The Heir of a Thousand Lifetimes (A PJO Universe Story)

This doesn't have anything to do with the Cold War.

I long for a love I've never known, for a face I've only seen in my dreams. I know him as if he was something integral to my very being, yet I also know he was never mine. The pain in the back of my mind lingers, deep and senseless, sharp as if from a piercing wound. With every footstep, it burns. I walk through the fire nonetheless, because what other choice do I have?

The ocean echoes in my ears as I sleep, and when I leave the open water, I want nothing more than to return. Yet, the sea is almost hostile, as if fleeing from me, the waves crashing and pushing against the boat, trying to force itself further away from me. It fails, because the sea surrounds me.

At night, I hear battle cries and wedding songs in a language that sounds as if it should return to dust. I catch flickering glimpses of a flame shifting to water, to a raging lioness, to a serpent with onyx eyes that haunt me even in my memories. A quick flash of gold echoes in my mind, quickly followed by the hollow pang of loss in my chest.

Whose life am I reliving?

Every night passes without answers, and the visions only grow more disturbing. The familiarity is unrelenting and makes my skin tingle, as if my soul is trying to claw its way out of my body to find its way to its original home. The moon awakens ancient desires deep inside me, ones even I didn't know continued to linger. The sun sends them back into the shadows until the cycle repeats itself at nightfall.

I have never felt quite my own. It is as if my body belongs to someone else, as if my soul has roamed this earth for millennia, as if it has not yet found a home. My bones feel ancient, and my blood seems to burn when it rushes through my veins in the heat of glory.

Part of me is missing, but I do not know which one.

My mind cannot stay still. It flutters about, never quite remaining within me. I lose hours at a time, sometimes to darkness, other times to memories that don't belong to me yet are somehow still mine all the same. Voices belonging to people I've never met echo. My sight fades to black and leaks into another time. Some have said my visions are a sign I have been chosen by Apollo, a prophet handpicked, but that is even more terrifying. I have read the myths, and I know what happens to his seers who scorn him.

They claimed Cassandra cried wolf, and blood dripped from her jaws while Troy burnt to the ground. Raped by Ajax as she clung to Athena for mercy, she was betrayed by the gods she spent her life revering on her knees. Taken prisoner and murdered over her abductor's corpse, she died with one word on her lips: "ἐκδικέω."

I jolt back in my chair as yet another vision comes to a close. The pain of the dagger seems to burn through my stomach, as if I was the one being stabbed. It makes no sense. It never does.

I try to ignore the strange looks I receive from my classmates, having drawn attention from my snapping back to reality. Most assume some sort of madness lies within me. My ankle tingles slightly. It's not uncommon. The sensation settles in my heel, and the pain grows sharper. I try not to focus on it.

"Hey," Josie whispers from next to me, nudging me gently, "are you okay? Another blackout?"

I shake my head. I swallow the bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. I'm tasting blood that isn't there. "One of those dreams again, I guess. I'm fine."

My best friend gives me a worried look but doesn't press further. She knows I don't like to talk much about it. It's too much of a burden to shoulder upon anyone else. Ms. Schmidt, the history teacher lecturing about the Cold War, doesn't notice us. If she does, she doesn't pay us any attention. For that, I'm thankful. The old woman has never liked me, and the feeling is quite mutual.

I finally notice the ache in my hand and glance down at my notebook. It's covered in scrawled writing in a language I know isn't English, yet I can make it out anyway. The letters are somehow familiar, but none of the words make sense. They're just a bunch of jumbled letters.