Hi. For the moment, my name is Louisa4533. Some of you remember me from about a year ago and the mess of stories I had bogging me down. Some of you don't. Those of you who don't remember me, please, enjoy the story.

For those of you who do, you guys probably want an explanation. Well, if you haven't read my profile recently, you're probably startled about the fact that I'm posting again-and a new story, to boot. I have several reasons that I have listed on my profile. The short version: 1) I was kind of disappointed at the House of Hades and I didn't think that the Tartarus scenes were realistic enough and 2) when I went back and read through my stories, the majority of them sucked. Especially my Clashing Tides Series. So I'm re-writing it, condensing my characters, adding more mystery and intrigue. Yes, there will be OCs, but this will be told from Percy's point of view. And these OCs will not be ridiculously overpowered.

Let's just say that my parents had to check on me because I was laughing so hard. They were terrible. Terrible. Like, a-spider-mixed-with-the-Minotaur, terrible.

For you people who have stuck by me for so long and are frustrated at me for abandoning you for so long, feel free to rant in your reviews. I won't take offense, I promise.

Worlds are not meant to cross. The entirety of the Greco-Roman pantheon learned that the hard way. In all actuality, the whole world learned it the hard way, but it was only the demigods—and some residents in Brooklyn, that, if you are familiar with our meeting, I should not need to name.

I don't think I could say their names without the fabric of reality collapsing about our half-godly ears. Thankfully, I'm not saying them. I'm writing them, so that this will not be forgotten and the Greco-Romans and the Egyptians won't meet again and have to fix the world all over again.

Yes. You read that right. The Egyptians The people with the more-whacked-up-than-usual gods.

My name is Percy Jackson. You might be familiar with me. Our senior scribe has written a number of books that are published in the mortal world in hopes of some of the minor demigods and gods and goddesses might come and be recognized.

It started when I was sixteen, before the Giant War, during those four short months of relative peace. I'm not sure if you're familiar with my first encounter with Carter, so let me give you the run down: we met trying to kill the same croc that turned out to be the humongous result of some god's really, really old artifact. Ended up trying to kill each other, then made an uneasy truce until the thing was dead. That done, I ended up buying us both cheeseburgers. Carter, for some unknown reason that still makes me wary of the guy, decided to trust me and gave me a calling card. It disappeared into my hand. Literally.

And as much as I would've loved his people's help (oh, he's Pharaoh, by the way), during the Giant War and especially during the Battle of Camp Half-Blood, they probably would've been slaughtered. Especially if they, I don't know, apparated straight into the middle of the battle. I've led people into war before, I don't think I could've done it again had they been slaughtered because of me. Or Carter's ability to trust.

Let's get something straight: magic is crazy.

I'm not entirely sure what to classify my power beyond power, but the Camps—both Half-Blood and Jupiter—are just a pinch from bursting with magic. Camp Half-Blood alone has a huge, magical ward around us, shrouding us in secrecy, from a twelve-year-old's sacrifice almost twenty-one years ago. The forest is rife with creatures warped from the magic inherent around us. Greek fire consumes anything and everything, regardless if it was supposed to be flammable or not—that's the magical property in it. The Hecate cabin is a hoot: trying to do anything like a cabin inspection is next to impossible. One day it'll be as big as the Colosseum, the next it'll be tiny, with three bunk beds crammed in there and a teensy bathroom. Piper's magic alone can scare the absolute crap out of me—and it's definitely magic, because I've been subject to charmspeak several times, twice from her mother and once from Circe.

So, going off of that description, and the fact that we demigods bend or break the laws of physics all together fairly regularly, the most an instant teleportation or a flock of birds bursting out of the ground would get was a couple of raised eyebrows and perhaps a shriek from someone unfortunate enough to get caught in the flock of birds. That's it.

By the gods, I wish I could've seen the signs for what they had been. Even the Mist can't cover something like what was coming easily.

After Carter and I went our separate ways, things were quiet. They were quiet for years. I eventually, hesitantly, thought that there would be relative peace for another couple hundred years.

Well…let's just say that I was wrong. Big time. Like, godly big and Kronos time.

It started…with my sister, I guess. Her name is Alexis. She's twelve, born nine months after the end of the Second Titan War, so you can probably guess what happened. There wasn't anything big announcing her arrival, unlike myself. She doesn't look a thing like me, with reddish-brown hair and oddly bright blue eyes that reminded me more of the Hermes or Apollo cabins' eyes. You'd never guess she was my sister. Heck, you'd never guess that we were even remotely related. I wasn't even sure that she liked me for a while. After she was claimed, she had looked pretty uncomfortable when she walked into my cabin. Er, our cabin.

"Mind if I come in?" she had asked awkwardly.

I had looked around and suppressed a grimace. "Sure, not a problem. I'm…not used to sharing the cabin. You like things neat?"

"My definition of organized baffles even Dad," she had replied dryly, a wry smile on her lips. "And he's supposed to be the King of Messiness."

I had laughed, the tension breaking.

"What's your Dad do?" I asked that night when we sat down to dig into our dinners.

"Dad's a mechanic. Me and my sister—"

I spewed my drink. "Sister?!"

"She's adopted," Alexis said hastily, grinning a bit at my reaction. "But me and my sister both like to help him out. Dad drives Mom nuts regularly. It's funny to watch them argue. I can see why he married her."

"Why?" I prompted.

"She can keep up with his flaming temper and even retaliate once in a while." Alexis seemed intensely amused, like she'd indulged in an old inside joke or make a particularly ironic pun. "Normally with a bucket of ice water."

I laughed. "What's your Mom like?"

"She's stern sometimes, but she can prank like nobody's business. Dad didn't expect it the first time she conjured up a bucket of water and just kind of stood there in disbelief, thoroughly doused. Between Mom, my sister, and me, we've pulled off some awesome pranks on Dad. We had a water fight in the house once."

I grinned. "I guess that's the retaliation that you were talking about earlier?"

"Yep," she chirped, grinning mischievously.

Annabeth caught my eye, sitting at the Athena table. You okay? she mouthed. I nodded at her.

I turned back to Alexis. "Do you mind me asking who or what tipped you off about being a demigod?"

She sobered abruptly. "I've known since I was five. My biological mother told me."

"You're adopted?"

She nodded, finishing her steak. She stabbed a piece of garlic bread with her fork like it had done a personal wrong to her and slid it around, soaking up the last of the gravy from the steak. "My biological mother died when I was seven. Alcohol poisoning. You're one of the lucky ones, aren't you?"

I winced at the phrasing but nodded. "There's not too many demigods with a healthy, truthful relationship with their mortal parent."

She nodded as if she already knew that. "And those who do normally die trying to protect their child. Or perhaps because of their scent."

I swallowed. I didn't need to say any more, since she had basically covered it.

It only occurred to me afterwards, when Alexis was already asleep and I was climbing into bed: How had she known? She's only been here three days.

I had forgotten about my question by morning, though.

"My Dad knows," she said abruptly at breakfast the next morning.

My eyebrows lifted. "He knows…what?"

"That I'm a demigod. My Mom knows. My sister knows. They all know."

I hesitated. "Is that a good thing?"

She nodded definitely. "Of course. Dad wasn't real happy about my choice, though."

"Your choice?" I felt like a freaking parrot.

"To come here."

"My Mom didn't want me to come at first, either. She thought that if I went here she'd never see me again."

She quirked a smile. "That's a nice sentiment."

She didn't elaborate.

I was a bit confused. "So they're mad?" I guessed.

To be frank, I was startled that she was so jaded. So jaded, and yet she could smile and laugh and crack jokes just as easily as I could when I first came to Camp. My sister was a walking contradiction.

She shrugged listlessly, munching on a piece of bacon thoughtfully. I could hear her crunching from across the table. "Crispy, much?"

"It's better than Dad's. He burns the bacon every single time and then protests that it's 'just a little crispy!'" she said, mock indignation flowing through her voice during the last four words. "He may be able to whip up a taco over the open fire like nobody's business but he sucks at cooking anything over the stove."

I snorted.

I missed the thankful look on her face that I had been successfully diverted off the subject of why her adopted parents had not wanted her to come.

Annabeth pulled me to the side a week later. "You need to keep an eye on your sister."

"What?" I said in disbelief.

She smacked me round the head. "Are you stupid?" she hissed at me. "This is your sister. A child of Poseidon. You remember what the last child of Poseidon got into? You should, because you were the last child of Poseidon! Damn it all to Hades, Seaweed Brain, her name means 'defender of mankind' in Ancient Greek. You fulfilled your prophecy-name within a week of finding out what you were. What on earth do you think she's going to do?!"

I gripped her arms as something occurred to me. "Why would Dad be having another child in the first place?" I asked her urgently. "I must have given him half a million heart attacks during my quests, official or unofficial. I highly doubt that he would want another heart-attack-inducer."

"He's a god. Gods don't get heart attacks."

"Perhaps not, but I definitely scared the crap out of him multiple times. No self-respecting man wants to wet his pants, and certainly not multiple times. Why would he want another kid?"

She hesitated. "I still have younger siblings, Percy. After me, Athena probably wouldn't want to sire another child either. I don't think that she can help it, though."

I scowled. This was as screwed up as some of the Hephaestus cabin's old projects from before Leo broke their stroke of bad luck. "I'll be back."

She grabbed my arm before I could dart towards the Sound and kissed me soundly, her fingers twinning their way through my black hair. She released me after a couple of seconds and I straightened, dazed a bit. "What was that for?" I asked stupidly.

She laughed and called me a Seaweed Brain. "Don't do anything too rash, won't you?"

I saluted.

Oh, nearly forgot. This will be covering for the entire story, because we all know that I am not Rick Riordan, let alone male and a millionaire. Therefore, I do not own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, nor do I own the Kane Chronicles.