The Blood of Olympus (Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 1: Percy

Chapter 1: Percy

 

            PERCY HAD HIS FAIR SHARE OF demigod dreams while being in Tartarus. In the hellish pit, the terror in his nightmares had increased tenfold. He’d hoped (he’d really hoped) that the terrible nightmares would stop for at least one night, but sadly the dreams caught up to him.

            Right when his head hit the pillow, the first night safely tucked in his bunk since falling into Tartarus, his eyes shut and he could feel the familiar tug of sleep in his mind. Instantly his body relaxed, his mind slipping into another world, another dangerous world filled with awful nightmares.

            His dream flickered to life, and dread filled Percy as he realized his dream was showing Tartarus. Even though it was just a dream, he could feel the intense heat and the disgusting air. It was so lifelike that he wondered if somehow he had been kidnapped from his room and pulled back into Tartarus.

            He realized it wasn’t a dream when he saw Tartarus himself- the human form at least. He would have looked pretty normal if it wasn’t for his face. His face resembled a vortex, or a whirlpool. He almost looked harmless, but Percy knew what he was capable of.

            Tartarus was cursing under his breath, pacing back and forth. The place where the Doors of Death now stood was empty, since Hazel had closed the Doors of Death. All the monsters were gone. Even Bob –Percy nearly choked up in his dream version- was also gone.

            Now Thanatos has control once more, Tartarus was saying. It’s all because of those filthy demigods. How did they escape death? They should have died in the House of Hades!

            Suddenly Tartarus gave a booming yell of defeat, echoing around the heart of the pit.

            Percy’s dream shifted.

            Now the scene was Half-Blood Hill, and absolute chaos was erupting around the camp.

            Romans were just outside the perimeter of Camp Half-Blood. They were all dressed in golden armor, their eyes cold and emotionless. They all gripped their Imperial gold weapons, shifting uneasily as if anticipating a fight.

            Octavian was stalking in front of them, a teddy bear in his hand. His knife gutted the bear, his crazy eyes scanning over the stuffing. He gave a small grunt, throwing the teddy bear aside and stomping on the stuffing. Then he demanded, “Bear!” A younger demigod around the age of twelve ran forward, presenting a stuffed polar bear to Octavian. He gave a snarl, snatching the stuffed animal from the small child, who quickly ran away. He then began to stab the teddy bear viciously.

            One girl stood out in the group of half-bloods. Percy was shocked to see Gwen. Gwen looked horrified, her face a deathly white. She gave a shaky breath before stomping over to Octavian.

            “You’re not listening to Reyna,” she said firmly. “She didn’t want you to attack.”

            “Gwen.” Octavian’s voice was steely. “Reyna left. She crossed the Atlantic, didn’t she? Don’t you understand what consequences come out of that?”

            Gwen stood her ground. “She’s doing something heroic,” she hissed. “You’re such a coward, Octavian.”

            It happened so fast Percy barely understood what happened. Octavian suddenly was holding his teddy bear slashing knife beneath her chin, the blade pressed against her throat. All the Romans silenced instantly, staring at the two.