Percy Jackson: The Son of Kronos

Chapter 2: Arrival at Camp Half Blood

Percy leaned back into his bunk, and tried to sort out all that he had seen and heard: the attack at the museum; Grover's panic; Mr. Brunner being Chiron—it was as if he'd tumbled into another world, one that was ancient and yet familiar, yet somehow unreachable. He closed his eyes and hoped his mind would stop racing, that sleep would calm it. But just as he was about to drift, he felt it—a faint pulse in his chest, some far-off drum-beating, powerful and unsettling.

And it wasn't a painful sensation, just wrong. He tried to shove it aside, blaming it on exhaustion, yet with each heartbeat, it pulsed heavier as though he had something deep off in him trying to claw its way out. For a moment, he wondered if this was what it meant to be a demigod. Maybe the feeling would never appear again, or maybe it was only that little piece of himself, an instinct buried deep inside finally stirring.

When Percy woke, it was late afternoon and the Hermes cabin was mostly deserted. He sat up slowly, feeling the weird pulse from last night reduced to a faint hum. The other campers had probably gone to whatever activities they were scheduled, but Percy decided to go his own way.

Outside, the whole camp was an initial of hustle and bustle: kids training with swords, practicing archery, sparring in a mock fight. The whole thing seemed nuts, but yet somehow coordinated, like there must have been some kind of playsheet somewhere that accounted for what all these campers were doing and where they were all supposed to be.

He ambled over to the archery field, where a blonde girl was shooting arrows one after another, bulls-eyeing most of her targets. Annabeth. He had seen her the night before, but of course he hadn't talked to her yet. She seemed kind of intense, which intimidated him, but smart and competent, too, which interested him.

He didn't go to her yet; he simply watched, his eyes calculating as he memorized her technique and expressions. She was good, he realized immediately, and he saw how the other campers regarded her. She'd be an asset, he thought, but only if he could get her on his side.

Later that evening, when the sun was setting, Percy joined them at the campers' bonfire. The orange glow of the fire revealed the eager faces surrounding him, and warmth pierced through his bones. He was sitting between Grover and a boy introduced as Travis from the Hermes cabin. As the night wore on, the campers told stories in turn, sang ancient songs, and shared laughter.

The camaraderie was infectious, and for one moment, Percy let himself relax and enjoy it.

Chiron glumly approached the fire and began to speak. The cons became quiet the instant he spoke.

"Tonight, we honor those who came before us and those who have yet to find their way here," said Chiron. "We remember victories and losses, strength of Olympus, bravery for all defending."

Yet as Chiron spoke, all the while to Percy, he felt an echo beneath the words, as though the spoken sound made another inside his skull. The humming in his veins seemed to pick up—a sense of power, there, trembling, patient but eager. Chiron's gaze flickered over him; for just a second, Percy could've sworn he saw something there, a spark of recognition in the centaur's eyes. Then it was gone, and Chiron went back to speaking to the whole camp, his words increasingly abstract, talking about a future not yet set in stone and the hardships they would all have to face. Percy couldn't help but wear a slight smile. He had a part in this, though he had yet to learn what it was. That it was buried inside him gave him conviction. Whatever it was, he'd find it. And when he did, he'd make the most of it.

The next morning, Percy was woken early by Luke, who grinned down at him. "You've got training," he said. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood's daily grind."

Percy joined a group of other campers, feeling a mix of excitement and wariness. They started with sparring exercises, where Percy quickly discovered that he was faster, more agile than most of his peers. It wasn't just his demigod strength—something else guided his movements, precise and measured.

Over the next few days, Percy fell into a rhythm at Camp Half-Blood, balancing training with observing the other campers. He learned quickly, picking up the intricacies of swordplay and basic strategies from watching Luke and Annabeth. He was careful, though, not to reveal too much of his potential. Instead, he played it off as beginner's luck when he won, or he held back enough to let his opponent take the upper hand. He wanted them to underestimate him, to think he was just another camper with beginner's luck.

Through subtle moves and well-placed comments, he began building a quiet reputation among his cabinmates. His words carried a charm that seemed to affect others, making them eager to share information, their weaknesses, and their ambitions.

One evening, after a particularly intense sparring session, Percy found himself alone in the training arena. The other campers had left, but he lingered, examining a set of bronze weapons lined up against the wall. As he ran his hand over a sword hilt, he felt a surge of energy—powerful and dark, as though the blade responded to something within him. It was an exhilarating sensation, and he wondered if this was another piece of his mysterious heritage surfacing.

"Percy?"

He turned to see Annabeth standing at the entrance of the arena, a curious look in her gray eyes.

"Training late?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Just wanted to get some extra practice in," he replied smoothly.

She gave him a once-over, her gaze calculating. "You learn quickly. Most campers don't pick up swordplay that fast."

Percy shrugged, putting on his best modest expression. "Guess I have a natural knack for it."

She smiled, though there was a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "You're interesting, Percy Jackson. I'll give you that."

He smiled back, meeting her gaze. "You're not so bad yourself, Annabeth."

They stood there for a moment, a silent challenge passing between them. Percy sensed her curiosity, her ambition, her drive to prove herself. And he knew he could use that. Annabeth was clever and determined, but if he played his cards right, he could turn her intelligence into a tool for his own plans.

As Percy walked back to the Hermes cabin that night, he thought about the connections he was forming at Camp Half-Blood. Each person, from Luke to Annabeth to Chiron, was like a piece on a board. He just needed to figure out how to place them, how to move them, and how to win. The energy in his veins was stronger now, like it was waiting, as though some ancient force was urging him forward.

He lay down in his bunk, thinking about the campfire, the training, the looks of admiration and curiosity he was beginning to attract. There was something dark and powerful inside him, and he could feel it stirring, waiting for the right moment.

And when that moment came, he would be ready.Percy's mind buzzed as he lay in his bunk, the faint pulse of power stirring like a dormant flame. His thoughts drifted back to Annabeth's gaze in the training arena, Luke's easy confidence, and Chiron's heavy words by the campfire. Each had their own strengths and weaknesses, and he was beginning to understand just how important those would be. He had spent his life feeling out of place, different. Here, that feeling was sharper than ever—but for the first time, he sensed it was an advantage, not a flaw. His mind began laying out a careful strategy.

The following days at camp were rigorous. Percy trained during the day, observing the other campers as he perfected his skills. He grew more comfortable with the sword and discovered that he could read his opponents' movements quickly, as though he were a few steps ahead. Luke noted his progress, pushing him to his limits with increasingly difficult opponents, but Percy kept his true abilities in check. He didn't want them to know how quickly he was improving.

One afternoon, Percy noticed Chiron watching him from a distance. The centaur's gaze held an intensity Percy couldn't ignore, as though Chiron sensed something within him that even Percy himself hadn't fully understood. Chiron's piercing gaze held a weight Percy couldn't shake, as if silently gauging Percy's worth—or perhaps something else.

That evening, after dinner, Chiron called Percy aside. They made their way to the edge of camp, near the strawberry fields. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it a faint scent of strawberries and earth.

"Percy," Chiron began, his voice low, "I sense there is more to you than meets the eye."

Percy held his expression steady, feeling that familiar pulse of energy within him stir slightly. "I don't know what you mean, Chiron."

Chiron studied him, his wise eyes glimmering with something unreadable.

The next few days passed in a blur of rigorous training and subtle observation. Percy was careful to appear as just another camper, eager to learn and prove himself, all while keeping a close watch on the other demigods. He studied their fighting styles, observed their friendships, and noted their hidden rivalries. The pulse of energy within him grew stronger, more insistent, as if urging him to harness this new environment for his advantage.

Every evening after dinner, the campfire would draw the campers together, the flames flickering with an ancient, powerful glow. The stories that Chiron told captivated Percy, each tale brimming with the courage and valor of heroes who came before him. It seemed almost surreal to sit in this circle, to listen to these legends and see the flickers of reverence in the eyes of those around him.

But as he sat there, quietly listening, he noticed something odd. The other campers would close their eyes or gaze into the fire with solemn expressions, clearly moved by the stories. Yet, when Percy looked into the flames, he felt… nothing. No warmth, no awe, only a deep, dark anticipation. It was as though the fire was challenging him, testing his resolve. Instead of reverence, he felt a sense of defiance rising in him, like he was destined not just to be part of these tales but to surpass them.

One evening, as Percy lingered after the campfire, Luke approached him with a thoughtful expression.

"You're picking this up quickly," Luke said, nodding toward the training grounds where they'd sparred earlier. "Most new campers struggle for weeks, even months. But you…" He trailed off, studying Percy's face, clearly trying to piece together what made him different.

Percy shrugged, keeping his expression casual. "Guess I'm just lucky."

Luke chuckled, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Or maybe there's more to it than that."

For a moment, Percy considered brushing him off with another vague answer, but he sensed that Luke could be an ally worth cultivating. Instead, he let his expression darken, just a little, as if letting a glimpse of something deeper slip through.

"Maybe there is," he replied softly, his voice almost a whisper. "But I don't know what it is yet."

Luke nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Just… be careful. There's power here, even in the air. The gods watch over this place, and not all of them would be pleased to see one of us rise too quickly." There was a bitterness in his voice, a hint of resentment that Percy filed away for later.

As Luke walked away, Percy felt a small surge of satisfaction. Luke's words, while cryptic, had told him exactly what he needed to know—there were hidden layers in the camp, and if he played his cards right, he could climb them.

In the days that followed, Percy continued his strategy of careful observation and selective trust-building. Annabeth grew increasingly curious about him, and he used every opportunity to feed that curiosity, subtly hinting at an air of mystery. She asked him questions, often during their sparring sessions, trying to piece together his background. Percy found her questions amusing—she was brilliant, but he could see that she was also ambitious, eager to learn, and driven to prove herself.

One afternoon, during a break in training, Annabeth looked at him with her intense gray eyes. "You're different," she said, almost accusingly. "You don't act like a beginner. Most kids here are either scared or overwhelmed, but you… you seem like you've done this before."

Percy met her gaze, his smile carefully calculated. "I haven't, but maybe I've always known I'd have to someday."

She narrowed her eyes, a small smirk appearing. "I like a challenge."

"Good," he replied, a hint of mock innocence. "I'm here to learn from the best."

Annabeth's smirk widened, and he could tell she was taking the bait, enjoying the subtle rivalry. Percy felt a thrill of satisfaction. He was beginning to see how he could use Annabeth, how her curiosity and ambition could be guided in ways that would benefit him.

That evening, after yet another day of training, Percy returned to the Hermes cabin with sore muscles and a sense of quiet pride. He'd gone toe-to-toe with Luke in a sparring match and managed to hold his own, albeit while concealing just how well he could actually fight. The campers who'd watched were impressed, their murmurs of admiration reaching his ears.

As he lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, Percy thought about Chiron's words from a few nights before. "The gods see what they wish to see," the centaur had said. But what did that mean for him? If he was different, if there was a power in him that set him apart, how could he use that without drawing too much attention? Chiron seemed to sense more about him than he let on, and Percy knew he'd have to be careful to keep his true capabilities hidden.

When Percy finally drifted to sleep, he dreamed of darkness—a boundless void, silent and cold. He floated there, feeling a pull toward something ancient and vast, something waiting in the shadows. He tried to reach out, but before he could make contact, he woke abruptly, his pulse racing.

The following morning, he resolved to be more guarded. Whatever power lurked inside him was waiting, dormant but eager, and he couldn't risk letting it slip too soon.

Days turned into weeks, and Percy's influence among the campers quietly grew. His deliberate charm and strategic displays of skill began to garner attention. The other campers found themselves drawn to him, some looking up to him, others intrigued by the mystery he projected. He trained relentlessly, sometimes sparring with Luke, other times watching Annabeth's carefully orchestrated strategies on the training field. With every lesson, every interaction, Percy gained a clearer picture of how to position himself among his peers.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense match with Luke, Percy found himself again at the edge of the strawberry fields with Chiron. They watched the sunset in silence, the colors of the sky blending into a fiery canvas.

"I've noticed how quickly you're adapting," Chiron said, his voice low but carrying a weight that Percy couldn't ignore. "You have potential, Percy, but potential can be a double-edged sword."

Percy maintained a neutral expression. "I'm just trying to keep up."

"Perhaps." Chiron's eyes turned to him, piercing and wise. "But know this: power, especially hidden power, always comes at a cost. Whatever path you choose, be mindful of that."

Percy held his gaze, not backing down. "I understand, Chiron."

But as he walked back to the cabin that evening, he couldn't shake Chiron's words. Power always came at a cost. And while he knew he'd have to be cautious, Percy felt a fierce determination hardening within him. The stirring in his veins, the pulsing energy that called to him, would not be denied.

Back in the Hermes cabin, Percy lay awake long after the other campers had fallen asleep, feeling the hum of energy within him. He was beginning to understand that his power—whatever it was—was not just about brute strength or agility. It was something deeper, a connection to a force that even the other campers couldn't sense. He felt like a chess player, observing the board, seeing each move before it happened. But he had to play his role carefully, not reveal too much too soon.

With a small smile, he closed his eyes, letting sleep finally take him.

Tomorrow would bring more training, more challenges, and more opportunities to turn the camp to his advantage. And each step would bring him closer to the truth about who he was… and the power waiting within him.

—

End of chapter 2