The Harbinger of Death

Prolouge

The man stopped at the shore of the river warily, staring at the inky waters swirling with objects beyond repair, college diplomas shredded to small bits, and other lifelong dreams that had been thrown away when one had passed from life to death. 

As he watched the current sweep them away, his confidence crumbled into fear. 

"I had tried to warn the other, you know," A voice spoke behind him. 

The man whirled around to find himself looking at a warrior, dressed in armour and and a plumed war helmet. The warrior's face was badly scarred, and an arrow, covered in dried blood, stuck out of his left ankle.

"He, too, had come here with the same goal," the warrior said. "I warned him that the blessing does more harm than good. But he did not heed my warning. And now..." 

The guy knelt down and dipped his hand into the river, picking up a wooden picture frame. The man could make out three figures standing in the photo, laughing and smiling.

On the left was a young girl, only about 8 or 9, her blonde curls tied into a high ponytail. Her grey eyes were far too analyzing for a girl her age. On the right was a girl a few years older than the other, with black choppy hair and startling electric blue eyes. 

In the middle, a guy, probably the oldest, had his arms wrapped around the other two, smiling at the camera. His disheveled blonde hair was swept to one side. But even though the guy was smiling, his blue eyes were full of anger and bitterness. 

"Do not do this," he urged. "The waters may grant you physical prowess beyond any mortal in this world, but it comes with a heavy price." 

Slowly, he rested his finger on top of the guy in the middle. "He had learned this the hard way. Will you share the same fate?" 

The man didn't know what to say. The pendant on his neck grew heavier by the minute, as though it could sense the man's fear. 

"He is lying, my friend. Do not listen to him," 

The icy voice whispered in his ear, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up straight. 

Percy stared out of his window with a longing in his eyes, watching as the protective barrier of Camp Half-Blood repelled the persistent rain that fell from above. Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by the raging boom of thunder. The campers didn't even seem to take notice as they continued along their normal routines in an ordinary day.

He sat down on his bed, resting Riptide in his palm for comfort. When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the lingering touch of Annabeth's soft skin against his, or the smell of her beautiful blonde curls, as he sat there desolately. No matter how long he pondered, or how hard he tried, he could never think of a reason that Annabeth might not want him in her life anymore.

He thought about seeking Piper's help, who knew Annabeth better than anyone else he knew. Surely, as a daughter of Aphrodite, she would know what was happening between them. But he had instantly overruled the option, knowing that she was distressed from her break-up with Jason, and also the person he knew that Annabeth would turn to first. Hazel and Frank didn't seem like a good choice either. They had just begun their relationship, and he'd hate to pester them with his own issues.

Reyna was already occupied with her responsibilities as praetor, and he had rejected her once before. Asking her for help about his problems with Annabeth seemed unfit. Nico wasn't normally the person you'd ask for assistance with love, and he already had his own share of conflicted love.

Even Jason, who he always confided in if Annabeth wasn't available, was already dealing with his break-up with Piper. He was sure that Jason was busy with his promise; Making sure that all gods and goddesses are properly honored. In fact, he had even showed him his model of all the shrines he intended to build at Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood.

But he did know someone he could always count on for girl problems. And that was his mother, Sally Jackson. He lit up with the idea of visiting his mom again, to be greeted with the aroma of her delicious blue cookies. He rose from his bed and pocketed Riptide as he hurriedly opened the door, eager to ask Chiron. He was almost positive that Chiron would agree to the trip.

~•~

Percy waited at the crest of Half-Blood Hill as Argus pulled up the camp van, gesturing him to get inside. Percy spun around one last time as he marveled the camp's beauty, even with the pouring rain outside. Then, without another look back, he opened the door and climbed inside, closing it behind him.

As soon as they drove through the entrance of Camp Half-Blood, heavy rain splashed against the roof of the van, streaming down the windows as they fell. He watched them with interest as they swerved through highway traffic, heading to his mom's apartment in Manhattan.

The image of the numerous trees and towering buildings flashing past them seemed to give him a sense of tranquility and freedom, letting the stress that clouded his mind fly behind him. As they turned the corner, he recognized the street by memory, spotting his mom's apartment in a matter of seconds. The van slowed to a stop next to the curb, allowing Percy to grab the bag he had packed and hop out of the van.

He thanked Argus for the ride, receiving a slight nod in return. Then, closing the door, Argus sped off down the street, steadily blending with New York traffic. Percy forced his eyes to look away and headed inside the building. Briskly walking past the elevator, he swiftly climbed the stairs until he reached the floor of his mom's apartment.

He walked down the hallway, shifting his head left and right to search for the correct door. Suddenly, he paused. There it was, right in front of him. The hairs on his neck seemed to stand on end, as he rested his finger on the doorbell. He couldn't understand why he felt so jittery about visiting his mom. He shook his head to compose himself and finally rang the doorbell. He could hear the bell echo inside the apartment as he waited for someone to get the door.

Long moments passed as Percy stood there anxiously. 3 minutes, 5 minutes. He frowned, tapping his foot impatiently. It couldn't have taken them this long to open the door. 9 minutes. He contemplated whether or not he should just leave now, wondering if his mom or Paul had gone grocery shopping. 13 minutes. He could feel the disappointment bubble inside him as he turned away, sighing.

Just then, he heard the loud creak of the rusty hinges that he'd grown to recognize. He whirled around to see the door open, but no one was there to greet him, or ask who it was. Suspicious, he poked his head inside with an eyebrow raised. "Mom? Paul?" He asked. No one answered, but he headed inside anyway, closing the door behind him.

"Mom?! Paul?!" He cried louder, running the stairs three at a time. When he reached the top of the stairs, he scanned the room with confusion. If no one were home... then who opened the door? "Mom! Paul!" He yelled, breaking into a panic. Shivers ran up and down his spine, breaking into a sweat. He burst into the kitchen, frantic with worry.

And that's when he saw it. Large, red letters adorned the walls, still dripping towards the ground. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he slowly deciphered it, his hands trembling at his side.

I've been waiting for you.