IN WHICH a daughter of Asteria falls for a son of Nemesis.
Or
IN WHICH a daughter of Asteria can't seem pick a side.
Book I of 'Written In The Stars' [Wits] Series
Percy Jackson - Pre Heroes of Olympus
Ethan Nakamura x Fem!OC
Wits - plural n. mental...
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IT'S SAFE TO SAY I HATE ARES, AND SINCE WHEN CAN ASTRA SPEAK IN PEOPLES MINDS?
We smashed the pearls at our feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened.
Hades yelled, "Destroy them!"
The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame.
Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at my feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. I was encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground. The last thing I saw was Astra's face. No way, I just left her in the underworld. I'm not scared though, I know for a fact Hades won't do anything to her. But just the fact I left her there makes me feel horrible.
Annabeth and Grover were right behind me. Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as we floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and I knew it was not going to be a peaceful night in L.A.
"Look up.'" Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"
Sure enough, we were racing right toward the stalactites, which I figured would pop our bubbles and skewer us.
"How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted.
"I don't think you do!" I shouted back.
We screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and ... Darkness.
Were we dead?
No, I could still feel the racing sensation. We were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That was the power of the pearls, I realized-What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.
For a few moments, I couldn't see anything outside the smooth walls of my sphere, then my pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The two other milky spheres, Annabeth and Grover, kept pace with me as we soared upward through the water. And-ker-blam!
We exploded on the surface, in the middle of the Santa Monica Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!"
I grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a life buoy. I caught Annabeth and dragged her over too.
A curious shark was circling us, a great white about eleven feet long.
I said, "Beat it."
The shark turned and raced away.
The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from us as fast as he could.
Somehow, I knew what time it was: early morning, June 21, the day of the summer solstice.
In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades's fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after me right now.
