AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi everyone! This is the re-write of Everchanging! It was one of my favorite works, and I'm kind of disappointed at the response to it, so I'm going to try again. I'm going to post up a few chapters this week, and through next week, hopefully. My last final is on Monday (French) and I don't start my summer courses until the 18th. Wish me luck guys!

DISCLAIMER: This is a story-wide disclaimer! I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians in any way, shape, or form. Rick Riordan is an amazing writer who lives in San Antonio, Texas, and while I did live there at one point, I am NOT him.

WARNINGS: AU after the Lightning Thief, no Romance, rituals and powers could be unique to this story and not available in reality at all; that's all I can think of right now.

Enjoy the story guys!

CHAPTER ONE: The Gift

Trust no one, Percy, the voice of his father whispered in his head. Trust no one unless you have no other choice, unless you could place your life in their hands and know they'd keep it safe for you. Trust no one but yourself.

Only hours ago, Percy would've ignored this warning; it wouldn't have meant anything serious to him, and his father would've known that. He had been a mostly naïve pre-teen, about to hit thirteen with two best friends: Annabeth Chase, the daughter of Athena, and Grover Underwood, a satyr. He'd been ready to leave Camp the next morning and head to a new school, a new life with his mother, and without his irritating step-father Gabe. He was a child of Poseidon with so many trustworthy friends, and so many people he would risk his life to save.

That all changed when Chiron walked up to him after the campfire sing-along.

He angrily swiped at the fresh tears building in his tired eyes; he could not afford to cry anymore. He'd found sanctuary in his father's arms, as he'd cried until he fell silent, with no more tears to cry. Two words ruined his life, and set him on his current path. Two words brought his whole world down around his ears.

"She's dead."

And this time it was true. This time she hadn't vanished in a flash of golden light; she hadn't been taken as a hostage. She couldn't be rescued from his uncle's realm like they'd tried to only a month ago.

His mother, his sweet, wonderful mother, was dead. And this time she wasn't coming back.

"What's wrong, Chiron? Did something happen?"

"There was a fire in an apartment in upper Manhattan early this morning, Percy. The fire was vicious; it spread out over several blocks and claimed dozens of lives. There was an area in which no survivors were found. They are calling it the Dead Zone."

"But, why does this concern me?"

"Your home was located in this dead zone."

"What? But, my mom…"

"I'm sorry, Percy. She's dead."

He pulled himself away from the vision of earlier that night, and focused on the pounding of his sneakers on the street, but his mind refused to let the memory to rest. He recalled that he'd run from Chiron, just as he'd been dismissed. The old centaur hadn't asked whether he'd be staying the whole year anymore. It was a given now, he had nowhere else to go. But he had other plans. He may only be thirteen, but he was resourceful. He knew how to work people; he knew how to survive on the streets by himself. He'd run straight to the open beach which stretched for miles, and ran until he couldn't see the dimming lights of the Camp he was leaving behind. He ran until he couldn't take it anymore; he ran until he'd run out of breath and collapsed into the rising tide, tears building in his eyes. He hadn't even realized when another presence joined him until he was wrapped tightly in the comforting embrace of his father.

His father had felt his sorrow as he'd collapsed into the rising tide on the beach, sensed that he wasn't within the borders of the Camp, and had come to find out what had happened. He'd seen what had happened to Sally Jackson, but he'd seen something his son hadn't known. While the death of dozens of people had been an accident, the fire, which had wiped out dozens of lives and homes, had not been. It had been an attempt at locating his son; an attempt to flush out the thirteen year old boy who now had nothing to lose after the loss of his only family.

Sally Jackson had known where her only son, her powerful thirteen year old son, was hidden. She believed she was the only one (save for Poseidon) to truly know her secret. But she hadn't been, and it had cost her. She'd withheld the location of her only child from those who had wished to do him harm, and they killed her for it. The fire had been a cover. No one would be able to tell she had been murdered if the whole block was set on fire.

When he'd heard this, he'd frozen. His father watched him sadly, as he'd tried to come to terms with the fact that a group of mortals had killed his mother and started a fire to cover it up. What was worse was that he wasn't able to come to terms with the fact that it had been him they were truly after. What had he done, after all? What talent could he possibly possess that would intrigue a group of dangerous mortals? He was only a kid, for gods' sakes.

That was when his father told him a secret. A secret his mother had carried and his grandmother before her: the secret of his mother's lineage, her ancestry, and her race.

She wasn't who the world had believed her to be, and to her knowledge, only his father had known. Now she'd paid for the consequence of such ignorance and he was left alone.

Now, he was thirteen years old, with a concealed intelligence worthy of a child of Athena, the cunning and stealth of a child of Hermes, and talents which could match the Gods.

And only his father knew.

THE WORLD

The pounding of blood in his ears resembled the rhythm of his feet beating on the sidewalk. He was in New York City, New York, and he was running for his life.

He'd entered the city only an hour ago, tired of moping around on the hills of Long Island. He had felt too close to Camp, and knew that if they'd found him, they'd bring him back. Right now he couldn't afford that.

Before he'd entered the city, he'd activated a latent talent that could only have been brought out by a traumatic experience. In his case, it was the murder of his mother. His talent allowed him to morph, or to change any part of his body. It was an incredible talent that had driven him into a state of awe when he'd first discovered it. He could literally morph his body into any form; he could change his hair, nails, face, eyes, etc… to different colors, shapes, sizes, and styles.

"It is your instinctive ability to shift, or to change. Man was gifted the ability to adapt to his environment. In your case, this is an incredibly advanced version of that small gift. You can appear to be a completely different person, or even an inanimate object. With this ability, you are more dangerous than many people can comprehend." His father's acknowledgement of the gift was as good as a billboard declaring to the world "USE ME! I'M IMPORTANT!"

Right now, as he ran for his life and freedom, he sported shaggy, dirty blond hair and almond shaped cerulean eyes which mimicked the Caribbean Sea on a good morning. Come to think of it, that is probably what tipped them off. His eyes had a tendency to mimic the sea, whichever color they were. At the moment, his eyes portrayed a building storm, but one that hadn't reached land yet. His anguish combined with his father's, and the mortal world would never survive the coming storm. They had to keep it far away from mortal territory.

His blue eyes glanced back briefly, and he instructed his feet to pick up the pace. There were three men chasing him, all muscular, though not overly so, and all taller than him. Their strides were longer than his, and they covered more ground than he did. He had to run faster, harder, farther than they did unless he wanted to get caught. It was only the nighttime crowds that were preventing them from reaching him easily.

However, his body was tiring. He'd been running ever since Chiron had broken the life-shattering news to him only hours before dusk. He'd run for hours and hours until he'd hitched a ride into the center of the thriving nightlife of New York City. And he'd been on his feet ever since. It wouldn't be long at all before his body began to slow, to demand rest. And soon after that, he would be overtaken by the three muscular men who were chasing him.

Determination set in, enhancing the adrenalin coursing through his veins. He wouldn't allow himself to be caught. He refused to be captured and used. He wouldn't let his mother's silent sacrifice be in vain. They would not get to him, whether they were his mother's killers or the Camp's seekers.

His keen eyes picked up a shadowed alleyway up in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder once again, only to realize that another man had joined the group chasing him, only this man's form was slighter than the others, and instead of the monochromatic monotony of brown hair such as the other three, this man had a shock of blond hair plastered on his head. Shaking his head, he refocused on the shadowed alley coming up.

Upon reaching the alley, he pivoted 90 degrees on his heel and sped into the shadowy confines of the darkened alley. His eyes widened when he realized that there was a large man draped in black waiting for him in the center. Just as the man leapt forward to tackle him, he dropped and skid straight underneath him, and jumped to his feet the moment the danger had passed.

Upon reaching his feet, he heard a loud thump! - most likely indicating that one of the men chasing him had been caught by the tackle instead of him, just as another cried out a warning.

His body froze, despite the fact that he remained in motion. An overwhelming feeling of dread welled up in his body, and he exhaled harshly. He'd recognized that shout.

Luke.

He ran faster than he had ever dared to, adrenalin and fear spiking his body, pushing him to higher limits. He couldn't afford to be caught, he knew that. But could he afford to stop now, even for a brief respite for his aching body?

No. Not with Luke so close by; not with them right on his tail. That was the last thing he could afford right now.

And without another thought, he sped through the shadow filled alley, cutting through the city's thriving nightlife, allowing the crowd to camouflage his slight form. He couldn't afford to lose even a second, and though his morphing talent could help hide him even better in such a crowd, he couldn't chance using it should someone see him change and recognize the ability. The ability would classify him as dangerous, deadly, and guarantee him a place in the Underworld.

His eyes caught a nearby hotel, and he knew that if he stood a chance of changing undetected anywhere, it would be in there.

Glancing back, he noticed the four, now five, men were nowhere to be seen. He knew they were there, but, he guessed that they had taken advantage of the crowd to disperse and search for him. It would be hard to spot any of them in this kind of a crowd, especially the three monochromatic men who were dressed in the same outfits with the same hair color and facial features. They would blend right in. Sighing, he turned his sights back to the hotel, even as he pulled his hood up and the loose backpack he'd been gifted tighter around him.

Without another backwards glance, he ran towards the hotel, hoping beyond hope, that no one important saw him.

IS

He slipped into the hotel in utter silence, sticking to the shadows of the brightly lit marble lobby. His cerulean eyes frantically sought out a bathroom sigh, or even a custodian's closet. Anywhere he could close the door and change without security coming and banging on the door for being somewhere he's not supposed to be. He couldn't stay in the lobby for long either; someone might notice that he wasn't supposed to be there, or his pursuers would catch on to the one location he had a chance in losing them in, and rush in before he could change safely.

While searching, his eyes caught a customer who was checking in for the night making his way down the hall, near the elevators on the opposite side. The glowing little numbers read a scarlet five. He sighed and his eyes moved away from the glowing digit. And finally, to his frantic relief, he caught sight of the men's bathroom sign near the elevator, which gave him another idea.

Slipping into the dimly lit hallway, he walked softly towards the elevator, and waited for its arrival. Upon hearing the soft 'ding' which allowed its doors to open, he slipped inside and hit the button with the elegant number five scrawled on it.

Closing his eyes, he allowed the cerulean to darken to a beautiful sapphire, and caused the shape to narrow slightly. His hair would appear a darkish blond almost brown in the security cameras because of the dim lighting, but now they would appear as such to anyone who saw him. To the security personnel watching the camera footage for the elevator, they would see no change, he knew. But to anyone else, one person got on the elevator on the first floor, and a totally different person got off.

Regardless of the minor changes in the elevator, he still decided to slip into the bathroom conveniently located next to the elevators on the fifth floor. He slipped into the stalls and darkened his hair to a milk-chocolate brown, and willed his eyes to retain their sapphire color and almond shape. He also pulled a sea green hooded sweatshirt, from the loose backpack, which read Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble on it in onyx. He swapped blue jean shorts for black skinny jeans. Riptide was slipped into his right jean pocket, and the wallet filled with money and other important information was slipped into the left one.

Sliding the backpack onto his shoulders, and increasing his height by an inch or two, he slipped from the stall and stalked to the mirror in order to examine himself. A relieved smile curled his lips. He would be fine for tonight, but he still had to get out of the city.

With more confidence than he believed he had, he made his way down the elevator to the first floor. Leaving through the back entrance was too risky; they would have someone stationed there if he was suspected to have run in. He would blow everything if he made that mistake. He strode to the concierge and offered a polite, charming smile. The tired redhead smiled back at him, and asked him what he needed.

"Is there a Chinese place open late?" he questioned shyly, cheeks tinting pink slightly, as if the question embarrassed him. At the raised eyebrow of the concierge, he decided to elaborate, "My parents were really tired, as we got in late. They took a nap and just woke up." He nearly froze when he saw two men, one of the monochromatic trio, and the other one the man in black, enter the building, eyes sweeping the lobby.

"I'm a bit of a night-owl, you see." He admitted, slightly louder, attracting the attention of the two men intentionally; he needed them to hear his conversation or they'd follow him everywhere tonight, just on suspicion. "And I love Chinese food, so they delegated the task of grabbing dinner to me." The shy smile was a bit more confident this time. The concierge smiled at him, though it was tired. Anyone would be, he thought, it was nearing the middle of the night.

"There should be a couple down the street, I'll give you some directions…" she trailed off as she reached for some papers inside a drawer nearby. They chatted a bit longer about good restaurants open at this hour and how good the food was in one compared to another. He left the concierge with a bunch of papers, and two complementary pens, and walked straight passed the two men who were still combing the lobby with their eyes. Finally, they decided to split up and take the two corridors on either side of the reception area. With a slightly lifted mood, he descended into the nightlife of New York City.

He'd no clue of the havoc the five men would wreck trying to find him.

ALWAYS

It'd taken him the remainder of the night hours to do it, but he'd finally left the city. He was on his way to Maryland, having hitched a ride on a cross country tour bus, paying an entry fee (only a few dollars to them, but it was limited resources to him) to join in on the fun until the first nightly stop. Hopefully, it would get him far enough from his pursuers to get them to drop their search, if only temporarily, and help him get established somewhere.

Somewhere, while he'd been escaping the city on foot, he'd changed his eye color to a gentle hazel and his hair to a fiery auburn. His face softened, giving him the appearance of a ten year-old boy. Another sweatshirt, blue this time, made an appearance. Thanking his father multiple times mentally for the gift of a no-limit, weightless backpack which would always find its way back to him, and with anti-theft defenses, he plundered on until the tour bus had picked him up.

He was half-asleep in one of the seats next to the emergency exit window, and honestly, he was surprised at how long it took him. The small part of his brain that was fully coherent was wondering at the actions of the body. He'd expect he would've fallen asleep on the walk to the bus stop. He'd been awake since early morning yesterday, and had yet to go to sleep and give his body a break. Even now, he wasn't fully asleep because he needed to be somewhat aware should something dangerous occur. If he wasn't, there was a chance he wouldn't make it out unscathed, or at all.

Being half-asleep, he was also half aware that another person was walking over to him, intent on occupying the seat next to him. Swiftly, but without alarming intensity, his senses were returned to his half-conscious body, bringing him about full consciousness, and moaning softly at the lack of much needed sleep.

He blinked innocent hazel eyes at the blue-green eyed young man seating himself next to him. After a minute of inconspicuously watching the man, who looked no older than twenty, he turned his attention to the passengers boarding the bus, all the while keeping one wary hazel eye on the man next to him. Just as the final passenger, a man in his thirties with sandy brown hair and onyx chips for eyes, boarded the bus, and as the bus started moving, the man next to him, turned to fully face him.

He blinked innocently at the older man. The young man raised an inky black eyebrow. He blinked again. The man didn't move.

"Yes?" he finally asked, eyes going from innocent to wary in a split-second. The man studied him for a moment, then smirked and turned to face the seat in front of him. Confused, he turned back to the window, one eye still on the elder male. This is why he noticed the moment the man began to speak.

"There is a lot more than mortals after you, little one." Bright hazel snapped to blue-green.

"I usually don't offer much advice to heroes," the man muttered, turning slightly so no one else could see him speak, "much less gifts, but with all the forces of evil, be they mortal or immortal, concentrated on you, I suppose I have to do so at least once." The 'not that you'll be mortal much longer' part was whispered under his breath, but caught by the teen's sharp hearing.

The raven haired young man tugged a bag from his lap, the same black bag he himself owned, only with a green colored design on the front pocket. His design was in turquoise. The man smirked at his surprised look. From within the bag, he withdrew a small, silver chain with a beautiful pendant in the center. The pendant was a flat triangle made of mother of pearl with a beautiful engraving, a twisted conch with a trident which crossed the triangle diagonally behind it, in the center. The engraving had embedded shards of emerald and sapphire: emerald in the tips of the trident, and sapphire in the tips of the conch shell. The entire object took his breath away and he reached out to touch it. The man smiled genuinely at him, observing his reaction.

He clasped it gently around the teen's neck.

"It is a protection charm." The man said softly, watching as hazel was filled in by sea green, "Only I can take it off, but it will hide should an enemy appear. You will always see it as it is, but no one else, save me, will, unless you wish it."

He reached up and tugged on the charm slightly, so he could see the design once more.

"Good luck, little brother." Hazel/Sea green eyes snapped up, hearing the soft whisper.

But the man was gone.

CHANGING

Completed: Saturday, June 09, 2012

Time: 7:48pm Eastern Time (USA)

Words: 3,770

As an aspiring writer, nothing matters more to me than how much my readers enjoy my stories. Please take the time to review, even if it is just one or two words. Constructive criticism is appreciated, Flames are not.

Thanks Everyone!

Em =D