"You think you know everything," it thunders, "for, after all, is it not comforting to believe yourselves the masters of your own pitiful universe? Your naivety astounds me."

I try to reply, or at the very least make some kind of gesture for communication. I find my entire body unable to move. I struggle against my invisible bonds, stopping a short moment later as a streak of pain shoots through my body. Ascertaining myself as utterly immobile, I let my eyes wander, scouring my vicinity for anything that could help me. They land on my sceptre, placed mockingly just outside of my grasp.

"I know what it is you seek, child," he continues as his tone turns benign, "You seek love, acceptance, friendship, but ultimately knowledge, and therefore power. For this, however, you willingly bequeath your existence and servitude to the Mad Titan: a grave mistake. He certainly will not give return to your victories in his name, for he is just that- mad. I, however, will personally guarantee nigh-omnipotence, in exchange for but a few millennia of service."

My body loosened from the bonds previously holding my limbs and tongue. I fall onto the hard rock under. I look up and behold a massive swirling mass of purplish mist, emanating raw power: power of which encompasses the basic process of creation and destruction. I sense his truthfulness and I manage a wry grin. Carefully, I ask, "What would this 'service' of yours entail?"

"For you to join an army," it rumbles, "and to lead it to glory. I will give you a briefing and introduction once we get there."

Swirling smoke encapsules me and I reappear in an all-too-familiar landscape.

"Midgard," I snarl

My body jerks up. I look around, with a sharp intake of breath. Everything was fine. My minotaur horn was hanging on the wall as usual, Tyson's shield was buried somewhere in my dirty socks, and Riptide was in my pocket.

I peek through the window. It's still dark outside. Hey! This is the first time I woke up before 7! Ah fuck it. I doze off.

A blue glow illuminates my vision. I see a beautiful sapphire, engraved within an extravagant spear, morphing into a lavish pistol and a shining sword.

"Excelsior," a voice booms.

I wake to Annabeth roughly shaking me. Extremely annoyed about having been woken from a very fulfilling sleep, albeit for that one dream, I groan.

"Urgwwhhatt?"

"It's 1 in the afternoon, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth chastises, "You were muttering about chaos and some weird Norse crap. I didn't even know you knew all that! Are you okay?"

"Huhhhhh..?"

"Nevermind," Annabeth snorts, "You're so daft."

"Nnnggggg"

I try to doze off again but Annabeth slaps me. Godsdamit. I sleepily struggle out of bed.

"And brush your teeth too," Annabeth says, "Your breath smells like Tartarus."

I chuckle, and slowly drag my feet to to the niche in my room, where the fountain lies. I quickly slurp some in my mouth and will it to clean out my mouth. Screw toothbrushes. I change into my camp T-Shirt and shorts, and I stumble sleepily out of the cabin-

-only to be greeted by a huge brown wall of fur and muscle.

What the heck? I recoil. The smell of animal BO hits my senses and I fall backwards.

"Are you OK?"

I look up, and see Chiron standing over me with a slightly bemused expression.

"Are you OK, Percy?"

I snap to my senses, and give a somewhat exasperated reply,

"Yes."

Then, I realized the entire camp was standing over me. Well then.

"Is everything alright?" I ask.

Josephine, a child of Hecate brought in last September, runs up to me. "We heard some strange noises in your cabin, and Felix ran to investigate. He was blown back by some kind of crystalline sapphire-coloured blast, and now he's in the Infirmary with third-degree burns, muttering incoherently. Every time someone tried to go near your cabin, they always got blasted back, however none of them had it as bad as Felix, who literally body-slammed into that forcefield."

I blinked.

"Wait, so why would my dad attack you all? I may be stupid, but that just doesn't make sense," I say. Chiron looks at me with sadness in his eyes.

"We weren't suspecting him," he croaks hoarsely.

That's when I notice that everybody has their weapons drawn and pointed at me. "There must be a misunderstanding," I stutter, "I didn't attack the camp." "Then explain why you put 3 people in critical condition and given 7 more serious burns," Chiron challenges. I was about to reply when suddenly, a bright flash illuminates my vision.

"Perseus Jackson," a strong voice declares, "You have been convicted of high treason against Olympus."

I look up, and my gaze is met with stormy grey eyes, emanating with power.

"Lady Athena," I say, "what in the gods' name is going on?" There was no chance in Hades that they were serious. I was asleep - and even gods can't use their powers when asleep!

"You've consciously abused your powers and seriously injured over 10 people," Athena declares, "Originally we believed that you were a devout supporter of Olympus, but it seems that power corrupts even the most steadfast people." I stare at Athena in bewilderment. Athena returns the stare indifferently. This was beyond idiotic; this was preposterous. I open my mouth, but no words come out. For a moment, I look like I am choking. What the heck just happened?

"I was asleep," I manage to force out. "There's no possible way I could have hurt so many of my friends. I'm nowhere near strong enough to unconsciously send out power bursts when I'm asleep." Athena fixes a stare on me. "Really," she says, "but what if you aren't asleep?"

"Are you suggesting that I was awake and I purposefully attacked my own friends?" I ask, "My fatal flaw is loyalty: there's absolutely no way this could be true. I've done so much for them; why would I hurt them now?"

After a long and contemplative pause, Athena replies. "There's always the chance," she asserts, "Power has been known to corrupt and turn many of even the most intrepid of heroes. Take Hercules, for instance." Dionysus butts in, "Yeah! Also like Luke's father!" Hermes jolts in his throne. "Luke what?" he yells. His caduceus jerks upright and starts to turn laser-red, as if it has a will of its own. Then again, it does.

Dionysus stares at the caduceus, and begins to turn an interesting shade of purple. He stutters, "N-no, of course not. I-I was merely t-talking about th-that guy in that TV show, I think Star Trek? H-his n-name was A-Anakin I-I think." Hermes sits back, not quite satisfied, but not on the verge of making Dionysus hurt badly either. Zeus clears his throat and shoots both of the gods a death stare. They blanch. "Right," he says, "continuing from where Athena left off, you have obviously been unfortunately led astray by the lure of power."

I gape dumbfounded. "This doesn't make any sense at all," I protest. The story did make no sense. How did Annabeth get inside my cabin if there even was a supposed "barrier" around it?

"The entire council was keeping the barrier at bay," Athena says, as if she read my mind. Thenagain, she probably did. "It left all of us drained," she admits grudgingly, "whatever you put up there, that's good stuff." I look around. Tired was an understatement. Athena looked like she just recovered from a severe hangover. Her normally straight hair was frizzled, and there are bags under her eyes. I look at the rest of the council: they were no better. Apollo's radiance, while normally bright golden, is currently flickering on and off in dim yellow. Artemis is fast asleep. Dionysus is shivering after his encounter with Hermes, who in itself looks tired beyond measure. Aphrodite's makeup is all over the place, and she's nodding off too. Zeus and Hades look like they went through another one of their fights, World War II level. But my dad, Poseidon, is the worst out of everyone. He looks like he just travelled to Tartarus and fought every monster imaginable, along with a few Titans too.

I scratch the back of my head. "What the heck?" I say, "I didn't do it." Athena turns her steely eyes towards me once more.

"I'm sorry," she says mournfully, "simple logic dictates that you did. You are but more proof that even the strongest can fall to the allure of power."

I try to open my mouth to protest, but Zeus interrupts me. "Ahem," he says, "now that the 'defendant' is proven guilty, we shall move onto the sentencing." Zeus turns his eyes onto Poseidon sitting next to him. He softens his gaze. "I'm sorry, brother," he tries to comfort Poseidon.

Zeus turns his face towards me, "I sentence you, to eternity in the Fields of Punishment. Be glad, traitor, that it's not Tartarus," he thunders. I try once more to protest. This is against all logic: this is persecution! Zeus waves his hand and summons his bolt. "I didn't do it," I weakly say. Then I say no more.

You know that feeling you get when you are on a rollercoaster, and it suddenly goes down? The "I want to puke" sensation? I feel that, times one hundred. I'm suddenly going so fast, my skin feels like it was peeling off. So this is what flashing feels like, huh?

I close my eyes. This is the most bullshit thing I've ever been through. I can only hope that this is a test or a prank by Apollo or Hermes. It's so obvious that I'm not the one who injured my own friends. Maybe I'll reappear in the middle of the council again, with everyone guffawing at the look of my face.

I hope so. I hope the Olympian Council isn't stupider than me.

After what feels like an eternity, the rollercoaster sensation subsides. It took way too long to simply flash me from Olympus to the Underworld.

I am thrown out onto a hard mahogany floor. This isn't the Underworld.

A booming laughter fills the room. I look up, and am greeted by the most majestic sight eyes can behold. The creator of this place somehow took a Victorian-era mansion and magicked it out into … interstellar space? The wooden walls gleams with god-level polishing. Exquisite chandeliers hang from the ceiling, wreathed in ethereal light. Fine redwood stairs in the corner of the room lead up to a beautiful second-floor balcony, overlooking the main lobby. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows adorn the walls, each looking out into countless stars and nebulae. The air within the mansion smells like cold, refreshing lemon. This is definitely not the underworld.

I turn around and focus on a dark humanoid figure, standing with its back turned. When I face it, it pivots on its heel and steps into the light.

"Hello there," the figure greets. He war tall and slender, with obsidian-black eyes and a shiny, almost iridescent bald head.

"I am Order."