The Nature of a Demigod

Lessons in Shadow Travel

"Try to get some sleep," he urged. "We'll be at the beach by tomorrow night. It will be fun."

"Fun," Rachel repeated. "Lots of fun."

Her father exited the room. He left the door open behind him. Rachel stared at the portrait of me. Then she walked to the easel next to it, which was covered in a sheet.

"I hope they're dreams," she said.

She uncovered the easel. On it was a hastily sketched charcoal, but Rachel was a good artist. The picture was definitely Luke as a young boy. He was about nine years old, with a wide grin and no scar on his face.

I had no idea how Rachel could've known what he looked like back then, but the portrait was so good I had a feeling she wasn't guessing. From what I knew about Luke's life (which wasn't much), the picture showed him just before he'd found out he was a half-blood and had run away from home.

Rachel stared at the portrait. Then she uncovered the next easel. This picture was even more disturbing. It showed the Empire State Building with lightning all around it.

In the distance a dark storm was brewing, with a huge hand coming out of the clouds. At the base of the building a crowd had gathered... but it wasn't a normal crowd of tourists and pedestrians. I saw spears, javelins, and banners, the trappings of an army.

"Percy," Rachel muttered, as if she knew I was listening, "what is going on?"

She uncovered one final easel, and it was something that immediately unsettled me. Rachel was hesitant to even take the sheet off. It was a clear image of my friend Y/N. But half of his face was crooked, demonic almost. Like he was being torn at the seams. He was screaming. I could tell that much.

One of his eyes was a simple blots of white, and his entire face was laced in black lines, the veins of the demon that resides within him. He didn't look angry exactly... I'd say that he looked full of pained turmoil.

The dream faded, and the last thing I remember was wishing I could answer her questions. The next morning, I wanted to call her, but there were no phones at camp. Dionysus and Chiron didn't need a landline. They just called Olympus with an Iris-message whenever they needed something.

And when demigods use cell phones, the signals agitate every monster within a hundred miles. It's like sending up a flare: Here I am! Please rearrange my face! Even within the safe borders of camp, that's not the kind of advertising we wanted to do.

Most demigods (except for Annabeth and a few others) don't even own cell phones. And I definitely couldn't tell Annabeth, "Hey, let me borrow your phone so I can call Rachel!" To make the call, I would've had to leave camp and walk several miles to the nearest convenience store.

Even if Chiron let me go, by the time I got there, Rachel would've been on the plane to St. Thomas. I ate a depressing breakfast by myself at the Poseidon table. I kept staring at the fissure in the marble floor where two years ago Nico had banished a bunch of bloodthirsty skeletons to the Underworld. The memory didn't exactly improve my appetite.

[Y/N's POV]

Once I got out of the infirmary and we got to eat breakfast, (I had chocolate chip pancakes,) Annabeth and I did the inspection of the cabins.

Well, it was her turn to inspect, and my job was... actually, I didn't have a job.

I was still supposed to be resting, but Chiron looked away long enough for me to make a break for it. Annabeth didn't complain, but still gave me a stack of paperwork the very same centaur needed sorted through so I could look busy enough and preemptively make up for ditching the infirmary.