A Son From Lands Unknown (PJO x Male Reader)

A Prophecy Foretold, A Quest Underway

Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. Percy pulled the cord, causing the door to swing down, a wooden ladder clattering into place. The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else... a small Percy recalled from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes.

Percy held his breath and climbed.

The attic was full of trophies brought back by previous Greek heroes; armor stands covered in cobwebs, once bright shields pitted with rust, and old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers. Ithaka, Circe's Isle, and Land of the Amazons were among them. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled... things. Severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head but with horns and full of shark's teeth. The plaque read, 'HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.'

By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled into a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead for a long, long time.

Looking at her sent chills up Percy's spine, and that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. Percy stumbled over himself, trying to run back out the trapdoor, but it slammed shut. Somehow from both inside his head and from every angle possible, Percy heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around his brain.

'I am the Spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python,' the voice hissed. 'Approach, seeker, and ask.'

Percy was tempted to reply with something along the lines of, 'No thanks, wrong door, just looking for the bathroom,' but instead forced himself to take a deep breath. The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around him in the green mist. But the presence didn't feel evil, like Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates he'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand; ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not interested in killing him either.

"What is my destiny?" Percy asked.

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of him and around the table with pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly four men were sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies. Percy clenched his fist, though he knew the party couldn't have been real. It was an illusion, made out of the green mist.

Gabe turned to him and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

His buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice: You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.

The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

Eddie, the building's owner, delivered the worst line yet: And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

Finally, a fifth man, one that Percy did not recognize, walked in. He was dressed in a black suit with a red undershirt, and a golden tie falling down the center. He had dark, neck-length hair, with eyes that seemed to swirl with glittering gold and obsidian black. His skin was pale as paper. He placed a hand on Gabe's shoulder and jostled it slightly, like an old friend, before saying: You'll know the true values of the Son of Greed. In the land of flowers, you must take heed.