as the fresh blood, it seemed that the chains holding Riptide had been welded to his wrist, keeping the bronze sword secure in the figure's grip.

The figure stalked closer to Percy and raised his left hand, the free one, and snapped again. Flames lept to life beside Percy, causing him to shrink away from it as best as he could. The flames bathed him in red light and blasted him with scorching heat.

The cloaked figure moved swiftly, moving towards the fire. With a deft stroke, he stuck Riptide into the fire, allowing it to bathe in the flames, ad pulled it back out. The blade was now red hot, and Percy could feel the heat emanating from the blade.

He knew what was coming next.

With the practiced hand of an expert torturer, he dove the blade into Percy's should quickly, and with his other hand, covered Percy's mouth, muffling his screams. The blade was removed, and the tip placed on Percy's collar bone.

"Percy Jackson..." the figure hissed, as he moved the blade down slowly, dragging out the pain. "You have caused me much trouble, much pain.." He voice was scratchy, much like Kronos's, but quieter, deadlier.

"This is a warning" he said softly, "defy me and I will take everything away from you.

He leaned in closer. "Everything" he repeated menacingly.

He drew back and quickly stuck Riptide in a vat of water. Steam rose as the blade cooled, and he pulled out the bronze blade.

"Till we meet again, Perseus." he said quietly. He turned on his heel, Riptide still clutched in his grasp.

It wasn't until the door closed and his steps receded down the hallway that Percy screamed out in fury and anguish and pain.

And then he woke up.

He was drenched in sweat and he was heaving heavily. He stumbled out of bed and to the mirror, taking in his wide, scared eyes and disheveled appearance.

He looked like a frightened animal.

Then he glanced down at at his chest and groaned.

A long red, angry line stretched across his torso, attracting from his collarbone and ending at the opposite hip.

"This is a warning"

His words came echoing back to him. He glanced at his chest again, trying to figure out how to hide this one. He didn't want to alert the camp to his scars just yet. A simple shirt would work, but if he was to go swimming, or if it got to hot, he'd have to take it off, and that wouldn't do.

He turned and craned his neck, trying to see his back. He knew what was there. A tattoo, branded into his body with an iron, depicting a black cobra, it's jaw open and fangs out. Greek symbols were etched along the snake's skin, spelling out Eternal Suffering. He knew what it was. He was cursed, a dead man.

Taking one last look at the snake, he went back to his bed, sinking into a restless slumber.

Morning came, taking away the nightmares of the night and bringing with it bright sunlight that had Percy blinking rapidly as he struggled to close the curtains upon awakening. He still hadn't gotten used to the sun. After all, there wasn't any sunlight in Tartarus.

Sighing to himself, he grabbed a shirt of the the side of his bed and pulled it on, and after checking to make sure that his tattoo and scars weren't visible through it, he pulled on some black jeans and put a black pen in his pocket. He opened the door and stood there awhile, getting used to the sunlight when he realized something. It was silent. Camp Half-Blood was never silent. At least it never was when he was last here. Frowning slightly, he walked towards the mess hall and noticed something else. The camp also seemed deserted. There wasn't a soul in sight. Where was everyone? Breakfast had already finished, he knew that much, so they probably weren't at the mess hall. He doubted they were at the amphitheater or in the woods. And he knew they weren't in their cabins. So where did they go?

As it turns out, they were at the mess hall. But it was dead silent. No one was eating. He walked up to them, taking in the bags underneath many of their eyes and their sickly complexions, and heard whispers starting to stir.

"He's here…."

"….has everything to do with this…"

"Looks like nothing's wrong with him….."

"…Annabeth was right….."

He walked towards the Zeus table, disregarding the rules and the open stares of others, and sat down next to Thalia.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Everyone looks, well, terrible. And anxious. And worried. And some of them look like they want to kill me."

Thalia turned towards him, sorrow in her blue eyes. "They do, Percy."

"What?" She wasn't making any sense.

"Nightmares." she explained. "We all had vicious ones last night. All at the same time. And well…Annabeth and Luke think you're causing them, so they suggested we…kill you."