Why We Fell

❧ F O U R

TO SAY THAT Sadie was having the weirdest dream yet was probably the understatement of the century. Even with the stiff Egyptian pillow filled with hieroglyphs that made her neck hurt, her ba decided to go on trips against her own will.

Well, it made sense because it was her soul, after all. Thankfully, though, she wasn't a half-bird anymore. Her ba had been hovering above her sleeping body for a few moments, allowing her to register how her hair already looked like a griffin's nest only a few minutes after she had dozed off, before the currents of the Duat whisked her away, out of the now-open window, and far away from the Brooklyn House. She didnt even have time to panic as she was brought above the skyline of Manhattan. Despite her rebellious streak, Sadie had learned that she shouldn't ever go back into Manhattan; yet there she was—well, there her soul was, not her actual, physical self. There was a big storm brewing, just above some sort of...what on Earth was she even looking at?

Through the rain and the fog, she could vaguely make out the outlines of the structures below her. She saw a vast field dotted with tiny red fruits (strawberries, perhaps?), dozens of small different coloured houses—no, they were cabins—were positioned to form an upside down U, a three-storey sky blue house, some sort of amphitheater, a climbing wall with steaming orangeish liquid pouring over the top, a lake that had a stream connected to the beach, a volleyball court, and a lot of other tiny structures that she couldn't be bothered to have a closer look at. A glint of gold caught her attention, and her heart stopped for a split second. A golden fleece was draped over a thick low branch on a gigantic pine tree, with some sort of scaly purple plant surrounding its base. Only later did she find out that it was an actual dragon called Peleus. Then she was free-falling into the strange place she decided to call a camp; she didn't know why, but she has a hunch that it was exactly that. Before she hit the ground, she abruptly stopped, hovering a few inches from the dirt, face down. She would have let out a high pitched scream, but she couldn't—thank the gods.

Sadie risked a look at the painted sign that was just behind the pine tree. The words Camp Half-Blood were written in someone's neat handwriting that she totally envied very much. Under it, there were random scribbles, but she had a nagging feeling that they were words written in some sort of language; Carter might have identified which one, but she couldn't care less.

This had to be some sort of base for the next great threat, she thought to herself glumly. After three months of miraculously not running into any trouble whatsoever, something just had to destroy the peace. In other words, it was going to be another normal day in the life of the Kanes.

The faint sound of footsteps came, and suddenly Sadie was standing upright, speeding alongside a black blurred outline of a seemingly human figure.

This time though, rather than facing a terrifying new all-time powerful monster, her ba seemed to be following a familiar looking boy of sixteen with dark tousled hair, a plain dark grey shirt that hung loosely on his thin frame, an aviators jacket, black skinny jeans, with black combat boots, and somehow managed to have gotten his hands on a sharp black sword that was in its sheath attached to a belt wrapped around his waist.

He seemed to be running down some sort of road, his face ashen, and his jaw set. It was raining hard, and mist was obscuring most of her vision.

"Damn him," the boy said through gritted teeth. The floor shook violently as hands—skeletal hands, mind you—started popping up everywhere, clawing at the wet dirt as they struggled to escape. Even the boy she was following looked startled.

Then he looked straight at her; his warm brown eyes glinting with amusement.

"Whoever you are, if you can hear me, you have to wake up. We need your help,"