User blog:GamerNerd i/Dei et Viri - Book I: Prologue

If you're new to my writings, start here. If you don't need the exposition, start here. If you just want to see all the stuff, then it's in my user page.

//The second half (Well, the first part of it, anyway.) of my big project, of which Trial by Fire is the first.

The Fall
So this is what it feels like to be an amnesiac. Not like I’d know if I’ve had it before.

I mean, forgetting is natural for humans. Forget a book? Fine. A commitment? We’ve all done that. Heck, I left a project at home once. But forgetting everything about yourself? That’s ridiculous.

I can’t even tell you my name yet. (Well, I can, but that wasn't the way it was at this part.) The worst part is that I can remember all the books I’ve read in my life if I’ve even read them. Infinity War? Easy. The number of times Holden swears in Catcher in the Rye? More often than you want to know. But my own name? Nothing.

The earliest thing I remember was falling. From really high up. Like someone-kicked-me-out-of-the-ISS high up.

I don’t even know how I survived. I should have died immediately, regardless of whether I landed in mushy trash. Also, lucky me that I landed in mushy trash anyway.

I sat in that heap for a few minutes, dazed, before realizing how squishy the bags were. Then I jumped out of the bin so fast that I headbutted some guy square in the forehead.

We both yelped as he staggered back and I fell against the bin. As I rubbed my head, I glanced at the chubby girl tending to the guy I’d just hit. She wore mismatched, bright colored clothing, and that's an understatement.

"Was I that headstrong when I fell?" The boy asked the girl. He was normally dressed, aside from a bow, a quiver, and a ukulele slung over his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure I didn't rocket out of that bin and slam you in the head."

"You weren’t," the girl responds. "You were absolutely pathetic and I had to save you from being bullied by street kids." I like this girl already.

The boy flinches at the remark. "Well, regardless, we should introduce ourselves, since Zeus no doubt has kicked another of my brethren to the curb. Or I suppose technically it's to the trash bin, but no one says that." He gets up and dusts himself off. The girl offers me a sticky hand and pulls me up.

"I'm Meg. And this is my servant Lester Papadopulous!" She says excitedly. Apollo facepalms.

"Must you really have to call me your servant?" He says. "I thought we stopped doing that!" He waves off Meg halfheartedly. "Pay her no mind. I am Apollo, God of the sun. Well, former god. No need to grovel in my presence, since, as you can see, I have fallen from grace. Again." He offers his hand in greeting.

I shake his hand while trying to remember. Apollo is, as he said, the Greek god of the sun. But this definitely isn't Ancient Greece, so what world am I in? I should be able to place it by the girl's name—Meg. Was there ever a Meg that traveled alongside a fallen Apollo?

"Sal—" Out of habit, I started greeting them in Latin. I don't doubt that Apollo knows it, but I don't want to confuse Meg. "It's a pleasure to meet you." It's strange greeting someone without telling them your name. But as I said earlier, I couldn't remember my name.

Apollo raises his eyebrow, possibly in recognition of my cut-off Latin. "May I ask which of my colleagues you are?" He says. Meg snickers behind him.

"I... I beg your pardon?" I was obviously perplexed. It's not every day that you have a Greek god ask which of his coworkers you are. (Then again, I still don't remember, so maybe for me it was something that happened every day.)

"Playing hard to get, huh?" He says. He squints and starts examining my appearance. "Let's see, Athena was always blonde, but you don't have her grey eyes. Your eyes are emerald green; that would be my Hera, but she's a brunette. You are most certainly not my sister Artemis. You could be Aphrodite since she does whatever she wa-"

"Please stop," I interrupt. I don’t mind people talking about my appearance, but I draw the line when I'm being compared to others, especially with that much detail. "I’m not a goddess. I don’t want to be a goddess. I don’t even know why I’m here, wherever here is.”

“Fair enough,” Apollo says. “You’re not immortal, but neither are you mortal. So mortal should have survived that fall.”

“You did,” Meg says simply. “You survived a fall like that.” This really ticks off Apollo.

“I still had some divinity when I landed!” he says, turning to Meg. “Just because it got drained from me as I fell, that doesn’t mean that I was fully mortal when I hit the earth! That’s why I survived!”

“You told me that when a god falls they’re fully mortal once they land,” Meg responds. I was mostly confused, but this banter gave me a good idea of this duo’s chemistry. “You said this is... What, the third time being kicked off Olympus?”

She was right. Apollo fell at least twice before. But that was in ancient myths. Why this time? I should really know this...

Apollo is really getting exasperated with Meg. “Just... Can we just get her back to Chiron like we were told? These alleys give me bad memories.” He reaches behind him and hands me a bronze sword. "Also, you might need this. Now let's go." He hastily strolls out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

Meg inspects my clothes as she walks by to follow. “Ew, you have rotten—well, everything—on you. Lemme just clean you up.” She flicks her finger and whatever rotten produce had attached itself to me flies off in all directions. “You’re still dirty, but at least you don’t smell that bad anymore.” I stare in awe as she walks by and follows Apollo out.

What is Real?
I snap back to my senses and dash to catch up with them. I don’t know how, but something told me that I was in New York. I won’t bother describing it. Just take my word for it.

As I draw up alongside Apollo and Meg, I start asking questions. “You were told about me? By whom?”

A voice comes from within Apollo’s quiver. “IT WAS I, FAIR LADY!” I noticed that one of the arrows had different colored plumage than the others; a leafy green, standing out among the other brown feathers. Its wood was also a darker green than the others.

"You back there, shut up," Apollo says. "I've told you not to speak when we're surrounded by mortals." I almost rebuked him, but the arrow responded first.

"THOU SHALT NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO," it said. "FOR I AM TOO VALUABLE FOR THEE TO TRASH."

I feel bad since I've been staring a lot, but I couldn't help but stare at the arrow. "Okay.... Next question," I manage. "You're carrying weapons in broad daylight, and outdated ones, no less. Why is no one reacting?"

"There's something called the Mist," Meg says. Where'd she get that peach? "Basically, those without divine blood see different things than what they actually are." A man walks by Apollo, commenting on his "can of firewood." Meg snickers. "Like that."

"What do you mean by 'divine blood?'" I didn't like the sound of that. It felt like some Slytherin racist stuff or whatever.

Apollo glances back. "It's easier to explain when we get to camp," he says over his shoulder. "Now where did we park the hellhound?" he mutters next, looking around. He turns into another alley. I really have no choice than to follow, since I still have no idea what's happening.

Apollo and Meg start looking around, calling for a "Mrs. O'Leary." In a second, I'm aware of a looming presence behind me. I turn around and come face to face with a massive dog. The Hound of the Baskervilles couldn't have given me a bigger scare. "Mater furcifer!" I yell, unable to hide my Latin swearing. The dog jumps me as Apollo and Meg turn around.

"Ms. O'Leary! Stop!" Apollo yells. "We're supposed to be helping her!" Yelling was sure helping a lot when I have a freaking giant dog on top of and sniffing me.

Meg digs in her pocket. "Here, have a treat!" She says. She tosses a small pellet to the dog, which immediately gets off me (thank god) and bounds toward her.

Apollo helps me up as Meg gets the hellhound to sit. "This is going to sound crazy, but by now you're probably used to it," He starts. "But get on the hellhound." Meg has managed to get Mrs. O'Leary to sit.

"I... What?" I stutter. Meg is getting on its back already.

"Trust me, okay? I don't like this either." Apollo gets on in front of Meg. I don't want to be left behind, so I board behind her. "Hang on," he says over his shoulder. "Take us home!" he commands.

I grip the massive canine's fur as darkness envelops us. There's an illusion of motion, of velocity.

But then us became me and Mrs. O’Leary’s fur slips away. I fall and land standing upright, blackness all around. Fear kicks in as I realize that I'm not alone. Something else was here. Something that my senses can't pick up, but my emotions can. I draw the sword that Apollo handed me earlier. Not like bronze would do much damage anyway...

"'I could be well moved if I were as you,'" I start speaking, my shaky voice trying to sound strong. I get the vague suspicion that I was quoting, but I'm not sure what. "'If I could pray to move, prayers would move me. But I am as constant as the northern star, of whose true-fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.'"

"Bravo! It worked perfectly!" a voice reacts. Its tone is that of a refined, educated lady. "Good show, my friend. It's nice to see that you were able to quote The Tragedy of Julius Caesar to such great effect. Act 3, Scene 1, lines.... 63-67, was it?" She was right. That's just before Caesar is killed. "Excellent, everything is working as planned. You are once again merely Reciever. You shall become Leader in due time."

Fictional titles of a literary world. But I don't remember which one...

"But alas, I must take my leave. Until next time. Bonam fortunam!"

I feel this force leave. I am again alone in the dark. Well, almost alone. Darkness turns to light and a boy is standing in this limbo with me. His glasses and black hair show against the white glow. In his hand is a gold and white weapon. Our eyes flash in recognition simultaneously before I am sucked away into a different light.

I tumble uncontrollably before coming to a stop. As I find myself sprawled on top of the green grass, my mind races with questions. What just happened? Who was that boy, and why do I know him? Where am I now?

The last one at least is answered briefly. Meg and Apollo rush at me as I rise slowly.

"I told you to hold on!" Apollo says, helping me up. "Shadow travel isn't a smooth ride." I lean on him as Meg takes my other arm. "Either way, welcome to Camp Half-Blood. Chiron is waiting to meet you."

An important detail comes back to me. "By the way... I haven't told you guys my name," I say weakly. "Call me Nadia. I don't know what it means... But I'm a Recreator."