Reborn as Piper McLean

The first thing I realized when I woke up was that the air smelled like expensive sandalwood and expensive regret. The second thing was that my hands were too small.

I sat up in a bed that probably cost more than my previous life’s college tuition. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of a Malibu mansion, glinting off the silk sheets. My heart hammered against my ribs—a frantic, rhythmic thumping that felt far too real to be a dream.

I scrambled out of bed, my feet sinking into a plush rug, and sprinted toward the en-suite bathroom. When I saw the girl in the mirror, I didn't scream. I stared.

Choppy, uneven chocolate-colored hair. Eyes that shifted like a kaleidoscope—brown to blue to green and back again. A face that was devastatingly beautiful even with sleep-crust in the corners of the eyes. This was the face of Piper McLean.

But I wasn't just Piper anymore. I was *me*. I remembered the books. I remembered the fan theories, the wiki pages, the heartbreak of the Burning Maze, and the frustration of the Giant War. I remembered dying in a world of gray concrete and boring routines, only to wake up inside the skin of a daughter of Aphrodite.

"Happy tenth birthday to me," I whispered.

The voice that came out was melodic, even in a rasp. It had a natural resonance that made the air feel heavy. Charmspeak. It was already there, raw and untapped.

In the original story, Piper hated her reflection. She hated her father’s fame and her mother’s legacy. She spent years cutting her hair with kitchen scissors and trying to blend into the background.

What a waste.

I leaned closer to the glass, watching the way my eyes changed color. If I was going to survive the prophecy of the Seven, if I was going to live in a world where gods used their children as pawns, I wasn't going to do it by being a "reluctant hero." I was going to do it by being the most dangerous thing on the board.

"I am Piper McLean," I told the reflection, infusing the words with a low, vibrating pull. "And I get what I want."

The glass shivered. A bottle of perfume on the counter rattled. I smiled, and for the first time, the reflection didn't look like a victim of circumstance. It looked like a predator.

***

Three years passed in a blur of calculated rebellion and secret practice.

While Tristan McLean thought I was being a "troubled child" by getting kicked out of schools, I was actually testing the limits of my influence. I didn't just steal a car because I wanted attention; I stole it to see if I could convince a police officer that the vehicle was actually a giant blueberry.

It hadn't worked perfectly—my Mist control was still shaky—but the officer had let me go with a confused smile and a "Have a nice day, miss," despite the fact that I was thirteen and driving a BMW.

By the time I was sent to Wilderness School, I was ready. I knew the script. I knew Leo Valdez would be there, frantic and funny and broken. I knew Jason Grace would drop from the sky with no memories and a lightning bolt in his veins.

But the script was about to be rewritten. Because as much as I liked Jason, he was a bridge to a larger prize. I wanted the heart of the ocean. I wanted the boy who had survived Tartarus. I wanted Percy Jackson. And if I had to play the long game to get him, Annabeth Chase better be ready for some competition that logic couldn't defeat.

The bus ride to the Grand Canyon was exactly as I remembered from the text. Leo was sitting next to me, sticking pipe cleaners through a taco.

"Hey, Pipes," Leo said, grinning his impish grin. "You okay? You’ve got that look like you’re planning to overthrow a small country."

I turned to him, softening my expression. Leo was my best friend—or he would be. I needed him loyal. I needed him to be my hands when I couldn't be everywhere at once.

"Just thinking about the field trip, Leo," I said, letting a hint of charmspeak lace my tone—just enough to make him feel warm and safe. "It’s going to be an unforgettable day."

Leo blinked, his eyes glazing over for a split second before he let out a laugh. "Yeah, definitely. Coach Hedge looks like he’s ready to headbutt a mountain."

I looked toward the front of the bus. There he was. Jason Grace. He looked confused, his blonde hair close-cropped, his blue eyes darting around the interior of the bus. He was wearing a purple shirt that marked him as a Roman, though he didn't know it yet.

I reached out and took Jason’s hand. He flinched, looking at me with wide, startled eyes.

"It’s okay," I whispered, leaning in close. I didn't use the fake memories the Mist tried to provide. I created new ones. "You’re with me, Jason. You’re safe."

"I... I don't know who you are," he stammered, but his fingers instinctively curled around mine. The power of Aphrodite wasn't just about love; it was about *want*. And right now, I made him want to trust me more than he wanted to remember his own name.

"I’m Piper," I said, my voice a silken thread. "And we’re going to be great friends."

The storm hit at the skywalk. Venti swirled, Coach Hedge revealed his furry legs, and Jason took flight, a son of Jupiter in his element. I watched from the sidelines, playing the part of the terrified girlfriend, while internally I was counting the minutes.

When the chariot pulled out of the sky, drawn by pegasi, my heart skipped a beat. This was it.

The chariot slammed onto the skywalk. Two teenagers jumped out. One was a girl with stormy gray eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Annabeth. She looked beautiful, fierce, and utterly devastated.

The second was a satyr I recognized instantly. Grover Underwood looked older than he did in the first series, his goat legs trembling slightly as he scanned the crowd.

"Where is he?" Annabeth demanded, her voice cracking. "Gleeson, where is he?"

Coach Hedge, who was currently being hauled off by a ventus, couldn't answer.

Annabeth marched up to us, her dagger drawn. She looked at Jason, then at me. Her eyes narrowed, the intellect of Athena trying to piece together why two powerful demigods were standing here when she was looking for her boyfriend.

"Who are you?" she snapped.

I stepped forward, making sure my posture was slightly slumped, looking vulnerable but striking. I let my eyes well up with tears—easy enough when you control the emotions of the room.

"We don't know what happened," I said, my voice trembling. "These... these things attacked. Jason saved us."

Annabeth looked at Jason’s Roman coin, her eyes widening. "He’s not the one. He’s not Percy."

"Percy?" I asked, tilting my head. "Is he the one you’re looking for?"

Grover stepped forward, his nose twitching. He looked at me, his brow furrowing. "You... you smell like..."

"Like a daughter of Aphrodite," Annabeth finished for him, her tone dismissive. She turned back to the canyon, her shoulders shaking. "He’s gone. Hera took him."

I felt a pang of guilt, but I suppressed it. Annabeth was brilliant, but she was tied to rules and prophecies. I was a wildcard.

"We can help you find him," I said, stepping closer to her. I reached out and touched her arm.

Annabeth flinched, pulling away. "I don't need help from a newcomer."

I used it then. A concentrated burst of charmspeak, directed right at her heart. "Annabeth, look at me. We are in this together. You can trust me."

The tension in her shoulders dropped. Her gray eyes lost their sharp edge, replaced by a weary sort of acceptance. She looked at me, really looked at me, and for a moment, I saw the opening I needed.

"Fine," she whispered. "Get in the chariot."

***

Camp Half-Blood was more vibrant than any book could describe. The smell of strawberries, the sound of clashing swords, the shimmering glow of the Big House.

As we were led through the valley, I saw him.

He wasn't the "Lost Hero" yet. He was the legend.

Percy Jackson was standing by the lake, talking to a group of younger campers. Even from a distance, he radiated power. It wasn't the stiff, formal power of Jason Grace; it was something wilder, like the tide. His dark hair was messy, and even in his orange camp shirt, he looked like he belonged to the sea.

He wasn't missing yet. The timeline was slightly different—or perhaps my presence had already begun to ripple through the weave of fate.

"Percy!" Grover cried out, running toward him.

Percy turned, and his face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire city of New York. "Grover! Hey, man, how was the—"

He stopped when he saw Annabeth’s face. He was at her side in an instant, his hands on her shoulders. "Annabeth? What’s wrong? Did something happen at the Grand Canyon?"

"We found them," Annabeth said, gesturing to Jason, Leo, and me. "But Percy... Hera is moving. I can feel it. Something is coming for you."

Percy’s eyes shifted to us. When his gaze landed on me, I didn't look away. I didn't blush like a typical daughter of Aphrodite. I looked at him with the intensity of someone who knew his soul.

I felt a surge of Aphrodite’s power—not the kind that makes people fall in love, but the kind that makes them *notice*.

Percy blinked, his brow furrowing. "Hi. I’m Percy."

"Piper," I said. I stepped forward, bypassing Jason, and held out my hand.

When he took it, a spark of static electricity jumped between us. His eyes, those sea-green eyes, searched mine.

"You’ve got a weird vibe, Piper," Percy said, though he was smiling. "Like you’ve been here before."

"Maybe in a past life," I replied, my voice a low hum. "I have a feeling we’re going to be very close, Percy Jackson."

Annabeth cleared her throat, her eyes darting between us. The Goddess of Wisdom was starting to catch on, even if she didn't know what she was catching onto.

"We need to get them to Chiron," Annabeth said, her voice tight. "Jason is... he’s Roman, Percy. He has a tattoo. And a coin that turns into a sword."

Percy’s expression turned serious. "A Roman? Here?"

"It’s a long story," Jason said, stepping up beside me. He looked at Percy with a mix of wariness and respect. Two sons of the Big Three, standing face to face.

I stood between them, the fulcrum of the new prophecy.

"We’ll figure it out," I said, my charmspeak washing over the group like a gentle wave. "But first, I think I’d like a tour. Percy, would you mind?"

Annabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Percy was already nodding. "Sure. Annabeth, you should go talk to Chiron about the Roman thing. I’ll show the new kids around."

Annabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but the lingering effects of my earlier charmspeak held her back. She sighed, gave Percy a quick kiss on the cheek—which made my stomach twist with a jealous fire—and headed toward the Big House.

As Percy led us toward the cabins, I lagged back a bit with Leo.

"You’re doing it again," Leo whispered, his eyes wide.

"Doing what?"

"The thing where you make everyone do what you want," he said. "It’s cool, but also kind of terrifying, Pipes."

"It’s survival, Leo," I whispered back. "In this world, you’re either the one pulling the strings or the one dancing on them."

I looked ahead at Percy. He was laughing at something Jason had said, his posture relaxed. He had no idea that the Great Prophecy was about to be dismantled. He had no idea that I knew every tragedy waiting for him—the fall into Tartarus, the death of friends, the weight of the world.

I was going to save him from all of it. And in return, he would be mine.

"Hey, Percy!" I called out, running a little to catch up.

He slowed down, waiting for me. "Yeah?"

"I heard you’re the best swordsman in camp," I said, tilting my head. "Think you could teach me a few things? I’m not really the 'makeup and dresses' type of girl."

Percy laughed, a genuine, warm sound. "I think I can manage that. But fair warning, I don't go easy on anyone."

"Good," I said, my eyes flashing. "I wouldn't want you to."

As we walked, I felt the gaze of a thousand campers on us. I felt the weight of the gods watching from Olympus. But for the first time in two lives, I wasn't afraid.

I was Piper McLean. I was the daughter of the Goddess of Love. And I was going to rewrite the stars.