Author's Note: I'm ba-ack!

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson. All my fanfic writings are non-profit. 'Tis all for fun.

Rise of the Forgotten.


When I woke up, it felt like I'd been asleep for only a few minutes, but when I looked at my watch (which I'd left on my wrist, to put off any would-be thieves), it was almost six o'clock.

I sighed, and tried to will myself back to sleep, but it was no use. Just like yesterday morning at home (had that been yesterday? It felt like weeks), I had woken up, and that was that.

I lay there for a little while, before coming to the conclusion I usually reach when I wake up like that - if I was going to be awake, there was no point lying in bed. It did nothing except make me bored and irritable.

So, being careful not to wake anyone else up (just because I was awake didn't mean I wanted company!), I slid out of bed and began to get dressed.

It was only when I pulled on my jeans and felt a distinct lack of weight in one pocket that I realised I'd been robbed. I dug around in my trouser pocket and, sure enough, my phone was gone.

"Dammit," I cursed under my breath. Talk about getting the day off to a bad start.

Well, on the bright side, there weren't many people who could have taken it - there were exactly six possible culprits.

Deciding to wait till later to try to get the phone back, I finished dressing and slipped out, stepping over debris and rubbish as gingerly as possible.

I got out of the cabin, and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. It seemed unlikely that anyone would be around for at least an hour, and hopefully I'd be able to use that time to get my head in order, so I started walking, heading for the lake again. There was something about water that I always found calming, though you wouldn't catch me dead actually swimming. Well, you might, but I would certainly be dead.

I was almost outside of the cabin area when I heard the distinct (and distinctly ominous) sound of a footstep.

I stopped, and almost growled in annoyance, but I stayed quiet and listened. The footsteps got louder as the person who was apparently suicidal enough to annoy me before nine o'clock approached from behind.

I drew in a calming breath, and turned around to face he who walked behind.

Then I nearly had a heart attack.

Standing less than ten feet away, still wearing his leather jacket and dark trousers, was the symbol of my mythological misery.

"Morning, Cyrus," the Dark One said, the smile on his face completely cancelled out by the ominous rippling in his aura. "I was hoping I'd catch you."




March 1st, 2013