Percy Jackson's New Side (Book 2) - Destruction: The Dawn of the Forgotten

Chapter 2: They Meet

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Third POV

Images blared through his head. 

The two clashed as he head-butted him back, his vision restored. A blinding light made him gasp. His enemy spread his gold-green wings, and then they both exploded. He remembered going through a tunnel, flashes of light blinking around him as he sped down the tunnel, barreling his enemy backwards. 

What had happened?

A man passed him as he took a trip to the... no, two men. There were two. But where did he go? Where did they go? The man looked around. The sun blazed, and he felt beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, down onto his cheeks. He quickly wiped his forehead and reached out for a pack that lay near by. Jumping forward, he felt a new weight on his back. He turned around. Nothing was there, but something was still on his back. He ruffled his back, and his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Spreading his new wings, he gasped. They were gold, just like his enemy's. How did it happen?

He ran forward to the pack and pulled out a reflective material. He placed it so the sun was there, perfectly mirroring the man's pose as he spread his  new wings. They had to be at least as tall as him, and he was seven feet tall and six  inches. Raising his hands, they brushed across his arms, and he felt the sweat sticking to his skin. He took of his shirt as he wiped the perspiration from his upper body. He had a huge eight pack, and a V-line. The lines went deep into his skin, and it felt hard. His arms were bursting with muscle, veins clearly visible. He wasn't ripped to the point where he was edged like he was cut from marble, but he was lean in muscle, so it wasn't too much and that's exactly how he liked it. 

The man wrapped the shirt around his head, preventing his hair from heating up. He looked around once again, just now noticing that he was in a barren field full of lush green grass. He crouched low to feel it, and he was met with dew. This wasn't from clouds, but rather the plant sweating, something he remembered calling transpiration, a part of photosynthesis. It was summer. 

He began to walk, but paused in his steps. What was he supposed to do? He had one pack with water and stale bread. Maybe a few other things. But that was it.

 He shook the thoughts away from his head. He had to keep going. The man walked forward, one step at a time. He felt like a jaguar, so much power in each of his steps. Like he could run miles and never get tired. So that's what he did.

His feet hit the ground like tiger paws, silent but deadly. Not even one spec of dirt flew everywhere, much to the satisfaction of the man. He did not need anyone to track him. But then he realized something. He had wings.  He looked over to the taller grass, and made his way over there. If he was going to go high, he should be high and unnoticed. 

He spread his wings which glittered under the high noon sun like diamonds, but tinted gold. He ruffled them a bit, testing them out. They oddly felt like another piece of him. It was as if the wings were an extension, light and airy on his back. He felt them, and they felt impenetrable. Like they could survive any explosion or hit. He didn't want to find out right then and there, though.

The man began to run, flapping his wings with powerful thrusts. And he took off. He felt so free, so light. He felt invincible. And he had only started. 

The wings helped him soar high into the blue sky, closer to the sun. He twirled in the air gracefully, whooping like a wild animal while he did. He had an amazing view as well, and he took his sweet time enjoying the birds' eye view. The rolling plains were colored green, a rather bright shade of green. Mountains erupted from the ground, the tips covered in a white blanket of snow. The edges were rocky and hard, easy to die from. Dangerous yet beautiful.