The Silent Guardian: A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Narrator's Pov

Anthony dreamt of his last moments with his father, and the uselessness he felt while watching his father die over and over again, it stopped when he felt a gentle soothing voice say," calm down son," Before he woke up in a cold sweat, he looked around him, nothing but wood and bark, and the morning sun coming through the opening of the hollowed-out tree. He heard the birds chirping, and the water running. That last detail brought up painful memories, before he unconsciously held the owl pendent necklace around his neck.

His once bright stormy grey eyes, a dull cloudy grey, hiding behind a dark curtain of black hair. His clothes disheveled and tattered, he looked like someone who went diving and somehow ended up in the dryer. He decided to get out of his safe haven and find a river, where he could get some water and fish if he was lucky enough. 

So, with courage he didn't have, he ventured out towards to the sounds of running water. Reaching the riverbed, he looks around in suspicion, careful of any danger attacking him. Before looking around to make a makeshift bucket for water. He then searched the surroundings for material, finding some dry tall grass, and if his dad was right, exercising his talent as the son of the weaver. Expertly weaving the grass into a basket, leaving no gaps whatsoever, and retrieving some water from the river.

As the water dripped from the basket, Anthony quickly drank the water, feeling rejuvenated, he found some more dead grass to make the basket into a makeshift bag; with multiple dead grass acting as straps for him to carry it on his back. Though it wouldn't be able to carry anything heavy, it would certainly carry the water he had with him.

He then had the sudden urge to look at his owl pendent, now that he wasn't in life-or-death situation, he could see a separation between the owl's head and body. So, he grabbed the pendent, twisted the owl's body, and from it, a spear and shield formed in its place. He looked at the weapons in awe, the bronze weapon and shield exuding power, he then admired the craftsmanship of the two weapons.

"I must thank the smith who created these fine weapons for me, and also my mother for giving them," Anthony thought as he looked at the sky before saying," thank you," a light briefly showing in his eyes before dulling, returning to dark cloudy grey pools. Before following his instincts and traversing the forest to a town. It was a small town, probably having a population of 1,000 people, if he were to guess.

He transformed his weapons into his owl pendent with a thought, before entering the town. So, suspicious of everyone, he glared at anyone who even took a glanced at him with intimidating dark grey pools. Reaching one of the two libraries in town, he searched the library, finding a map of the United States, he then searched for the routes of every bus in the country.

He then remembered the last words of his father, before looking at the second thing he gave him, an address to a place called Camp Half-Blood. His dark grey pools sharpening, as his resolve to make it to the place his father wanted him to go before dying, hardened. He studied the map for days, mapping the bus routes, and memorizing them until he could map it in his head while sleeping.

He slept, ate the free food from the local church, drank from rivers, before going to library. Studying the maps and routes, doing it all over again before he was sure it was second nature. He found a discarded coat that was big enough to cover him from head to below his knees, washing his clothes in the home of the kind old ladies that gave him permission to use their laundry machines, in return for talking to them and walking them home.

It was nighttime, and Anthony was once again having a nightmare about his dad, and every time that happened, a soothing voice would calm him down. He woke up, and instead of the morning ray coming through his hollow tree's opening, it was the moons gentle rays that met him.

He wondered why he woke up so early, his internal clock saying it was around 1 o' clock in the morning. He found out when his senses started acting up, he quickly jumped out of his hollowed tree, narrowly dodging the club that destroyed his tree. He turned only for his eyes to sharpen, anger and righteous fury entering his system, quickly twisting his owl pendent, his weapons forming in his hands.

There, standing in front of him is the monster that took away his father, the cyclopes who in one day turned his life upside down. And with strength filled with rage, he sprinted forward, using his speed and agility he focused on the monster's chest, waiting for a slight twitch of a muscle to spear the bastard who killed his father. When a calming sensation fell over him, widening his perspective to notice the two other Cyclopes standing next to his father's killer.

He then retreated, looking up at an owl flying over him, he just wanted to cry right then and there, his rage and fury clouded his judgment and almost costed his life. But he took a deep breath, and steeled his nerves, "calm down, you got this, mother is watching over me ", Anthony thought. He then took a stance, his instincts taking over, as his calculative mind looked around at the forest, he spent weeks living in, before an idea took root in his mind. A smirk played on his face, as light returned to his eyes, his once dark cloudy grey pools become bright stormy greys.

His mind accepting his father's death, but not the killer of his father still being alive, so with a calm fury, he looked at the three cyclopes with a deadly glare and said," Come at me, I'll return you to the depths of Tartarus, and when you come back, I'll be there to kill you again and again until you're down on your knees wishing for mercy," And with that, he retreated into the forest, setting up his own labyrinth, only he is the minotaur, and he chose to be in it.