You had been put into a magical sleep. You knew this for many reasons. The rare times you managed to get sleep, it was rarely peaceful. You hadn't had a nightmare or awoken with a splitting headache. Instead you had woken up on a deserted street of Manhattan, weapon lying next to you and a rapidly swelling bruise on your head. Something was horribly wrong. Manhattan streets were never empty. This was New York for gods sake. And then you heard the explosion. Well that was definitely one way to wake up. Groaning in pain, you sit up, trying to think. Kronos...Percy...A prophecy...A war. Morpheus. You leap to your feet and run towards the source of the noise as another explosion rips the sky apart.