The stale air of the Metropolitan Museum of Art clung to me like a shroud, heavy with the scent of old marble and hidden histories. My name is Percy Jackson, and for as long as I could remember, my life had been a series of unfortunate events, punctuated by expulsions and the ever-present feeling of being fundamentally *wrong*. Little did I know, today would be the day that feeling finally found its jagged, violent truth.
