𝐃𝐄𝐉𝐀 𝐕𝐔 • Percy Jackson.

II-17

       THE RUSH OF THE PAST OVERWHELMED HIM. He was at a familiar spot, the sun brought forth an eternal gold on the green meadow. With stems of lavender surrounding a formidable oak tree. Yet suddenly it changed and a one-story home faded into existence. There's a small ounce of familiarity that staggers him. He walked in and wasn't surprised to see his mother with a child that looked around the age of nine-or-ten. The mother was working, pins held by her lips, as she draped white fabric on the mannequin. Occasionally glancing at a little boy, no older than eight, asleep on the floor with a black pillow cushioning his head.

He blinked at the display about to walk out, but a voice was heard behind him. "You have no reaction?" He hears, it was deep and bellowed, he stops to think about it. "No." He replies back and doesn't turn around. "It's rude to not face someone talking, especially a god, boy." A noise comes out his throat, a tsk of sorts, he doesn't want to acknowledge the god behind him, but does so anyway. "Apologies." He almost grimaces at the unnatural politeness. The kind that would show up when he'd greet guests at dinner. "That's more like it." The god said pleased.

"What is the point of showing me this?" He asks, heading tilting to the god's direction. It reveals who he was up against, despite knowing he would never win. He is half a mortal with an inkling of Ichor that lies dormant under his skin against a God with golden rich blood blessed by the universe itself and eons of wisdom. He cannot win. The god had no form, it was simply a black dark mass with a deep ancient voice, something he had yet to meet prior. "I think, unlike those fools who are too scared, it's time to tell you really what happened to you." The voice hissed. Oh? He thought in surprise, "well showing me as a kid doesn't really help much." He said sarcastically, "but is that really you?" Amani pauses.

"You have the answer boy, you've had it for a while now, you just refuse to accept it." The voice hissed, "because I know the consequences." Amani argued, "and they are?" He knows the answer and his hands clench. I don't know. The voice gives into a great boastful laugh, filled with mockery, as if Amani was his jester. "Yes I know what happened to me, but I only know bits and pieces. Enough to find a decent explanation, but why did I lose my-" He rambles, but it fades out as the scenery changes.

The walls from their original grey turn into beige-yellow, and his mom was talking to another man, her face was contorted into that of something he'd never seen on her. As if she had truly given up, she was on her knees in front of a man. His mother-Tall and confident-never once had he seen her look so defeated to the point she was begging a man. The man seemed around six-feet, perhaps taller, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He had long curled platinum blonde hair, reaching his mid back, tied into a low pony by a purple ribbon. Though he looked sophisticated, his clothes were on the more comfortable side: A beige crew neck and gray baggy trousers.

He seemed rather relaxed compared to his mother. "Listen I don't know why-" He heard the man try to explain, but his mother kept pushing. "That doesn't matter, just help us! Help him! He's your son!" She yelled, it clashed against the quiet confines of her apartment. This happened before we moved to the one story house. He thought, but he couldn't tell if this was before or after the car crash. But her words finally made him see something he used to yearn for, for years, until the dream died.

"Yes he's my son, but I don't know why-perhaps because he was meant to die, his scent..." He hears his father try to explain, "well he didn't die! He survived, but he'll die again if you don't save him! You-" She started cursing in Urdu, the god appeared uncomfortable and it was surprising. Seeing an all mighty god not know what to do against a mortal.

"Okay okay! Well there's one idea..." The god said, trying to appease his mother, and she finally seemed to go quiet. He sighed, "there's camp half-blood-" immediately his mother shook her head. "No!" She defied, she was seething. "I'm not sending him there. It won't solve the problem! His scent is too strong I'll never see him again!" She screamed and the god furrowed his eyebrows.