Fight to the Surface (Sea Prince Trilogy #2)

Chapter One

Percy flicked his head in his sleep, distress clear on his face. He could clearly remember the day she left, her face burned into his memory.

He couldn't forget it if he tried.

Nor could he forget the reason she betrayed them.

Annabeth didn't betray him, she betrayed the gods. The very same gods who had done absolutely nothing for them in times of need.

The memory of her blood staining flattened grass shifted. The blood stains spread. It curled up, rapidly spreading and forming a cave of red around him. That cave solidified into hard rock.

Tartarus.

Another thing he'd never forget.

She was there now. Bleeding and in pain. She was dying. They both were. Olympus owed them so much.

But not one of them came.

Not when they screamed.

Not when their friends dropped dead around them.

Not when they needed them.

What have the gods ever done for me?

Percy couldn't remember a time where they might of helped him. Or anyone but themselves or without an ulterior motive.

He cried out in his sleep. He hit the wall.

The blank white wall seething with darkness. Percy couldn't see through it, or a way around it. He knew something was there, he just didn't know what.

The gaps in his memory disturbed him. What had happened to him in those months he couldn't remember?

There were memories in the corner that beckoned to him, called him closer. They didn't seem real, but they were too lucid not to be. And why else would he remember something that never happened?

The questions plagued him, night and day.

Did he have a family? A family that wasn't dead, gone or unreachable?

He didn't know.

He didn't remember.

Sometimes, he didn't want to remember.

He was learning to like the anger. It was better than feeling the fear of everything, the pain, the looming sorrow that he couldn't get rid of no matter what he did.

But he still needed somewhere to channel that anger. Percy decided to channel that anger at the gods.

The things he did remember threatened to swallow him. The monsters with their gleaming fangs and sharpened talons, rearing to rip him apart. The curses, the death. Everything. He remembered that. But not the good things.

There was something that terrified him.

What if there never were any good things in his life?

Percy shot up with a gasp. His chest heaved and sweat clung to his body like a second skin. His fists were clenched in the sheets, his legs entangled.

He needed to find Blyke. Blyke would give him something to release the roaring anger. Another quest to destroy a worshipped place of the gods. Another hunt. Styx, even a sparring match where he could let anything out was better than keeping it contained. Percy could faintly recall times when he happened to get too angry.

That wasn't happening. Not any time soon.

Percy still awaited patiently for permission to hunt his beloved's killer. But it had yet to be granted. That alone could spark his rage.

One day. One day soon.

Percy would not wait much longer.

~~~~

So that's the current cover up there. It's bad (of course it is, I made it) and the graphics aren't to good and they're kinda blotchy, but I like it. So it's staying.

Well, until I get sick of looking at it. (Does that sound really snobby?)

Don't stay a silent reader. If nothing else pop into the comments right here and just type 'hi'. Love to hear you 😁.

Peace,

BTSWD
Borntosingwithdrama