Sea of Monsters

Chapter 5

My mother's cheerful call pierced through the solemnity that had settled in our apartment. "Come on, dear," she encouraged once more, her voice laced with anticipation. "Last day of school. You should be excited! You've almost made it."

I tore myself away from the depths of my contemplation and responded with a somewhat subdued, "Coming." My fingers instinctively ventured under my pillow, seeking comfort in the familiar touch of the ballpoint pen concealed there. Its surface bore the engraved inscription in Ancient Greek: Anaklusmos. Riptide.

It had been a year since I'd first received the pen from Chiron, and it had remained by my side ever since. The thought of it stirred something within me—a sense of duty, of unspoken responsibilities. Maybe it was time to dedicate myself to training with it, learning to wield it alongside Atlan, the legendary weapon that the Fates had gifted me. Atlan now resided securely on my camp necklace, a constant reminder of my divine lineage.

I hurriedly got dressed, my mind buzzing with a peculiar sense of restlessness. Something felt different today, and it wasn't just the anticipation of the school year's end. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, but my thoughts were far from the cheerful morning light.

Last year, the approach of the end of the school year had marked the beginning of my extraordinary journey as a demigod. It had been a year since I'd received Adias's final lesson and training at Camp Half-Blood. I hadn't wielded the powerful celestial bronze sword in months. Adias, the ancient centaur who had guided me, had once told me that I would be on my own from then on, that he had taught me everything I needed to know.

Tomorrow, I planned to return to Camp Half-Blood. I had yearned for this moment, eager to immerse myself in training once more. Yet, a shadow of uncertainty lingered in the back of my mind. The events of the past year had cast a long shadow, and the revelations about the camp's problems had heightened my sense of urgency.

As I descended the stairs to the kitchen, the enticing aroma of freshly prepared blue waffles and eggs greeted me. My mother, dressed for work, had outdone herself. She wore a white button-down shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up, and a stylish blue pencil skirt paired with matching heels. Her long brown hair was gathered into a ponytail, giving her a professional yet approachable appearance.

My thoughts briefly veered off course as I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly she maintained her youthful and radiant appearance, even in her forties. Her vibrant energy and warm smile seemed to defy the passage of time, a fact that I couldn't help but admire.

My stepfather, Paul, had already left for work, having an earlier schedule than the rest of us. He worked as an English teacher at Goode High, and his dedication to his students often meant early mornings.

"Percy, are you all right?" my mother asked, her perceptive gaze fixed on me as I settled into my seat at the kitchen table.

"Yeah... fine," I responded, my attempt to conceal my unease falling short.

My mother, however, was adept at sensing when something troubled me. She dried her hands and took a seat opposite me, her concern palpable. "Is it school or..." She left the question hanging, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I took a tentative bite of the delicious blue waffles she had prepared, pondering how to articulate my thoughts. "Grover might be in trouble. I feel it, Mom. I'll need to head back to camp soon."

The mention of Grover, my best friend and a satyr who had been with me through thick and thin, only intensified my mother's unease. Her worry was justified. "I wouldn't be too concerned, dear," she said, attempting to offer reassurance. "Grover has grown and become quite capable. If there were a problem, I'm sure we would've heard from... from camp."