Y/N HAD SOME STRANGE DREAMS that night - cats and bread, of all things. For him, it felt like he woke up several times, but his brain moved at a snail's pace, and he just kept drifting back to sleep. Y/N distinctly remembered lying in a soft bed, being fed soup that tasted like a jelly donut. A blonde girl with grey eyes hovered over him, grinning mischievously as she wiped soup drips from his chin with a spoon. He tried to speak, but his mouth felt immobilized. He was overwhelmingly exhausted, as if he'd just completed a marathon.

The next time he woke up, the blonde girl was gone. A sturdy, blonde guy, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom, keeping watch over him. His blue eyes seemed to be everywhere - on his forehead, the backs of his hands, even his cheeks, and, he was sure, on his other cheeks too.

Finally, when he fully regained consciousness, his surroundings seemed normal, albeit stunningly beautiful. He found himself sitting in a deck chair on a porch, gazing across a meadow at distant green hills. The breeze carried the scent of strawberries, and he had a cosy blanket over his legs and a pillow behind his neck. Everything seemed peaceful, except for the fact that his mouth felt as dry as a desert, and his teeth ached.

On the table next to him, there was a tall drink that looked like iced apple juice, complete with a green straw and a paper parasol skewering a maraschino cherry. Y/N felt so weak that he almost dropped the glass when he attempted to pick it up.

"Careful," a familiar voice warned. It was Jeremy, leaning against the porch railing, his injured goat leg wrapped in bandages. Y/N stared up at him, his eyes shining with confusion. He smiled weakly before limping over to the deck chair next to him. He opened the pouch, pulling out a leather necklace with a large tooth wound through it.

"Jeremy," Y/N began, his voice hoarse but earnest, "Please, tell me what is happening..." He begged. Jeremy breathed a heavy sigh.

"Y/N, I know this is a lot to take in, but just listen to me." He leaned back in his chair, the exhaustion in his expression deepening. "You know about all those stories of Greek mythology?"

Y/N nodded hesitantly. "About, like... Zeus, Hera, Hestia. All those?" Despite clear skies, thunder rumbled not too far away. "I read about them in the library once."

Jeremy winced. "Usually, we don't throw names around like that. But that's besides the point. All those stories you've heard about gods, monsters, and heroes? They're not just myths. They're a part of our world, our reality."

Y/N's mind struggled to process Jeremy's words. Greek mythology? Gods and monsters? It sounded like the plot of a fantasy novel, not something that could be real. "You mean to say that the manticore... and everything else I've seen, it's all real?" Y/N murmured.

Jeremy nodded solemnly. "Yeah, the manticore, Chiron... all of it is real. And that necklace with the tooth," he gestured to the leather necklace in his hand, "it's a keepsake from your first encounter with a monster. It's proof of who you are."

"Chiron?" Y/N questioned.

"The centaur you met," Jeremy replied, his voice soft. "He's the teacher."

Y/N leaned back, his mind flooding with questions. "Who I am? What do you mean?"

Jeremy's gaze never wavered from Y/N's. "Y/N, you're not just an ordinary kid. You're a demigod. Your parent is a Greek god."

The words hung in the air, both weighty and bewildering. A demigod? Greek gods as parents? It sounded like a fantasy. But then again, so did facing off against a manticore. "Who's my parent, then?" Y/N asked, his voice a mix of frustration and sadness. "I never even knew them."

Jeremy's expression softened. "I don't know yet," he admitted. "Sometimes it takes time for your true parentage to become clear. In time, you should get claimed. But that necklace is a sign that you belong here, at Camp Half-Blood. It's a sanctuary for demigods like you."

"But why?" Y/N finally managed to ask. "Why is all of this happening to me?"

Jeremy's gaze held a mixture of sympathy . "Because you have no choice, Y/N. Because you're meant for something greater. The gods don't always have their children's wishes at heart. They... forget... about them, sometimes." He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "But it's the cards you've been dealt at birth, so you might as well play them."

Y/N's face fell. So even though his parent might be a Greek god, they might not even care about him. Fantastic. Jeremy rolled his eyes, before slowly standing up, muttering weakly. He held out a hand, his expression warm.

"What are you then?" Y/N asked, staring at his furry bottom. "A goat?" Jeremy seemed offended, crossing his arms.

"A satyr!" He muttered. "I'm your protector!" Y/N stared at him. "That's our jobs. We go around, recruiting any half-bloods we can find. And send them here."

"So, you've been pretending all this time to be my friend, just so you can, 'protect me'" Y/N muttered weakly. Jeremy looked hurt.

"Of course, you're my friend, Y/N. I just needed to keep an eye on you. C'mon." Jeremy smiled, holding out a hand. "I'll introduce you to Mr D."

.

.

.

As they walked around the opposite end of the house, Y/N caught his breath. It was gorgeous.

The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture – an open-air pavilion, an amphitheatre, a circular arena – except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Jeremy's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless Y/N was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

As he kept walking, he saw two figures making their way towards the porch. He was a little smaller than Y/N, with wavy black hair, green eyes and a tired look on his face. Next to him stood another teen, with curly hair and freckles. Jeremy paused briefly before hobbling over to the duo.

"Grover!" Jeremy yelled. Grover in question looked up briefly before his own smile crawled onto his face.

"Jeremy!" They pulled each other in for a bro hug. "Good to see you! You still working at that school?" He asked. Jeremy smiled triumphantly, like he had just gotten an A+ on a test.

"Nope!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Just finished my first-ever assignment!" He turned to Y/N, smiling wildly. "Y/N, meet Grover." Y/N nodded as Grover gave him a friendly wave. He glanced to the side of him, seeing the tired boy; Y/N smiled at him. He returned the smile, weariness evident in his eyes.

"I'm Y/N," he spoke. The boy nodded.

"Percy," he replied, his voice soft. They began to walk slowly towards the main door. As the two satyrs chatted in front of them, Y/N glanced beside him to see the boy clutching a shoebox. At the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blonde-haired girl who'd spoon-fed him the jelly donut soup was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing Y/N was small but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt.

"That's Mr. D," Jeremy murmured to Y/N. "He's the camp director. Be respectful. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already met Chiron..." He pointed at the guy whose back was to Y/N. Although he was in a wheelchair, somehow.

Percy seemed to perk up at the sight of him, and he rushed forward, grinning happily. "Mr. Brunner!" He cried. Chiron turned and smiled at them.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said, turning to Y/N. "And you must be Y/N." He offered him a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at Y/N with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh.

"Oh, I suppose I have say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, you pests. There. Now don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," Y/N mumbled, shifting a little further from him. Y/N had a feeling Mr D wasn't in the mood for a chat.

"Annabeth?" Chiron called to the blonde girl. She stepped forward, and Mr. Brunner introduced them. "This young lady nursed you two back to health, Percy and Y/N. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and Y/N's bunk? We'll be putting them in cabin eleven for now."

Annabeth replied, "Sure, Chiron," casting a brief glance at the large horn in Percy's hands and the leather necklace Y/N held. She paused and stared at them. "You guys drool when you sleep." She smirked, before darting off toward the camp's interior.

"So," Percy inquired, trying to change the subject, "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," Chiron corrected. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," Percy responded, still seemingly confused.

Y/N glanced at the director. "And Mr D... does that stand for something?" He asked. Mr D stopped shuffling the cards, glanced at Y/N as if he'd just done something extremely impolite.

"Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Y/N muttered.

"I must say, Percy," Chiron interjected, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"'House call?'" Y/N asked, clearly perplexed.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct Percy as a teacher," Chiron explained. "We have satyrs at most schools, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met him. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to... ah, take a leave of absence."

Percy appeared bewildered. "You came to Yancy just to teach me?" he asked.

"Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first." Chiron continued. "We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover, Jeremy," Mr D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Jeremy and Grover exclaimed, taking their chairs, though Y/N wasn't sure why they seemed so terrified of a slightly plump man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You two know how to play pinochle?" Mr D inquired to Percy and Y/N

"No, I don't," They responded simultaneously.

"No, I don't, sir," the somewhat pudgy man added.

"Sir," they repeated. Y/N was starting to get annoyed by the director.

"Well," he told them with a hint of disdain, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."

"I'm sure the boys can learn," Chiron sighed.

"Mr Brun – Chiron– why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?" Percy questioned. Mr D snorted.

"I asked the same question." The camp director dealt the cards. Jeremy flinched every time one landed in his pile, like one of the cards could have exploded Chiron smiled at Percy sympathetically, as if he was a lost puppy.

"Percy," he said. '"Did your mother tell you nothing?" Percy's expression darkened, and he cast his gaze downward.

"She said..." Percy began, his voice wavering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr D sneered. "That's often how they meet their tragic ends."

"I'm afraid there's much more to explain," Chiron interjected. "Our standard orientation film won't suffice."

"Orientation film?" Y/N questioned.

"No," Chiron declared. "Well, Percy, Y/N, you're aware that your friends Grover and Jeremy are satyrs. You know..." He gestured toward the horn in Percy's shoebox and Y/N's necklace. "...that you've faced and defeated a Minotaur and a Manticore. Not small accomplishments, I must say. But what you might not realize is that profound forces are at play in your lives. Gods – the beings you refer to as the Greek gods – they are very much real."

Y/N looked around the table, half-expecting someone to shout "Sike!" but instead, it was Mr D who broke the silence. "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He chortled as he tallied up the points.

Jeremy, in a timid voice, interjected. "Mr D, if you're not going to have it it, may I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right." Jeremy eagerly took a large bite out of the empty aluminium can, chewing on it happily.

Percy, however, seemed lost in thought. "Wait," he said to Chiron. "Are you telling me there's such a thing as God?"

Chiron leaned forward, his tone serious. "Well, now, Percy," he began, "God – with a capital G – is an entirely different matter. Let's not delve into the metaphysical. We're talking about gods, plural, mighty beings who control the forces of nature and human endeavours – the immortal gods of Olympus."

Percy stared at Chiron, his face etched with disbelief. "Zeus," he murmured. "Hera. Apollo. Are you saying they're real?" And once again, the distant thunder rumbled on an otherwise cloudless day.

Mr D chimed in with a stern warning, "Young man, I'd advise against tossing those names around casually if I were you."

"But they're stories," Percy said. "They're... myths, created to explain lightning, the changing seasons. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr D scoffed. "And tell me, boy, what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" He continued, shaking his head in mock disdain. "Hmm? They'll probably dismiss it as primitive mumbo jumbo. Oh, I love mortals – they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come soooooo far. But have they, Chiron? Look at these boys and tell me."

Y/N wasn't particularly fond of Mr D's attitude, but there was something about the way he called him mortal, as if he were something more than an ordinary drunk. It gave him a sense that he wasn't your typical individual.

"Y/N, Percy," Chiron said, regaining their attention, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment? Never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

Y/N was about to respond, thinking it didn't sound too bad, but Chiron's tone made him pause. "You mean, whether people believe in you or not," he inquired.

"Exactly," Chiron affirmed. "If you were a god, how would you feel about being reduced to a myth, an old tale created to explain something as simple as lightning?" He then turned to Percy. "And what if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would consider you a myth, a story concocted to help young boys cope with the loss of their mothers?" Percy's expression shifted to one of anger as he struggled to keep his temper in check.

"I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods," Percy asserted firmly.

Mr D added in a low voice, "Well, you'd better start believing before one of them decides to incinerate you."

Grover stammered, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!" He waved his hand, and a goblet materialized on the table, as if sunlight had momentarily transformed the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine. Y/N's jaw dropped in amazement, but Chiron hardly reacted.

"Mr D," he warned, "remember your restrictions." Mr D glanced at the wine and pretended to be surprised.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and shouted, "Old habits! Sorry!" More distant thunder rumbled. Mr D waved his hand once more, and the wineglass transformed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the soda can open, and returned his attention to the card game. Chiron winked at Y/N.

"Mr D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," Y/N repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can as if it were something from outer space.

"Yes," Mr D admitted. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time – well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away – the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha! Absolutely unfair." Mr D's voice sounded like that of a grumpy child.

"And..." Y/N stammered, "your father is..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr D said, exasperated. "I thought you at least taught Percy here the basics. My father is Zeus, of course." Percy seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"You're Dionysus," Percy finally said. "The god of wine." Mr D rolled his eyes.

"What do they say these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr D." The satyr stammered.

"Then, 'Well, duh!' Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" Mr. D raised an eyebrow. Y/N stifled a laugh.

"You're a god," Percy repeated.

"Yes, child."

"A god. You." Percy reiterated, still dumbfounded. Mr. D turned to look at them straight on, and Y/N saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing him the tiniest bit of his true nature. Y/N saw visions of grapevines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. 

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"No. No, sir," Percy stammered, his eyes wide.

The fire died down a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me." Y/N thought Mr D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the old horseman. Mr. D got up, and Grover and Jeremy rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight." Mr D turned to Jeremy, rolling his eyes. "Well done on your first assignment, boy." Jeremy seemed to almost pass out from shock. Then Mr D turned to Grover. "But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir." Mr D turned to Y/N. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson and Y/N. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover and Jeremy following nervously.

"Why's Mr D so mad?" Y/N asked Chiron.

Chiron shrugged. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," Percy said in disbelief "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece," Chiron replied. "And then