Percy Jackson: The Son of Kronos

Chapter 4: Getting a Quest

Percy sat outside the Big House, feeling the familiar pull of tension that had woven through his time at Camp Half-Blood so far. Only days ago, he'd been living a life filled with unanswered questions, but here he was—claimed by a god he didn't know, involved in a world he barely understood, and now called to the Big House for what felt like another momentous revelation.

Inside, the place held an ancient, reverent silence. The walls seemed to whisper of stories and memories, some older than even the legends he'd heard about in mythology class. But what dominated the room was the presence of Chiron, sitting tall, his eyes keen and assessing. He gave Percy a small nod, one that held both encouragement and caution.

"Percy," he began, his voice calm but serious, "it's time you understood what's truly at stake. You've likely heard rumours circulating, and they hold a dangerous truth. The gods are in the midst of a conflict that could shake the very foundations of Olympus and the world."

Percy tilted his head, feigning a bit of confusion even as his mind raced to connect the dots. He remembered snatches of conversation from the other campers, cryptic whispers about the gods being on edge. But no one had given him a clear answer as to why.

Chiron leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Percy, the reason you're here, the reason you were claimed at such a time, has to do with a recent theft on Olympus. Zeus's master bolt, the most powerful weapon in the world, has been stolen. It is the first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that shattered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; a weapon which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers. And Zeus believes you are responsible. He believes that your father, Poseidon ordered you to steal it"

The revelation hung in the air, a thread connecting the subtle but noticeable distrust he'd felt around him since his claim. His mind quickly picked through the information, fitting it together like puzzle pieces. A missing lightning bolt, and Zeus thought he and his "dad" had something to do with it. He and his father, Poseidon—the god he'd only just discovered was responsible for half of his bloodline—were now under suspicion.

"Why does Zeus suspect Poseidon?" Percy asked, his voice calm, carefully devoid of panic. "I mean, isn't that a pretty big leap?"

"Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief." Chiron replied. 

Percy nodded slowly, allowing a mask of slight worry to settle on his face. But deep within, he felt a spark of something else—opportunity. An ancient feud among gods could be dangerous for demigods and mortals alike, but for him, it could also be a path to something greater. 

"But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!" Percy replied in a haste to make it seem as if he was really upset, like anyone else in his situation might have been.

Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around them, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over the valley, sealing them in like a coffin lid. "Er, Percy …?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky." "Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam…." He looked at Percy as if he actually expected him to remember question thirty eight.

"Something about a golden net?" Percy replied. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods … they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?" "Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offence at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along-the proverbial last straw." 

"But I'm just a kid!" Percy replied, not letting his real emotions slip through.

"Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you…. Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

 "But I didn't do anything. Poseidon-my dad-he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" 

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?" "Bad?" Percy guessed while he thought of ways he could benefit from it. "Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight." 

Percy glanced down, his expression appropriately troubled, though inwardly he felt his mind churning with excitement. He had never thought of himself as special—not like this, anyway. But now he was at the centre of a cosmic power struggle, a game of gods and immortals. He could already imagine the ways he could use this to carve a place for himself in this world.

"So what happens next?" he asked, allowing a touch of uncertainty to colour his voice.

Chiron hesitated, then spoke, his tone cautious but resolved. "You're going on a quest, Percy. To retrieve the lightning bolt and return it to Zeus before the Summer Solstice."

Chiron watched him closely, as if trying to gauge his resolve. Percy straightened his posture, letting a steely determination show through, masking his true thoughts. "If retrieving the bolt is the only way to stop a war, then I'll do it."

Chiron nodded approvingly, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. "I expected no less. But there is one more thing—before you leave, you must go to the attic and seek the Oracle. She will reveal the prophecy for your quest."

The Oracle. Percy had heard whispers about it, about how campers who went up to the attic often returned with words that shaped their destinies. This was one of the final steps to officially receive a quest. He had to play his part perfectly here; he couldn't afford to let anyone see his calculated ambitions beneath the surface.

"Alright," he said with a firm nod. "I'll go to the Oracle."

"Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more." Chiron replied.

Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. Percy pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else … a smell he remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes. Percy held his breath and climbed.

 The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armour stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things-severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, and various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set 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 shrivelled to 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 a long, long time. Looking at her sent chills up my back. 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. The trapdoor slammed shut behind him. Inside his head, he 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. Approach, seeker, and ask. Percy felt a chill run down his spine as he approached. Despite his calculated nature, this sight was unsettling.

 He understood that 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. Its presence felt like the Three Fates he'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing him, either.

He finally decided to ask, "What is my destiny?" The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of him and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies. His fists clenched, though he knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist. Gabe turned toward 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. Finally, Eddie, the building super, delivered the last line: And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

The figures began to dissolve. Soon, the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy. The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Percy's mind raced. He knew prophecies were often cryptic, their meanings revealed only as events unfolded. But one line stood out: betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

He filed that away. If betrayal was inevitable, he would ensure he was the one in control when it happened. And fail to save what matters most? That could mean anything. He'd need to prepare for every possible scenario.

 Percy took a deep breath, then turned and made his way back down to Chiron, masking his thoughts with a calm exterior.

"Well?" Chiron asked him. He sat on a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen." Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!" "What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important." 

"She . .. she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned." "I knew it," Grover said. Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?" Percy didn't want to tell him. He wasn't sure how anyone would react if he told them that he would eventually fail to retrieve what matters most to him and also that he would be betrayed. 

"No," he said. "That's about it."

 Chiron studied his face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass." Percy realised that Chiron was probably used to people holding back certain parts of a prophecy. 

"Okay," Percy said, anxious to change topics. "So what will be my destination? Who's the god in the west?" 

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?" "Somebody else who wants to take over?" he guessed. 

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbours a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken." Percy thought over it and realised there was only one possible god . "Hades." Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

 A scrap of aluminium dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?" "A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades." "Yes, but-but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon… ." "A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest." 

Percy realised that he was going to be targeted by two major gods and started thinking about how he could use that to his advantage.

"But a quest to …" Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year." "Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth." 

Percy felt excited. He would get to the legendary Underworld, which is said to be almost impossible to escape. 

Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips. "Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads." Percy said wanting to look reluctant to go on the quest.

 "Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades-and I imagine Poseidon does-they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?" 

Percy looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?" 

"I had my suspicions. As I said … I've spoken to the Oracle, too." Percy got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling me about his prophecy, but he decided that he couldn't worry about that right now. After all, he had a lot of time to figure it out . 

Chiron studied him for a moment, then said, " Now, you'll need companions for your quest. Choose wisely."

Percy considered this. He already knew who he would pick. "Grover," he said without hesitation. "I trust him."

Chiron's lips twitched into a faint smile. "An excellent choice. And your second?"

Before Percy could respond, a voice interrupted.

"I volunteer."

Percy turned, startled, as Annabeth stepped forward. She pulled off her Yankees cap, which shimmered and vanished as it left her head. Her stormy grey eyes met his, full of determination.

"I've been waiting for a quest," she said. "And I've been listening. You'll need someone who knows the myths, who can strategize. That's me."

Percy raised an eyebrow, hiding his amusement. Annabeth was clever, but she'd just revealed how much she wanted this. Ambition, he thought. Good. I can work with that.

He glanced at Chiron, who nodded in approval. "Very well," Percy said. "You're in."

Annabeth's face lit up with satisfaction. Percy made a mental note of it. This quest would be the perfect opportunity to bring her under his influence. She was strong-willed, but everyone had their vulnerabilities. And by the time they were done, Annabeth Chase would be loyal to him in more ways than one.

" But where exactly is the Underworld located Chiron?" Percy decided to ask.

"Los Angeles," Chiron replied.

Percy suppressed a chuckle at how ironic it was that the Underworld was located at the City of Angels.As they stepped out of the Big House, the late afternoon sun bathed Camp Half-Blood in a golden hue. The din of campers preparing for dinner filled the air, but Percy's mind was elsewhere. The Oracle's words echoed in his head. He glanced at Annabeth and Grover, his newly chosen companions. Each would serve their purpose, but he knew he needed to set the tone for their dynamic immediately.

"Grover, Annabeth," Percy began, his voice calm yet authoritative. "We'll need to be ready. This quest isn't going to be a walk in the park."

Grover nodded, his usual nervous energy tempered by resolve. "I've been training for this. I won't let you down."

Annabeth crossed her arms, her grey eyes sharp. "I've been waiting for a quest since I got here. I know what's at stake, and I won't slow you down."

Percy smiled faintly. "Good. Then let's go over what we know. Chiron mentioned the Underworld. That means we'll have to deal with Hades."

Annabeth's eyes flickered with excitement. "And we'll probably encounter monsters along the way. The myths are clear—quests are never straightforward."

Percy nodded, letting her enthusiasm bubble to the surface. "We'll also need to stay ahead of anyone who might try to stop us. If Zeus thinks Poseidon's behind this, we're going to be targets."

Grover's eyes widened. "Like monsters sent by Zeus?"

"Exactly," Percy replied, glancing at Annabeth. "That's where your knowledge comes in. We'll need every advantage."

Annabeth's posture straightened, pride evident. Percy suppressed a smirk. She was already starting to see her worth through his eyes, which would make her easier to guide.

They continued walking, passing groups of campers who glanced at them with curiosity and whispers. It didn't take long for word to spread that Percy had been given a quest. Some looked on with envy, others with admiration. Percy noted their reactions, already calculating how to use this newfound attention.

As they approached the cabins, Percy slowed his pace. "We'll meet back here after dinner. Bring only what you can carry easily. We'll likely be travelling light and fast."

Grover and Annabeth nodded, heading off to prepare. Percy watched them go, his thoughts churning. Grover's loyalty was a given, but Annabeth was a puzzle. Her thirst for knowledge and recognition made her ambitious, and Percy knew ambition could be both a strength and a weakness. He would need to carefully balance how much control he exerted over her, ensuring she felt empowered while gradually binding her loyalty to him.

He walked toward the Poseidon cabin, which still felt foreign to him despite being claimed. Inside, the space was quiet and simple, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his mind. He sat on the edge of his bunk, going over the prophecy once more.

You shall fail to save what matters most.

The words nagged at him. What did he truly care about? His mother? The camp? Himself? Failure wasn't an option, but the ambiguity of the line left too many possibilities open. Percy decided then and there that he wouldn't allow fate to dictate his path. He'd manipulate every situation to ensure he came out on top, even if it meant bending the prophecy to his will.

He stood and prepared his pack, carefully selecting items that could be useful. He couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. This quest was more than a mission to retrieve a stolen item—it was a chance to test his abilities, expand his influence, and begin shaping the world to fit his vision.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Percy stepped out of the cabin, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Next morning would mark the start of a journey that would change everything. And he would make sure it was on his terms.

—

End of chapter 4.

Author's note: I decided to make this chapter more like the one corresponding to it in the book. Soon my book Sins of the Flesh will be finished and then I'll have more time to work on this book. Until then, I will continue uploading chapters as I have. I hope you enjoy this chapter.