𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, percy jackson

𝐕. existential crisis era

CHAPTER FIVE ——
EXISTENTIAL CRISIS ERA !

┊͙ 🏛️ ˖ . *. ⋆

( "if you were a god, how
would you like being called a myth?" )

        THE PORCH WRAPPED ALL THE WAY AROUND THE FARMHOUSE.

Percy's legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but he held on to it. He'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. He wasn't going to let it go.

As they came around the opposite end of the house, Percy caught his breath. Grover paused, waiting for Parker, while the black-haired boy took in the scenery around them.

They must've been on the north shore of Long Island because, on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, Percy simply couldn't process everything he was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture— an open-air pavilion, an amphitheatre, a circular area— expect that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun.

In a nearby sandpit, a dozen school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange t-shirts like Grover'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 some of their horses had wings.

Footsteps sounded behind the two boys. They turned to see Parker joining us outside, her appearance now a big contrast to what they had seen in the infirmary. She had looked sickly and sad, lying in that bed, now she had pulled herself together, her long wavy hair now tamed and resting on her shoulders.

The stitches on her face made her even more intimidating than she already was.

After Parker noticed the boys, her eyes drifted off to scan her surroundings. She seemed just as shocked as Percy had been, amazed by the buildings and fields. "What is this place?" Parker spoke. "Is this a cult?" She looked Grover up and down, eyeing his bright t-shirt that all the other kids wore.

"What? No!" Grover defended. "Follow me, I'll let Mr. D explain everything."

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. A blonde-haired girl whom Percy had seen when fading in and out of consciousness was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing them 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— cherubs. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and Percy thought he would fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except he got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even his stepfather.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..." He pointed at the guy whose back was to them.

First, Percy realized he was sitting in a wheelchair. Then he recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

But before he could get a word out, Parker was speaking. "Wait... Mr. Brunner?"