Percy Jackson Son of Hera and Zeus [BEING REWRITTEN]

Chiron's departure

Percy/Nerva POV:

Have you ever come home to your room and found it messed up? Like not in the way that it's messy but some helpful nature spirit cleaned your room and now you can't find anything? And then even if nothing missing you get a weird feeling like somebody's been taking pictures of your stuff to give to Apollo for blackmail and spraying Aphrodites perfume everywhere. 

That's the kind of way I felt seeing Camp Half-Blood again. 

On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered along the valley - the amphitheater, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creeks were the same cabins - a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the toolshed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.

Somebody had messed with a safe haven for Greek demigods, the only place they could feel like home, one of my favorite places in the world, and I was not. . . well, a happy camper.

As we made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back." Some did double-takes when they saw Tyson and a certain few sneered at James, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties - running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt more like Camp Jupiter, and even at Camp Jupiter you had more fun, it was like the few times I saw pictures of Camp Jupiter during wartime when in class with Athena. 

I was still trying to calm my emotions but none of the weights that stood on everyone else's shoulders mattered to the young Cyclops. He was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. "Whasthat!" he gasped. 

"The stables for the pegasi," James grumbled. "The winged horses." 

"Whasthat!"

"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know your Olympian parent is, they put you in Hermes cabin - that brown one over there until your determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mum's group." 

He looked at James in awe. "You. . . have a cabin?"

"Number three." He pointed to a low grey building made of sea stone.

He turned to me. "You have a cabin?"

"Cabin two." I pointed to a formal-looking building made of marble. 

He turned back to James, "You live with friends in the cabin?"

"No, just me," James said somewhat bitterly. 

James started to space out, probably thinking about how he, or should I say we shouldn't really be alive and if Poseidon is going to turn him into a tree if he dies. I doubt it old barnacle beard probably doesn't care enough to save him from the torture Hades might bring him. Who am I kidding, I'm pretty sure Hades hates James after what happened last time they met.

When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favorite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. As soon as we saw him Tyson froze. "Pony!" He cried in total rapture.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

I looked at Chiron masking my sadness, I may have not known him long but he became a mentor to me even if he was the one that trained the gods be dammed excuse of an immortal Herakles. "Chiron what's happening? Why are you leaving?" I said stoically.