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POEM i.
/PERCY'S POV/
This was it. This was his life now. Demi-gods, monsters― no matter how unbelievable it was, it was reality. His reality. Forever.
Percy sighed, looking around from his cramped corner in the Hermes cabin. Everyone was asleep, snoring loudly, limbs sprawled about. The young half-blood had no room to himself― literally and figuratively. I mean, he'd just lost his mother and he'd barely processed that. How was he supposed to grieve in these conditions?
Pursing his lips, Percy cautiously stood up, and with as much grace as he could muster, tip-toed over the sleeping bodies to the cabin door where he stepped out. He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping as if he were Atlas being relieved of the burden of the sky.
He stood numbly, the only sound in the night being that of the cicadas and now faint snoring from the cabins.
Finally, everything seemed to settle in. All the fighting, losses, the undeniable change in his life caught up to him. Perseus Jackson was a half-blood, and there was nothing he could do to change that fact.
