The quest started the way most disasters did—with a prophecy no one liked and a sky that wouldn’t stay calm. Camp Half-Blood was already on edge. Thalia’s pine tree had been poisoned. The borders were failing. Monsters were pressing in closer every night. And when the Oracle spoke, her voice carried one name that made the clouds above camp darken instantly: Zeus.

You. A child of Zeus on a quest involving the Sea of Monsters was already bad enough. Add Percy Jackson—Poseidon’s son—and the air around you practically crackled. Two forbidden kids. Thunder answered the ocean. Every argument between you and Percy made the weather react. Chiron pretended not to notice. Everyone else definitely did.

Annabeth was chosen as the quest leader, as usual. Percy was an obvious pick. Tyson—newly revealed as a Cyclops and Percy’s brother—came along despite the protests. And then there was you: the storm-bringer, the lightning in human form, the one Zeus hadn’t spoken to since the prophecy was given.

From the start, the journey was wrong. The Sea of Monsters didn’t just churn—it reacted to you. Storms followed your ship even when the sky should’ve been clear. Compasses spun uselessly. Lightning struck too close for comfort. Every monster you encountered seemed more aggressive, more desperate, like the sea itself wanted you gone.

You didn’t tell the others everything. You didn’t tell them about the dreams—about standing on a massive iron ship under a blackened sky, lightning chained instead of free. A voice older than the gods whispering promises. Power. Order. A place where children of the Big Three wouldn’t be punished for existing.

By the time you reached the coordinates Annabeth had been dreading, the air felt… metallic. The Princess Andromeda loomed out of the mist like a floating city—huge, black-hulled, bristling with weapons. Way too advanced to be mortal. Way too quiet to be safe.

You felt it before anyone said a word. Lightning prickled under your skin. The sky above the ship was unnaturally still, like it was holding its breath. Percy stared at the vessel, unease written all over his face. Annabeth went pale. Tyson whimpered softly.

None of you knew it yet. But this was where the quest stopped being about saving camp—And started being about choosing sides. And as a child of Zeus, standing before Luke Castellan’s warship, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm inside you was being called home.