They say there's a hidden world in plain sight. I've heard it a hundred times—books, movies, my mom's colleagues at work. But they were all just stories, right? At least, that's what I thought…until everything changed.
My name's Percy Jackson. I'm twelve years old, and, according to my mom, I've been in danger since the day I was born. But don't get me wrong—she's not some crazy person who goes on about government conspiracies. My mom, Sally Jackson, is a CEO, a multi-billionaire, and honestly, one of the smartest people I know. She runs an ocean exploration organization, diving into the unknown, helping injured sea creatures, and discovering life in places scientists thought impossible.
So yeah, I had a pretty cool life…until I was five. That's when the illusion shattered. It was late one night, and I was asleep in our penthouse overlooking the water. I remember my room was filled with the soft blue light from the aquarium in the corner. Everything was calm…until the front door exploded.
I shot up in bed, disoriented. And that's when I heard it—this low, throaty growl that made every hair on my body stand on end. It was coming from the hallway. Footsteps, heavy and slow, thudded closer. I was frozen, barely breathing, staring at my bedroom door like something out of a horror movie.
Then my door creaked open, and a creature stepped in—a thing with glowing red eyes, covered in fur, and teeth so sharp I could see the glint even in the darkness.
"Mom!" I screamed. "Mom!"
But before I could blink, my mom was there, in front of me, a knife gleaming in her hand. Not just any knife—a bronze one that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.
She didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, she swung the knife, catching the creature's side. It screeched, this inhuman wail that made me slap my hands over my ears. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it turned into ash, scattering on the floor.
My mom dropped the knife, breathing hard, and turned to me, her face pale. "Percy," she whispered, "there's something I need to tell you."
I remember looking up at her, heart pounding in my chest. "Mom…what was that?"
She swallowed hard, pulling me into a hug. "There's a lot I haven't told you, Percy. I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to have as normal a life as possible. But you're not…normal. You're special."
I blinked. "Special?"
"Yes," she murmured, brushing my hair back. "There are creatures out there—monsters that most people can't see. But they're real. And they know who you are."
"But…why?"
Mom's face softened, and for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes. "Because of who your father is."
I felt a lump in my throat. My father was a mystery, someone I'd never met, someone my mom rarely talked about. "What do you mean?"
She sighed, sitting down on the edge of my bed and pulling me close. "Your father…he's not like other people, Percy. He's a god. A Greek god, one of the most powerful ones."
I stared at her, waiting for the punchline, the twist, something that would make this all make sense. "You're…you're kidding, right?"
"No, Percy." She placed her hand on my shoulder, her grip firm. "He's Poseidon, the god of the sea. That's why they're after you. They know who you are, and they see you as a threat."
I looked at her, trying to process it all. Gods? Monsters? My dad…a god?
She held her breath, as if expecting me to be angry, to yell, maybe even to hate her for not telling me sooner. But all I could see was the fear in her eyes and the exhaustion weighing down her shoulders. I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around her. "I don't hate you, Mom. I love you. And if they're coming after me…then I'll just have to get stronger. So I can protect you, too."
She let out a shaky breath, hugging me tightly. "Thank you, Percy. You have no idea how much that means to me."
The next day, it was like a switch had flipped in our household. Mom went from just being the coolest, ocean-exploring CEO ever to a woman on a mission. And that mission was me. The morning after the "monster incident," I woke up to find a whole new world mapped out for me.
Swimming lessons, fighting classes, and stacks of books on mythology were all waiting for me. She even had a few tutors lined up to drill me on things like history, strategy, and Greek monsters. And she wasn't playing around. I thought she'd go easy on me—ease me into all this stuff. But that wasn't my mom's style. If I was going to be a demigod, she wanted me to be the best one I could be.
At first, it felt like being thrown in the deep end. I didn't complain, though. I spent countless hours every day learning, training, and pushing myself harder than I ever thought possible. By the time I was seven, my swimming teacher had me entering races. By age ten, I'd won a couple of championships, earning the nickname "Torpedo" for my speed in the water.
But swimming was just the start. Mom hired martial arts trainers and combat instructors, saying that if I was going to face monsters one day, I needed to know how to handle myself. I learned how to fight with my hands, with a staff, and even started dabbling in swordplay. There was this one time I came home, totally bruised and exhausted, and I half-expected Mom to tell me to take it easy. Instead, she just grinned and said, "That's my boy." She even gave me my first set of adamantine bracers.
The bracers were the beginning of something…big. Mom's team had found crates of ancient adamantine armor and weapons on the ocean floor near Greece. When she gave me access to the materials, it was like Christmas. I started learning everything I could about forging, tinkering with metals, and creating things to help me survive. By age eleven, I'd designed bracers with hidden adamantine daggers that could slide out at the flick of my wrist. After a lot of trial and error (and minor explosions in my workshop), I created a proto-type suit of nano-Spartan armor that activated when I clanked the bracers together.
Mom called me her "little genius" the first time she saw the armor spread across my body. It wasn't perfect yet, but it felt like I was getting there, like I could actually stand up to whatever monsters decided to come for me next.
Mom even made it her mission to help me with my powers. We'd go out to the pool in the early mornings or late at night, and she'd watch as I tried to command the water, struggling at first, but gradually getting better. By age eleven, I could control over 20,000 gallons of water, and I'd learned how to freeze and heat the water molecules—a skill that had taken what felt like ages to master. But the hard work paid off. By the time I could boil and freeze about 5,000 gallons, my mom was practically beaming every time we trained.
And it wasn't just my demigod side I worked on. I studied hard, read everything I could about the world, and found myself getting interested in creating things. I knew that no matter how much power I had, brains could be just as important in a fight.
Then, the night of my twelfth birthday, we sat down together on the balcony of our penthouse. Mom looked at me with a mixture of pride and worry in her eyes.
"It's time, isn't it?" I said, almost reading her mind.
She nodded, her voice steady. "You're ready, Percy. Ready to see what it's like…at Camp Half-Blood. But remember, this isn't goodbye. This is you, starting your journey. You'll be able to come home any time you need."
I took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. "I'll make you proud, Mom. I promise."
She smiled, her hand resting on my shoulder. "You already have, Percy. Now go find out who you are, and who you're meant to be."