My second Percy Jackson FF. I don't own anything. Please review.

Prologue-Three Years Before

Kronos stood before his troops, surveying them all. As individuals, they were worthless, true, but together they made a force no other could match. All he had to do was bide his time, use guerilla warfare against the demigods until he was strong enough to attack.

He had waited three thousand years. He could stand a few more months to be ruler of the world. And by then he would have his new form. But now he had a job he needed to do–something he needed to take care of.

He left his troops under the temporary command of Hyperion, and stalked off purposefully. He had heard rumors, and had put this off for as long as he dared allow. But now that he had nothing to distract him, he was ready to commit.

His form flickered, disappearing, and he reappeared a thousand miles away. He was in a small, quiet, European city that was centered around an enormous cathedral. And suddenly, he felt what he was looking for. The presence was so strong Kronos' knees almost buckled, and he was glad that he hadn't brought anyone along. He steadied himself with his scythe, and walked towards the presence.

He made his way to a small apartment near the cathedral. He broke open the door and stepped inside the small, neat room. In the back was an old man with a long, wispy white beard, rocking back and forth. A cane was next to him, propped up against the wall. Before Kronos could open his mouth, the old man spoke, struggling to get up.

"Hello son," He rasped. "Please sit down."

Kronos hesitated, but something in the man's voice made him sit. Ashamed of complying, he shot up again, and stared accusingly at the man.

"Ouranus," He breathed, and the word reverberated throughout the house. "I should have known that the Great Stirring would have awakened you as well. I wonder what you have been doing this whole time."

The old man shook his head.

"The Great Stirring helped, but only to give me more time. I reformed thirteen years ago, with just enough manifestable power to make myself mortal. I was never meant to stay long."

Kronos seemed uneasy, but he responded cockily,

"Yes, that is true. But what were you meant to do, then?"

When his father gave no response, Kronos looked around expectantly.

"I heard there was a boy..." He said, his voice trailing off. "That is why I have come."

Ouranus sighed, his eyes full of sadness.

"You would kill your own brother, Kronos?" He asked softly, and Kronos took a step back.

"So it's true," He hissed. "Where is he? Where is he?" He yelled. Instead of answering, Ouranus sat back infuriatingly.

"Do you know where we are, son? This is the beautiful Santiago de Compostela, a holy city in Spain. That cathedral outside is hundreds of years old, and countless numbers of people make a pilgrimage, a tradition as old as the city. To the mortals, it is ancient, but to us five hundred years is the blink of an eye."

"Just answer me, old man!" Kronos said.

Ouranus stood up, his eyes flaring.

"He will be more powerful that any of my previous children. More than the Cyclops, more than the Hundred-Handed Ones, and more than you Kronos, than any of the Titans! He will be my champion, the Skyborn. He will restore peace to his generation, especially when Gaia awakes. My treacherous wife." Ouranus shook his head.

"You understand what I will have to do now, don't you," Kronos said slowly, his scythe becoming a sword. "I want you to die–at my hand once again–knowing that I will find the boy. And when I do, I will kill him." Ouranus looked at his with a calmness that uneased Kronos.

"Good night, father," He said tauntingly, and stabbed the old man in the stomach. When he withdrew the sword, it was stained in gold and red blood. Ouranus fell off his chair, a reached to his cane. He pulled it down with what energy was left, and Kronos realized something. It wasn't a cane, it was a lever. He looked up, and a small deluge of black water fell on him. He could feel his memories of this incident slipping away.

"What have you done?" He asked his dying father, horrified. Ouranus looked at him weakly.

"That is diluted Lethe water. It will only erase this strain of memories. You will not harm my child. Now, son, here is my final gift to you,"

He kicked his foot, and a starry whirlwind picked up around Kronos. He disappeared in a flurry of stars.

Ouranus watched him go. He leaned back peacefully, his work done.

His essence dissolved, floating back into the sky that was his domain.

A thousand miles away, a boy named James ran down a street, truly alone for the first time in his life.