The storm raged over Manhattan with an almost theatrical fury. Thunder growled through the night like an ancient beast, its roar shaking the heavens. Lightning cracked across the sky, each strike briefly illuminating the towering Empire State Building. But then, the display stopped. The final bolts of lightning fizzled into an eerie silence, leaving only the oppressive weight of dark thunderclouds that hovered like an omen.
No thunder.
No lightning.
Just the remnants of a once-furious sky.
Inside a small room, far removed from the chaos above, Thaddeus—known to most as Thad— was tossing and turning in his bed, his face twisted in fear, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. His breaths came shallow and fast, the clear signs of a nightmare.
In his dream, the Empire State Building loomed in the distance, its silhouette imposing against the backdrop of the storm-laden sky. The perspective shifted, drawing him upward, through the structure, until he found himself on its highest floor. There, two figures stood on the observation deck.
The first man stepped out of the shadows, his tailored suit spotless despite the weather. His voice was low and deliberate as he greeted the other. "Poseidon."
The man standing at the railing didn't turn at first. His broad frame was fixed against the turbulent clouds, his hand resting on the metal. After a moment of silence, he finally responded. "Zeus."
"It's been many years," Poseidon said, his tone carrying a blend of weariness.
Zeus's gaze didn't waver from the sky. His piercing eyes were fixed on the clouds, their movements slow and heavy, like a predator circling prey. "What do you see?" he asked using a sharp voice, almost testing.
Poseidon followed the man's line of sight, scanning the dark skies. His brow furrowed as the realization struck him. "Thunderclouds," he said hesitantly, "but no lightning."
Zeus turned to face him, his expression severe, his words cutting. "Stolen."
The word hit like a hammer. Poseidon straightened as he was alarmed. He took a step closer. "What? You think I took it?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "Omnipotence has blinded you, brother. We are forbidden from stealing each other's powers. You know this." His hands disappeared into the pockets of his hoodie, his casual stance doing little to mask the tension rolling off him.
Zeus stepped forward, his eyes crackling with restrained fury. "But our children aren't bound by such laws," he snapped. "And I have reason to believe your son has taken what is not rightfully his."
Poseidon's jaw tightened, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He met Zeus's gaze with a glare of his own. "You're accusing my son?" he said, his voice rising with disbelief. "The son I haven't seen since he was a baby? He doesn't even know me, Zeus. He doesn't even know what he is—all because of you!"
Zeus's expression didn't soften. "And yet, he exists. That alone makes him capable of great things... or terrible ones."
Poseidon's voice turned icy. "I won't let you turn him into your scapegoat. What about [Redacted]?" he challenged, his tone sharp. "Have you considered the possibility that someone else might be responsible?"
Zeus shook his head, his stubbornness unyielding. "They've done nothing to provoke suspicion," he said coldly.
Poseidon stepped closer, his anger now bubbling to the surface. "Are you only saying that because it's easier to blame my son than admit the truth? You think twisting the blame will distract everyone from what really happened?"
The air between them grew heavy, charged with unspoken challenges. And then, in a sudden motion, Poseidon grabbed Zeus by the collar, his grip unrelenting. His voice was low and furious, "If you so much as think about laying a finger on my son, you'll find yourself facing the fight of your life." Zeus didn't flinch.
With a sharp motion, he wrenched himself free. "If it is proven that your son has stolen my bolt," he said, his voice echoing like the storm outside, "I will see to it that he is punished. He will be cast into the depths of Tartarus for his crimes!" The silence that followed was deafening.
Zeus took a step back, his presence filling the space. "And let me make this clear," he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "If my bolt is not returned to me—by your son—within 28 days, by midnight on the summer solstice, there will be war."
With that, Zeus turned sharply, his steps deliberate as he made his way toward the elevator. The tension in the air was almost suffocating as he raised a hand, blasting the elevator doors open with a flick of his fingers. A blinding white light spilled out as Zeus stepped inside without a backward glance.
Poseidon stood there, his hands clenched into fists as the elevator doors rearranged themselves and slid shut as the light vanished with them. For a long moment, he stared out at the stormy skies, his face shadowed with concern. He didn't say a word.
...
A deafening crack of thunder ripped through the air, rattling the windows and shaking the walls. Thaddeus jolted awake with such force that he toppled out of bed, landing face-first on the floor with an undignified thud. For a moment, he just lay there, his cheek pressed to the cold wooden planks, too stunned to move.
"...Ow," he muttered flatly, the word escaping his lips.
Before he could fully process what had just happened, a knock came at the door, followed by a voice laced with mild concern. "You 'kay there, bud?"
Thad groaned, rolling onto his back as he tried to make sense of the pounding in his head and the echo of thunder still reverberating in his ears. Lifting a hand weakly, he gave a thumbs-up toward the door. "Yeah," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "Totally fine. Just testing the durability of my face. You know, the usual."
There was a pause on the other side of the door, then a muffled chuckle. "Alright. Just checking." The footsteps receded, leaving Thad alone with the lingering hum of the storm outside.
With considerable effort, he managed to sit up, rubbing his temples as if that might help untangle the mess in his mind. "What the hell was that dream?" he muttered with grogginess.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as his head pounded in rhythm with the storm. Dusting off his rumpled clothes, he wandered toward the small window of his room and peered outside. The sky was a churning mass of dark clouds, alive with movement yet eerily devoid of lightning. It felt... wrong. Like the storm itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
Thad frowned, pressing his palm to the glass. The remnants of his dream clung to him like cobwebs—vivid flashes of the Empire State Building, Zeus's accusatory glare, Poseidon's quiet fury, and the echo of a single, damning word: Stolen.
Thad turned away from the window, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His gaze dropped to his hand, where faint, jagged marks lingered on his skin. The sight stirred an unwelcome thought: Is this storm about me? Did I... no, that's ridiculous.
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A Demigod's Destiny
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It was one of those rare afternoons when the students weren't cooped up in classrooms. Thaddeus and Grover were lounging on a bench next to the pool, with their casual banter filling the air. The smell of chlorine and the faint sound of rippling water made the moment feel oddly serene—despite the fact that Percy Jackson had been underwater for what felt like an eternity.
Thad leaned back, stretching his arms lazily behind his head, and cast a sideways glance at Grover. "So... reckon he's dead already?" he asked.
Grover waved off the concern with a smirk. "Nah, no way. Ten bucks says he comes out of there like it's no big deal—like a walk in the park."
Thad raised an eyebrow, instantly intrigued. "Ten bucks? Please. You owe me a cup of coffee if he's down there for too long. I'm calling it now."
"Deal," Grover replied confidently, leaning forward as if daring the pool to prove him wrong.
Minutes passed. The surface of the pool remained calm, not a single ripple or bubble breaking its stillness.
Thad's initial amusement started to wane, and he glanced at Grover with growing unease. "You don't think he's, you know, actually—"
Grover held up a hand, cutting him off. "Nah. Just wait. Trust me."
But another minute ticked by. Then another.
Thad tapped his wristwatch and frowned. "Alright, I'm starting to think I just lost my free coffee for the semester."
Before either of them could say more, the water erupted in a burst of movement. Percy emerged, swimming with astonishing speed using fluid strokes. He reached the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out with a grin.
Grover threw his arms into the air, his excitement spilling over. "Percy Jackson is a beast! Dude, that was insane!" He turned to Thad with a triumphant grin. "And there goes Mr. Bartholomew's coffee. Thanks for playing, pal!"
Thad groaned but couldn't help a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, damn. That was impressive. Solid record though, Perce. Gotta give you that."
Percy, still catching his breath, sat on the pool's edge and raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "You guys betting on me again?" he asked, chuckling as he ran a hand through his dripping hair.
Grover handed him a towel, his face still alight with excitement. "Maybe. Just a little," he admitted sheepishly.
"How long was I under, anyway?" Percy asked, toweling off his hair with one hand.
Thad glanced at his wristwatch, doing some quick math. "Eh, I'd say about nine minutes. Maybe a smidge less. Give or take."
"Nine minutes?" Percy repeated, his tone casual but pleased.
"That's nuts, dude!" Grover chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief. "Absolutely ridiculous! How do you even do that?"
Percy shrugged, looking genuinely at peace. "I dunno. I just... love being in the water. It's the one place where I can actually think, you know?"
Grover nodded, clearly impressed. "Well, that makes sense. It's way better than someone we know who crams all day and still—"
Thad perked up at the jab, his eyes narrowing. "Hey now," he cut in pretending to be offended. "For the record, cramming works... sometimes. And I'm not cramming for the fun of it. Do you know how annoying it is to study over and over just to disappoint yourself? Not fun, my friends. Not fun."
Percy laughed, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "Sounds like a personal problem, Thad."
"Yeah, yeah," Thad muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched with a smirk. "Meanwhile, Mr. Aquaman here makes it look easy."
...
The loud, hoarse clang of the school bell echoed through the halls of Yancy Academy, signaling the start of yet another chaotic interlude between classes. Thaddeus, Percy, and Grover turned the corner into a crowded hallway that was already bursting with the usual drama.
The scene was all too familiar: two students squared off, shouting insults and shoving each other while a flock of onlookers instigated them on. In the middle of it all, a fatigued teacher desperately tried to restore order. Somewhere further down the hall, a backpack went sailing through the air, smacking against a row of lockers.
As the three of them navigated through the madness, Percy let out an audible groan. "I swear, I'd rather spend the entire day underwater than deal with this circus," he muttered with frustration.
Grover, limping slightly as he moved with his crutches, gave an emphatic nod. "Totally. It's like High School Musical but with all the songs replaced by death metal." He gestured behind them with a tilt of his head, where yet another pair of students seemed on the verge of throwing punches.
The three of them kept walking, weaving through the crowd as more shouting erupted behind them. "Seriously, just look at this!" Grover exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief.
Thad, who had been silent so far, finally decided to weigh in. "Honestly," he began, his tone dry, "I still have no clue how I ended up in this madhouse."
As if to illustrate his point, a guy rushing past them nearly collided with Thad. With a quick bluff, Thad faked a punch, his fist stopping just short of the guy's face. The startled student stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and crashing into a locker with a loud clang. Thad didn't even look back, casually brushing his hands together like he'd just solved a minor inconvenience.
"It honestly feels like a deathtrap version of High School Musical," he added, his tone completely unbothered.
Percy snorted, trying and failing to suppress a grin. "Yeah, but with less choreography and way more concussions."
Grover chuckled as they passed yet another group of students hurling insults at each other across the hall. "I mean, if this place did have a musical number, it'd probably be called Detention Tango."
Thad smirked, glancing at Grover. "Only if the chorus is about dodging flying textbooks."
As they neared their lockers, another commotion erupted nearby—a loud bang followed by the unmistakable sound of someone yelling, "Fight! Fight!"
Thad didn't even flinch, rolling his eyes instead. "And people wonder why I prefer reading and gaming rather than basic algebra," he said with a sigh. "At least those have sensible rules."
Grover adjusted his crutches and glanced at Percy. "So, what do you think the over-under is on someone getting sent to the nurse's office after lunch?"
Percy shrugged. "Depends. Did the cafeteria serve anything wholesome today?"
"Doubtful," Grover replied. "So probably two or three casualties, minimum."
...
THADDEUS POV
The classroom felt like a prison cell. I sat slouched in my seat, lazily spinning a pen between my fingers, my boredom practically radiating off me. Mrs. Dodds, the new substitute, stood at the blackboard, scrawling some lines that looked suspiciously Shakespearean. The whole situation was off—swapping out our regular teacher this late in the year? Even Percy had raised an eyebrow at that. Something was definitely up with the administration, but honestly? I couldn't care less. I just wanted the day to be over so I could do something productive—like sleeping. Sleep is productive if you think about it hard enough.
Mrs. Dodds finished writing and turned to face the class, her sharp, hawk-like eyes sweeping over us. "Good morning, everyone. I'm Mrs. Dodds, your substitute English teacher," she said with a smile that was about as genuine as a wax fruit. "We'll be diving into Shakespeare today, so let's not waste any time."
Groans rippled through the classroom, but she paid them no mind. I glanced over at Percy, who was scribbling aimlessly in his notebook, clearly somewhere far, far away in his thoughts. Typical.
Dodds raised her voice, cutting through the low murmurs of the class. "Now then, let's start with this line from Othello," she said, tapping the board with her chalk. "'O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.' Can anyone explain what Shakespeare was trying to convey here?"
Hands shot up around the room. The eager beavers of the class—always ready to impress. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Let them waste their energy. I'd rather conserve mine.
"Mr. Jackson," Mrs. Dodds called, her tone sharp enough to snap Percy out of his daydream.
"Uh... what?" Percy blinked, straightening up like he'd just been jolted awake.
"What does Shakespeare mean by 'the green-eyed monster?'" she asked, her voice dripping with impatience.
Percy hesitated, glancing at the board as if the answer might magically appear there. "Uh... I think it's, like... jealousy?" he ventured.
Mrs. Dodds didn't look impressed. "Jealousy what? Elaborate," she said, tapping her foot.
"I mean... it's bad?" Percy offered weakly, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment.
The class erupted in laughter, and Mrs. Dodds' face tightened. With a flick of her wrist, she lobbed a piece of chalk at him, hitting him square on the forehead. "Pay attention, Mr. Jackson. Or do you think Shakespeare is just a waste of time?"
"Depends on the day," Percy muttered under his breath, rubbing his shoulder.
Dodds' sharp gaze moved around the room, searching for her next victim. And, of course, her eyes landed on me. "Mr. Bartholomew," she said, her voice suddenly sweet, which somehow made it even more menacing. "Perhaps you can enlighten us?"
She stared at me, her gaze unnervingly intense, like she was trying to peer directly into my soul. The class quieted, all eyes now on me. Great. Just what I needed.
I sighed, sitting up a little straighter. "Othello wrestles with the balance of fate and free will," I began, my tone calm but confident. "While Iago manipulates events, Othello's own choices play a major role in his downfall. Shakespeare's point is that jealousy isn't just destructive—it's self-destructive. It consumes the very person who harbors it."
The room went silent for a beat. Then a few heads turned back toward Mrs. Dodds, waiting for her reaction.
She didn't say a word. Just nodded slightly and turned back to the board. "Well," she said after a pause, "at least someone has been paying attention."
I leaned back in my chair, fidgeting with my pen again, as if I hadn't just dropped the most verbalized answer she'd heard all day. Percy shot me a disbelieving look from across the aisle.
"You're welcome," I mouthed, smirking.
The rest of the class went on without incident, though I could feel Mrs. Dodds' gaze lingering on me a little too long for comfort. Something about her didn't sit right—like she was sizing me up for reasons that had nothing to do with Othello. But for now, I played it cool. No sense in poking the metaphorical bear.
As the bell rang, I packed up my things, Percy inched up next to me. "You're seriously making me look bad," he said, his tone half-joking, half-annoyed.
"Not my fault you don't read the material," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
Grover joined us in the hallway, shaking his head. "Dude, I think Mrs. Dodds likes you," he said with a laugh.
"Yeah, right," I muttered. But as we walked out of the classroom, I couldn't shake the feeling that Grover might not be entirely wrong.
...
We had just stepped down the stairs of Yancy Academy's front entrance when Percy let out an irritated sigh. "I swear, it feels like she already hates my guts," he grumbled, kicking at a loose pebble on the pavement.
Trying to lighten the mood, I offered, "Don't take it too personally, man. She's probably just one of those picky teachers—you know, the kind who nitpicks just to feel important." I paused for effect before adding with a smirk, "And honestly, she gives off cougar vibes. Not that I'm judging... but yeah, not a fan already."
Grover chuckled and chimed in, "Yeah, Percy, don't let it get to you. She probably does that to everyone. Who knows? You might even manage to impress her eventually."
Percy wasn't buying it. "No way. It's bad enough as it is. I'd rather not even try to make it worse."
Shrugging, I replied, "Fair enough. But if it were me, I'd be complaining about her for a solid week. Actually, let's go ahead and call it Complaint Week, starting now."
As we walked through the gates and stepped onto the sidewalk, we made our way— to a sleek white Chevrolet Camaro parked at the curb. Its polished surface gleamed under the late afternoon sun, and I immediately felt a sinking sensation in my chest.
The three of us slowed our pace, and as we got closer, I recognized the man inside the car. My hand automatically went to my forehead for a facepalm.
Grover, on the other hand, found the whole thing hilarious. "Didn't know you had a car, Thad!" he teased, his grin widening.
I let out a long-suffering sigh. "I don't," I muttered. "And I specifically told "him" not to pick me up. Damn it." My voice was a bit embarrassed, but I couldn't help snickering at the ridiculousness of it all.
Before I could do anything else, the car suddenly shook violently, like something big had hit it from underneath. The driver's side window rolled down, and the man inside leaned out with a knowing smirk. I opened my mouth to let loose a very justified, "You ass—"
"Language," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "Wouldn't want the orphanage hearing about that, now, would we?"
I groaned, throwing my hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright," I muttered, climbing into the passenger seat with a tantrum.
The man, Darren, turned his attention to Percy and Grover, giving them a friendly wave. "Need a lift, fellas?" he asked using an easygoing tone. "Name's Darren, by the way."
Percy raised a hand in polite decline. "Thanks, but we're good. We'll stick to the bus."
Grover nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're fine. Appreciate it, though!"
Darren smiled, his expression genuine. "Alright, just make sure you two get home safe, yeah? Last thing we need is Thad here going on about you stirring up trouble."
"Don't worry, sir," Percy replied, giving a small wave. "We've got it covered."
"Come on now," Darren said with a chuckle. "No need for the 'sir' stuff. Just Darren is fine."
From inside the car, I rolled down the window, leaning out to give Percy and Grover a quick fist bump. "Bros before—well, you know how the rest of that goes," I joked, grinning as they both laughed.
With that, Darren revved the engine, and the Camaro glided away from the curb, picking up speed as we disappeared down the street. I leaned back in my seat, staring at the mirror as Percy and Grover stood on the sidewalk, watching the car vanish into the distance.
"They'll be fine," Darren said casually, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
"Yeah, I know," I replied, my voice softer now.