Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson’s POV

The evening tide lapped at our bare feet like an old friend and the salt-kissed breeze carrying the last warmth of the day as the sun dipped below the horizon. Montauk had always been my sanctuary, but tonight, with Simon beside me, it felt like something more—like the world had finally stopped holding its breath. 

I glanced at him. The fading light caught the scar on his cheek, the way his golden-brown hair tangled in the wind and the glint in his blue eyes. He looked so much like Luke so much so, I kept forgetting they weren’t related, (Well, not biologically at least) it sometimes made my chest ache—not just with guilt, but with something sharper, something that whispered, You could’ve saved him too.

But tonight?

Tonight, the resemblance didn’t twist me up inside. There was just the sea, the sky, and Simon’s quiet presence grounding me like an anchor. 

Things had started to settle—or at least, they’d stopped crumbling for five damn minutes. Simon’s hands still trembled sometimes when he reached for things, like his body hadn’t caught up with the fact that the world wasn’t ending anymore. But he was healing. Slowly. Stubbornly. The way demigods—or in his case, Animalgam shifters—always did. 

I slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He tensed, just for a heartbeat, before leaning into the touch. A tired smirk tugged at his lips.  

“You’re staring,” he murmured, nudging me with his shoulder. “Either I’ve got seaweed on my face, or you’re about to say something stupid.”

I grinned, even as something twisted in my chest. “Can’t it be both?”

He huffed a laugh, but his eyes stayed fixed on the darkening waves. “Slipped out of L.A.I.R. again,” he admitted before I could ask. “Mother and Malcolm are buried in meetings with the other leaders. Easier to disappear when they’re busy playing politics.”

I still remembered the day Simon had told me about L.A.I.R.—the Leading Animalgam Institute for the Remarkable, hidden under Central Zoo. A secret academy for animal shifters that he’d been attending since Simon was twelve after our first quest.

At first, I’d almost laughed—but then again, I’d fought gods, titans, and giants. Different mythologies existed. Why not this? 

“Hey, Seaweed Brain. Birdie.”

I groaned. I hated that nickname. 

Simon, though? He kind of liked Birdie. Keyword: Kind of. Simon told me that Luke had given him that name after knowing him for a few days—the reason? No one knows, not even Simon himself. Luke had spun so many stories of its origins, no one knew what was true and a lie.

Now it felt… weird.

He was the Bird Prince—Orion Sky’s heir—and something called a Hybred, an Animalgam of two species. Mrs Thorn was a golden eagle. His father, they say, was a wolf—at least, that’s what’s known to the public.

Thalia dropped down beside me with a grunt, the sand shifting under her boots. She nodded at Simon, who offered a small smile, his fingers absently twisting the edge of his camp necklace. 

“Thought you were with Artemis,” I said. 

She shook her head. “Not a chance. She’s with dear old dad right now, and…” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.

The water churned slightly in response to my irritation, and Thalia shot me a knowing look. Simon let out a soft chirp—his default sound when he was tired and annoyed—and Thalia snorted in agreement.

Then, Nico appeared and plopped down cross-legged next to us, brushing sand off his black jeans. I ruffled his hair, and he swatted at me, grumbling. 

Thalia rolled her eyes but looped an arm around my back, tugging me into her side. Nico sprawled in the sand beside us, nearer to Simon, and for once, we just… were. Just kids, under a sky full of waking stars. 

Then—without warning—everything vanished in a flash of light.

Chapter Text

Lady Hestia’s POV

The council was enthralled in celebration; the Winter Solstice marking the longest night of the year. Together, we were all gathered, not just to mingle and discuss our duties, but to also concentrate our power as a warning to those cast in the shadows that may dare to try to rise. 

In a moment of weakness, quelled by the astonishing accomplishments his children had honoured him with, Zeus allowed the demigods passage to Olympus. Mingling amongst the immortals stood Heracles, Perseus, and Theseus, whom Poseidon had advocated for since Zeus allowed passage to his sons, and the rest of our old, long-gone heroes of the past such as Odysseus, Patroclus and Achilles. 

Celebrations were of the norm; nectar and mead flowed while tables laden with fruits, cheeses, olives, and ambrosia filled the corners of the hall. Music floated around the room, the Muses taking great care to cater to our attentions. 

Until a loud pop reverberated through the room, gathering everyone’s attention. 

Apollo was the first to recover, his relation to the Morai allowing his shock to fade quickly, though his curiosity grew. “My Ladies,” he bowed, “how may we be of service to you?” Around the room, immortals and mortals alike followed suit, bowing in reverence to the Morai’s presence. 

Atropos stepped forward, her blonde curls swishing in step and brushing against her ivory chiton. “We have come to make changes,” her voice soft but heard by all. 

Zeus rose, brow furrowed as his mind swirled with possibilities. “My Lady?”

“There are some things we have found not to our liking in the future,” Lachesis stated.  

Clotho continued, “Our heroes have fought valiantly, but it is you, the Gods,” Here the Olympians perked up, listening earnestly. “Have left them to their own devices, tossing them away carelessly”. 

“You will fix it. That future shall not come to pass.” Atropos’ eyes pierced the Gods in front of her.”

“Our heroes will survive.” It was a bit disconcerting, hearing the three voices overlap. What was more, was the message they had brought with them. What had the Gods done? Who were these heroes they’ve spoken of? 

Before the Gods could come out of their stupor the Morai disappeared, a blinding light cast through the room.

A resounding thud echoed off the stone pillars, and there, as the light faded, was a fallen heap of mortals.   

Zeus was clearly unsure of what to do, and I rolled my eyes. Stepping forward, I smiled at them as I conjured up couches. 

“Greetings. I’m sure we know who some of you are, but if everyone could introduce yourselves anyway, with your titles?”

Chiron and the heroes of old needed no introduction, so they moved aside. 

Four mischievous-looking teens move to the front, and instantly I recognise them as my nephew’s kids.

“Luke Castellan.” One of them said distastefully, the scar on his face jarring against his face, “Son of Hermes.”

The next three eyed him warily.

“Chris Rodriguez, son of Hermes.”

“Travis-“

“-and Connor Stoll”

“Sons of-”

“-Hermes!”

My nephew grinned at his children, and three of the four delved into a discussion about pranks with him with Luke glaring at them and sitting on the floor, away from them.

A burly girl moved to the front and glared at us “Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares.” She said her father’s name with a mix of fear and disgust and, instead of sitting next to him, went to sit next to Hermes and his children. Ares went to speak, but I raised my hand and he stopped. 

A girl with green eyes stepped forward and smiled. “Katie Gardner, daughter of Demeter.” Demeter smiled softly at her daughter, and they sat together.

A boy with blond hair stepped forward, and grinned. “Will Solace, son of Apollo.” Apollo let out a matching grin, and they instantly dove into a conversation about healing.

A blonde girl with a slightly haughty look on her face stepped forward. “Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. Architect of Olympus.” We frowned, Why was Olympus rebuilt?

An Asian boy walked forward. “Frank Zhang, son of Mars.” Ares flickered to Mars briefly, and Clarisse let out a slight gasp as he nodded at Frank.

Zeus squinted at the demigods. Greeks and Romans? Together? Willingly?

An elf-looking boy bounded forward.  “Leo Valdez, Super McShizzle, Son of Hephaestus.” His hands light on fire, and the next girl rolls her eyes as she walks forward.

“Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite.” She said her mother’s name with clear disdain. Aphrodite narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t pry.

A satyr (Grover Underwood), two daughters and a son of Hermes (Cecil Markowitz, Alice Miyazawa and Julia Feingold), a Roman legacy and augur of Apollo (Octavian Simmons), another daughter of Demeter (Miranda Gardiner), a few sons and a daughter of Apollo (Allison Simms, Sarah Coll, Yan Tsang, Gracie Stellan, Jerry Hopper, Lee Fletcher, Micheal Yew, Austin Lake and Kayla Knowles), three sons and a daughter of Hephaestus (Jason Mason, Charles Beckondorf, Shane Wright, and Nyssa Barrera), four daughters and a son of Aphrodite (Silena Bearuguard, Lacy Cherami, Valentina Diaz, Drew Tanaka and Mitchell Hartz), children of the minors gods and goddesses, two sons of Dionysus (Pollux and Castor Angevin) and one of Bacchus (Dakota), and a daughter of Bellona (Reyna Ramìrez-Arellano) and so many more Romans and Greek demigods. Each and every one their names and titles blurred together then—

—a mortal with curly, bright red hair steps forward, and Apollo lets out a cheer. “Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Oracle of Delphi.”

A girl with dark skin and gold eyes stepped forward and smiled shyly. “Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto, Champion of Hecate.” Flickering to Pluto momentarily, my brother let out a rare smile. 

The girl remained standing, and after I looked at the next person I understand why. He had shaggy black hair and olive skin, but it’s pale in a way that only happens if you spend a lot of time in the Underworld. “Nico Di’Angelo, son of Hades.”

“Bianca Di’Angelo, daughter of Hades.” The three went to sit with their father, while a punk-looking girl with a silver circlet on her head steps up. 

“Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus and lieutenant of Artemis.”

A stereotypically Roman-looking boy stepped forward. “Jason Grace, full brother of Thalia and son of Jupiter.”

“Name’s Percy Jackson, but my full name is Perseus.” 

Then a man from the other side stood forward, he had carefully cut gray hair, blue eyes and wore a military uniform, showing off deep gashes and scar on his body. His wife stood beside him, both exuding radiance. “General Isiah Fluke, Leader of the underwater kingdom, Dolphin Shifter.” The man said sternly.

“Marina Fluke, Great White shifter,” His wife hummed, barely looking up. Then came their daughters, oldest to youngest.

Their daughters followed—Colonel Rhode, Coralia, Undine, Halie, Nixie, Lorelei, Pearl Anne—each a shark, a spitting image of their mother. Next came the son, Benjamin “Jam” Fluke, a dolphin shifter—the boy was practically a clone to their father.

More names, more titles from the shifters—Orion Sky, his daughter Isabel Thorn (both golden eagle shifters), Celeste Thorn, her three sons (Darryl, Luke and Malcolm Thorn, all four of them grey wolf shifters), Leo Thorn (also a grey wolf shifter), his daughter Zia Stone (a fox shifter), Nolan Thorn (grey wolf shifter), Winter Halcyon Rivera (Cottonmouth shifter), Ariana Webster, her mother and father Wilhelmina Webster (The Black Widow Queen, and, as the name suggested, both were black widow shifters) and Tiberius Siles (a fly shifter)—until finally, the last boy stepped forward.

No titles. No flourish. Just—

“Simon.”

His voice was quiet, but it rippled through the hall like a match struck in silence.

I saw something flicker in him—our Father’s gold in his irises, maybe, or something older still.

And I knew, without knowing how, that this was the one the Moirai meant.

”That’s all you need to know.” He finished.

And that was enough.

He stood up, gave the room a look and walked straight to Percy's side, their shoulders brushing in silent understanding.

Then, with a crackle of static and golden light, a screen shimmered into existence—blaring a single message in all caps:

PLEASE STAND BY.

The gods, the demigods, the shifters… all waited. The future was about to begin.

Chapter Text

Nolan Thorn’s POV

My uncle Malcolm and I exchanged a glance—one of those looks where you don’t need words to say, What the hell just happened?

Just six hours ago, all of L.A.I.R. had been tearing through the city trying to find Simon. He’d vanished without warning, like he used to as he was twelve and trying to save mom with his friends—but this time it felt different. He wasn’t just hiding.

Now, we weren’t even on Earth anymore.

Uncle Malcolm stiffened beside me, his usually impassive face slack with shock. We weren’t alone. The room was packed with others looking just as bewildered: kids in orange or purple t-shirts, a punk girl with electric blue eyes and even a guy who looked like he walked out of a Roman fresco.

We all stood in a throne room ripped out of an Ancient Greek fever dream—gold columns, marble everything, and gods. Actual gods—like the myths. And yet, for some reason, the gods weren’t the part that unsettled me most.

My eyes scanned the displaced crowd, hunting for that familiar mop of light, messy hair. There. Near the front.

No. Not him.

Standing among the crowd were four figures I never thought I'd see again—especially the one who died when I was a baby. 

That was my late father. Luke Thorn.

Well, my supposedly dead dad.

(Orion Sky, my grandfather, had made sure of that fact.)

I looked a lot like him... Simon too, since we’re well, identical twins.

I looked away from him, an ache in my chest blooming, to the next person beside him.

The other person was, Darryl Thorn. Simon's (and I’s) other uncle who raised him among humans in Manhattan since he was a baby up until he died that very day at Sky Tower.

The last two were my Grandma Celeste and my mom’s father Orion Sky—but weren't they all dead?

I tucked that thought away and continued searching through the crowd, seeing the insignia of an eagle on Simon’s armband over his sleeve.

I found him. 

It was my brother. 

Relief warred instantly with a fresh wave of irritation. Simon. He’d dragged the whole damn family into… wherever this was.

He didn’t look scared. Didn’t look confused. He looked—calm. Like he’d already lived the whole conversation we hadn’t even had yet. He didn’t seem to notice us. He just shook his sand-speckled clothes and sighed, stepped forward to introduce himself, eyes flat and voice even with military practice—like he’d done this a million times.

“Simon Thorn. That’s all you need to know.”

That’s it?

After vanishing for six hours, after landing us all in the literal court of the Gods, that’s all he had to say? No explanation. No apology. Not even a glance towards his family, huddled together in confused solidarity.

And then he moved. Not towards Darryl or Malcolm or Zia. Not towards our Mom or Dad or me. He walked straight past the imposing figure of General Fluke and his family, the Black Widow Queen or the Reptile Council, past his supposed “best friends” that consisted of Jam Fluke, Ariana Webster and Winter Rivera, past the watchful eyes of the gods and towards the knot of demigods most wearing bright orange and purple tees, clustered near a guy with messy black-and-blonde-mixed hair and muted sea-green eyes—Percy Jackson, my brain registered. 

My brother didn't hesitate. Didn't pause. He didn’t even blink or think, just… plopped down right beside him on the stone floor, their shoulders brushing. Percy Jackson shifted slightly, making room without a word, some silent understanding passing between them that felt like a physical barrier shutting us out.

My jaw clenched. A hot flush crawled up my neck, burning my ears. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Six hours of frantic searching. The terror of not knowing where he was, what trouble he’d found this time. The shock of being ripped from reality. And this was his response? Ignoring his own blood? Choosing strangers in orange and purple t-shirts over his family?

Uncle Malcolm placed a steadying hand on my arm, his voice a low murmur barely audible over the buzzing in my ears. "Easy, Nolan.”

Easy? Easy? Simon was sitting on the floor of Mount Olympus looking like the world had ended, and he hadn’t even looked at us. Wrong didn’t cover it. This felt like betrayal, cold and sharp, delivered in a single, dismissive sentence and the turn of his back.

The screen popped up, blaring a waiting screen like it was connecting to something—then, the lights dimmed and the image showed some school. Bright colours, kids running around the yard.

It zoomed in, spinning until it found its target.

[A thin kid with shaggy hair that covered his eyes, crouched on his knees, heedless of the gravel digging into his skin, his small hand thrust deep into the thorny tangle of a rose bush, blood already smearing his knuckles. He looked around eight.]

All the demigods tensed—they recognised the figure. Who was it? I wondered—and Thalia Grace nudged Simon, who looked paler than usual, “That’s you, isn’t it?” she said, barely above a whisper, not unkindly.

Simon nodded, slumping in his seat, “Can I leave for this? I don’t want to see it.”

Garrett, the North American puma shifter that I was friends, snorted, whispering something to me. I didn’t know what he say exactly—not really—, I didn't register it, but I smiled, automatically, like it’d always done, and he grinned.

The video paused—like it was thinking. Hesitating. It then typed, […Only for a bit]

Simon nodded grimly, and a flash of light whisked him away.

[He’ll be safe. Don’t worry,] the screen wrote. [He will return to the room safe and sound.]

The demigods exchanged looks. “Oh, alright.” Thalia Grace said softly.

The screen quickly resumed the video.

[Little Simon—no older than seven, his hair too long, his clothes too big—dug through the rose bush with frantic desperation. His breath hitched in tiny, panicked gasps, his fingers bleeding as thorns tore into his skin

A group of older boys circled him, laughing.

"Freak!" one of them jeered, kicking dirt at him. "Looking for your little fairy necklace?"

Simon flinched but didn't stop searching. "My brother gave it to me," he muttered, voice small but stubborn.

"Your brother?" another boy sneered. "You don't have a brother. Just a deadbeat uncle and your mommy issues."]

“Wait—“ I said, before I could think about it fully, “brother?”

The video paused. All the Animalgams’ eyes went to me but Darryl and the demigods looked at Luke Castellan with varying expressions before glancing back at me.

“Luke, he was talking about you.” Travis Stoll said, staring at his older brother, like it was a fact.

Luke Castellan nodded, eyes on the screen, “I—I didn't think he’d actually keep it.”

Maya Lin Abbott—a daughter of Nike—glared at him, scoffing loud enough for the whole room to hear, snapping at him. “You were his brother, Luke. And you left him, again—three times!

I blinked. Three times? This guy left my brother three times?

He groaned, instinctively touching his scar, “Maya, stop. I know I fucked up. Big time.”

She opened her mouth to speak but Lysander Mirr, her elder half-brother who had hair as curly as Vanessa’s and dark brown eyes, stopped her. “Shut up, Castellan.” He sneered at Luke, not unkindly but not nice either, “Don’t let him get to you, May.”—He pronounced her nickname like Mai—“he’s not worth it.”

Maya Lin Abbott shot him a look before making a slitting motion at her neck with her thumb to Luke Castellan, who glared back at her and nodded.

I frowned, “What?”

Annabeth Chase turned her head to me, grey eyes wide and her brows set high, “Simon never told you, Nolan?”

I shook my head, embarrassment flushing into my face.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Luke used to be his brother before…” She paused, like it hurt to say anything more, then gestured from side to side, “Well, meeting all of you.”

I wanted to say more—ask more—but the screen unpaused, clearly annoyed with us wasting time.

[Little Simon finally pulled his hand free from the rose bush, clutching a small, silver locket—a simple thing, flimsy thing on a chain. His fingers were streaked with blood, but he didn't seem to care. He held it close to his chest, glaring up at the older boys with a defiance that didn't match his small frame.

"He’s my brother," Simon insisted, voice shaking but firm.

One of the boys scoffed. "Yeah? Then where is he?"

Simon's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.

The boy grinned, cruel and triumphant. "That's what I thought. He ditched you, just like everyone else."

Simon mumbled something, fists clenched.

“What was that, Simone?”

“Shut up…”

“Speak up princess—“

“I said shut up, you overgrown monkey!” Simon snapped, yanking the lankiest kid into the rose bush.]

A collective gasp ripped through the throne room—gods, demigods, Animalgams alike. On screen, chaos erupted.

Clarisse La Rue was the loudest, punching the air with a fierce grin that was full of pride. "Yes, Thorn! That's how you do it!"

Leo Valdez cackled, nearly falling off his seat. "Did he just call him an overgrown monkey? Oh my gods—Simon, you were savage!"

Piper McLean covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I mean, it's not the best insult, but for a seven-year-old? Solid effort."

Jason Grace chuckled, shaking his head. "Simon had guts."

Annabeth Chase smirked, arms crossed, glancing Grover Underwood, who nodded. "Still does."

Even Percy Jackson, who had been quiet since Simon sat beside him, cracked a grin. "Little dude went full feral mode."

Other modern demigods cheered, even from the Roman side expect they seemed less enthusiastic, but still proud of Simon. Ares seemed happy about the violence, grinning about the “little punk.”

Who—no, how did Simon know all these weirdos? I thought, as the other shifters and the gods stared wide-eyed at either the screen or the crowd of whooping demigods. The screen made a hiss and they all quickly quieted down like… it was like an instinct.

The screen made a… satisfied hum and continued its recording.

[The lanky boy shrieked as thorns tore at his clothes and skin. The other bullies froze for a split second, stunned by the small boy's ferocity, before surging forward with angry shouts.

Young Simon didn't wait. Clutching the blood-smeared locket to his chest like a talisman, he scrambled backwards, eyes wide not with fear, but with a feral, cornered-animalistic intensity. He didn't cry. He bared his teeth—a low, wounded-animalistic sound escaping him as he got up to his feet and ran, sliding his way out of the sea of students.]

Luke Castellan flinched as if struck. His hand flew back to his scar, knuckles white.

Maya Lin Abbott made another furious gesture in his direction, her voice cutting through, sharp and cold, directed at Luke Castellan again. "See that, Luke? That's what you left. A seven-year-old getting torn up protecting the only thing he had left of you. A cheap locket and bruises."

This time Maya’s half-sister, Calla Velasco—a girl with a long braid, that was over her shoulder, with a dagger tied at the end of it—put a restraining hand on Maya's arm. "Linna, enough. He knows." Her voice was low but carried. 

Lysander shot Luke a look that was less hostile than before, more... pitying. "The damage is done. This isn't helping Simon—it’s been… a while after what happened."

Thalia Grace’s expression softened, "Simon’s always had guts. Shoving that jerk into the thorns..." 

Clarisse La Rue snorted. "Should've broken his nose. Bullies only understand one language." Ares actually smirked at that, earning another glare from his daughter.

Demeter sighed, a sound like rustling wheat. "Such thorns... such pain for one so young." Her eyes held a rare, deep sadness.

Zeus shifted on his throne, brow furrowed, perhaps less in anger now and more in uncomfortable bewilderment. Hestia, tending her hearth, watched the frozen image with profound sorrow. The loneliness radiating from the small figure was palpable, even here.

I found I couldn't look away from the screen. The hot flush of my anger was gone, replaced by a creeping, icy shame. 

I hadn't known.

[As Simon ran, somebody—a teacher, maybe—pulled his hair. Simon let out a yelp, clawing at the hands as the adult dragged him somewhere, chiding something I couldn’t hear as tears trickled down Simon’s cheeks as he scratched and tugged. “Mrs. Hannah, it hurts!” but, she kept walking, muttering “Brat” under her breath.]

Percy Jackson's sea-green eyes darkened with fury. "What kind of teacher pulls a kid's hair like that?"

Malcolm Pace’s gray eyes flashed with cold rage. His half-sister looked too disgusted to talk this time. "That's not discipline—that's abuse.” He said obviously.

Sherman Yang growled, slamming a fist against the armrest of his seat. "If I ever find that teacher, l'll shove a spear so far up their—"

Thalia Grace cut him off with a sharp gesture, but her electric-blue eyes crackled with stormy anger. "No kid deserves that."

Luke Castellan looked like he'd been punched in the gut. His scar twitched as he whispered, "I didn't... I didn't know it was that bad."

Maya Lin Abbott scoffed, crossing her arms. "Of course you didn't. You weren't there."

Ethan Nakamura and the rest of his siblings looked angry. Right, Nemesis’ kids, I thought. Goddess of balance… they must’ve known the scales weren’t in Simon’s favour. And, of course, they were furious.

Silenea Beauregard frowned, exchanging a glance with Drew Tanaka, running a gentle hand through Lacy Cherami’s hair while Mitchell Hartz and Valentina Diaz patted Lacy’s tears away with a clean cloth. "This... explains a lot about Simon." Her sister nodded solemnly.

Simon’s best friends—Ariana, Jam and Winter—stared at the screen in horror, like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing about my brother. The adults looked sick to their stomach to concerned to almost stoic.

The scene crackled with uncomfortable silence as the screen shifted.

[The nurse's office was sterile, smelling of antiseptic and cheap floor wax. Young Simon, looking impossibly small in clothes that hung off his thin frame, sat rigidly on the edge of a plastic chair. His hands, wrapped in clumsy white bandages already spotting crimson, rested limply in his lap. His head was bowed, long, dirty-blond hair hiding his face. The school nurse, a woman with tired eyes and a permanent frown, scribbled on a form.

"Mister Thorn," she drawled, not looking up from her paperwork. "Fighting again. Third time this month. Care to explain what possessed you to shove Jeremy Ackerman into a rose bush?"

Simon didn't move. Didn't speak. He just stared at the speckled pattern on the linoleum floor.

"He says you attacked him unprovoked. Says you're... unstable." Her tone wasn't unkind, just weary. "Again."

A flicker of something—anger, shame—crossed the boy's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. He shrank further into himself.

"Simon. Look at me.” The nurse said firmly, grabbing his face as her nails dug into his cheeks, “Your uncle Darryl is on his way. He won't be pleased."

“He’s at work.” Simon said quietly, jerking his face back, “He won’t come.”]

Maya Lin Abbott swore under her breath in a language I didn't understand, fishing her dagger out of her sheath, her knuckles white around the hilt. “Darryl, you better swear on your gods if I find out you hurt him.” Her glare was pure venom, directed solely at the imposing figure of Simon’s uncle.

Darryl didn’t flinch. He simply crossed his massive arms, the movement casual yet radiating controlled power, and raised one thick brow. His voice was a low rumble, dry as desert bone: “Please, Lin Abbott. Use your head for five seconds.”

Something shifted in her expression. The fury didn’t vanish, but it was momentarily eclipsed by dawning realisation. Her eyes flicked back to the frozen image on the screen—the nurse mentioning Darryl being at work, the young Simon shrinking in on himself despite knowing Darryl was coming. Then her gaze snapped back to Darryl’s impassive face, searching for something. Whatever she saw—maybe a flicker of the same weary protectiveness Simon sometimes wore, maybe just the sheer absurdity of Darryl ever harming Simon in the way she’d instantly feared—made her shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh…” she breathed, the anger leaching out of her posture. A beat later, a shaky, relieved grin spread across her face. “Oh! Thank my Mother and all her blessed champions!” She actually gave a little hop out of her seat, the dagger vanishing back into its sheath as quickly as it had appeared. The sudden shift from lethal protector to exuberant relief was jarring.

The modern demigods giggled and snickered at Maya Lin Abbott’s antics. Clarisse La Rue and Maya’s half-siblings snorted, shaking their heads fondly at the girl while the heroes of old, Gods and Animalgrams continued staring at her in confusion as she—who seemed around twenty-years-old, maybe—jumped around in delight in her revelation, I was half ready for her to start singing Darryl’s praises.

Darryl rolled his eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible snort escaping him. “Still as dramatic as ever, Maya. Some things never change.”

Maya Lin Abbott stopped and huffed, planting her hands on her hips after flattening her bright pink combat skirt over a camo jacket. The fierce warrior was momentarily replaced by a familiar, almost petulant expression I recognised—the look of someone who’d known someone long enough to be both exasperated and deeply fond.

“Dramatic? Me?” she retorted, her voice regaining some of its earlier fire, though now it was playful. She pointed an accusing manicured finger. “When Simon gets back, I’m telling him you’re still bullying me! See how he likes that, you overgrown teddy bear!”

Darryl just grunted, a sound that could have meant anything from amusement to dismissal, but the corner of his mouth might have twitched.

Just once.

I stared, utterly lost. The exchange was lightning-fast, packed with history he couldn’t decipher. One second this twenty-year-old-looking girl looked ready to carve Darryl up for perceived past sins against my twin, the next she was… teasing him?

And Darryl, Grandma’s most terrifying son, was snorting and tolerating it? What was the connection between Darryl being at work and her sudden relief? Why was bullying her the accusation she landed on? And why did Darryl seem… used to it?

Before I could process it further, the screen flickered impatiently,

[The image of the wounded, silent boy in the nurse's office holding the room captive again. The Nurse sighed, taking her hand back, “Look, Simon, your uncle’s coming whether you like it or not.”

“He won’t come,” Simon repeated softly.

“Well, we can't call your mom—”]

"What? Why not?" Somebody from the Animalgram crowd asked. "It's just his mom, right?" It was a younger student from L.A.I.R., a badger animalgram shifter, I think, looking at his armband over his L.A.I.R. uniform’s sleeve.

“Well,” Jam said, scratching the back of his neck, “Missus Thorn isn’t exactly the best mom, per se.” Ariana and Winter quietly agreed.

Mom clenched her jaw as a murmur of grim muttering rose from the cluster of demigods. Jason Grace nodded, his jaw tight while Reyna Ramírez-Arellano looked conflicted. Clarisse La Rue snorted derisively. Will Solace looked down, fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt. Piper McLean muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "Ice Queen" while Thalia Grace sneered "Bird Bitch.”

Mom stared at them with fire in her eyes, yet also, a tinge of regret—I bet she was wondering if this was how Simon spoke of her to his friends… and the demigods.

They knew. These strangers in their brightly-coloured shirts knew things about my twin brother—about his past, his pain, about how he must’ve felt about mom—that I, his own brother, didn’t. Shame, hot and sharp, pricked behind my eyes, warring with the residual anger at Simon’s dismissal.

How much had he hidden? From me. From Malcolm. From mom. From us?

Percy Jackson’s voice cut through the murmurs, firm and laced with a protectiveness that felt alien, directed at Simon by someone outside our circle. "Enough. Simon has enough on his plate, even about his..." He looked uncomfortable, like he was tasting the words and didn't like them, "mother. The sooner we wrap this video up, the sooner we can see him again."

A ripple of agreement, tinged with worry, went through the demigods. Whispers reached my ears:

"...Haven't seen him in so long..."

"...He's trying so hard to visit, I heard..."

"...Heard it's gotten easier lately..."

Visit? Where? Why did Simon keep visiting them? The questions piled up, a crushing weight. Then—

“You.” Malcolm suddenly said, getting out of his seat, like he was struck with realisation about something, “You’re the reason Simon’s been sneaking out of L.A.I.R more recently haven't you? Why he keeps coming back more and more… damaged?”

Connor Stoll nodded, his face weirdly somber, “We still thought…”

Clarisse La Rue elbowed him harshly—he sputtered—, but she seemed saddened as well, “Twiggy,” she said, softly, “is still one of ours. He’s been with us for almost eight years now, his blood doesn’t matter if he fought as valiantly as he did for the…” She stopped and sent a glare to Luke Castellan. “Hm,” she finalized, like she was in thought.

[”I know.” Simon snapped, “I know that, Ms. The school doesn’t have her number… even if you did, you can’t reach her…” 

The nurse nodded and sighed again, the sound heavy with exhaustion. "Well, someone has to collect you, Simon. Rules are rules. And Mr. Thorn is listed as your primary guardian at this school." She tapped her pen on the form. "He signed the forms. He’ll come." Her voice held a note of forced certainty, as if trying to convince herself as much as the silent boy.

Just then, the door to the nurse's office burst open, not with violence, but with a force that suggested urgency couldn't be contained by mere hinges. A massive figure filled the doorway, momentarily blocking the fluorescent light from the hallway. Darryl Thorn.]

Simon’s Darryl.

But… younger. Less lined around the eyes, the red lnes over his face looked fresh, but no less intimidating. He wore worn work boots, dusty jeans, and a flannel shirt rolled up over forearms corded with muscle. His expression was a storm cloud—brows drawn low, jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone.

[Darryl scanned the room, his gaze landing instantly on the small, bandaged figure hunched in the chair.

The nurse visibly flinched, shrinking back slightly. "M-Mister Thorn! You made good time—"

Darryl ignored her. In three strides, he was crouched in front of Simon, his large frame making the boy look even smaller. He didn't touch him immediately. His eyes, usually so hard and assessing, raked over the blood-spotted bandages, the bowed head, the way Simon seemed to be trying to disappear into the plastic chair.

“Hands.” He said as gently as he could. It was rough, like sandpaper but warm, like a flame.

Simon sniffled and shook his head, clutching his bloody wrapped palms to his chest.

Darryl exhaled sharply through his nose, his massive hands flexing like he was physically restraining himself from… something. Then, with surprising gentleness, he reached out and tilted Simon’s chin up, forcing the boy to meet his gaze. Simon flinched, but Darryl didn’t let go.

“Look at me, kid.”

Simon did. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry, his jaw set in that stubborn way that meant he’d already decided he wasn’t allowed to cry.

Darryl’s expression darkened further. “Who?”

Simon hesitated, then muttered, “Jeremy Ackerman.”

Darryl’s grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to make Simon’s breath hitch. “Why?”

Simon’s fingers twitched toward the locket still clutched in his palm. Darryl’s gaze flicked down, then back up. Something unreadable passed over his face.

“Castellan’s?” Darry’s voice went low, almost annoyed or, something… I don’t know but it didn’t sound kind to the son of Hermes.

Simon gave a jerky nod, “You gonna yell again? About him?” He asked softly, still clutching.

Darryl’s voice on the screen was rougher than I remembered—younger, less controlled. The way he crouched in front of Simon, his massive frame dwarfing the tiny, bandaged boy, sent an odd pang through my chest. "Nah, not today, kid."

The words were gruff, but there was something underneath them—something that made Simon finally lift his head. His eyes were red-rimmed. The nurse cleared her throat. "Mister Thorn, Simon instigated another altercation. He shoved another student into a rose bush—"

Darryl didn’t even glance at her. His focus was entirely on Simon. "That true?"

Simon hesitated, then nodded once again. Darryl exhaled through his nose again, long and slow, like he was counting to ten in his head. Then, without another word, he slid the locket’s chain over Simon’s neck, then, reached out and carefully—so carefully—picked Simon up, bandaged hands and all, settling him against his side like he weighed nothing. Simon stiffened for a second, then sagged into him, his face pressing into Darryl’s shoulder like he was hiding.

The nurse blinked. "Mister Thorn, we still need to discuss disciplinary action—"

Darryl finally turned his head, just enough to level her with a look that could’ve frozen lava. "You got a problem, lady?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You wanna tell me why my kid’s hands are shredded while the other brat walks away clean?"

The nurse paled. "Well, Jeremy was pushed—"

"Right. And I’m sure he was just standing there when it happened." Darryl’s tone was pure acid. "Tell your principal if he wants to talk discipline, he can call me. After I take my kid home."

Simon lifted his head, chin over Darryl’s shoulder—his lips wobbled and then, he broke. Pressing his watery face to Darryl’s shoulder, his small frame shuddering against Darryl’s shoulder, silent sobs wracking his body. Darryl didn’t flinch. He just adjusted his grip, one massive hand cradling the back of Simon’s head like he was shielding him from the world.] The screen froze on that image, [Darryl carrying Simon away, Simon’s small fingers curled into his uncle’s flannel, his face hidden but his shoulders finally relaxed after a while.]

Silence.

Then, Maya Lin Abbott, across from us, let out a slow breath. "Well," she muttered, "that explains why Simon never let anyone badmouth Darryl in front of him.”

I couldn’t speak. I wished I tried to, but my mouth felt glued shut. Garrett didn’t seem to have anything smart to say either.

The demigods shifted uncomfortably. Annabeth Chase crossed her arms, her grey eyes flicking between Darryl and the frozen screen. "Gods," she muttered. "Didn’t know you had it in you, Darryl."

Darryl didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers flexed at his sides like he was resisting the urge to reach for something—or someone—who wasn’t there.

Luke Castellan, meanwhile, looked like he’d been punched in the gut. His fingers twitched toward the scar on his face, his gaze locked on the screen. "I didn’t—" His voice cracked. "I didn’t know it was that bad."

This time, instead of Maya Lin Abbott it was Micheal Yew who scoffed. "Of course you didn’t. You left. You left the kid you brought to camp—"

“Micheal,” Lee Fletcher said, but he didn’t say much else, like he knew that was the truth as well. “Shush. I think you know he knows.”

The screen flickered again, pulling our attention back. [Next Memory: Loading…]

A murmur ran through the crowd. "Wait," Hazel Levesque said quickly, stepping forward. "Where’s Simon? You said he’d be back."

The screen paused, then typed: [He is safe. He will return after this memory. He… needs time.]

The demigods glanced at each other, jaws clenched, but Percy Jackson nodded—like they had spoken telepathically and he’d spoken for them.

The gods were silent as well. Hestia’s fire burned low, casting long shadows across the room. Zeus looked unsettled, his fingers drumming on his throne. Artemis’s silver eyes were sharp, assessing—like she was seeing something she hadn’t expected.

The Heroes of Past and Chiron hadn’t said said a single word. The heroes were staring at the screen in fascination and awe while Chiron seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

And me? I just stared at the empty space where Simon had been, my anger dissolving into something colder, heavier.

Because for the first time, I was starting to realize—

I didn’t know my brother at all.

And maybe… that was my fault.

[Ambrosia and Nectar Allergy] The screen typed.

Chapter Text

Maya Lin Abbott’s POV

The moment the screen blared the words, [Nectar and Ambrosia Allergy.] My hand flew to my dagger at my thigh, fingers curling around the hilt before my brain even caught up. No. Not him. Not here.

A low growl vibrated in my throat, entirely involuntary. Across the throne room, Darryl's head snapped up. His nostrils flared, wolf-senses catching the shift in the air—the sharp tang of my rage, the sour note of dread beneath it. His eyes, usually chips of glacial ice, locked onto mine. One thick brow lifted, a silent question: Bad?

I gave a single, sharp jerk of my chin. Oh, really bad.

He frowned deeper, storing that away as the throne room felt suddenly suffocating. Around us, the Olympians shifted, divine brows furrowed in divine confusion.

"An allergy?" Demeter murmured, sounding genuinely perplexed. "To the food of the gods? How... inconvenient."

Animalgrams and newer demigods murmured, confusion rippling through the orange-and-purple tee’d crowd.

Meanwhile, for our Greek veterans—my family—, Lee’s knuckles whitened on his bow-staff. Clarisse stopped mid-snarl, her expression hardening into something grim. Annabeth's grey eyes narrowed, calculating, already piecing together her memories as many more of our campers paled and murmured.

And Luke Castellan? He flinched. Again.

Good.

Percy raised his hand, “Wait. Can it be from my point of view?”

We all paused and stared at him. “Uh, why?” Drew asked, raising a brow as Selena squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“Because Percy wasn’t there at camp when it happened.” Malcolm—our Malcolm—said, adjusting his glasses on his nose, “He only got snippets of the story from us, so his point of view is going to be the least biased.”

Percy nodded. "Exactly. I've only heard bits and pieces. If the screen shows me, it'll be whatever you guys let slip-no hidden baggage."

“But what if the screen shows Simon’s or Luke’s perspective?” Will asked, “Simon was the victim and Luke was… well, he was the most affected by what happened then.”

Affected. Will was too kind. Responsible, was the word screaming in my skull.

Annabeth exhaled sharply. "Simon's memories would be the most accurate. But Luke's..." She didn't finish.

She didn't have to.

Luke's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.

I flexed my fingers around my dagger. "Doesn't matter whose head we're in. The truth's gonna come out either way."

[Perspective selected for memory…]

My breath caught, praying over and over that i didn’t have to see it again. 

[POV Chosen:

….

Maya Lin Abbott] 

Wait, me?! Why me?

The screen dissolved, then reformed into the sun-dappled chaos of [Camp Half-Blood's mess hall pavilion. Noise, laughter, the clatter of plates—it was jarringly normal after the sterile horror of the nurse's office.

And there he was. Simon Thorn. Maybe nine years old now, still too thin, his hair a messy halo of dirty-blond. He was squeezed onto a bench between Luke and Connor Stoll, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrist like a kitten. I sat directly across from him, flanked by Lysander and Calla.

Simon was barely half-awake, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as Luke—back when i
I still loved him like a brother-in-arms—and I slid food on his plate]

Gods, he was tiny, I thought, a familiar pang hitting my chest.

I looked at Darryl, who looked nostalgic—i guess he missed Simon too, even in the afterlife. He caught my eye and gruffly turned away.

I smiled, faintly. Yeah, missed you too, old man.

I ignored the rest of Simon’s family, not because I didn’t care (though that was a reason) but because I didn’t know them well enough to catch their tells, but Simon’s twin brother—Nolan Thorn—seemed particularly interested.

[Luke, looking heartbreakingly young and happy beside Simon, nudged a fork towards him. My past-self slid a piece of toast smeared with honey onto Simon's plate. He mumbled a sleepy "thanks" and started nibbling mechanically on his scrambled eggs.

The scene felt... warm. Domestic, almost. A fragile peace. Luke ruffled Simon's hair, earning a half-hearted grumble. Connor Stoll cracked a joke I couldn't hear, making Simon's lips twitch upwards. My younger self watched them, a small, protective smile on her face. Back then, Luke was still our Luke—the charismatic counselor, the big brother figure. And Simon? He was Luke's shadow, the quiet, wide-eyed kid we'd all silently vowed to watch over.

The Heart of Cabin Eleven.

Our heart.]

Hestia and Hera smiled at the scene of children, Hera’s more strained. Yeah, okay, demigods—bastard demigod children and all.

I eyed the space Simon had occupied by Percy and Thalia. I wondered if he was okay… if, he could see us, what we were watching. If he could feel what we saw on screen.

The Fates must have a sick sense of humor if they think this—seeing my best friend’s trauma, both mortal and godly—was entertainment.

Then it happened.

[It was so stupid. So casual. Some unclaimed Hermes girl—Fiona Hinder, I think?—leaned over from the next table. "Hey, Simon! Heads up!" She called, a grin splitting her face. 

She tossed something small, golden, and square through the air. An ambrosia square. A treat, a sign of camp acceptance, tossed like a casual greeting.

It sailed in a lazy arc.

Simon, startled out of his sleepy daze, instinctively raised a hand. He caught it. Cleanly. He blinked down at the shimmering square in his palm, confusion warring with a flicker of pleased surprise at the easy catch.

He didn't recognize it. Why would he? He wasn’t as experienced as us to know.

"Go on, Birdie," Fiona encouraged, oblivious. "You look peckish!”

Simon glanced at Luke, seeking permission, reassurance. Luke, distracted by something Travis was saying, gave an absentminded nod. Like: "Yeah, go ahead, Birdie. It's good."

Simon, trusting Luke implicitly, popped the whole square into his mouth.

Then, Luke finally noticed. His easy smile faltered, replaced by dawning horror. "Simon, no! Don't—!"]

Malcolm Thorn squinted his cold blue eyes and I could almost hear his thoughts: “Why would he say that?” “Is that a spiked square?” “Who is that girl?” (Said girl was me, probably) And “Where is this camp located?”

[For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Simon chewed, swallowed. He looked around, maybe expecting applause or a smile from Luke.

Then it hit.

It wasn't dramatic. Not at first. On screen, Simon's face just... froze. His eyes widened, not with alarm, but with a sudden, profound confusion. His hand flew to his throat, not clawing, just pressing lightly. He made a tiny, choked sound—not a gasp, more like a bubble popping deep in his chest.]

Our veterans paled. Lacy watched through the gaps of her fingers while Selena cupped the back of her little sister’s head, turning away. Mitchell and Valentina latched onto each other while Drew stiffened, gripping the arm of her sofa, digging her manicured nails into it.

Siblings clung to siblings, friends held onto friends, and so on, and so forth so they wouldn’t scream like how my sister Calla had tugged her braid out, her dagger clattered to the floor as she began weaving strands together.

I saw Colonel Rhode Fluke take quick glances at her brother, Jam Fluke—maybe she was wondering what her ‘wittle, baby’ brother had gotten himself when he befriended Simon at L.A.I.R. and if that’d happen to him if he was in Simon’s situation.

[Luke was already moving, knocking plates aside as he shook him by the shoulders. "Simon!" His voice was raw panic. "Spit it out! Spit it out!"

But it was too late.

Simon blinked rapidly, his limbs moved irrationally—shaking and thrashing like a fish out of water in Luke’s grasp. His breath started to hitch in shallow, ragged pulls.

A flush, bright and unnatural, bloomed across his cheeks and neck, clashing violently with his sudden pallor as golden and black filled his veins—making them stick out. His eyes had bright gold seeping, replacing his steel blue eyes before they completely covered his irises—he lost focus, darting around the pavilion without seeing anything.

He tried to speak, to answer Luke's frantic questions, but only a thin, reedy wheeze escaped his lips as blood dribbled down chin.]

Ariana started tearing up on her mother Wilhelmina’s lap. Jam handed Winter a handkerchief—where did he get that?—as Winter held back her tears. Nolan Thorn sat stiffly, trying to hide his discomfort in front of everyone as Screen-Simon throbbed.

Percy let out a silent scream, “You didn’t tell me—“ but it fell on deaf ears as we watched Simon go into shock.

”Lukas Icarus Castellan.” Darryl growled, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers twitched, like he was ready to claw Luke’s face off, but he didn't draw—yet. "You knew! You knew he couldn't have ambrosia, and you just—nodded?"

Luke flinched, his hands clenching into fists. "I didn't—I wasn't paying attention. I didn't realize what she'd thrown—"

"Bullshit," I snapped, my grip tightening on my dagger. "You knew Simon wasn’t like us. You knew he didn't recognize godly food yet. You were supposed to watch him!” I got up, stomping, “You promised! You promised Darryl you’d keep Simon safe! Do you even know how hard it was to hide it from him!”

Darryl scowled and I knew I said something wrong.

Right, I'd admitted we hid something as big as this from him—and lied to him.

I spun on my heels, stammering for a response but he shot me a glare that screamed. We’ll talk about this later.

I nodded and scrambled back to my seat, Lysander bringing me into a one-sided hug. For once, i didn’t mind that from him.

On screen, [chaos erupted but in horrifying slow motion—like the Fates decided we needed to see everything. Simon's body seized, his back arching as his lungs fought for air. His veins pulsed gold and black beneath his skin, spreading like poison. Golden and red-mixed blood trickled from his nose, his lips turning blue.

Past-me vaulted over the table, knocking her plate flying. Lee Fletcher was already sprinting from the Apollo table, Will Solace—younger and wide-eyed with terror—close on his heels. Clarisse roared, shoving campers aside, A young Annabeth yelling important instructions that fell on deaf ears. Chiron's hooves clattered on the stone as he galloped towards the commotion.]

The air in the throne room vanished. My own breath hitched in perfect, horrifying sync with the memory-Simon's wheeze. The golden and black veins weren't just lines; they were cracks, splitting his skin under the force of the divine poison trying to burn him alive from the inside. The black streaks pulsed like corrupted ichor, a terrifying counterpoint to the radiant gold.

Back on screen, [past-Luke's face was a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. Gone was the charismatic counselor, the effortless leader.

"Breathe, Simon! Breathe!" He begged, his voice cracking. He looked wildly around, his face ashen. "Will! LEE! HELP HIM!”

On screen, I heard somebody scream. "What did he eat?! What did he eat?!"

"Ambrosia!" Luke choked out, tears streaming down his face now, mingling with sweat. "Just one square! He just ate one-!"

"LUKE!" Ethan Nakamura roared, shaking him out of his stupor, his eyes (well, eye ) wet. "HELP HIM!"

This was raw, animal panic. He fumbled, trying to pry Simon's jaw open, his fingers slick with the blood and drool dribbling from Simon's mouth. "No, no, no! Simon! Breathe!" His voice cracked, a ragged scream lost in the rising din of the pavilion.

My past-self didn't hesitate. I landed hard on the other side of Simon, shoving Connor aside. My fingers weren't trying to pry; they were searching, pressing against the side of Simon's neck. His pulse was a frantic, fluttering bird trapped under his skin, too fast, too weak. His skin beneath my touch was furnace-hot and clammy. The veins weren't just visible; they felt like hot wires beneath the surface.

"He's burning up!" I yelled, my voice cutting through the panicked shouts. "Lee! Now!"

Lee Fletcher skidded to his knees beside us, his bow clattering forgotten. His face, usually calm and composed, was pale, but his hands were steady as he ripped open the small medical pouch at his belt.

Will Solace, barely nine but already radiating Apollo's focus, shoved a water-skin into Lee's hands. "Epinephrine?" Will gasped, eyes wide but scanning Simon's symptoms with terrifying accuracy for his age.

"Too fast for just epi," Lee snapped, his hands already moving. He pulled out a small vial of clear liquid—nectar, heavily diluted, the standard first resort for demigod injuries.]

But seeing it in his hand, aimed towards Simon's lips, sent a fresh wave of icy dread through present-me.

No.

Don't.

On screen, [past-Maya saw it too. "Lee, wait!" I grabbed his wrist just as he uncorked the vial. "He just ate ambrosia! What if it makes it worse?"

Lee froze, the implications slamming into him. His eyes darted from the vial to Simon's convulsing form, the golden cracks spreading towards his collarbone. Simon's wheezes had turned into horrible, wet gurgles. “C-cold—“ He clutched Luke’s wrist, wheezing, “Co-old.”

Blood-flecked foam bubbled at the corner of his lips. His steel-blue eyes were now entirely consumed by that terrifying, molten gold, sightless and staring past Luke's shoulder.]

The throne room was utterly silent, save for the ragged breathing of those watching.

Even the gods seemed frozen, their immortal faces unreadable but undeniably disturbed. Hades looked grim. Apollo leaned forward, healer's instincts warring with divine detachment. Hestia's fire seemed to dim. 

The Heroes of Old looked mortified—clutching their chests or necks or mouths, as if that’d happen to them too if they weren’t godly-blood, or allergic to godly food.

”That— that’s not an allergy.” Apollo said, “that’s his blood—no, his entire being rejecting godly food.”

”So,” Zeus said, boredly, “his godly essence is defective?” He looked at us, blue eyes staring into our souls—daring us to comment.

Lee let out a shaky nod, gripping his bow, “His blood was cold but he was burning to 177 degrees… His eyes shone golden and his veins turned black—and gold, his scent smelled rotten.” He said, clenching his jaw tight before: “He smelled like burnt sugar after.” 

Malcolm Thorn’s knuckles were white around the arm of his sofa. His jaw was clenched so tight could see the muscle jumping. Next to him, Nolan Thorn—Simon's twin—was eerily still, his expression blank, but his fingers dug into the arms of his chair like he was trying to crush stone—his eyes wet.

Zia Stone and her father Leo Thorn looked at each other. I remembered Simon saying that Zia might’ve drugged his hot chocolate. It was out of the ordinary but… gods, who was I kidding? They’d definitely do that.

Simon just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

My eyes scanned everyone. Mostly shock or horror or fear—didn’t matter who, at least everyone had a physical reaction. Orion Sky and Celeste Thorn loomed amused—like they wanted their grandson to burn.

Sadists, I say.

On screen, [Simon's body gave one final, violent jerk, then went terrifyingly still. The awful wheezing stopped. His chest didn't rise.

"No," Luke whispered, the sound ripped from somewhere deep and broken. He shook Simon's shoulders, gentle at first, then desperately. "Simon! SIMON! Wake up! Please!"

Will shoved Luke aside, none too gently. He tilted Simon's head back, pinched his nose, and sealed his mouth over Simon's, forcing air into his lungs. He pulled back, watching Simon's chest. Nothing. He did it again. And again. Each compression, each breath, was a stark, brutal counterpoint to the utter stillness of the small body on the wooden floor of the mess hall.

Drew and Selena held onto each other, faces white, already near to tears. Travis and Chris looked sick. Connor kept a steadying hand on my arm while many of the older kids tried calming down the littles, as memory-Lee hesitated for only a second before cursing and shoving the nectar back into his pouch. "We need to get him to the infirmary. Now!"

Past-Luke didn't wait. He scooped Simon up, cradling his limp body against his chest like a child. Simon's head lolling, golden-black veins pulsing under his skin. Blood dripped onto Luke's shirt, staining the orange fabric dark red—and hints of gold—as it rolled down out of Simon’s face—his eyes, his ears, nose and lips.]

Present day Luke didn't even seem to notice. His entire focus was on Simon's face, whispering frantic, broken pleas as he was still holding him in his bloodied arms. "Hold on, Birdie. Just hold on, okay? You're gonna be fine. You have to be fine."

I ignored him, gripping Calla’s hand while Laurel and Holly silently helped braid it back as her hands shook. Lysander had resorted to taking his hearing-aids out to clamp his hands over ears, but even he couldn’t turn away.

The scene shifted—blurred—as the memory fast-forwarded to the infirmary.

[Simon was laid out on a cot, his small frame dwarfed by the white sheets. His skin had taken on an almost translucent quality, the golden-black veins pulsing like lightning beneath the surface. His breathing was shallow, erratic, each inhale a struggle.

All of the Apollo kids worked in tandem, their hands moving with desperate precision as they hooked Simon up to an IV, administered something—mortal medicine, not nectar— and prepared salves and oils and a more medical things that made my dyslexia act up and head spin, while Chiron loomed over them, his face grim.]

I remembered that moment—the sterile smell of the infirmary, the way Simon's fingers had twitched in mine, cold and clammy then. The way his pulse had fluttered under my fingertips, too fast, too weak. The way our medics’ hands had shaken—just once—before they steadied them and kept working tirelessly for days—pumping Simon full of mortal remedies.

Present-Luke was silent, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. His eyes were fixed on the screen, but his gaze was distant, like he wasn't really seeing it—like he was reliving it all over again.

Darryl hadn't moved. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tell me everything. He was furious. And hurt. And worst of all—betrayed.

Because Luke had promised.  

And Simon had almost died.

The memory flickered again, shifting to later—hours, maybe days after.

[Simon was still unconscious, but the golden-black veins had receded slightly, his breathing steadier. Will was sitting by his bedside, his small hands wrapped around Simon's, murmuring something too quiet to hear.  

Lee was slumped in a chair nearby, exhaustion written in every line of his body.  

And Luke.

Luke was sitting beside the cot, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he sobbed in his palms.]

Good, I thought viciously. You should be crying. You almost killed him.

But then the screen showed something else

—something I hadn't known.

[POV change:

Luke, late at night, slipping into the infirmary when he thought no one was watching. Simon was asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly—wires connecting to mortal inventions hooked to him, beeping and booping and squeaking making sure he didn’t die. Luke hesitated, then reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Simon's forehead. His hand trembled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, so quiet the words barely existed. "I'm so sorry, Birdie."

He leaned down then kissed Simon’s forehead, and left.]  

The throne room was silent.  

No one moved.  

No one breathed.  

Then—  

Simon’s late dad, Luke Thorn exhaled sharply, his voice low and dangerous as he stood up. "That's it?"  

Our Luke didn't answer.  

Thorn took a step forward, his fists clenched. "You—my namesake, my lookalike, my clone of a demigod—almost killed my son with your negligence. And you just—walked away years later scot-free?”

Castellan’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing. "I didn't walk away, sir—at the time. I stayed. I watched over him every damn night until he woke up—"  

"And then what?" Thorn snarled, stepping to him as he hauled him by the front of his shirt, yanking him off his seat—the other animalgrams frozen in place as the memory replayed in their heads. "You let him think it was his fault? That he was weak for almost dying?"  

Our Luke’s breath hitched.  

I saw it then—the flicker of shame.

The truth.  

He had let Simon believe that.  

And worse—he'd used it.  

The realization hit me like a physical blow.  

Simon had spent years thinking he was broken.

That he was less because he couldn't handle ambrosia and nectar.

Because he wasn't like the rest of us.  

And Luke had let him—willingly.

My then counselor and idol had let Simon—the heart of our old cabin—work himself to exhaustion around camp, trying to make up his… disability.

He had spent his every holiday trying to be there for all of us, but who was there for him?

”Lin Abbott.” Darryl growled, standing as he slowly walked to me. 

And, without missing a beat, I stood up—my heels clacking as I straightened my shoulders, saluting him like I was still joking about with him from years ago.

“Sir.” I said, the picture of discipline, despite both of us in civilian clothes and held no rank. 

I felt small under his gaze—he was still taller than me. It was a feeling I hadn't felt since my dad left me at camp. And one I didn't expect to feel even after I had survived my quests, the Battle of Manhattan and the Great War with many of my comrades dying.

“You said allergic, not—“ Darryl exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to calm himself down as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were reckless. Stupid. All of you.” He gestured lamely at all of us, “But—" He hesitated, glancing at the screen. "You didn't mean for it to happen. And saving him does, balance out the… assassination attempt." His voice was gruff, but there was something underneath—something that sounded almost like reluctant understanding.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "We didn't know—"

"You should have," Darryl cut me off, his eyes flashing. "You should have told me. Simon was my responsibility. Mine." His voice cracked on the last word, raw and pained.

I flinched.

Because he was right.

We should have told him.

But we hadn't.

Because we were kids.

Because we were scared.

Because we thought we could handle it.

And, just to snap me out of my thoughts. Luke Thorn's fist connected with Luke Castellan's jaw with a sickening crack.

The sound echoed through the throne room like a gunshot.

Luke Castellan stumbled back, blood blooming at the corner of his lip, but he didn't retaliate. He just stood there, taking it, his eyes shadowed with guilt.

Hermes got up from his seat, maybe to defend his son or his honor, but Ares yanked him back down, grinning like he’d been waiting for a good fight between a dead man and an even deader demigod. 

Good.

He deserves worse.

Luke Thorn wasn't done, though—much to mine and may other demigods’ delight. He grabbed Luke Castellan by the collar again, slamming him against the nearest pillar. "You let my son think he was weak. You let him believe he was broken because he couldn't eat your food. And then—" His voice cracked. "Then you left him."

Luke Castellan didn't fight back. He just closed his eyes.

"I know," he whispered.

That was the worst part.

He knew.

And he'd still done it.

Darryl made his way over and pulled his younger brother—Luke Thorn—off our old counselor, “Castellan.”

Luke groaned, slumping, “Darryl.”

“You better hope the Fates smile down at you before I properly get to you.” Darryl warned, reaching out a hand, “Remember the fire escapes?”

Luke paled, flinching from him as he bit back a worser curse, “I really hate you, Darryl.” He huffed but grabbed his hand to get up.

“Likewise.” Darryl replied dryly, before punching him in the nose; he fell back onto the floor again, “payback for leaving the second time since you ran away,” He smiled mockingly, then grabbed Luke Thorn’s elbow gently, “doesn’t he remind you of someone, brother?”

“It’s uncanny.” He spat, glaring at the demigod over his shoulder as Darryl guided him back to their seats, “He has my name, my face—everything. And he had you, and Simon…” 

“Yes, yes. We’ll talk about it all later. When Simon gets back, of course.”

Percy looked shell-shocked, sea-green eyes wide, darting between the screen, Luke Castellan, and Annabeth. "Melting... He was melting—from the inside," he murmured, the horror fresh and stark. "You all just said... allergy. Like a rash or something. Not... that."

The naïveté in his voice was almost painful. He hadn't lived through the suffocating dread of those hours—days—in the infirmary, the scent of burnt sugar and decay clinging to Simon.

Annabeth finally turned her grey eyes on him, the calculating sharpness dulled by shared pain. "What would knowing the exact mechanics have changed, Percy?" Her voice was flat, exhausted. "Would it have made your nightmares more vivid? Made you look at Simon differently? We called it an allergy because it was simpler. Because the truth... the truth was monstrous." Her gaze flickered to Luke Castellan, a flicker of old loyalty warring with fresh disgust. "And because he made sure that was the narrative."

Michael Yew nodded stiffly, his fingers tracing the wood grain of his bow. "Dad's right. It wasn't an allergy, not in the mortal sense. It was rejection. His mortality violently expelling the divine essence. Like his very blood recognized it as poison. The heat... Apollo kids can usually handle heat, but touching him..." He shuddered. "It felt like holding a star that was dying. And the smell... gods, that sweet, cloying rot. It clung for days."

Sherman Yang ran a hand over his military short hair, his usually gruff expression fractured. "How did we miss it? How did we buy the 'allergy' line for so long? He was actually dying—no allergy included.”

Drew Tanaka, tears still tracking through her smudged mascara, let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Because Lukas Castellan was the Golden Boy, Sherman. The charismatic counselor. The big brother." She spat the titles like curses. I wished she’d spurred more. "And Simon? Simon was Birdie. Luke's shadow. Camp’s favorite. Who would question Luke when he said his precious Birdie just had a bad, bad reaction? We were too busy being relieved he survived to question why it happened like that." She glanced at Selena, who nodded mutely, her own eyes red-rimmed—Piper stared at them like they were aliens, but these were just her half-siblings. "We trusted Luke. Simon trusted Luke. That was the flaw."

Ellis Wakefield, unusually solemn, added softly, "He was the camp favorite.” He repeated, softly—fondly, “The heart of Cabin Eleven. We wanted him safe, whole. Asking him about it... it felt like prying. Like doubting him. Like mocking. And after what he went through..." He trailed off, the unspoken because of Luke hanging heavy.

Zeus shifted on his throne, radiating impatience and distaste. "A defective vessel," he declared, his voice booming in the quiet. "Incapable of sustaining the essence of Olympus. Weakness, plain and simple.”

Before the rage bubbling inside me could erupt, Hestia spoke. Her voice, soft as ember glow, cut through the chill emanating from her brother.

"Weakness, Lord Zeus?" She turned her kind, ancient eyes towards the screen, then to Simon's empty space near Thalia and Percy. "Or a testament to a different kind of strength? That child endured a torment born not of battle, but of shattered trust by those he held closest." Her gaze swept over Luke Castellan, then lingered on our group—the veterans who knew and hid. "The flaw revealed here lies not in his blood, but in the betrayal that poisoned it." Her hearth fire flickered, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to recoil from Luke Castellan's hunched form.

Apollo leaned forward, his healer's instincts overriding divine detachment. His golden eyes were narrowed, analyzing the remembered symptoms. "The golden irises... the black veins alongside the gold... the cold sensation despite hyperpyrexia... It wasn't just rejection. It was his mortal essence fighting the divine intrusion. A cellular war. Fascinating... and horrifying." He looked almost ill. "The sheer pain..."

Hades steepled his fingers, his expression grimly satisfied. "A soul torn between realms. The black veins... that speaks of Thanatos's touch being resisted. Unnatural. Unbalanced." He glanced at his brother Zeus. "Not weakness, brother. A dangerous instability."

The screen flickered again, pulling all attention back. Words formed, slower, heavier than before, glowing with finality:

[Castellan’s method of healing Simon, and the bead]

Chapter Text

Luke Castellan's POV

Yeah, I’m pretty sure I had my fate sealed the moment the screen said that.  

The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth—Thorn’s punch a dull, throbbing ache in my jaw, Darryl’s a sharper, more precise agony flaring in my nose. I didn’t wipe it away. 

I knew I deserved it.

Defective vessel. Zeus’s words boomed inside my skull, twisting the horrifying memory of golden-black veins pulsing under translucent skin, the choked, wet gurgle that had replaced Simon’s breath. My fault. All my fault

Maya’s glare was a physical brand. She knew. They all knew now. The flimsy lie of an "allergy," the way I’d let Simon push himself to exhaustion, believing himself weak, less, just to hide my catastrophic failure. To hide the truth: I did this.

And now the Fates wanted to peel back the worst layer. “Castellan’s method of healing Simon, and the bead."

Panic, cold and slick as river weed, coiled in my gut. Not that. Please, not that. The bead… a tiny, painted shard of my shame. A desperate child’s promise etched onto coral. A vow I knew, even then, was hollow.

Darryl Thorn’s voice, low and lethal, echoed: You better hope the Fates smile down on you before I properly get to you.

I looked down at my hands—trying hard to remember what I used to do. Back then, my hands had been steady. Sure. Capable. Now, they just felt like the shaking, bloodstained things that had failed Simon over and over again.  

"Wait!” A voice shot through the crowd of murmurs, “I remember, he said something about water." Maya’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as the dagger she still hadn’t let go of. She twirled a loose curl between her fingers, her face carved of stone. "But I can’t remember why or how…." She trailed off, but her eyes flicked to me, accusing.  

Because you weren’t there, Maya. 

Because I made sure no one was.

The screen didn’t wait for her to finish.  

[Memory Resuming…]

[The throne room dissolved, reforming into the familiar chaos of Camp Half-Blood’s infirmary—hours after the ambrosia incident.

And it was utter chaos. 

Lee Fletcher barked orders, his face pale but determined. Will Solace, impossibly small, moved with frantic precision, attaching wires to Simon’s still form. The machines beeped and squealed, a discordant symphony of his impending doom. 

Simon lay dwarfed by the cot, skin waxy and hot to the touch even from here, those terrifying golden-black veins still visible beneath the surface like cracks in porcelain. His breath hitched, shallow and wet. The scent of burnt sugar and something deeper, cloyingly rotten, hung thick in the air. Chiron stood like a grim sentinel, his face etched with worry that mirrored the Apollo kids’ exhaustion.

This wasn’t a normal injury. 

This wasn’t something they could fix.  

Not alone. At least.]

The Apollo kids looked sick to their stomachs, terrfied that they weren’t fast enough.

[They weren’t working fast enough. The thought slammed into me, frantic and absolute. Every second felt like Simon was slipping further away, dissolving under the divine poison I had let into him. Lee hesitated over a vial of something clear—diluted nectar? “No! My heart seized. What if it made it worse? What if it finished what the ambrosia started.

And then, like a whisper in the back of my skull—water.

Wait, water?

“No!” Maya’s younger self had cried out—breaking me from my train of thought—then, echoing my silent terror, grabbing Lee’s wrist. “He just ate ambrosia, Lee! It’s gonna make it worse! Please!”

Lee froze, the terrifying implication dawning on him too. He looked from the vial to Simon’s convulsing chest, the black-gold tendrils creeping towards his throat. Hopelessness warred with desperation on his face. “Right, sorry.”

That’s when the memory-me snapped.

Water. The repeating thought was sudden, primal. The river. 

Just… water. 

Cold, clean, mortal water.

To wash it away.

 To wash the god-stuff out.

I didn’t think. 

I just moved.  

I lunged forward, shoving past Michael Yew, ignoring the protests, the shouts. My hands closed around Simon’s wrists, his skin fever-hot and slick with sweat. He didn’t even react—his eyes were glassy, gold swallowing the blue entirely.  

Shoving past a startled Michael Yew and the shaken Austin and Kayla, I lunged for the cot. Before Lee or Chiron or anyone could react, I’d scooped Simon’s terrifyingly light, burning body into my arms. He was limp, his head lolling back, golden-black blood trickling from the corner of his slack mouth.

“Luke, NO!” Maya yelled.

“What are you doing?!” Chiron’s voice boomed.

"Luke—what the hell—?" Lee started.]

Clovis’ eyes widened, “What are you doing?!” He shouted—his voice louder than I thought he was capable of, “He’s gonna die!”

Selena shot me a watery glare while Beckendorf hugged her, shooting me a hard look, “How did you know what you’re doing will work? What if it had made it worse?” He said, pulling his girlfriend closer to him as she sobbed.

“I- i…” I stammered.

“You what?” Ethan spat, his good eye burning a hole through my head, “Luke, Simon could’ve died if you weren’t right about… whatever you did.”

Alabaster scoffed, “It was a fluke.” He snapped, “It was a fluke, you weren’t even sure if it’d work!”

I opened my mouth but Chris firmly grabbed my arm—his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Were you sure? How did you even know it’d work? Not even the Hecate kids had a clue, but you did?” he squinted, “what was it?”

“It was a lucky guess..?”

“Lucky?!” Chiara shrieked, “That was a gamble, you idoita! He could’ve actually died the moment you unhooked him!”

Maya and Darryl shot me twin looks. 

They weren’t frowning.

They were smiling.

I was certain that was worse. I was double sure when they glanced at each other and grinned wider.

Oh gods, they were communicating. Again!

[I didn’t answer. 

I was already running, blinded by panic and a terrible, burgeoning hope. 

Water. Just get him to the water. Simon’s skin scorched through my shirt. His breath rattled against my chest. 

The infirmary door slammed behind me, cutting off their shouts as their footsteps trailed behind. The cool evening air of camp hit my face, doing nothing to quench the furnace heat radiating from the small body in my arms. I ran past the cabins, past the startled and worried stares of campers, towards the woods, towards the sound of rushing water. 

And then I ran.  

The camp blurred around me. The trees, the cabins, the training grounds—nothing mattered except the river. The one place I knew could wash away godly poison.  

Simon’s weight was nothing in my arms. He was always too small, too light, like the world hadn’t bothered to give him enough to survive it.  

The creek near the woods wasn’t deep, but it was cold, fed by mountain springs. I stumbled down the bank, rocks skittering under my sandals. 

I didn’t hesitate.  

Without ceremony, without a single rational thought, I waded in, the icy water soaking my jeans instantly, the cold biting into my skin, and then—  

I dunked him.]

Silence.

Poseidon murmured to his wife and kids, “my domain?”

Yeah, water, you egotistical—nope. No. Not right now, Luke. I looked down, my pants were increasingly getting wet—not like I peed my pants, but more like I stepped into a deep puddle, from the cuffs up to my thighs.

Oh no.

No.

No.

No!

This is not gonna be good.

Then, Kayla shot up, “Simon could’ve drowned!”

“But he didn’t…?” I tried.

“That doesn’t make it any better!” Will shouted, “He could’ve gotten hypothermia! It was still winter when this happened!” 

“Smelled warm. Burnt sugar…” Lee nodded, his hands shaking like crazy, “He was so cold after. Cold. Freezing, like a corpse… and wet. But the burnt sugar smell...”

Micheal and Austin patted their brother’s back, shooting me disgusted looks—right, they still hadn’t forgotten what I'd done to them.

“It worked.” I begged—my voice breaking mid-way.

Darryl snarled, baring his wolf canines, "No. He survived. That's not the same.”

”it could be.” I offered meekly before clamping my jaw shut at the glare he shot me.

[The reaction was immediate and violent. Simon’s eyes flew open—not the sightless gold of before, but wide, terrified blue, shockingly clear for a second before panic set in. He thrashed wildly, instinctively fighting for air, limbs flailing against the water and my desperate hold. Bubbles streamed from his nose and mouth.

His body jerked violently, his limbs flailing, his mouth opening in a silent scream as the water closed over his head. His hands slapped at my arms, weak, frantic.

He was burning up, even submerged. The cold water hissed faintly where it touched his skin. His thrashing weakened, his movements becoming sluggish, desperate taps against my wrist where I held him.]

“Take him out! Take him out!” Selena begged, her voice raw, “Luke, you seriously can’t be drowning Simon? You’re supposed to save him, not kill him!”

I didn’t say anything.

Malcolm Pace stared, his glasses falling down the slope of his nose, “Warm? But, he was as cold as a carcass? And in the winter-touched river… that shouldn’t be possible.”

Cecil closed his eyes, not wanting to see this horror, “Simon’s… got a way. With, everything...”

“We shouldn’t be relying on Simon’s slim silvering linings of luck!” Lou Ellen chided him, “what if the other shoe drops? What if it’s not enough?! What if—what if—“

Clovis loudly cleared his throat, then he pointed to Darryl, “At least… Simon would see him,”—then he gestured to the sacrifices of the Battle of Manhattan so Olympus would win against my… no, just Kronos—“and the  rest again.” He offered, his voice soft and distant. I yawned, damn you Hypnos kids. “He still has dreams of Mr. Darryl. Everyday, I feel it.”

Connor shook his head, “Not today.” He said firmly, more to himself than to any of us, “Simon is sixteen, guys—“

“Seventeen, in a few days this year.” I corrected.

Eyes whipped to me.

“Excuse me?” Connor begged. The crazed look in his eyes made me shudder.

“Birdie—“

“Don’t fucking call him that.” Travis hissed.

“Right. Simon—“

“Not that either.” The Stolls said in unison.

I gritted my teeth. 

What could I say?

And, when and where was that redemption arc of mine?

[Tap. Tap-tap.

Not fighting me off, begging. Begging for air. His steel-blue eyes locked onto mine, filled with pure, animal terror and utter confusion.

Why, Ica? Why?

Tap. Tap. Tap.  

Like a code. Like a plea.  

Ica, let me breathe. 

But I didn’t.

Not yet.]

Jam Fluke covered his mouth, eyes wide. His glasses’ lens made them even bigger that I would’ve laughed, “that river—you’re actually drowning him.”

I nodded.

“He was begging you.”

I nodded. Again.

“But…”

“Yeah.” I cut in, “he’s not afraid of drowning. Or water. That’s why he could go to Atlantis in December. And the beach at Santa Catalina  Island for Christmas.”

“Okay…” He said, seething silently and questioning how I knew what happened when Simon was at L.A.I.R. for those few months, “then, why?”

“Why what?”

”Why isn’t he afraid?”

”Because it was me.” 

That didn’t explain much. 

I knew that.

But it was enough for me to say.

[I held him under, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my own breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. The water churned around us, frothing gold and black where the ambrosia seeped from his pores, where his blood—golden, corrupted—swirled like poison in the current.  

The sight nearly broke me. But the conviction was ironclad. This was the only way. I kept him under, counting frantic seconds in my head, watching the golden-black streaks in his veins pulse angrily, seemingly recoiling from the cold.

Come on, Birdie. Fight it out.

His thrashing slowed. His fingers curled into my sleeves, clinging instead of pushing.]

Apollo’s brows rose to his forehead, “We’re losing him—“

Micheal shook his head, “Not yet.” While Austin squeezed Lee’s hand comfortingly. 

“When?” Sherman scowled.

I closed my eyes. “Now.”

[And then—  

I yanked him up. 

Simon gasped, choking, golden-tinged water spewing from his lips followed immediately by violent, wracking coughs.. His eyes were wide, terrified, the gold receding just enough for a sliver of blue to peek through. Golden-red fluid, thick and streaked with black, spewed from his mouth into the rushing creek, carried away instantly. 

He choked, gasped, vomited all over again, his small body convulsing with the effort. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with river water and sick.

"Ica—" he rasped, his voice wrecked.]

Luke Thorn growled, “Ica? Ica?!”

“My nickname,” I said quietly, “sir. From Icarus.”

“My son is calling you Ica? When you drowned him? When you let him run buck wild? When you let him eat that blasted ambrosia square and he’s still calling you that? Ica?”

Malcolm Thorn just stared at me, with cold blue eyes. He looked like Darryl, yeah—down to that glare and smirk, but those icy glaciers that were his eyes caught me off guard.

I looked over at Isabel Thorn—Simon’s horrible mom that was a legend around Camp—and she looked horrified. Right, her son and heir was drowning on screen. Nolan Thorn didn’t look much better, he was busy glaring holes into my face—like he could if he tried hard enough. 

["I’ve got you," I whispered, my own voice breaking. "I’ve got you."

And then I pulled him against my chest, his body shuddering, his breath coming in wet, ragged sobs.  

We stayed like that for hours, in that sopping cold river as the sun dipped—the entire camp was still looking for us, weren’t they?]

Apollo shot me a look, “how did you two not get hypothermia, much less a fever or a cold.”

“Luck?” I whispered, unsure of my own words.

“Bullshit!” I heard from the crowd, but wasn’t sure who it came from.

“Yeah you…”

“I know right?…”

“…How could he…”

“…to Birdie…”

[The river washed over us, cold and relentless, carrying away the godly poison, the golden cracks in his skin fading bit by bit. I held him through the vomiting, through the shaking, through the moments he went limp against me, his breath so faint I had to press my ear to his lips to make sure he was still alive.

I kissed his forehead. His cheeks. I pulled his hair back from his face, my fingers trembling as I whispered nonsense into his ear.]

Leo Thorn shot me a disgusted look, “he’s alive.” He said, like I did something good, “but you… almost killed him. And now you’re kissing him?” His tone sounded questioning, but I knew better.

Bitter old men, I mused silently.

“Yeah.” I sighed, “I did. But I saved him.”

“Saved him?” Zia Stone, his daughter, spat, “you almost drowned him, you psycho!”

“Didn’t you drug Simon back in Colorado,” I shot back, “In his hot chocolate? And didn’t you also kidnap him and his…” I shot Jam Fluke, Ariana Webster and Winter Halcyon Rivera a look, looking up and down with a judging expression—digust all over my face, “companions on the train? Oh, clearly you’re the perfect one to criticize me!”

Ares grinned, brimming with amusement at our fighting. But I didn’t care.

Zia’s face burned red, “how— where did you hear that?!”

I opened my mouth but Chris smacked me with a pillow, “continue the memory, my Ladies!” He ordered to the ceiling, to the Fates.

The screen paused. [Young man…]

“Not the time! Do it!” He cried out. 

Did he know too?

I caught his eyes and he nodded, jerking his head up and down with fear.

The screen did their version of rolling its eyes and continued the memory.

[You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay. 

Lies. All of it.  

Because he wasn’t okay.  

And it was my fault.  

“That’s it, Birdie,” I’d murmured, my own tears falling freely now. I shifted my grip, pulling his limp, shivering body back against my chest, sitting down fully in the shallow, icy water. I cradled him, ignoring the cold soaking through my clothes. “Get it out. Just get it all out.”

One arm wrapped tightly around his trembling torso, the other hand pulled his wet, tangled hair back from his face as he wretched again, bringing up nothing but bile now. I pressed fevered kisses to his wet temple, his cold cheek, murmuring nonsense reassurances. 

“Shhh, Ica’s got you. I’ve got you, little bird. Just breathe. Just get it out. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” 

My fingers rubbed circles on his back, feeling the knobs of his spine too sharply through his soaked t-shirt. His skin was still too warm, but the terrifying furnace heat had lessened, replaced by violent shivers. The golden light in his eyes had faded back to exhausted, pain-filled blue. The black veins were still there, but less pronounced, less angry.]

Lacy covered her eyes, near to tears, “stop it! Stop it! Stop calling yourself Ica when you almost killed him!”

Mitchell—who looks just as conflicted—gripped his armchair like a lifeline, “Lacy, he meant well…” but it fell flat.

“So? Simon could’ve died! And it’d be on his hands!” Valentina snapped, sneering at me, “I bet it already is.”

I didn’t want to tell her she was right. But guess by the look she shot me, she knew she was. And she was pissed. Just like everyone else.

[Simon stopped vomiting, reduced to weak, hiccuping sobs, his body utterly spent, trembling violently with cold and shock. He curled into me, seeking warmth that wasn't there. I held him tighter, rocking slightly, whispering promises I had no way of keeping into his damp hair. “Never again, Birdie. Never again. Ica won’t let anything hurt you. I’ll protect you. I promise. I swear it on the Styx.” The words tasted like ash. How could I protect him? I’d done this.]

Thalia let out a dry laugh, “You promised? On the Styx! To—” She sat up straight and did a horrible, terrible imitation of my voice, “‘not letting anything hurt you again, Birdie. I won’t let anything hurt you. I’ll protect you. I promise. I swear it on the river that could kill me if i break it! And i did!’” 

“Thalia,” Annabeth said. I thought she’d defend me but she let out a small chuckle and shook her head, “gods, was he a liar.”

“I know!” She spat, giggling like a deranged maniac—tears falling from her eyes.

[Eventually, his shivering subsided into exhausted stillness, his breathing shallow but even against my neck. He was unconscious, or asleep, his face pale and drawn, smudged with dirt and sick, but blessedly free of the golden horror. The black veins were faint shadows now. He looked broken. I had broken him.]

[Memory End]

The throne room snapped back into focus.  

Silence.  

Absolute, suffocating silence.  

And then—  

"You drowned him."  

Darryl’s voice wasn’t a question. It was a death sentence.  

I didn’t look up.

I couldn’t.  

Maya stared at the screen, her earlier fury replaced by a hollow, haunted look. “Water,” she murmured, the memory slotting into place with horrific clarity. “That’s why you were both soaked… that’s why he was freezing… You dragged him out there and nearly drowned him.” Her voice gained strength, laced with fresh fury. “And then you lied. You let us believe the Apollo kids just… fixed him with mortal medicine. You let him think he was just weak!”

I was insane.

Desperate.

Terrified.  

And it had worked.

But no one cared about that.  

Not when Simon had been tapping my wrist. 

Not when he’d been begging for air. 

Not when the memory showed me kissing his forehead like that made up for any of it.  

Not when the image of nine-year-old Simon was limp and deathly pale in my arms in the freezing creek, his terrified eyes begging for air I denied him, hung in the air.

Nolan Thorn made a sound like a wounded animal, a low, guttural moan choked off before it fully escaped. His knuckles were bone-white on the arms of his chair. 

Malcolm Thorn’s face was carved from ice, his cold blue eyes fixed on the screen, then flicking to me with a look that promised slow dismemberment.

Drew let out a loud shriek, her eyes burning with betrayal and rage, “You—you submerged him? Like—like baptizing the poison out? Are you insane?"

Ethan looked physically ill, green tingeing his skin. “You… you held him under?” he whispered, the horror fresh and raw. “He was tapping your wrist… he was begging you…”

Selena closed her eyes, turning her face away. “Gods, Luke,” she breathed, the words barely audible as she pressed her forehead to Beckendorf’s neck. “What were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t,” Clarisse growled, her voice thick with disgust, shaking her head. “Panic. Stupidity.”

Lee Fletcher looked like he might be sick. “The cold shock… it might have slowed the reaction… temporarily. But gods, Luke, you could have drowned him! He was vulnerable!”

Will Solace was crying silently, shaking his head. “He trusted you,” he choked out. “He looked to you for help, and you… you did that?”

Percy looked sick. "He trusted you," he said, his voice hollow. "And you just—held him under."  

Annabeth’s grey eyes were like shards of ice. "You lied to us. You told us you just—waited it out. That the nectar flush worked. That the Apollo kids gave him some human medicine. But you drowned him first.”

Luke Thorn—Simon’s real father—stood slowly. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. "You," he said, his voice low, lethal, "are lucky my son isn’t here to see this."  

I wasn’t lucky.  

Because Simon would see it.  

Eventually.  

And he could feel it.

And then—  

Then he’d hate me too.  

The screen switched on again. [Bead Description:]

The screen flickered again, zooming in on [a single bead—smaller than the others we usually had. It was painted light blue with dark blue wave-like squiggles. A gold teardrop sat at the center, black cracks branching out like veins—or roots—with more gold bleeding through.]

That’s summer’s bead.  

The summer Simon almost died.  

The summer I almost killed him.  

And the camp—my camp, my family—had immortalized it.  

Not as a tragedy.  

Not as a warning.  

Not even as a legend.

But as a bead, filled with an ambrosia-nectar mixture.

Something to wear.  

Something to remember.  

Something to never let him forget.

Because we all had decided on that. 

That’s why it always glowed over his chest—it was sensing him.

And so could we.

That, even in the safe borders of Camp Half Blood, we could get hurt even if there weren’t gods and monsters involved.  

[Simon will now be returning. Please be patient.]

I closed my eyes.  

I’m sorry, Birdie.

But sorry wasn’t going to be enough.  

Not this time.

Chapter Text

Darryl Thorn’s POV

[Percy Jackson & the Lightning Thief]

The older Greek demigods and Simon—who came back soaking wet and got over… whatever that was but i was sure i was gonna beat Luke Castellan again—erupted in laughter while Percy frowned, pouting.

“It’s not funny.” He snapped as he walked over and grabbed Simon’s elbow up till they were nearly the same height.

Simon grinned, coughing out the rest of the water from his lungs as his clothes and hair slowly turned dry—a water blob floating in the air from Percy’s powers.

The Animalgams’ jaws fell to the ground, eyes wide as Simon sputtered, “it is!” Before the water bubble floated up and popped on top of him, soaking him, making him scream, “cold!”

Percy grinned, leading him back to the seats, “You okay, man?”

Simon nodded, as I followed behind him, “how’s Sally?” I asked.

Percy lit up, turning to me, “she’s doing good! Got a husband—”

I shook my head, “Yeah, Paul Blowfish–”

“Blofis, Baba.” Simon loudly groaned, making Isabel and my younger brother Luke choke at how easy it was said—that Simon loved me more than he ever will with them combined.

“—Shush, Simon.” I said, fixing a look that held no heat, “and you got a little sister on the way. Estelle.”

Percy rolled his eyes, “Mom and Simon’s idea.”

"I like stars," Simon said helpfully, before settling back down between me and Percy.

He leaned his head against my shoulder, a gesture of trust that made my chest tighten. I wrapped an arm around him, my grip firm and steadying.

[Ready?] The screen's voice—a familiar, almost spectral sound I’d heard too often in my dreams-echoed.

Simon shot me a small, apprehensive look. I held his hand, kissing the top of his head. His eyes welled up with tears he quickly tried to blink away.

"I missed you," he said softly, his voice thick and low.

“I know," I replied, my own voice gentler than I used with most. I shot a warning glare at Percy, who wisely scooted farther away, giving us space.

[I Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher]

The title elicited a wave of choked sputters and disbelieving laughs. The noise made Lysander and Calla loosen their grip on Maya, who took the opportunity to shove her way between the now-terrified-looking Percy and Simon. She wrapped her arms around Simon's middle, burying her face in his shoulder. Simon's arms flew around her instinctively.

Lysander and Calla just shrugged, used to her antics. The L.A.l.R. students, however, zeroed in on the Gemini hair clip in Maya's hair—and the matching, slightly bent one in Simon's.

"Since when do you match?" Nolan demanded but was drowned out, his voice tight with something that wasn't quite anger, but close. Jealousy, maybe. Hurt.

"Since we decided we're platonic soulmates and you're not invited," Maya shot back, her voice muffled by Simon's shoulder. Simon just sighed, used to her antics.

Thalia Grace laughed, “Seriously Percy?”

“Shuddap.” Percy’s face burned, “continue.”

A note appeared in my hand, and I looked at it—surprised I could still read the English-Greek despite dead for almost five years. Simon and Maya—lifting her head—looked over, eyes wide and read aloud.

“There will be people coming in throughout the books.

-The Fates

P.S. Zeus, no”

Zeus sputtered indignantly. "What does that mean? 'P.S. Zeus, no'? I am the king of-"

"Probably means 'no lightning bolts in the throne room'," Hades muttered dryly from his throne, earning a few stifled snickers.

May grinned, “My dad might come~” she sang as Simon matched her. My face burned red, smacking her with the paper as she laughed—a shrill noise as she waved her hands around to cover her face.

"Don't encourage him," I grumbled, though a part of me was relieved to see Simon smiling, even if it was at the prospect of Ajax's chaotic presence.

[Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.]

The demigods—Greek, Roman and Old—and Hybreds nodded sadly while the Gods marveled at the idea of their Heroes hating their lineage.

"It's a sign of—" Zeus started but the Simon cut him off.

"Who does?" He said, playing with the collar of my flannel. "What is it really a sign of, Lord Zeus?"

Hera's eyes flashed. "It is a sign of greatness, child. A connection to divinity."

"It's a sign of a target on your back as a godling," Simon countered softly, not looking at her, his fingers still worrying the flannel. "A death sentence more often than not. Would you call that 'greatness'? To die for existing?”

The throne room went very quiet. Hera's mouth opened, then closed.

She had no answer.

Simon smirked, but it quickly fell. A few of the younger demigods looked at Simon with newfound respect, while the older ones wore expressions of grim validation.

[If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you. Try to live a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. Scary. It gets you killed in nasty, painful ways more often than not.]

The demigods and Simon nodded again, groaning. “Spot on,” Maya said reluctantly.

“We know.” Travis Stoll groaned, “Percy’s advice somehow sounds reasonable.”

“Hey!” Percy gasped.

Winter Rivera tilted her head, “but—”

“He’s talking about the demigod sense.” Simon explained, his voice hoarse as he waved around his hand, “and, you know. Not us.”

“Us?”

"Well, I guess; normal-ish kids," Silena said, her voice uncharacteristically grim. "The ones who get to stay home."

[If you’re just a regular kid reading this like it’s fiction? Good. Enjoy. I envy you—because you get to believe none of it ever happened.]

Annabeth raised a brow, “who’d be reading these?”

“Spies,” Ariana Webster said cryptically, staring at the floor. “And, among other people.”

Maya’s brows furrowed, fishing her pocket to what I assumed to be bug spray.

“No.” I stated, staring at her as she dropped her can, letting it roll—a bottle of arsenic. Rat poison—before glaring at me.

“Yes, Darryl.” She said hesitantly as everyone who didn’t know—including my family—made faces that i didn’t care to look at.

"Maya, why do you have rat poison?" Will Solace asked, healer instincts kicking in.

"For rats," she said flatly. "And spies. And people who annoy me. And hurt my family. It's multi-purpose.” Simon blanched but Maya quickly reassured him she wouldn’t use it. Yet.

[But if you feel something… if these pages stir something inside you… stop reading. Now. Because once you know the truth, they’ll know you know. And then they’ll come for you.]

Malcolm Pace nodded, “Solid advice.”

Silena smiled, her face slightly scarred—like it’d been burnt off by acid, “it’s really decent.”

“But,” Jason said, “it might work on less powerful demigods.”

Octavian scowled but nodded, “exactly. Jackson’s advice will only work under certain circumstances.”

Simon leaned, a brittle smile on his lips, “are you complimenting Percy, Tavy?”

“Shut it, Thorn.” He snapped, his pale cheeks burning red.

"He's not wrong," Annabeth admitted, though it seemed to pain her to agree with the augur. "The stronger the scent, the less choice we have. Percy... he had no choice. The monsters don't come for weak signatures."

Percy looked at her, a silent understanding passing between them.

"The stronger the scent, the brighter the flame," Apollo mused, though he looked troubled. "And the more moths it attracts."

[Don’t say I didn’t warn you.]

Connor Stoll gasped dramatically, “You didn’t warn me!”

Clarisse La Rue grinned, wickedly, “Me neither, Prissy.”

Nico and Bianca Di Angelo eyed each other and smirked, “Or us.”

“You all knew before me! And Nico, you were being kinda annoying.” Percy exclaimed, “the only person who is somewhat relatable is Simon and he’s a nerd.”

“Hey!” Simon yelled.

“Sorry.”

"Speak for yourself, Jackson," Ethan called out. "Some of us had relatively normal childhoods. Until the monsters showed up, anyway."

"Define 'normal'," Drew muttered, leaning into the plush couch.

[My name is Percy Jackson.]

Maya’s lips quirked up as the words came out, “no, Pacy Johanson.”

One boy said, “No, it’s Perry Junebug!”

“No, Pipeline Jackalope!” A girl shouted.

“You’re both wrong. It’s Percival Jalapeño.” Another boy smirked.

A different girl grinned, “No, you’re all wrong. It’s Pumpernickel Jeweler.” 

I saw Dio—Dionysus—move, and the conversation stopped.

“No, it’s Peter Johnson.”

The Greek Demigods paused, and then collectively nodded while I shot Dio a look, which he waved off.

"He answers to all of them," Grover said fondly, shaking his head. "And a few more I can't say in polite company."

[I’m twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy—a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid?]

"YES!" The demigods screamed in unison, a chorus of shared, weary experience.

Percy grumbled, but it was half-hearted. A few chuckles died quickly. It was a label they all wore, a burden they recognized.

Thalia's smirk was sharp and humorless. "Welcome to the club, Seaweed Brain. The 'Troubled Kids Who Attract Monsters' club. Membership is mandatory and the perks suck." While Simon reached over and patter his shoulder sympathetically.

Maya and I shared a look and switched spots, letting Simon—who was now way too old and way too big—to sit on my lap.

Still too thin. I thought, wrapping an arm around his waist, ignoring the stares.

[Yeah, you could say that.]

“Haah!” Maya grinned, “so you admit it.”

Percy rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say that, Maya—”

"The screen said it for you," Thalia sing-songed. "It's canon now, Seaweed Brain. Troubled kid.”

"Troubled implies there was a time when he wasn't causing chaos," Chris said with a grin. "I'm not sure that time ever existed.”

[Things really started going south last May, during a sixth-grade field trip to Manhattan. Twenty-eight basket-case kids crammed into a yellow school bus, headed for the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at a bunch of ancient Greek and Roman stuff.]

I frowned, shifting towards the kid, “Percy. You are not a mental case. You know that, right?”

He shrugged. “Yes?”

“You’re a smart kid.” I said, “Your mother… and Paul, they love you, okay?” My voice leaving no room to question, but I let it go for now as Percy leaned his head on Simon’s shoulder.

I’ll talk to him more later when there’s a break. I thought.

[I know—it sounds like torture. Normally, it was. But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip. And he was actually cool. He had thinning hair, a scruffy beard, and a frayed tweed jacket that always smelled like coffee. He told stories, cracked jokes, and let us play games in class. Plus, he had an awesome collection of Roman weapons and armor. His class was the only one that didn’t make me want to stab myself with a pencil.]

Simon winched, “Negative out of ten, cannot recommend.”

Maya rolled her eyes, “you weren’t even hit!”

“I heard the granite snap and it lodged into my foot, that counts!”

She rolled her eyes and produced a pencil from her skirt’s pocket, tapped together by still wet glue and peeling tape, “truce?”

We stared at it as Simon gingerly took the pencil, twirling it between his fingers before it snapped into five pieces under his touch, falling on his shoes, “Maya.” He scolded.

"That's not a truce, that's a declaration of war," Luke Castellan muttered, then flinched as if surprised he'd spoken.

[So I had hopes for the trip. At the very least, I hoped I wouldn’t get into trouble.

Yeah… about that.

At my old school, we went to the Saratoga battlefield and I had a little incident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn’t aiming for the bus—but it got hit anyway. Expelled. In fourth grade, Marine World, behind-the-scenes shark tank tour. I flipped the wrong lever. The whole class went for a swim. The time before that—look, you get the idea.]

The General scowled at the level of discipline Percy was showing from the screen—but Percy Jackson didn’t belong to Atlantis like that. He was much bigger than anything the General could think of—Percy was Poseidon’s demigod and the Flukes and the rest of Atlantis, for thousand of generations, still worshiped the Lord of the Seas.

“No!” Travis Stoll groaned, flopping to the floor as Connor made a weird gesture to give more stories. The L.A.I.R. students looked vaguely interested. “Give us more, Percy!”

Hermes nodded, on the edge of his throne, “Tell us more, Perseus Jackson.” He ordered dramatically as the actual, original Perseus nodded.

“Later.” He said, staring at Simon, who nodded.

"I think we need a separate book just for Percy's pre-camp expulsions," Rachel Dare said, pulling out a sketchbook and starting to draw. "I'll call it 'The Percy Jackson Guide to Getting Kicked Out'."

Percy buried his face in his hands. "Please don't."

[So this time? I was determined to behave.

On the ride into the city, I even put up with Nancy Bobofit, the kleptomaniac redhead who was pelting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with peanut butter and ketchup sandwich bits.

Grover didn’t even flinch. He was used to it. Scrawny, soft, kind of awkward. He cried when he got frustrated. He looked like a sixth-grade grandpa—acne, a wispy beard, and a limp that made him walk like his shoes were on fire. He had some excuse for skipping PE forever, some muscular disease in his legs.]

Grover grimaced, “thanks for the kind words, Percy.”

Percy grinned, “always happy to help, G-man.”

Maya smirked, “hope i don’t sound as freaky.”

Simon nudged her, “you terrified him back then.”

"Maya terrifies everyone," Clarisse said, turning to her former lieutenant and still close friend. "Still do. It's your default setting."

Maya preened. "Thank you, commander."

“Any time, lieutenant.”

[But don’t let that fool you. You should’ve seen him move on enchilada day.]

“Grover!” The Greek Demigods yelled as Simon leaned more on me, his cheek pressed over my scarred arm.

“The power of cheese is not to be underestimated," Grover said solemnly, though his ears turned pink.

[Anyway, Nancy knew I couldn’t do anything to her because I was already on probation. One more screw-up and I was toast.

“I’m going to kill her,” I muttered.

Grover shrugged. “It’s okay. I like peanut butter.”]

Artemis glared at him, while Thalia frowned, but didn’t think much of it.

Piper McLean cocked a brow, “in your hair?”

“I hear it’s good as a hair mask.” Maya said, looking at Simon, who tiredly flipped her off.

“No.”

“C’mon.” She begged.

“When I’m dead, then yeah.” He snapped.

"Noted," Nico said quietly, giggling under his breath. "I'll add a jar of Jif to your funeral arrangements."

Simon threw a piece of the broken pencil at him and stuck out his tongue, “you’re lucky i like you, Neeks.”

Nico grinned, “small victories.”

[Another wad stuck in his hair. I started to get up, but Grover pulled me back down.

“You know what’ll happen,” he whispered. “You’re on thin ice.”

Looking back, I wish I had punched Nancy Bobofit. In-school suspension would’ve been nothing compared to what came next.

Mr. Brunner led us through the echoing marble galleries, past statues and pottery and a massive column with a sphinx on top. He stopped there to tell us it was a stele, a grave marker for a girl our age. I actually tried to listen—he made it interesting—but everyone around me was talking, and Mrs. Dodds, the other teacher, kept giving me the evil eye every time I shushed someone.]

Apollo looked saddened, “she was my daughter…”

Athena frowned, “but the boy wishes to learn. What is the teacher giving such a look?”

“Because teachers suck.” Maya and Simon said in unison before jinxing and double jinxing each other.

Malcolm Thorn, my youngest brother, and now the director of L.A.I.R. and the Alpha after mother left (and died), shot me a look, to which I shrugged, “they’re not wrong.”

“Excuse me–?” Chiron sputtered.

“Especially you. You let my boy—” I gently grabbed by his chin, my thumb and finger pressing into his cheeks as they pushed it together, making a silly face, “—play Pinochle, with a drunkard.”

“Colin taught me.” Simon whined sleepily, raising brows while Maya scowled at the name like it offended her. “And Dio lets me binge-drink his Diet Cokes.”

“Shh, the adults are talking.”

“I’m sixteen, almost seventeen!”

Maya shook her head, tapping his nose with every syllable, “and still a little boy.”

Simon wiggled out of my grasp, “you haven’t even finished college!”

“Nursing school is hard!” She pouted.

“No one told you to be a nurse.” I pointed out to which she slapped my shoulder—barely hurting me.

"She's good at stitching people up," Will offered. "And threatening them with worse if they don't hold still."

"It's a versatile skill set," Maya agreed.

[Mrs. Dodds was a math teacher from Georgia. Wore a black leather jacket year-round. Rode a Harley in my nightmares. She hated my guts from day one and thought Nancy Bobofit was the second coming of Einstein.

At one point, when she made me erase math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn’t think she was human.

He looked at me real serious and said, “You’re absolutely right.”]

Lou Ellen Blackstone smiled, “Ah, cryptic.”

Alabaster Torrington frowned, “Is Grover seriously breaking his cover? First enchiladas, now talking about monsters.”

"Sometimes the truth is the only thing that makes sense," Grover said, chewing on a tin can that had appeared in his hand. “Even if it sounds crazy."

[I was doing pretty good at ignoring her until Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, “Will you shut up?”

It came out louder than I meant it to.]

“It always does.” Simon sighed, shaking his head sadly as other agreed.

Hera sneered, “immature little children—”

“Peace, sister.” Hestia said, snuffing the flames of her disgust.

"Says the goddess who once cursed an entire kingdom because one person offended her," Demeter muttered, not quite under her breath.

Hera's eyes flashed, but she said nothing.

[The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

“Mr. Jackson,” he said, “did you have a comment?”

My face was totally red. I said, “No, sir.”

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?”]

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “There’s no way he recognizes it.”

Thalia Grace and Nico Di’Angelo let out annoyed-sounding chirps while Simon shifted on my lap, angry.

“Twenty drachma, Percy knows what it is.” He betted, causing the demigods to perk up as Thalia and Nico backed him up.

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. “Twenty?”

They nodded. “Each.” Thalia finished.

“Deal.”

[I looked at the carving and felt a flush of relief because I actually recognized it—miracle of miracles.]

“HAH!”

Annabeth growled and huffed, her face flushed, but forked over the money under the watchful gaze of their parents and the spectators of the throne room.

"I can't believe I just lost sixty drachma on Seaweed Brain knowing something," she grumbled.

"The world is full of wonders," Percy said, grinning smugly.

["That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"]

Demeter scrunched up her nose, "ugh, why must it be that?"

"It could be worse," Hades said. "It could be a depiction of my wedding."

Persephone elbowed him.

[“Yes. And why did he do that?” Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied.

I fumbled through the story—“Well...” I racked my brain to remember. “Kronos was the king god, and-“

“God?” Mr. Brunner asked.]

“GOD?! YOU DARE—”

Chiron held up his hand, and Zeus stopped.

“Peace, brother. I corrected the boy.”

Simon tiled his head, a habit he often done around me when he was younger, “can’t they be used interchangeably? People usually say Titan-god, so wouldn’t that be right?”

Malcolm Pace stroked his chin, “God would’ve been implied but… there are certain classifications for every immortal.”

[“Titan,” I corrected myself. “And ... he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters-“

“Eeew!” said one of the girls behind me.

“-and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans,” I continued, “and the gods won.”]

There’s silence for a moment as everyone takes that in.

“Did you… did you just sum up the Titan War in,” Hermes counts on his fingers. “15 words?” 

Percy nods.

“It’s a gift.”

Simon blinked, “You’d hate L.A.I.R. we have to do, like, almost eight-hundred word essays for each class, maybe more.”

“Thank my mothers and fathers, I'm not an Animalgam, then.” Making the Animalgams glare at him.

"We have standards," Vanessa of the Pack sniffed. "And complete sentences."

"Boring," the Stoll brothers said in unison as Simon snickered—a bell-like sound from him after so long, it was good to hear it again.

[Everyone laughed. Nancy snorted something about how we’d never use this in real life.

Mr. Brunner fixed me with his usual laser stare. “So tell me, Mr. Jackson—why does this matter?”

I had no clue. “I don’t know, sir.”]

Maya leaned in dramatically, “Darling Thorn! What’s your perspective on this carving?” She asked, pretending to hold a mic to my face.

“Kronos was paranoid about this prophecy thing. And, come to think of it, Zeus actually ate Metis for the same reason, so eating loved ones must be hereditary in their family.” I said blankly.

Athena's gray eyes flashed with anger. "That was different."

"Was it?" Hera asked, a rare moment of agreement with her least favorite daughter. "Seems like a family tradition to me. Dog eat dog, Athena.”

[Then—

“May I answer, sir?”

The voice cut through the crowd. A kid stood on tiptoes, hand raised. I hadn’t noticed him before. He wore an oversized sweater, jeans, and bright red sneakers. Hair messy, light brown, a little long. And… pointy ears?]

Zia’s eyes glinted hesitantly as she stared between Simon and the screen, “Simon?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” He said, his voice begging for no other questions as he leaned on me, looking ridiculous in front of everyone.

"You had pointy ears?" Damien White asked, eyes wide.

"Have, Dammi.” He corrected, tucking his hair back to show off his pointy, pierced ears. “And, they’re not that pointy," Simon muttered, self-consciously touching one.

"They're adorable," Maya said, pinching one. Simon swatted her hand away.

[Mr. Brunner’s eyes flickered with recognition. “The floor is yours…”

I missed the name—something short.]

“Thorn.” Maya echoed, “Or maybe Lin Abbott. Soon.”

“I’m not changing my last name.” I said. Just because Ajax (her father) and I were close didn’t mean I'd change my name for them.

Simon shrugged, “I might.”

“Seriously?” Benjamin Fluke asked, his voice a bit hopeful, like he thought that it’d be him.

“Maybe.” He said, unsure as Maya pressed their hair clips together—a soft metallic click coming from their heads.

Nolan made a strangled noise. "You'd change your name? Our name?"

Simon didn't look at him, staring at Maya. "It's just a name, Nolan.” The hurt on Nolan's face was palpable.

Maya looked at me then Simon then back again, “what about if we merge the names? Lin Abbott-Thorn?”

I thought about it, “not a bad idea, Maya.” I said, making her grin.

[The kid spoke softly, but confidently.

“Kronos feared the future. He tried to change it by swallowing his children, but he still ended up exactly where he feared. That’s the point. In life, one decision can change everything. Kronos didn’t even check if the baby was real—he just swallowed it. That mistake doomed him.”

He paused.

“One small choice… changes everything.”]

Will Solace smiled, “Life motto?”

“Nah,” Simon said, “At L.A.I.R. my life motto was “Go back to Camp safely”— and why am i telling you this?” He asked, fear in his voice as he covered his mouth, eyes wide in fear.

A piece of paper flew down, making me read it, “‘we enchanted you to only tell the truth—because you lie too much, boy’ Simon, what are they talking about?”

Maya clicked her teeth distastefully before scanning the room to look at everybody’s somewhat shocked faces. “Well, at least everyone knows—you love Camp.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s my second home!—dang it!” Simon cried out, clapping a hand over his mouth too late, horror dawning in his eyes.

The enchantment wasn't just making him tell truths; it was ripping away his carefully constructed walls, exposing the raw, loyal heart he usually kept hidden under layers of snark and deflection.

Maya smirked, but it was softer now, almost sympathetic. "Do you love me?" It was a test, a lifeline back to their familiar, teasing dynamic.

Simon glared at her, the panic receding slightly. "You already know, Mynx."

Brows raised from the Animalgams, realizing this was the “Mynx” Simon had often muttered about. Maya beamed, fixing his hair clip.

The answer was still true, but it was also safe. It was a truth he chose to share with her.

Nolan made a weird noise—jealous, half-baked anger, like he wanted to fight Maya.

[Mr. Brunner’s eyes twinkled. “Half-credit, Mr. Jackson. Full credit to…”

The name vanished again, like smoke. The kid glanced back at me, blue eyes locking with mine.

Then—he was gone. Just disappeared into the crowd.]

"Short people advantages.” Micheal Yew nodded, shooting Simon a grin, which he returned—though a bit strained.

"Hey!" Leo Valdez protested. "We're not all blessed with the ability to vanish into crowds!"

"Speak for yourself," Harley said from under a chair, grinning. "It's easy if you try.

“Harls!” Simon scolded. Harley had the decency to look guilty before climbing onto the arm of the chair, making Simon nod happily.

[“Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"]

Winter’s brows rose, “that’s a happy note?”

Ariana squinted, “I guess so.” As Wilhelmina Webster—the almost late, but still alive—Black Widow Queen and her mother, shushed her daughter and ran her fingers through her hair, making Simon wince. I held him closer, kissing the back of his head, making his shoulders drop.

[The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.]

Rachael Elizabeth Dare and Simon leaned forward, “Seer? Or Oracle?” Their voices laced in…. something worried and scared.

Percy shook his head, “nah, just instincts.”

Octavian—the augur—squinted but kept shooting glares at Percy. “No way he’s Apollo-blessed. It’s just instincts.”

[I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go-intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me.

"About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."]

Clarisse laughed, “Perfect answer.” As the demigods nodded, laughing while Simon curled deeper into me.

["What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson." I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshiped.]

Leo Valdez and Benjamin’s eyes lit up, “that sounds so cool.” They cheerfully said in unison.

Percy smiled faintly, not reaching his eyes, “it was.”

[But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C- in my life. No-he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.]

Chiron nodded sadly, “I was, Percy.”

“Oh….” he said as Maya and Simon stiffened, glancing at me, “I’m sorry.”

[He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.]

Everyone looked at Hermes, who gawked. “My kid wouldn’t try. She’d actually do it!"

Luke Castellan tilted his head, sadly nodding as one of the Apollo kids got up to heal him.

[Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school-the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius."]

Simon elbowed Percy, “You are, dude. Trust me.”

Percy made a face as Simon stared at him, “fine.”

"He's a different kind of smart," Annabeth said. "It took me too long to see that."

"Street smart," Sherman Yang said. "Which is the only kind that matters when a monster is trying to eat you.

[Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.]

"Priorities," Grover said, munching on an apple that hadn't been there a moment before. "I had them straight. 

[I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home.

She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp.

He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

“Hey, Grover,” I asked, “That kid. The one who answered Brunner’s question. Who was that?”

Grover went pale. “What kid?”

I described him. Pointy ears, sweater, freckles, weirdly pretty blue eyes.]

Simon huffed and grabbed Percy by the ear, leaning over my lap as he shook Percy by the side, his face red as his words became unintelligible.

"He's saying you're embarrassing him," Nico translated. "And that if you keep talking about his eyes, he'll... well, it's mostly gibberish now."

Maya’s eyes twinkled with glee.

[Grover fiddled with his apple core. “I didn’t see anyone like that. Pointy ears? Are you sure, Percy? Maybe... maybe it was just the light? Or maybe it was that new kid, Danny? Danny's got messy hair..."

I stared at him, “You’re joking. He saved my butt with that answer! And Danny from Chem? Danny's six feet tall and built like a linebacker," I pointed out. "This kid was smaller than me. And Danny wouldn't know Kronos from a corn dog. Plus, those eyes... they were really blue. Like, weirdly bright and.." I flushed, "pretty, like the sea."]

Simon’s face burned brighter while Maya didn’t know whether to hit Percy or laugh at Simon—sadly, she did both, making me yell at her.

She pouted, “Where’s Ajax.”

I sighed, while Simon slumped—it was like the small fire inside of him slowly got snuffed out, like he was a growing flower on the road and too many people stomped all over him from over the years.

“I don’t know, Abbott.” I said slowly, like she was a dumb little girl—and some days, i thought she was, “your actual father will be here.”

"He's probably causing trouble somewhere," a man's voice said. A tanned man with wild hair and a mischievous grin appeared, leaning against a pillar, his clothes crumpled. "That's my family!"

"Jax," I said, nodding as Maya and Simon lit up. "Took you long enough."

"Traffic was hell," he said, winking at Maya, who beamed as he settled beside his daughter, kissing her curls. “How are you, Maya?”

”Good.” She said as Ajax turned his attention to me and Simon, petting my kid’s curls as he yawned.

”Dar… you should’ve told me.” He said, softly.

I nodded sadly, “as long as we’re here, I'll tell you everything, AJ.”

[He didn’t respond. Just stared toward Brunner, visibly shaken.

The memory of that kid stuck with me. The eyes, especially. Like the sea after a storm.

And later, when I tried to bring it up again?

Grover said nothing.

But I could see it in his face:

He knew something.

I sighed, knowing i couldn’t get a proper answer out of him. I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she’d gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover’s lap.

“Oops.” She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.]

“Oh yuck,” Silena cringed and Aphrodite looked contemplative.

“She needs one massive makeover," the love goddess said firmly.

[I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, “Count to ten, get control of your temper.” But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.

I don’t remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, “Percy pushed me!”

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: “Did you see—”

“—the water—”

“—like it grabbed her—”

I didn’t know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I’d done something she’d been waiting for all semester. “Now, honey—”

“I know,” I grumbled. “A month erasing workbooks.”]

Simon’s head shot up as did Hermes and every one of his kids, “#rule 325 of the handbook: no guessing—” they recited in unison, Simon’s more reluctant.

“No guessing your punishment, I know.” He sighed.

Simon didn’t look happy but he nodded while Ellis Wakefield laughed at Percy, “Didn’t Simon lend you the his limited-edition Hermes Cabin handbook?” He asked, already fanning the flames.

“I–”

“Not helping, Ellis.” Simon snapped. Ellis grinned and saluted him through Simon’s anger, blowing him a kiss which Simon blushed at.

"The handbook is very clear on these things," Luke Castellan said, then looked surprised he'd defended a rule.

[That wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Come with me,” Mrs. Dodds said.

“Wait!” Grover yelped. “It was me. I pushed her.”

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn’t believe he was trying to cover for me.

Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

“I don’t think so, Mr. Underwood,” she said.

“But—”

“You—will—stay—here.”

Grover looked at me desperately.

“It’s okay, man,” I told him. “Thanks for trying.”

“Honey,” Mrs. Dodds barked at me. “Now.”

Nancy Bobofit smirked. I gave her my deluxe I’ll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn’t there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.]

The campers shuddered while Simon’s brows furrowed, “Seriously?”

“Oh.” Maya said, “Really on her?”

“What–?” Nolan sputtered.

Annabeth waved Nolan off, “Percy’s glare is as mean as Simon’s.”

“Is so not.” Simon said, his soft features relaxing, “Maya’s got a worser glare than me, remember?”

Valentina Diaz nodded, “yeah, but it’s the baby face for you.”

"It's the contrast," Drew said. "Innocent face, murderous eyes. It's very effective."

[How’d she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I’ve missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn’t so sure.

I went after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall. Okay, I thought. She’s going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently that wasn’t the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling. Even without the noise, I would’ve been nervous. It’s weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it…

“You’ve been giving us problems, honey,” she said.

I did the safe thing. I said, “Yes, ma’am.”]

“You. Being safe?” Frank Zhang said, shocked.

”Hey! I can do safe things.” Percy huffed.

Thalia snickered, “yeah, but he over used them when he was twelve.”

[She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. “Did you really think you would get away with it?”

The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil. She’s a teacher, I thought nervously. It’s not like she’s going to hurt me.

I said, “I’ll—I’ll try harder, ma’am.”

Thunder shook the building.

“We are not fools, Percy Jackson,” Mrs. Dodds said. “It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain.”

I didn’t know what she was talking about.

All I could think of was that the teachers must’ve found the illegal stash of candy I’d been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they’d realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.]

Annabeth opened her mouth to complain but Maya defended him.

”Not everyone has weak dyslexia, Annabeth.” She snapped, gesturing to everyone around her then to Simon, “All of us, dyslexia. Twiggy? Nah, just ADHD—mostly, but he won’t make fun or insult Percy for not being able to read properly.”

Simon ran a hand through his hair, his blue eyes boring into Annabeth’s gray ones as he continued his sister’s speech, “Annie, you can barely spell without my help—I'm not shaming you, but pot meet kettle.”

She quieted down while Percy shot Simon a grateful look.

"He's got a point," Malcolm Pace admitted. "We all have our struggles. Percy's just... louder about his."

"Thanks, I think," Percy said.

[“Well?” she demanded.

“Ma’am, I don’t…”

“Your time is up,” she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn’t human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.]

Everyone’s eyes widened while Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Simon winched, “ugh, i can still feel that whip mark.” He said, undoing his watch strap to reveal a thick reddish line over his wrist.

“Is it still hot?” Annabeth asked softly, reaching out.

Maya’s fingers coiled around his wrist, “It won’t. Luke and I made sure to ice it for days.”

[Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who’d been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

“What ho, Percy!” he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn’t a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner’s bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes. My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, “Die, honey!” And she flew straight at me. Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.]

Simon’s dropped his watch in shock, while Sherman Yang snorted, trying to ease the moment, “Yeah, Twiggy. Why couldn’t you slice a Fury on your first day?”

“Shut up, Yang.” Simon snarled, picking up his watch and tossed it—smacking Sherman in the face, making him squeal.

[The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss! Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.]

Benjamin Fluke shuddered, “creepy.”

Jake Mason shrugged, “it’s kinda of the norm.”

Winter blinked, “Norm?”

"Demigod norm," Beckendorf clarified. "Which is not normal by any other standard.

[I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn’t there. Nobody was there but me.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must’ve been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I went back outside.

It had started to rain. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, “I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt.”]

“Who?” Nico and Thalia asked.

[I said, “Who?”]

They gasped dramatically, “No! The Percy-itus has affected us!” The spun to Maya and Will, both of them working in the medical field, “is there a cure?”

They shook their heads, “I’m afraid not.” Will said solemnly, “the Percy-itus has spread throughout your entire body.”

“Nooo!”

"The only cure is more Percy," Maya informed dramatically. "Which is also the cause. It's a paradox."

[“Our teacher. Duh!”

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, “Who?”

But he paused first, and he wouldn’t look at me, so I thought he was messing with me.

“Not funny, man,” I told him. “This is serious.”

Thunder boomed overhead.]

Simon frowned, “even Zeus knows it serious.”

The comment was quiet, but in the hushed room, it carried. It was a subtle jab, a reminder that the gods were watching, and their reactions were often... unhelpful.

Leo Thorn shook his head, running a hand through his hair, “It could be—”

“It’s not like that, sir.” Cecil said, “They’re keeping tabs on him—he’s a suspect in a crime to them.”

"I'm always a suspect," Percy said wearily. "It's practically my default setting.”

[I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he’d never moved.

I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. “Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson.”

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding it.

“Sir,” I said, “where’s Mrs. Dodds? And that sweater kid?”

He stared at me blankly. “Who?”

“The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher. And… that short kid who answered your question about fate and stuff.”

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. “Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. And, only you participated in my questions about Kronos. Are you feeling all right?"]

Chiron winced, the pain on his face not just for the memory, but for the necessity of the lie.

Hestia's sigh from the hearth was a soft, mournful sound. "The price of the Mist," she murmured, "is often paid in the loneliness of the one who remembers." Her gaze was gentle on Percy, full of an ancient understanding of the isolation such knowledge brings.

Meanwhile, the other demigods-those who had been through it— shifted uncomfortably. They knew that feeling. That eerie, gaslighting sensation of being the only one who knew the world was so much stranger and more dangerous than it appeared.

Grover, in particular, looked down at his hands, guilt etched on his features.

Chapter Text

Katie Gardner’s POV

My eyes widened as i read the title on the screen, [Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death]

I squinted, a frown creasing my forehead. "Socks of death? What in the name of my mother's harvest is that about?" It sounded simultaneously ridiculous and utterly terrifying.

Around me, the Demeter cabin exchanged equally perplexed looks. Miranda just shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips at the absurdity and Billie shrugged. Meanwhile, Sherman tossed back Simon’s watch and Simon caught between two fingers before quickly strapping it on.

Everyone turned to look at Percy, but he just sighed and shook his head, looking weary. "It'll be explained soon," he said, his voice tight.

A ripple of understanding passed through the veteran campers. We all knew what was coming. We'd lived it, or heard the stories.

[I was used to the occasional weird experience, but they usually passed quickly. This constant, twenty-four-seven hallucination? It was more than I could handle.]

Poseidon frowned, “Hallucination? Why can my son not see through the Mist?”

From his seat, sandwiched between Maya and Percy and perched on Darryl’s lap, Simon spoke up, his voice hoarse but firm. He straightened slightly, meeting the god's gaze without flinching. "With all due respect, Lord Poseidon, he couldn't. Telling him would have been like ringing a dinner bell for every monster within a hundred miles. The Mist was the only shield he had. It was the kindest cruelty." His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the brutal logic of our world.

I tilted my head slightly, a practical question cutting through the tension. “Out of curiosity, how long was the rest of the school year, Percy?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “About a month.”

Poseidon's stormy expression softened a fraction as he considered Simon's words. He gave a slow, grudging nod, though the protective anger in his eyes didn't fully fade.

I let out a low, annoyed grumble from the Demeter couch. The sheer psychological strain of that... My siblings murmured in agreement, the life-givers in us recoiling at the thought of a mind being manipulated for so long.

Mr. D leaned forward in his leopard-print shirt, swirling his Diet Coke and glaring at Chiron with undisguised contempt. “Chiron, layering the Mist that heavily on a child already under duress… your actions could have fractured the boy’s mind. Permanently.”

The demigods jolted, the reality of the risk hitting us. We’d never considered that—we’d only seen the necessity. We’d come so close to never knowing Percy at all. A collective shudder went through the room.

Annabeth paled, her grey eyes wide as she looked at Percy, realizing how thin the line had been.

Simon’s hand flew to Percy’s, squeezing it reassuringly. Across the room, his twin, Nolan, shot the intertwined hands a burning, jealous look, but Percy wasn’t looking at him, his focus entirely on Simon’s supportive grip.

Chiron’s tail swished nervously, a sure sign of his unease. Poseidon’s glare could have turned him to sea foam. “Chiron… your actions thus far haven’t endeared you to me. If my son is hurt because of your ‘necessary’ lies…”

The Sea god trailed off, the threat hanging, vast and unspoken, in the air. Chiron gulped, looking every one of his three thousand years and bowed his head. "It was a grave risk," he admitted, his voice heavy. "One I believed was necessary to ensure he reached camp alive. I see now the... collateral damage of that choice."

[For the rest of the school year, it felt like the entire campus was in on some elaborate prank. Everyone acted as if they genuinely believed Mrs. Kerr—a perky blonde woman I’d never seen in my life until she boarded our bus after the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Now and then, I’d casually drop a mention of Mrs. Dodds to see if anyone would flinch. But all I got were blank stares. Like I was nuts.]

Clarisse and the rest of the Ares cabin snorted. "Classic Mist gaslighting," she said, almost fondly. Her siblings nodded, a few of them punching their fists into their palms as if imagining the frustration.

"Works every time," one of her siblings agreed.

"Wait, Kerr? Emily Kerr?" Will Solace sputtered, turning to Grover, who nodded miserably, his lower lip trembling. Lee Fletcher and the other older Apollo kids looked down, their faces somber.

Ariana Webster, the young Black Widow spider shifter from L.A.l.R., tilted her head. "What's so special about her?

"She was our sister," Lee Fletcher said, his voice heavy with an old, familiar grief. "An Apollo kid. A good one. She was planted there to help keep an eye on things after... after..." He didn't finish, as respectful silence fell over the Apollo table. Austin Lake placed a hand on Will's shoulder.

"Oh," Simon said softly, a distant, haunted look in his eyes. "She used to work at my old elementary school, too. She was a good one... For a little while. Before... everything." The unspoken 'before I was pulled into this world, before my family fell apart' hung heavily in the air. Darryl's arm tightened around Simon. Maya leaned her head against his other side, a united front of comfort.

The casual reveal that yet another demigod had been a silent, unseen part of Simon's life without his knowledge made his twin, Nolan, stiffen, a fresh wave of hurt and confusion washing over his face. He turned to his uncle Malcolm, who could only offer a grim, helpless shrug. How many secrets were there?

[And, especially when I brought up that mysterious kid with freckles and bright blue eyes?

People looked at me like I needed the straitjacket.]

Maya Lin Abbott grinned, sharp and teasing. "Well, you do look like you need one, Jackson. It's in the hair.” She reached over and ruffled Percy's hair, making him swat at her hand half-heartedly.

"My eyes aren't that bright," Simon grumbled from his perch on Darryl's lap, looking genuinely embarrassed, trying to shrink into his hoodie. A faint, rosy blush crept up his neck.

Maya, Darryl, and her father Ajax shared a single, synchronized look that screamed, Oh, yes they absolutely are. Darryl snorted. Ajax just smirked and shook his head.

[Almost made me believe them.

Almost.]

"Twenty drachma says it's Grover's fault Percy overheard," Travis smirked, ever the gambler.

Connor immediately elbowed him. "Shut up, she's going to hear you!" he hissed, glancing at a scowling Clarisse.

"Fool's bet, Stoll." Calla pointed out, not even looking up from where she was re-braiding her hair, her dagger now woven neatly into the plait. Lysander, sitting next to her, nodded in agreement, adjusting his hearing aids.

"Even I'm not dumb enough to take that bet," Connor shot back, grinning. "Grover's nerves are a dead giveaway. He practically broadcasts 'I'm lying!'"

"Hey!" Grover yelled, indignant, but was met with his brothers' good-natured laughter and Lysander and Calla’s snickering.

[But not Grover. He couldn’t fake it. When I said the name Dodds, he hesitated—just a beat—then insisted she never existed. But I knew he was lying. Something had happened at the museum. Something big.]

“HA! Pay up, losers!” Travis crowed, though no one had actually taken the bet.

“No one betted against you, Trav,” Simon said softly, looking at him with such a gentle, almost fond look that it made me pause. Almost like there was history there I wasn't privy to—a look that spoke of shared history, of inside jokes and a deep, quiet friendship that spanned years.

Travis's grin softened. He rolled his eyes and blew Simon an exaggerated kiss, making Simon blush. "Everything's a bet if you play it right, Birdie."

"Birdie?" The sharp, scandalized gasp came from Isabel Thorn née Sky, the Minister of the Birds. She stared, her face a mask of shock and something like betrayal. "You-you told... they know, before we introduced ourselves?" Her father and mother-in-law, Orion and Celeste, looked equally stunned, their sharp eyes narrowing as did many other Animalgams looked on, flabbergasted.

"Duh." Cecil said from the Hermes cluster, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Several other campers nodded, murmuring. "I mean, we found out after he turned thirteen since he shifted in front of us, but we've been calling him Birdie since he first stumbled into camp.

Luke Thorn, Simon's father and Isabel’s late husband, sputtered, "What-why? Why that name?" He looked from Simon to Luke Castellan, a deep confusion on his face.

Drew, who already had a pinched expression, stared at him like he was stupid. "Because it's a cool nickname? Because Simon's flighty, thin, and agile and our Luke–”

"Nope." Simon cut in sharply, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He looked acutely uncomfortable. "Not the time, Drew. Not the story." His tone held a rare edge of command that silenced her immediately.

"Our Luke gave Simon that nickname," Chris explained quickly, trying to defuse the tension before the screen continued. "Back before... everything." He glanced apologetically at Luke Castellan, who had gone very still, his hand unconsciously moving to his scar.

The clarification did little to ease the bewildered and hurt looks from Simon's biological family. Another piece of his life, another inside joke, another bond that excluded them. Nolan crossed his arms, his jaw tight. Malcolm Thorn simply watched, his analytical mind trying to piece together the story. Leo Thorn and Zia Stone shared looks, wondering if Darryl had mentioned this to them—he hadn’t.

[I didn’t have much time to dwell on it during the day, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings kept jolting me out of sleep.]

Simon flinched, grimacing, "Yeah, demigod dreams'll do that to you." He unconsciously rubbed his wrist over his watch, where the old whip mark was.

Maya frowned, lowering her voice, "Visions again?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I guess." The shared look between them was full of a concern that spoke of many such conversations.

"If they bothered you so much, Perce, why didn't you tell me?" Grover asked.

Percy looked over at him. "G-Man, I say this with all the love in my heart. You made me think I was going crazy. Why would I have told you?" Grover's shoulders slumped, his guilt palpable.

[And the freak weather didn’t help. One night, a thunderstorm shattered the dorm windows. Days later, the largest tornado ever recorded in the Hudson Valley touched down just fifty miles from Yancy. In social studies, we discussed a rise in sudden Atlantic squalls that had taken down a shocking number of small planes.

I became irritable. Cranky. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her crew. I was sent out of class so often it became my unofficial schedule.]

“The weather was affecting your mood, wasn’t it?” Rhodes said. Percy nodded, and his godly sister hums thoughtfully. Triton, watching from behind his father's throne, looked vaguely impressed despite himself.

Amphitrite smiled, "How in tune you are to your father's domain, godling."

"Yeah... that's me." Percy said, squeezing Simon's hand till i could see the veins in his arms. Simon didn't pull away, just let his hand be a anchor. “in tune.”

Celeste Thorn looked unimpressed, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "So you were why we've had recent storms last May?" She said rudely. Several demigods shot her dirty looks and Darryl's gaze could have frozen lava.

[The last straw? When Mr. Nicoll, our English teacher, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an “old sot.” I didn’t even know what it meant, but it sounded right.]

Simon grinned, leaning to Percy, "It means a drunk."

Percy groaned and buried his face in his free hand, while the Stoll brothers howled with laughter.

“So, Mr. D?” Ajax said, making the God gawk at the former soldier at the lack of respect as the demigods laughed. “Kidding, kidding, can’t take a joke can you, Dio?”

“I can, Alexander,” The god huffed, “yours, just aren’t funny.”

[The headmaster sent a letter to my mom a week later. It was official: I wouldn’t be invited back to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I missed home. I wanted to be back in our small Upper East Side apartment with Mom—even if it meant putting up with my obnoxious stepdad and his eternal poker nights.]

A few of the demigods who came from less-than-ideal homes nodded in sympathy. For us, "home" was often a complicated concept.

“Poker?” Nico frowned. “Paul doesn’t play poker.”

Percy shook his head. “Before Paul.” 

The look on his face says he won’t be explaining any more. Simon had a dark look on his face, “Is that why—holy shit, i didn’t know, I'm so sorry…”

“Sim, it’s fine.” Percy said, squeezing Simon’s hand reassuringly.

“You know how to play poker?” Isabel Thorn asked, trying to hide her confusion.

“Yeah,” Connor piped up.

“He learned it from us.” Travis continued. “He’s known how to play since he was, like, nine-ish.”

“And then Darryl threw you guys out.” Maya finished smugly. “Out the fire escape.”

Ajax snickered, “it’s his love language, don’t worry, boys.”

Travis and Connor smiled like they won the lottery, “Noted.”

[Still… I’d miss Yancy. The pine-scented woods outside my window. The distant glimmer of the Hudson River. I’d miss Grover, who’d been a strange but loyal friend. I worried about him. Who’d watch his back next year?

Oddly, I’d even miss Latin class—Mr. Brunner’s intense tournament days, his belief in me. As exams approached, it was the only subject I bothered to study. I hadn’t forgotten what he said: that Latin could be a matter of life and death. I didn’t understand it, but… part of me was starting to believe him.]

Chiron looked both proud and deeply saddened by Percy's words, “I’m glad you listened to your instincts, Percy.”

Percy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, the same way he does every time he gets something even resembling a compliment.  “Thanks, Chiron.”

Annabeth was watching Screen-Percy with a soft, knowing expression, as if she was seeing the first hints of the hero he would become while Simon smiled faintly at his friend trying, even when it was hard.

[The night before the Latin final, I lost it. I hurled the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across the room. The words had begun to swirl, skating off the pages like they had minds of their own. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydeuces and Polydeuces.]

Athena let out an annoyed huff. “Sea spawn, how could you not remember the difference?!”

Percy sighed. “It’s the spelling. I know that Chiron and Charon are different. Chiron, hero trainer. Charon, underworld ferry guy.”

Chiron looked at him and then shrugged. “An oversimplification, but right nonetheless.”

The goddess raised an eyebrow. “And the other two?”

“Same thing. I know they’re different. Polyphemus, Odyssey Cyclops. Polydeuces, anti-water giant. The spelling is just so similar, and my dyslexia doesn’t help matters.” Percy explained. Several demigods murmured in agreement, a shared experience of knowing the stories but struggling with the written names.

[I paced the room, agitated, like ants were crawling under my skin. I remembered Mr. Brunner’s steady gaze, those eyes that looked older than time itself.

“I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson.”

I took a breath, picked up the book, and made a decision.

I’d never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers or some advice. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn’t want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn’t tried.]

I saw Percy squirm a bit and I raised a brow. Wonder what’s happening there. Meanwhile, Annabeth’s eyes gleaned faintly. "The first time for everything," she murmured, not kindly but not as mean either.

“Annabeth!” Thalia scolded but it held not much heat.

Chiron shook his head sadly, “I wouldn’t have thought that, Percy.”

Percy shrugged. “I didn’t know that at the time.”

[Down in the faculty offices, most rooms were dark—except Mr. Brunner’s. The light spilled into the hallway. I was just three steps from the door when I heard voices.

“…worried about Percy, sir.” It was Grover.]

Simon slapped Percy’s shoulder, his face suddenly very red. “That’s when you showed up?!”

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah…”

Simon took a deep breath, muttered a very intense prayer under his breath and slumped into Darryl’s chest, his head in his hands, as Darryl and Maya patted Simon’s curls comfortingly.

[I froze.

I don’t usually eavesdrop, but come on—try not listening when your best friend is talking about you behind a door.]

Hestia, from her hearth, sighed softly. "The price of the Mist," she murmured, her voice full of ancient sorrow, "is often paid in the loneliness of the one who remembers." Her gentle gaze rested on Percy, understanding his isolation perfectly.

Jason glanced at Percy. “Not usually an eavesdropper?”

Percy huffed. “Well, I wouldn’t do it so often if people didn’t keep things from me!”

“Preach.” Simon deadpanned, staring right at his biological family and Animalgam friends through the gaps of his hands.

I shared looks with our friends, and saw the same expression of guilt on everyone’s face. 

We really did keep a lot from Percy.

[I crept closer.

“A Kindly One in the school!” Grover whispered. “Now that we know for sure, and they know too—”

“We’d only make it worse by rushing him,” Mr. Brunner replied. “He needs time to mature.”]

Annabeth let out a scoff, she still seemed full of herself after all these years but it seemed less prominent lately. “Mature more? He’s barely mature now.”

I saw Percy flinch, and I glared at her. “Shut up, Chase. He’s plenty mature. You just don’t see it because he hides it from you.”

She looked at me in shock, genuine confusion swarming her face.  “What? Why would he do that?”

Percy let out a thin snort. “Why wouldn’t I? From the first moment we met, I knew you considered yourself the smartest person in the room. You didn’t see me as a threat back then. If I had shown the truth, your attitude toward me would have gotten worse. After a while, it just became natural to act that way around you.”

She opened her mouth to respond, maybe apologize, but Simon, through the cracks of his fingers, and Thalia shot her looks to shut up and listen.

[“He’s only twelve,” another voice chimed in—soft, young. It was him. The kid from the museum. I hadn’t imagined him after all. “That’s a lot of pressure… even if he’s a you-know-what.”]

"There I am," Simon murmured, almost to himself. He sounded tired. He leaned back against Darryl, who gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Percy looked at him. "You were trying to stick up for me even then."

Simon just shrugged, as if it were nothing, but a faint pink tinged his ears as he lowered his hands. "You were a kid. You didn't know about us."

The simplicity of the statement spoke volumes about Simon's character. The Animalgams looked between them with interest; An embarrassed, red-faced Simon and a soft-spoken, reassuring Percy. Percy whispered something to Simon but I couldn't catch it, i only saw Simon punch his playfully in the arm, his face pink.

Travis nudged Connor, snickering, ''You know what' like Percy's Voldemort." That earned a few chuckles, breaking the tension slightly.

"I'm surprised you two read Harry Potter." Will poked.

"Hey, we have culture!" Connor protested, grinning.

[“But he may not have time. The summer solstice—”

“Will be handled without him,” Brunner said firmly. “Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can.”

“But he saw her—”

“Imagination,” Brunner insisted. “The Mist will cloud their minds. It always does.”

I strained, trying to catch the kid’s name, but it slipped past me like smoke.]

Chiron, in his centaur form, bowed his head, his face etched with regret. "A necessary cruelty," he said, his voice heavy. "I believed I was making the choice that would give him the most time. I was... mistaken.”

Poseidon's grip on his trident tightened, but he said nothing, the conflict between a god's pride and a mentor's strategy clear on his face. The sea in the murals behind him seemed to churn a little harder.

Malcolm Thorn frowned deeply, "Why can't he hear Simon's name?"

Percy shrugged, "I dunno. I just couldn't." He looked almost as frustrated about it now as he was then.

[“Fine,” the kid muttered. “I’ll head back before sunrise tomorrow. But this still feels wrong, sir.”

“You’ve done well,” Mr. Brunner said. I could hear pride in his voice. “Your knowledge of the myths is exceptional.”

A pause. Then, quieter like he was admitting something embarrassing: “I had good teachers.”]

A small, proud smile touched Chiron's lips. For a moment, he wasn't a strategist who'd made a mistake, but a teacher seeing his student excel.

Ajax beamed, ruffling Simon’s hair, “So proud of tou.”

Simon flushed but nodded, “thanks, Jax.”

Malcolm and Isabel raised their brows at how easy Simon accepted Ajax’s touch—practically leaning into it, compared to him flinching and stiffening whenever they held him.

[Then Grover spoke again, voice cracking, “I can’t fail again, sir. You know what that would mean.”]

“Goat Boy!” Thalia yelled.

“Oh no.” Maya snickered, “get ready, Grover.”

She stood up, grabbed a pillow and started hitting him, enunciating her every word. “You. Did. Not. Fail.”

He cowered. “Okay! Okay! Jeez, Thals, how do you make a pillow hurt so much?!” Laughing softly, I waited for Thalia to sit back down as the Animalgams watched us—quietly observing if we were threats.

[“You haven’t failed, Grover,” Brunner said gently. “I should have recognized her for what she was. Now our goal is to keep Percy alive until fall—”

I dropped the mythology book. Thud.

Silence.]

“Noo! You gave away your position!” The Stolls wailed together as Dev stared in their direction like he was connecting something in his head.

Percy rolled his eyes. “I dare you two to not react when someone talks about making sure you stay alive.”

They stopped and looked at him, nodding. “Good point.”

[Heart pounding, I grabbed the book and backed away.

A shadow passed across the door. Something tall, holding what looked suspiciously like a bow.

I ducked into a nearby room and shut the door softly behind me.

Outside, I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like hooves on linoleum. Then… a snuffling noise. Something stopped outside my door, paused, then moved on.]

I tilted my head in confusion. “You were out of your wheelchair?”

Chiron nodded. “I was nervous, especially with the attack by the Fury.”

Grover had buried his face in his hands. "I was so close," he moaned. "I almost had him!"

Simon rubbed his neck nervously, “In my defense, I was twelve and inexperienced.”

“Somehow, none of those are valid enough.” Ethan Nakamura deadpanned before Maya shot him a glare.

[A bead of sweat ran down my neck.

“Nothing,” Brunner muttered from the hall. “My nerves haven’t been right since the winter solstice,”

Grover replied. “Mine neither. But I could’ve sworn…”

”Grover.” The blue-eyed boy said sharply, “Relax.”]

I blinked in surprise. "He didn't sense you? Neither had Simon or Grover?"

Percy shook his head. "No." He looked almost offended by it, even now.

[“Get some sleep—both of us,” Brunner said. “Tomorrow’s a long day of exams.”

“Don’t remind me.”]

Grover groaned, glancing at Simon to back him up. "Oh my gods, taking those tests is the worst part of being a Keeper."

Simon rolled his eyes, and fell dramatically over Ajax and Maya's laps, his legs still planted over Darryl's, making them snort at him as others stared, "It was horrible—worse than anything the Animalgams could've done to me." His dramatic flair was a clear attempt to lighten the mood.

Chiron raised an eyebrow while the Animalgams stared at Simon with complicated expressions-some ranging between concern and others scowling at the blatant disrespect. His mother Isabel and uncle Malcolm looked particularly guilty.

"Worse than monsters?" He asked, then gestured vaguely to the Animalgam crowd, "worse than Orion or Celeste?"

Celeste and Orion both scowled at Chiron, who pointedly ignored them like they were bugs under his hooves—and they kind of were. The demigods smirked at the insult. Grover and Simon nodded empathetically, saying in unison, "You can't kill tests."

[The lights went out.

I waited. Forever.

Then I slipped quietly upstairs.

Grover was lying on his bed, buried in Latin notes like he’d been there all night.

“Hey,” he said groggily. “You ready for the test?”

I didn’t answer.]

“So, Grover can’t lie, but he can act.” Connor snapped his fingers and pointed to the satyr. “That’s it! You can be a mime.”

I reached out a hand, and Billie tossed me a pillow. Standing up on, I walked over to Connor and hit him a few times, making Connor raise his arms to defend himself as he fell behind the couch.

“Ow! Owwww, Katie!”

I smiled in satisfaction and returned to my seat, fluffing up the pillow as I lean on it. "Worth it," I declared.

["You look terrible." He frowned.

"Something happen?"

"Just... tired."

I turned away before he could read my face.]

Grover sighed. "I knew," he said miserably. "I knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to believe it."

“Not going to work, Pierre.” Mr. D said disappointed.

Grover piped up. “Actually, I was never able to get a clear grasp on Percy’s emotions until after we established the empathy link. Even with that, it’s still hard sometimes.”

Poseidon let out a wry grin. “You have me to blame for that, I’m afraid.”

[I didn’t understand what I’d heard. I wanted to believe I’d imagined it. But one thing was clear:

Grover and Mr. Brunner were hiding something.

And that kid—whoever he was—had been trying to help me.

That meant more than I could say.]

Percy and Simon shared a look. It was a quiet moment of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of a friendship that had started long before they'd officially met.

“I never really got to thank—” Percy started but Simon silenced him, pressing a finger to Percy’s lips.

“It was years ago.”

Percy snorted, a flush on his cheeks, “Still."

“Ahem,” Maya said, clearing her throat as she gestured to the people around us, “as much as you lovebirds are cute and all—Jackson, stay the Hades far from my baby brother or i’m gonna actually castrate you—, we got an audience.”

“Right.” Percy said, fixing a neutral look and edged away from Simon, who nodded, fixing a solemn expression.

[The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I’d misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.]

Thalia nudged Percy.  “Something about this feels off…”

Simon frowned, “Three hours? Oh, fuck you Chiron.”

“Language.” The adults said in unison while Chiron shook his head guiltily.

“No! You know Percy and the other demigods have ADHD—I have ADHD, for gods sake—it’d be physically taxing for us to sit still for three hours!” Simon stated, already on his feet as he paced his spot, sounding worth his title as the Bird Prince and Isabel’s heir, “We’d barely get anything done without a gentle reminder and some more time. And it’s already hard enough to focus with our minds going a thousand miles per hour since they’re designed for battle, not sitting still.”

“I know.” Chiron said sadly.

“I don’t care, Chiron. Do better—no matter how much I respect you, doing that to Percy was horrible, you’d never do that to me or Annabeth or any other demigod, why him?” He hissed before Maya and Darryl sat him back down on Darryl’s knee, where he was busy steaming off.

Leave it up to Simon to berate Chiron in front of everyone, I guess.

[For a moment, I was worried he’d found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn’t seem to be the problem.

“Percy,” he said. “Don’t be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It’s…it’s for the best.”]

The Greek demigods, including the Heroes of Old who were trained by Chiron, and Ajax and Darryl let out a collective groan. 

"He's gonna try and do a pep talk, isn't he?" Selena asked, already slumping into Beckendorf's arms. Beckendorf patted her head sympathetically.

Percy nodded while Simon, cooled down, winched, patting his shoulder. "Brace yourself," He said.

"Surely it can't be that bad." Nixie Fluke said pointedly.

"Oh, it's bad." Darryl grimaced. The sheer dread on the big man's face was a testament to how awful it was.

"You're exaggerating, brother." Malcolm Thorn waved off gruffly. He was met with a chorus of "No, he's not!" from the demigods.

[His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, “Okay, sir.”

“I mean…” Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “This isn’t the right place for you. It was only a matter of time.”

My eyes stung.]

I and many others cringed. I opened my mouth but Percy shook his head, “Wait, Kat. It gets worse.”

“Seriously?" Simon said before pausing and clicked his teeth, "no, wait. Sorry. It can." He looked like he was remembering his own version of a terrible pep talk.

I wasn’t entirely sure how it could get worse, but I nodded, looking at the duo whose shoulders’ were touching so closely.

[Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn’t handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

“Right,” I said, trembling.

“No, no,” Mr. Brunner said. “Oh, confound it all. What I’m trying to say…you’re not normal, Percy. That’s nothing to be—”

“Thanks,” I blurted. “Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me.”

“Percy—”

But I was already gone.]

A pause. 

“Wow. That… that was brutal.” Jam Fluke blinked, fixing his glasses. His older sisters all nodded in wide-eyed agreement—even the General and his wife were shocked, as were the other leaders.

Percy shrugged. "It's fine, I just overreacted." He was trying to downplay it, but the memory clearly still stung.

Hazel, Bianca and Nico frowned at him, and Thalia shook her head. "No, that's a perfectly normal reaction, Perce. Any one of us would have done the same." Her voice was firm, brooking no argument.

Darryl put a hand on his shoulder. "She's right, Jackson. But even if you had overreacted a bit, it would have been understandable. You were a young child, hearing a very, very poorly worded pep talk." He glanced at Chiron. "By the way, Chiron, you've lived and worked with children for millennia, how are you this bad at talking to kids?!" The question was asked with such genuine bafflement that it was funnier than any joke.

Chiron sighed, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, trying and failing to find a good reason. He looked utterly defeated.

Ajax glared at Chiron, and I waited. I knew how protective Simon and Maya got over Ajax—especially after we found out Darryl was murdered in front of Simon back in August; and I can't imagine it being any different with him.

Maya squeezed her father's shoulder gently, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, relaxing his face. After a moment, he opened them and sighed. "Chiron, perhaps it would be best for you to leave pep talks to literally anyone else-even Maya can whip up a better speech." He said it not with anger, but with the weary tone of a man stating an obvious fact.

He flushed, burning red but nodded. "Noted," he said quietly.

Mariana Fluke grimaced, "That sounds like it would be the best move." The other adult figures in the room—mortal, animal and immortal—nodded in solemn agreement.

[On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans.

One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies.]

Simon nudged Percy, smirking, “Sounds familiar?”

“Didn’t Ajax serve the military and is now a business owner?” Percy snorted, his voice low enough for not many people being able to hear—and with the Animalgams across, i didn’t think they could hear much else apart from a few snippets. “Your mother is a Minister, your grandparents were royals, your uncle is the Alpha, your brother’s a prince, you’re friends with a spy-princess, a soon-to-be General, an actual spy, a councilman’s granddaughter and were crowned the Bird Prince.”

Simon’s face flushed and he punched Percy’s shoulder while the Animalgams gawked at bits of their conversation, “No, like before, when we didn’t know about all that. Besides, Jax didn’t do much apart from chipping in here and there since Darryl’s stubborn—I never left New York until I met you.”

“Yeah,” Maya nodded, grinning, “Dad would’ve done a lot more if Darryl, over here, wasn’t so modest,” Ajax ruffled her hair affectionately while Darryl huffed.

"What-? Ajax, Maya, who are you?" Leo Thorn asked, completely lost.

"The Lin Abbotts, of course." They said in unison, looking at Thorn Senior like he was stupid. The sheer absurdity of the statement left the entire Thorn family, Zia (as she was a Stone, apparently? On her mother’s side) and Orion looking baffled.

[They asked me what I’d be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn’t tell them was that I’d have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I’d go to school in the fall.]

Maya laughed, a brittle noise from her lips, “Simon did the same thing! Except for the dog thing—Darryl hated him near the animals.”

Ajax snorted, “Right? We had to fake his signature for the Bronx Zoo field trip.”

"Where you two followed me." Simon shot, "that was creepy." He said it without any real heat, more fondly than anything.

Darryl muttered something unkindly about his life and the family he chose to live it with as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we continue the chapter, please." He was clearly reaching his limit for public family revelations.

[“Oh,” one of the guys said. “That’s cool.”

They went back to their conversation as if I’d never existed.]

“Rude.” Maya said, crossing her arms.

Simon snorted, “most rich people are.”

“Hey!” Came the replies.

Percy grinned. “You kind of are proving his point, people.”

“How?!”

[The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to. He’d booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.]

“Awh,” Aphrodite cooed initially, “such sweet, friendly love.”

Everyone else, the demigods especially, looked at him: “Stalker!”

“You’re a stalker with hooves.”

“Grover!”

Grover’s ears turn red, and soft laughs sound throughout the room.

[During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he’d always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I’d always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.]

"And so it begins," Thalia said, a grim smile on her face. "The interrogation." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, as if watching a thrilling movie.

Grover buried his face in his hands. "I was so bad at it, he moaned, his voice muffled as his goat legs trembled slightly.

[Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I said, “Looking for Kindly Ones?”]

Chris groaned. “Perce, you scared the shit out of him, didn’t you?”

He shrugged but doesn’t say anything while Simon snorted.

[Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. “Wha—what do you mean?”

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover’s eye twitched. “How much did you hear?”

“Oh… not much. What’s the summer solstice deadline?”]

Frank rolled his eyes. “Oh, not much, he says, and then references something at almost the start of the conversation.”

“Clearly not much.” Hazel snickered.

[He winced. “Look, Percy…I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers and sweater-wearing kids…”

“Grover—”

“And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, or a kid like that attend Yancy, and…”]

Simon looked at Grover in shock. “You tried to make him think he was crazy?!”

He winced, “Yeah… not my best move.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Stop swearing.” Maya groaned, not unkindly, “your share of the swear jar makes up, like sixty percent, anymore and we gotta tape your mouth shut.”

Simon bit his lip in thought then nodded, wilting like a plant, “right, sorry.”

[“Grover, you’re a really, really bad liar.”]

The entire room erupted in laughter. It was a release of tension. Even the gods smirked. Grover's pathetic attempt at lying was legendary.

[His ears turned pink. From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. “Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer.”

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

GROVER UNDERWOOD

Keeper | Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009]

Will opened his mouth, and Mr. D holds up a hand. “I know, Wallace. I’m switching the cards for the demigods to Greek. I’m still keeping the fancy ones for our ‘strawberry service’ though.”

"Hold on, D—Dio, Uncle Didi.” Simon said, holding up his hands, “Daniel, sir.”

Mr. D smirked, “Yes, Sally Timon?”

Simon rolled his eyes, continuing, "Do you happen to send exports to restaurants that are later sent to L.A.I.R.? Or do you actually do business with my academy?”

The God smirked, leaning down, “Guess.”

[“What’s Half—”

“Don’t say it aloud!” he yelped. “That’s my, um…summer address.”]

Rachel winced as Maya nodded. “Bad wording, Grover.”

 The goat-man sighed, “Yeah… I didn’t really think about that at the time, but you’re right.”

 Pearl Anne Fluke tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

Percy ran a hand down his face while Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before meeting Rachel, I hadn’t had any good experience with rich people. Rachel is the only rich person to date that I’ve had a good relationship with.”

“Hey! What about me?” Maya asked.

“Eh, fifty-fifty. You were scared for Simon, that I understand.” Percy said, making a so-so gesture with his hand. “But, you were kinda… a lot—besides, I didn’t really know you were rich when we met.”

She shrugged, clearly not hurt, “Fair enough, but seriously, I’m sorry.”

“Lin Abbott, it’s fine. We’re on much better terms now.” Percy said, winking at Simon, who flushed—making a few boys frown, “Thanks Birdie, for the effort.”

“It’s fine.” Simon said.

Piper frowned. “What about me?”

Percy looked at her incredulously. “Do you really want me to answer that right now? Really?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. Simon cleared his throat. “Okay… let’s continue!”

[My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I’d never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

“Okay,” I said glumly. “So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion.”

He nodded. “Or… or if you need me.”

“Why would I need you?”]

Before anyone can do anything, Grover put a hand up. “He didn’t mean it like that. I understood.”

[It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam’s apple. “Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you.”

I stared at him.

All year long, I’d gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I’d lost sleep worrying that he’d get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended me.

“Grover,” I said, “what exactly are you protecting me from?”]

Grover frowned, turning to Percy. “You got into fights?”

Percy shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s all good, G-Man. I’d do it again, you know that.”

Lysander let out a laugh, tapping the shell of his ears where his hearing-aids rested. “Okay, but I can see where Jackson’s coming from. His best friend, this disabled kid who’s been held back a lot, tells him he’s been protecting him. I’d be confused too.”

We all laughed. The humor soon faded, replaced by a heavy sense of anticipation. We all knew what was coming next.

[There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway. After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we’d all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you’d notice if you didn’t break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.]

Simon and Darryl shared a suspicious look together. I froze and looked at Percy. “Perce…”

He shook his head. “Continue, Kat.”

I was hesitant, but I nodded.

[The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice.

There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I’d ever seen. I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks.

The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.]

Simon glanced at Maya and Ajax, who were still watching the screen and looked at the Animalgams, who were all still observing us and watching the screen. A few of them—now—in their animal forms while most remained human.

He muttered something i couldn’t hear but i swore his sweater shimmered the same color of the socks—electrically gleaming before it turned dull. Like nothing happened.

[All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses. The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.]

The description alone was enough to make the air grow cold. Even the gods on their thrones seemed to sit up straighter, a rare look of solemn respect on their faces. Zeus straightened his posture. Hades stopped fidgeting. Even Ares looked serious.

You didn't joke about the Fates, not now, not then and not ever.

"The Moirai," Athena breathed, a hint of academic fascination in her tone, though even she looked wary. She adjusted her owl-shaped helmet like it’d protect her from their names alone.

"Wait, wait—my babysitters, the ones who lived right across from us, were the Fates?!" Simon exclaimed, fully turning to Darryl, who looked just as perplexed. The sheer, mundane horror of the realization was written all over his face.

"It looks like it." Darryl said, "I should've known—" He ran a hand over his face, utterly bewildered as gasps and protests rose amongst the crowd of people, the Animalgams staring at Simon and Darryl in shock like they grew a second head.

"Darryl," Ajax cut in, "You didn't know.”—He was trying to be reasonable, but even he looked stunned—"You didn't know that the three old ladies who brought over casseroles and yelled at you for not dressing Simon warmly enough were the literal incarnations of destiny?”

"I know, I couldn’t have then, but i know now.” Darryl finished, sounding utterly defeated by the revelation. “Simon’s babysitters were the Fates.”

“No.” Luke Castellan gasped. Maya’s tanned skin turned a sickly pale. The two of them shared a look of dawning, terrified understanding despite what Luke did, and Luke, ignoring his own injuries and the scrutiny of everyone else, rushed to Simon's side, cupping his face, "Birdie, did you— did you ever—?"

"No! How could I—” Simon sputtered, but his eyes were wide with the memory of a thousand strange moments suddenly making sense. All eyes turned to Percy, who was studying the floor of the throne room with intense interest.

"Percy.." Annabeth said slowly, her grey eyes wide. "Holy crap, you saw the Fates?!"

Percy nodded slightly, not meeting anyone's gaze. "They were... knitting. I didn't know they were Simon's... babysitter’s." The word sounded absurd coming out of his mouth in this context.

"And, Simon, they were—” Connor Stoll started, unable to finish the thought.

"My babysitters..." Simon muttered, nodding numbly. "Maya, Ica and I called them our Nanas, .... Ajax and Darryl called them Missus and Ma'am... They used to bring over yarn and those hard candies that got stuck in your teeth."

Ajax looked like he was about to faint. "Oh my god. I met the Fates. I talked to them about the stock market. I helped one of them—Clotho, I think—carry her groceries."

"And you made them a brisket that one time," Maya and Luke said in unison, their voices flat with shock. Maya was now sitting on Luke's legs after Ajax and her quickly tied Luke up with her thick combat boot laces, leaving her feet in their socks. After the events of five whole years and the Battle of Manhattan, it was clear, Luke still wasn’t trusted by his adoptive family, even if they still loved him.

“Kids, kindly be quiet.” Darryl and Ajax said in unison, both blushing to the tip of their ears.

[“Grover?” I said. “Hey, man—”

“Tell me they’re not looking at you. They are, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?”]

Simon and Leo Valdez let out a nervous laugh, saying in unison. “Honestly, I would have done the same thing, though.”

 Percy grinned self-deprecatingly, the revelation still fresh in the air. “Deflecting with humor, right?” Simon and Percy high-fived while Leo gave himself a high five since he sat far away from them.

[“Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all.”

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

“We’re getting on the bus,” he told me. “Come on.”

“What?” I said. “It’s a thousand degrees in there.”

“Come on!” He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.]

“Yeah!” Clarisse shouted as the other demigods agreed, begging screen-Percy to get back inside, “Go inside!”

Winter Rivera blinked, “You know you guys are talking to a screen, right—?”

“Shut it, Cottonmouth girl!” Sherman Yang snapped, “it might not be your culture, but it’s ours and this… this is serious.”

Winter, flushed and now embarrassed, nodded as the Animalgams watched on.

[Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.]

The room is dead silent.

Then, Simon let out a choked sob, and Percy hugged him tightly as Simon buried his face in Percy’s neck. “Simon—Birdie, I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Thalia shoved Percy, and Simon let go, his eyes watery as Maya put her hand on his shoulder—their Gemini hair clips gleaming in the little light as they looked at Percy in horror. “No, you’re not! Percy, what the Hades? You saw the Fates?!”

 He sighed, “Guys, the string wasn’t mine.”

We all paused. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It took me until the end to realize it, but the string wasn’t mine. It was just one strongly intertwined with mine. Besides, if I die, I die. The life of a demigod is always short, I knew that going in.” His eyes flickered to Hermes, who jolted. “It was Luke’s.”

“That’s what they meant.” Simon said, his voice scarily even as he turned to face Luke, “when Nana Atropos was knitting, she said your thread was fraying while and…”

“Hold on—” Zia Stone tried to cut in.

“She meant his life string?” Maya gaped, looking between her adoptive brothers. “She said something about strings being intertwined and, and…”

“Wait, please—” Isabel Thorn begged.

Luke gulped, finishing for his adoptive siblings as he stared at Simon, “they knew I was going to leave you. They knew, ever since you introduced me to them, that I was gonna leave twice.”

“Excuse me—” Leo Thorn sputtered.

“It was thrice.” Simon corrected softly. “You left three times, Lu.”

“Pause,” Malcolm Thorn ordered.

“They were trying to tell you.” Maya said, her face turning redder by the minute, as her hands coiled to fists, “the literal Fates were telling you not to leave, and you did.”

“Can you three—” Nolan started, looking between Maya, Simon and Castellan with a particularly envious expression.

“I’m sorry...” Luke Castellan said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

”We're getting off topic.” The late Luke Thorn tried to say, budging in the conversation.

Maya scowled, sneering at his face. “You were warned by the Ladies of Fate themselves, and you still left us. Me. Dad. Darryl. And especially Simon.”

“I know...”

“You promised me and Darryl!”

“I know…”

Tiberius Siles, Ariana’s dad and the Spymaster of the H.I.V.E., cleared his throat, “Perhaps you two could, talk about your family problems another time.”

Maya spun to him, her face dark shade of red and a yell-shaped lump in her throat. Simon grabbed her by the arm and yanked her down, quickly whispering something in her ear as he pointed to Tiberius and made a few fast, vague hand gestures while Maya slowly nodded, her face relaxing before slumping into his hold.

Ajax and Darryl just sat there, stunned at the revelations while Luke nudged Maya’s knee with his foot, making her glare at him.

[“Darn right!” yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat.

“Everybody back on board!”

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I’d caught the flu. Grover didn’t look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.]

Apollo looked at Percy while someone went over to check Grover’s temperature. “You were meant to see that.”

Rachel nodded in agreement.  “You would have seen them eventually, no matter what. You needed to.”

He sighed, squeezing Simon’s hand reassuringly, “I know.”

[“Grover?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you not telling me?”]

“Everything.” Simon said.

[He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?”

“You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They’re not like…Mrs. Dodds, are they?”]

“No.” Darryl grumbled, “they are so much worse.

A piece of paper flew down, dropping into Ajax’s hands. “‘Such disrespect, Darryl. We thought we raised you better than this.’” He read out, tracing the words, whispering ‘It’s in Malay.’ before turning to Darryl, “They kind have you there, Dar. You said you knew them for a long time—back at, what it’s called? L.A.G.E.R.?”

“L.A.I.R.” Darryl corrected, “and I said I knew of them, but I always assumed they were hallucinations since no one else could see.”

Luke Castellan piped up, “The Fates, actually took care of you? Even while you were…”

“Yes, Castellan.” He replied, “cryptic as they were, they were much better than my actual mother, and much better in raising me into the man i am today.”

Maya let out thin laugh, keeping her voice low because of what Simon must’ve said, “anyone is better than Celeste Thorn.”

[His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, “Just tell me what you saw.”

“The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn.”

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might’ve been crossing himself, but it wasn’t. It was something else, something almost—older.]

Annabeth blinked at him in shock, and I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything I’ll regret. 

Travis, though, didn’t. “Don’t look at him like that! Just because he’s not as smart as you in the traditional sense doesn’t mean he’s not smart.”

I saw Annabeth gearing up for a fight, so I quickly got their attention by stomping my foot and pointed to the screen.

[He said, “You saw her snip the cord.”

“Yeah. So?” But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

“This is not happening,” Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. “I don’t want this to be like the last time.”

“What last time?”

“Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth.”]

“You’re losing him, G-man.” Thalia whispered to the goat-man.

“He’s remembering you.” Simon reminded quietly. “From last time.”

[“Grover,” I said, because he was really starting to scare me. “What are you talking about?”

“Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me.”

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.]

“Please tell me you kept that promise, Percy.” Poseidon begged. Percy and Grover shook their heads.

[“Is this like a superstition or something?” I asked.

No answer.

“Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?”

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I’d like best on my coffin.]

Percy tried to deflect with macabre humor. "They're sea lavender, blue hyacinths, and asphodel, just so everyone knows."

Simon didn't just get mad; he snapped.

The mention of asphodel-the flower of the Underworld, of death and mourning-was a step too far. He smacked the back of Percy's head and launched into a lecture in fluent, furious Greek, his normally quiet demeanor completely gone as he squeezed Percy’s hand.

Simon wasn’t mad, he was scared of losing somebody else, especially with how close he and Percy had gotten.

"Are you out of your mind, Percy? Don't you ever—ever—joke about that!” Simon said, in a rough translation of Greek, “You don't get to pick your funeral flowers, you idiot!”

The demigods winced; Simon had a mouth like a sailor and a New Yorker combined. Percy just took it, laughing softly as if he knew Simon was pulling his punches, but the display left the Animalgams utterly speechless, witnessing a side of the "Bird Prince" they never knew existed.

Through it all, I sat with my siblings, the gardener in the storm. I observed the damage, felt the emotional tremors, and did my small part to tend to the people, my reactions serving as a mirror for the shock, absurdity, and deep-seated care that defined this entire impossible situation.

Chapter Text

Isabel Thorn’s POV

Simon continued thwacking the boy, his voice already unintelligible but the emotion was there—my son and heir, Simon, was the Fates’ grandson? And I hadn’t known?

Instead of squealing like I thought, the boy—Percy Jackson—was laughing, same as the other demigods who were pointing and kicking their feet. He caught Simon’s wild wrists, “Birdie! Simon, stop!” He snickered as Simon fumed, his face red in fury. “I promise, I’ll try to be more safe.”

“You always say that, Percy.” Simon said hotly. “You always promise but it never shows. What if your luck really does run out? What if you die—”

“Then I lived a good life.” Percy finished.

Simon stared. “You are eighteen. You have barely lived.”

A cold dread swept through me.

This was the brutal calculus of their world, spoken so casually by an eighteen-year-old to a sixteen-year-old.

“I know, I know.” Percy Jackson said, and the laughter quieted down. “But I mean it this time.”

Simon swallowed, eyes drifting away from Percy before he sighed, letting go. “Fine. I’ll believe you—but it better be true.”

[Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants]

He blinked, “Percy… what…”

Percy Jackson thought for a second. “This is probably when I found out Grover was a satyr.”

1 blinked. A satyr. Of course. Why was I even surprised anymore? The absurdity was becoming normal.

My father, Orion, let out a derisive snort next to me, muttering about "mythical nonsense," but even he seemed to be losing his bluster in the face of so much overwhelming evidence.

[Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was a dead man, muttering ‘Why does this always happen?’ and ‘Why does it always have to be sixth grade?’]

Thalia Grace sheepishly rubbed her neck while Grover avoided eye contact. “Sorry, Percy.”

Percy Jackson nodded. “I know, he was just scared for me.”

Simon let out a grumble. “G-man, that was incredibly creepy. I would have done the exact same thing.”

“Harsh,” Maya muttered, but she didn’t disagree.

Nolan frowned, clearly uneasy. “You just… left your friend?”

“Friend?” Ariana repeated, skeptical. “Some friend.”

Everyone nodded, and Grover Underwood sighed. “Yeah… I realized it when I came back and found him gone.”

“Wow.” Simon said.

“Simon.” Darryl warned. “Be nice.”

“Yes, Darryl.”

[Whenever he got upset, Grover’s bladder acted up, so I wasn’t surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom.

Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.]

“PERRRRCY!” The demigods—a few Animalgams too—were all laughing too hard to say anything.

"Classic Jackson move!" Connor Stoll wheezed.

"The ol' 'promise to wait then immediately bolt'! A timeless strategy!" Travis Stoll added, wiping a tear from his eye.

Eventually Chris Rodriguez calmed down enough to look at Grover Underwood. “Grover, at this point, all of us know that.”

He groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I hate you guys.”

“Love you too, Grover.”

Malcolm tilted his head, confused. “So… he just abandons him? And you’re all laughing?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “That’s just how they are, Malcolm. Trust me, I’ve known at least ninety-percent of them since I was nine.”

[East One-hundred-and-fourth and First,” I told the driver.]

Travis and Connor Stoll let out identical grins, and Percy Jackson rolled his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, Stolls.” Maya said, barely looking at the brothers as she smirked at Percy. “Prissy already moved spots.”

“Can confirm.” Simon added, holding up a key. Percy grinned, flashing an identical one.

Ajax Lin Abbott, Maya’s father, smiled—it looked like the way my husband used to smile before he was killed by my father. “You actually got his keys?”

“Auntie gave them to him.” Thalia Grace said. “Said he was welcome anytime. I think she just missed Darryl.”

Auntie. The word was a knife.

Who was this woman? And she 'missed Darryl'? How deeply was my brother-in-law entangled with these people? The layers of connection were dizzying.

“No, I did not, Thalia.” A voice appeared, and Percy and Simon got up to their feet. The lady had long brown hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin—she was holding a mug of coffee and looked pregnant with her plump belly.

“Mom!” Percy exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the woman before letting go to make way for Simon.

“Missus Jackson!” Simon beamed, enveloping her into a hug as he fondly touched her round stomach. “Hi Estelle,” he cooed.

“What did I tell you to call me, honey?” The lady asked, a teasing smirk on her lips, a hand over his as she kissed his cheek.

Simon sighed dramatically, gently patting her stomach. “Auntie?”

Zia flinched, staring at the woman like she was analyzing her down to the bone to see why this random lady deserved the title of Auntie, and not her—a thought came to mind: had Simon never called her that? Not even in the five years he’s known her?

The woman shook her head, whispering, “No, my dear,” before letting herself be led towards a seat next to Darryl and Maya Lin Abbott.

“Darryl?” She said softly, blinking at my brother-in-law with kind eyes.

“Jackson.” Darryl replied dryly. “Or is it Missus Blofish–”

“Blofis.” Ajax, Simon, and the woman corrected as Nico Di Angelo and Thalia snickered.

Ajax let out a sigh. “Even in death, you’ll get someone’s name wrong.”

“I said what I said.” Darryl huffed.

“I can see where Simon gets his stubbornness,” The lady poked as Darryl’s ears flushed pink but his face was as passive as ever, “you raised him so well, Darryl. I’m sorry i didn’t get to know you better.”

“Now would be the perfect time.” Simon said, grinning like he’d won at life. “Darryl, Auntie’s been helping me out with my Animalgam studies—I don’t know how but she makes it all seem so simple!”

Zia's eyes narrowed like knives. "Auntie? He calls her that?" She muttered to no one in particular, the hurt evident in her voice. "He's known her for a few years and she's 'Auntie', but I’ve been his real aunt for five and I'm 'Zia'."

Sally laughed, “I only helped fix the wording. It’s all you, Simon. So dedicated to understand what you don’t know.”

“Still, you’re a good teacher.” Simon winked, “I’m glad you let me help incorporate some of it in your books.”

“It’s all a little fun.” She said, kissing his cheek. “Besides, I couldn’t help it when you showed me your notes. Such attention to detail, especially to your people’s history, my dear.”

Nolan's jaw clenched and Malcolm muttered under his breath, "He never even called me that—a good teacher."

Even Leo—my father in law—tilted his head, whispering, "So he does have family... just not us."

[A word about my mother, before you meet her.]

A chorus erupted from the demigods:

"Awesome!"

"Amazing!"

"Caring!"

"Flawless!"

"Greatest ever!" Simon added with a grin.

"Best mom!" Percy threw in.

The outpouring of love was immediate and unanimous. Even the usually stoic Romans nodded in respect. Aphrodite sighed dreamily. "Now that is a mother's legacy."

Alice squinted at my son and Percy. "Those are not one word."

Percy stuck out his tongue, and Simon cracked up.

"I have son privileges," Percy declared.

"I get pity privileges," Simon shot back.

"Pretty?" Lacy Cherami asked, confused.

"No, pity. P-I-T-Y," Simon spelled out, writing the letters out.

The mood sobered slightly. Simon said it as a joke, but the word hung in the air, heavy and true.

“They’re not stupid, Simon.” Winter said.

“Yeah, but they’re learning.” He shrugged, “it’s good practice, I heard.”

Sally nodded, “it helps." She said, “and Simon, i don’t pity you.”

[Her name is Sally Jackson and she’s the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn’t care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.]

As the list of Sally's hardships was gone through, the throne room grew quiet. Demeter nodded in solemn respect for a mortal who had endured so much and still nurtured life. Hermes looked uncharacteristically grim.

Maya Lin Abbott grinned, “Now she’s an author! And Simon got to be her illustrator!”

“Maya!” Simon squawked but he seemed proud at her words, “they don’t need to know that!”

Sally Jackson nodded, finding me in the crowd—but her eyes seemed distant compared to when she was looking at my son, “you have a lovely boy, ma'am.” She said, ruffling his hair, “so sweet. Been helping me and my husband during my pregnancy.”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re supposed to be resting, Auntie. I was only being a good person, besides, I like Paul, he’s nice.”

“Ah! Such a kind boy!” She cooed, “you have a gift, Isabel Thorn. Darryl raised him well.”

“Yeah…” I mumbled, “he surely did.”

[The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad.]

Maya Lin Abbott gave a faint smile, “I say the same thing.”

“What?” Percy Jackson laughed, caught off guard. “About who?”

“My fathers. Dad got a good break when he met Baba—even when he met my mom.” She said, “three years felt like forever.”

Simon nodded, “in here, i think we have forever to reconnect."

Connor Stoll snorted, gesturing vaguely, “Simon Thorn, The Eternal Optimist, ladies and gentlemen!” He announced as Simon gave a bow. The demigods cheered and veered, whooping.

The celebration of found family was a stark contrast to the biological family sitting in tense silence. Celeste and Orion scowled, clearly disliking the attention Ajax and Darryl were receiving.

Ajax cleared his throat awkwardly, looking flustered at his daughter’s earlier words, “Maya, never have you not been a gift to me.” He said, kissing her forehead, “The only thing I regret is the day I left you. And even now, I don’t want you to feel that way.”

Jam and Winter flinched, looking at the father-daughter duo. I wondered if I’d been like that with my own father—if he ever loved me.

No. He’d not.

[I don’t have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. My mom doesn’t like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures.]

Simon made a face and Sally Jackson pinched his cheek, “Simon.” She said in a motherly tone that my voice lacked around him. “Just because Darryl or… your mother didn’t tell you about your biological father doesn’t mean, he didn’t love you.”

Simon snorted, a pink hue crossing his cheeks as he swatted her hand gently, “Auntie, he’s right there.”

She raised a brow and rounded the room, her brows furrowing before she found him, “Wow.” She said, looking at my husband—Luke Thorn—in shock before smiling softly, holding Simon’s hand, “You really do look like your dad, honey.”

Malcolm, my other brother-in-law, piped up, his voice raspy, “his brother as well, ma’am—they’re twins.”

Sally Jackson nodded, “well, if Nolan’s anything like Simon here, i think you’ve got two gifts in your hands. Appreciate them, heaven knows Simon’s heart can’t take more hurt.”

The simple, heartfelt advice from a mortal woman seemed to echo in the divine hall. Hera, for once, had nothing cutting to say. She just looked at Sally with a strange, almost wistful expression.

[See, they weren’t married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea.]

Lord Hermes smirked, “smart woman. Technically true.”

Lord Poseidon shifted on his throne, a look of deep sadness and guilt on his face. "It was the kindest lie I could grant her," he said, his voice like the deep rumble of a distant earthquake.

[She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once.

But I knew I wasn’t an easy kid.]

Maya Lin Abbott frowned and tapped Darryl then her father’s shoulder, “Tell them.”

“What?” Darry asked, raising a brow.

“Say it.” Simon said, “Mynx and I knew we weren’t easy to raise, especially to love of what we are, now’s a good time to make not Percy feel alone.”

Ajax Lin Abbott made a weird noise and hugged them, his brown eyes crinkling, “I admit, Maya, you weren’t easy to raise. You screamed and cried every night and we said things we didn’t mean but i have never thought you were a burden.”

“Simon was a quiet baby.” Darryl started, a hand on Simon’s shoulder, “he didn’t cry much, liked babbling a tad more than i’d hoped but, he’s still my kid.”

The raw, simple love in Darryl's statement was undeniable. I saw my husband, Luke Thorn, watching them, a complex mix of grief, gratitude, and jealousy on his face.

“What about me?” Luke Castellan asked quietly but the four of them didn’t notice, too wrapped up in their moment.

[Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom’s life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along…well, when I came home is a good example.]

Jam let out a gag, “that’s disgusting! How’d you even know that smell?”

Winter scrunched up her face, “That’s… foul.”

Ariana muttered, “Kill him.”

“Even cockroaches would move out.” Dev snorted.

Simon snorted, “I bet ten drachma the guys at one of Percy’s old school had garlic pizza in his gym shorts.”

"Fifteen drachma says it was a locker," Travis Stoll grinned.

"Twenty says it was in the lost and found," Connor Stoll added.

"Please," Nico Di’Angelo deadpanned, "it was probably his lunchbox."

"Y'all are nasty," Maya Lin Abbott snorted, tossing in, "but I'll put five on cafeteria fridge."

Percy Jackson groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is my tragic backstory, not a betting pool!"

"Too late," Simon chirped. "We're invested."

“Are you seriously gambling.” Ajax Lin Abbott smirked, “Definitely my son.”

“He’s not your son.” My husband snapped but the man ignored him.

[I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, “So, you’re home.”]

Everyone, including the Animalgams, shuddered in disgust, and Hazel Levesuqe actually let out a gagging noise.

I glanced at various people around the room, and I knew all of us are getting the same feeling that something’s off here.

[“Where’s my mom?”

“Working,” he said. “You got any cash?”]

Maya Lin Abbott scowled, “That’s it? No welcome back, how has your life been? Nothing?!” Percy let out a noncommittal shrug, but she continued, shooting me and my family a dirty look, “Not even the Thorns do that to Simon! And we all know how they are.”

Brows were raised amongst the Animalgams, murmuring about our family. Simon didn’t object or add, looking away as he crossed his arms, “Maya, please, not right now.” He mumured and she huffed.

“I get to tear one into Malcolm, he was way too agressive when he met you." She said, shooting my other brother-in-law a glare before glancing at my youngest son, “or Nolan, bratty kid. Or maybe Zia. No, all of them. Once least one jab.”

Darryl flicked her ear, “no dissing my and Simon’s family in front of them.” He said in a low rumble.

“That implies she can do it behind their backs.” Simon dryly said.

[That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?]

Normally, at least some people would’ve laughed a little, but the mood in the room was so tense that no one did. 

[Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.

Gabe had ballooned since Christmas. He looked like a walrus stuffed into a discount-rack Hawaiian shirt, his three remaining hairs combed over his scalp like they could fool anyone. He technically managed an electronics store in Queens, but mostly he just collected paychecks, blew them on cigars that made me nauseous, and guzzled enough beer to drown a horse.

Always beer.]

Malcolm muttered under his breath, “Your mother let that thing near you?” while Darryl visibly bristled, fists clenching.

[Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our “guy secret.”

Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out.]

A low growl rippled from the Animalgams. “He hit you?”

My lips pressed tight, fury building—I’d had seen monsters wear human skins before.

This man was worse.

“Guy secret?” Maya hissed. “That’s not a secret. That’s abuse.”

["I don't have cash," I lied.

His greasy eyebrow twitched. Gabe had a bloodhound's nose for money-impressive, considering he smelled like a dumpster fire.

“You took a taxi from the bus station,” he said. “Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?”]

Travis Stoll leaned forward. “He’s shaking you down for bus-change?!”

Simon spat, “I don’t care who’s roof it is, you never ask a kid to pay rent. Not in this life.”

Rowan Perrin—so very quietly—spoke, voice sharp: “I’ve seen warlords with more dignity.”

Winter blinked in shock, her jaw agap. “It can do math?”

Percy snorted. “Only when that math involves money, Rivera.”

[Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. “Come on, Gabe,” he said. “The kid just got here.”

“Am I right?” Gabe repeated.

Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.

“Fine,” I said. I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. “I hope you lose.”]

Aphrodite let out a gag, “disgusting!”

Simon smirked, “Dio can make that happen.”

Lord Dionysus gave a small nod, “I could, and I shall.”

[“Your report card came, brain boy!” he shouted after me. “I wouldn’t act so snooty!”]

I saw Thalia wince. “Shit, Perce. Does… do our nicknames for you…”

He sighed, thinking for a moment, and then shrugged, “Not yours or Nico’s. I know those ones come from a place of love.”

[I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn’t my room. During school months, it was Gabe’s “study.” He didn’t study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home.]

Jason Grace snorted sombrely, “even as a kid you were sarcastic.”

[Gabe’s smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady’s shears snipping the yarn.

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover’s look of panic—how he’d made me promise I wouldn’t go home without him.

A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone—something—was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.]

Ajax Lin Abbott reached across Darryl's lap, tapping Percy's knee. "Kid, listen. You're not alone. You're not crazy. Me and Darry, we've seen... worse." His eyes flicked toward Simon, then Maya Lin Abbott, then the Olympians. "Sometimes keeping quiet is survival. Doesn't mean it doesn't eat at you."

Maya Lin Abbott leaned back against, unusually quiet. "See, Jackson? Even the strong ones have to shut up sometimes. Doesn't make you weak. Just... makes you like us."

Percy blinked at her, like he wasn't sure whether to be grateful or even more depressed.

Ariana tilted her head, whispering, “Like our kind of monsters or…?”

Simon leaned over, voice flat. “Bigger. Scarier. With teeth that don’t stop growing.”

Dev perked up, “So like me, but supersized.”

Winter smacked him. “You wish.”

[Then I heard my mom’s voice. “Percy?”

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.]

“Awh,” Maya Lin Abbott cooed, “if only Isabel could make Simon feel that way—” her father cut her off, a charming smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Apologies Minister Isabel Thorn.” He said smoothly, saying my title, “my daughter inherited her mother’s mouth, can’t hold her tongue to save herself.”

“Oh,” I said, not sure what to say. “keep your daughter in line, sir.”

Darryl grunted what sounded like a laugh and Ajax Lin Abbott slapped his backside with an audible thwack—making Simon sway in his lap, “Don’t laugh, we all know she got her mouth from you, oak tree.”

”she’s your daughter too, Mourner.” Darryl said.

[My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt.

She’s got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it’s like she’s seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I’ve never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.]

Travis Stoll clears his throat. “Perce… what do you mean, not even you?”

He sighed. “I just… I know I wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with. I mean, the trouble I got in, all the schools I got kicked out of, all the extra jobs my mom had to work… Chaos, even Gabe, happened because of me! I just…”  Percy Jackson shook his head in frustration. “Never mind. It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever.” Simon insisted.

[“Oh, Percy.” She hugged me tight. “I can’t believe it. You’ve grown since Christmas!”

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She’d brought me a huge bag of “free samples,” the way she always did when I came home.]

Travis and Connor Stolls groaned. “Candy…”

Katie Gardenr rolled her eyes. “Do you two ever think about anything else?”

They shook their heads, while Simon looked on hungrily, “chocolate…”

Maya Lin Abbott grinned and produced a chocolate packet from her skirt, “always prepared,” she bragged as Simon nibbled on his sweets.

“I think he’s just hypoglycemic.” Will Solace noted. “Were you ever tested, Simon?”

Simon paused in his munching, “Will, I grew up poor for twelve years. And in this economy? I’d rather Google it.”

“Stop saying poor, we lived comfortably.” Darryl scolded.

“All I hear is that you didn’t let Ajax pay for anything because you were stubborn.” He said, tossing a chocolate square in the air and into his mouth. “And in this room? You better take it. He’s gotten a lot richer, lately.”

[We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn’t put in my letters. She didn’t mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn’t seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.]

Hera smiled smugly, her gaze sweeping the throne room as if she’d just been personally vindicated. “See? That’s how a mother should be treated! How I should be treated!”

Simon let out a groan, dropping his face into his hands. “Oh, for the love of—“

“Wanna go to your mother and the others?” Maya Lin Abbott asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“At this point? Maybe,” Simon grumbled, getting to his feet. Maya Lin Abbott was up in an instant, her fist already knotted in Luke Castellan’s shirt. “C’mon, I can’t ignore the family for this long—they’re giving me looks.”

“You’re coming too, Castellan. I wanna see if the Thorns tear you a new one like how Prissy’s gonna yell at Hera,” Maya Lin Abbott grinned, already marching forward as her father, with a long-suffering sigh, nudged a stoic Darryl to follow.

The little procession made its way over. Darryl took the lead, settling beside Malcolm with a quiet nod. Ajax followed. Maya Lin Abbott , with practiced chaos, orchestrated the rest, shoving a resigned Simon into the seat between her and a tightly-bound Luke Castellan, while Nolan sat stiffly on her right. Simon shot his brother a brief, apologetic smile before turning back to a hushed, intense conversation with Maya, who nodded along, interjecting with sharp whispers while Castellan merely winced and groaned in his confines.

It was then that Percy stood up. The movement was calm, but it carried a weight that silenced the room.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet but clear, cutting through the divine hall. He wasn't shouting, but every word was a stone dropped into a still pond. “You don’t get to claim that.”

Hera’s smug smile faltered.

“I treat my mother with respect not because she birthed me, but because she has earned it with every single breath she’s taken since,” Percy continued, his sea-green eyes fixed on the Queen of Olympus. “She earned it by working double shifts at a candy shop to keep a roof over my head. She earned it by believing me when no one else would, when I told her my pre-algebra teacher was a monster. She earned it by loving a son who was a magnet for trouble, and never, ever making me feel like a burden for it.”

He took a step forward, his gaze unwavering.

“She never hit me. She never locked me away. She never tried to twist me into some image of a perfect son to make herself look good. She just… loved me. Unconditionally. She is my safe harbor. That’s why I love her. That’s why my friends love her. Because she sees a bunch of messed-up, parentless kids and her first instinct is to make us blue food and ask if we’re getting enough sleep.”

He finally stopped, standing directly before the Olympian thrones.

“You, Lady Hera, have a title. You are a wife. You are a queen. But you are not a mother. A mother builds her children up. You just tear everyone else’s down.”

The silence in the wake of his words was absolute.

Then, from the Thorn family section, a slow, deliberate clapping started. Simon and Maya Lin Abbott were on their feet, grinning fiercely. “Ten out of ten! No notes!” Simon hollered, his voice echoing in the quiet.

Hera’s face, pale with shock, slowly flushed a deep, furious crimson as she glared at them, utterly speechless.

[From the other room, Gabe yelled, “Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?”

I gritted my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should’ve been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.]

Percy Jackosn smiled at his mom. “Paul’s not a millionaire, but he makes you happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

Sally Jackson hugged him, “thank you, baby.” while Simon winced.

Maya Lin Abbott gently nudged him, raising her hairclip to the air, “to never really knowing our moms.” She proposed.

“Here, here.” Simon whispered so low i barely hear it, clicking their hairclips together as an audible chink came from their hairclips direction—now together as one. “To mommy issues.”

Nolan shot Maya Lin Abbott a hot look and squeezed between her and Simon. “Back off, Abbott.” He growled.

“Nolan!” Simon gasped, while she rolled her eyes.

“I had him first, Nolan.” She announced.

“He’s my brother.” Nolan snapped.

“And he’s also my brother.” She said, “We have matching hair clips, we shared Castellan as a brother, we slept in the same bed, our dads were dating—”

“Both of you knock it off.” Simon said, “Nolan, you’re my twin, isn’t that enough? Maya, stop rubbing in that I love you.”

Maya preened, “all i hear is that you love me.”

[For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn’t too down about the expulsion. I’d lasted almost the whole year this time. I’d made some new friends. I’d done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn’t been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn’t seem so bad.]

Pollux Angevin, a son of Dionysus, blinked in amazement. “Percy… how… how did you…”

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t remember.”

Simon grumbled, “if only i could lie that well to people.”

“I’m pretty sure animals can count.” Ajax Lin Abbott reassured.

[Until that trip to the museum…

“What?” my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. “Did something scare you?”

“No, Mom.”]

Simon and the demigods shot Percy a look while Sally smiled sadly.

[I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the pretty-blue-eyed boy Mr. Brunner and Grover seemed to know, and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn’t push me.]

Simon pinched his nose bridge, “Thalia!”

“On it, Birdie.” Thalia Grace said, and gave Percy a light smack! with a pillow, causing Percy to laugh, “You know Simon, he gets embarrassed easily.”

“I don’t!” Simon snapped.

Sally giggled, “by the way he was describing you, i think he must’ve really loved you.”

Percy flushed, “you were pretty. And your eyes looked like the ocean.”

“Percy!” Simon exclaimed, face red.

[“I have a surprise for you,” she said. “We’re going to the beach.”

My eyes widened. “Montauk?”

“Three nights—same cabin.”

“When?”

She smiled. “As soon as I get changed.”]

Simon grumbled, tossing another chocolate square in his mouth, “Gods, that place is cold. I wanna see someone do a wedding there in winter—I’d be in fifty coats by then and still shivering.”

“Are you serio—oh yeah, the Nanas’ made sure you can’t lie.” Maya nodded. “I’d go in my swimsuit to assert dominance.”

“Can you not called the Fates Nanas?” Darryl grunted.

“Nah, it’s tradition.” Ajax grinned.

He deadpanned, “Tradition are just dead people rules.”

[I couldn’t believe it. My mom and I hadn’t been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn’t enough money.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, “Bean dip, Sally? Didn’t you hear me?”

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom’s eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

“I was on my way, honey,” she told Gabe. “We were just talking about the trip.”

Gabe’s eyes got small. “The trip? You mean you were serious about that?”

“I knew it,” I muttered. “He won’t let us go.”

“Of course he will,” my mom said evenly. “Your stepfather is just worried about money. That’s all. Besides,” she added, “Gabriel won’t have to settle for bean dip. I’ll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works.”]

Hermes and Apollo smiled, “Bribery!”

Wilhelmina and Tiberius nodded, “always a good bargaining chip.” They murmured.

[Gabe softened a bit. “So this money for your trip…it comes out of your clothes budget, right?”

“Yes, honey,” my mother said.]

I saw some people glance at Lady Aphrodite in shock when she didn’t react, and she smiled softly, “Clothes aren’t the end-all-be-all. There are things that are more important.”

Drew Tanaka nodded, “like survival.”

Simon smiled, “who are you and what have you done to my Tanaka?” He teased, making people look between them in amusement—but i kept wondering how many of them really knew Simon.

“Still here, Thorn. Loud and proud and still prettier than you.” She shot back, “and that shirt? So last season.”

“So are your shoes but you don’t see me saying anything.”

“Okay, both of you stop,” Silena Beauregard laughed, “Drew, Simon, stop it.”

“Yes, Lena.” They recited but shot each other teasing looks when she wasn’t looking.

“Your hair looks like a rats nest.” Drew Tanaka whispered dramatically.

”Thanks, i got inspired by you,” Simon grinned, showing off his styled and curled hair to her.

The Animalgams blinked at the sudden change. Leo, my father-in-law, raised his brows, murmuring to Zia, “He never lights up like that with us.”

[“And you won’t take my car anywhere but there and back.”

“We’ll be very careful.”

Gabe scratched his double chin. “Maybe if you hurry with that seven layer dip…And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game.”

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.]

Everyone but Perrin, Orion, Celeste, Lord Anthony and Robert Rivera growled. “DO IT!!!”

[But my mom’s eyes warned me not to make him mad.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement.

“Yeah, whatever,” he decided.

He went back to his game.]

The group chuckled, but not everyone.

Maya Lin Abbott snorted first, "Legend move, Prissy."

Sally Jackson frowned, squeezing Percy's hand as if she still felt the sting.

Ariana blinked. “I want to say I’m surprised he didn’t understand sarcasm, but I’m really not.”

Percy Jackson snorted, “Yeah. He was an idiot, Webster.”

“Oh my gods, don’t call my friends that, you know their names.” Simon huffed.

“I don’t know them.” He shrugged. “But i do know you.”

Simon groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "Kill me."

"Sorry, Birdie. Not until after the Nanas’ are done with you." Maya Lin Abbott grinned, clinking their matching hairclips together again.

Nolan, still wedged at Simon's side, glowered harder. "I don't like sharing."

"Too bad," She shot back. "I'm keeping my brother."

[“Thank you, Percy,” my mom said. “Once we get to Montauk, we’ll talk more about…whatever you’ve forgotten to tell me, okay?”

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes—the same fear I’d seen in Grover during the bus ride—as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

An hour later we were ready to leave.

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom’s bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking—and more important, his ’78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.

“Not a scratch on this car, brain boy,” he warned me as I loaded the last bag. “Not one little scratch.”]

Frank Zhang snorted, “Yeah, like he’d be the one driving. He’s twelve.”

Simon cleared his throat, gesturing to Ariana and Dev, “I hope you know Ariana and Dev learned how to drive the moment they could reach the steering wheel.”

“Yeah, but they were raised like spies. In a spy school. Taken from their poor parents as babies. They don’t count.” Maya Lin Abbott said. “Us in the other hand…”

“Luke didn’t drive a car, he rode a motorbike. And he was sixteen.” Simon pointed out.

“And then I crashed it into a wall while you two hopped off.” The demigod grumbled. “Darryl threatened to crack my vertebrae if anyone saw me crash it.”

“Nonsense,” Simon said, “Baba can’t break your back. You don’t have one.”

“Hey!”

“I stand what I said, Ica.” He said, “unlike you.”

”that’s below the belt!”

”you’re below the belt!”

”that doesnt make sense at all, Twiggy.” Sherman Yang snorted.

[Like I’d be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didn’t matter to Gabe.

If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he’d find a way to blame me.]

Frank Zhang blushed. “Oh.”

[Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can’t explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I’d seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he’d been shot from a cannon.

Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn’t stay long enough to find out.]

Lord Ares burst out laughing, a loud, booming sound that echoed through the throne room. "NOW that's more like it! A little divine payback! Good form, kid!"

Lord Zeus looked mildly amused. "Uncontrolled, but the sentiment is... understandable."

I couldn't help the small, satisfied smirk that touched my lips. The image was deeply gratifying.

Simon tilted his head, “wow, he must’ve been evil.”

“How so?” Nolan asked.

”It’s like, a really advanced and powerful protection ward.” He explained, “it’s supposed to keep evil away.”

[I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.]

Leo Valdez blinked. “Aquaman… there’s no way any of that bothers you.”

[I loved that place.]

“Knew it.”

[We’d been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her.

It was the place where she’d met my dad.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea.

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin’s windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.]

The Demigods cheered and Percy Jackson frowned. “What?”

Sally Jackson turned and look at him. “Baby, I don’t think you’ve never explained the blue food to them.”

He blinked. “Huh. I thought I did.”

[See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This—along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano—was proof that she wasn’t totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.]

The demigods whipped their heads at Percy.

"Rebellious streak?" Charles Beckendorf laughed. "Percy, you're the least rebellious person I know. You have an obedience streak."

Percy Jackson grinned. "Hey, I can be rebellious! I ran away from Grover, didn't I?"

"Which immediately led to you being hunted by a monster," Annabeth Chase pointed out dryly. "Very rebellious. Very smart."

Sally Jackson smiled softly. “It was a small rebellion. But it was ours.”

[When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.]

Percy Jackson hugged her. “I’m glad you can finally write books, mom.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, honey.”

Simon made another face and Maya Lin Abbott patted his hand, “hey, easy.”

“Sorry.”

[Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk—my father. Mom’s eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them.]

The demigods all smiled, a shared understanding passing between them. These snippets of memory were more than most of them ever got.

I raised a brow, “what?” I accidentally said aloud.

Ajax Lin Abbott piped up, “Demigods don’t usually hear much of their godly parents so they cling onto every story they get told.” He paused, and looked directly at me his gaze pointed. “and, Isabel, I don’t think either you or Darryl told Simon much about his biological father. Now, would be a good time.”

The accusation, gentle but firm, hung in the air. All eyes turned to me. I had no defense.

[“He was kind, Percy,” she said. “Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black-and-blonde mixed hair, you know, and his sea green-blue eyes.”]

Pausing, I looked between Lord Poseidon and Percy. 

Huh… they really do.

“Awh,” Simon said, “I wanna say the same but I look like Ica at this point—even got matching scars.” He pointed at the scar over his cheek and I looked at the jagged scar over the right side of Castellan’s face

"Don't say that," Maya Lin Abbott wrinkled her nose. "I think you look like Dad."

Simon smirked. “Yeah, definitely. I have Ajax’s dark hair, brown eyes and tanned skin—and I’m Asian-American; truly my father’s boy.”

"You're both wrong," Percy Jackson interjected, pointing at Simon's messy curls—that I didn’t realize he had. "You look like one of those street pigeons who got into a fight with a rat and won."

"Thanks, barnacle boy," Simon deadpanned, tossing a chocolate wrapper at him.

"You do got that bird scrappiness though," Travis Stoll added with a grin. "Like, if someone stepped on your sandwich, you'd claw their eyes out."

"Correction," Maya Lin Abbott piped up, snapping her gum, "if someone stepped on my sandwich, Simon would claw their eyes out for me."

Darryl huffed, folding his arms but clearly amused. "He always has been protective."

Ajax Lin Abbott gave a sideways smile, brushing a hand over Maya's hair. "Wonder where he learned it from.” He laughed, “and since we’re on the subject of that, I think Maya looks the most like me and Darryl.”

“That doesn’t count,” Simon complained, “the three of you already have dark hair, brown eyes and tanned skin, between the four of us, I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Can we stop trying to compare ourselves to how parents look.” Malcolm Pace snorted, fixing his glasses, “studies show kids are most likely to inherent their father’s looks and their mother’s smarts.”

"Boo! Nerd!” A part of the group jokingly booed while the others sighed dramatically about their looks. The Animalgams just stared, not sure to say—I didn’t either.

[Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. “I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud.”

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years.]

Lord Poseidon smiled at Percy gently. “I are proud of you, my boy. I would be proud of you no matter what.”

He blushed slightly. “Thank you.”

Simon flinched at that. Darryl’s hand immediately tightened on his shoulder, grounding him, while Ajax Lin Abbott gave his daughter a quiet squeeze against his side.

“Love doesn’t need a face,” Sally Jackson said gently, her eyes flicking from Percy to Simon like she knew the boy was listening too. “Sometimes it’s just in the proof we were wanted.”

Simon bit his lip, then mumbled, “Guess that makes Darryl overqualified.”

Darryl huffed. “Guess so.”

[“How old was I?” I asked. “I mean…when he left?”

She watched the flames. “He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin.”

“But…he knew me as a baby.”

“No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born.”

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember…something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.]

“So basically, Darryl.” Maya Lin Abbott said flatly, raising her brows at her father, who turned pink at the edges of his ears.

“Not everything has to circle back to me,” Darryl grumbled, but his voice was softer than usual, betraying a little pride. Ajax coughed into his fist, clearly hiding a smile.

[I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I’d felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he’d never even seen me…

I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He’d left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.]

Ajax Lin Abbott’s gaze flickered, uncomfortable, and Darryl's jaw tightened. Simon tilted his head toward them. "What, is that like you two? All soft one second, scary the next?"

Maya Lin Abbott grinned. "Storm dads."

"That's not—" Ajax Lin Abbott started, but Sally Jackson’s laugh drowned him out.

Lord Poseidon's face fell. The god of the sea looked... chastised. "The voyage was not by choice," he said, his voice low. "The ancient laws... but the pain it caused was no less real. For that, I am sorry, my son."

It was an apology I never thought I'd hear a god give.

[Are you going to send me away again?” I asked her. “To another boarding school?”

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

“I don’t know, honey.” Her voice was heavy. “I think…I think we’ll have to do something.”

“Because you don’t want me around?” I regretted the words as soon as they were out.]

The raw pain in Sally's voice was palpable. Many of the demigods looked down, remembering their own painful goodbyes, their own parents who had to make impossible choices to keep them safe.

Maya Lin Abbott wrapped her arms around Simon, who leaned in, looking down sadly.

[My mom’s eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight.

“Oh, Percy, no. I—I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away.”

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said—that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

“Because I’m not normal,” I said.]

"Percy—” Sally Jackson began.

"He's not normal," Simon interrupted flatly, earning several shocked looks. "But neither am I. Neither's Maya. Neither are any of us here. What matters is—" he clutched his chocolate square a little tighter, "—what we do with not-normal."

Maya beamed at him, bumping his shoulder. "Preach, little brother."

[“You say that as if it’s a bad thing, Percy. But you don’t realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you’d finally be safe.”

“Safe from what?”]

“everything.” The demigods murmured.

[She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me—all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I’d tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.]

"A Cyclops," Clarisse La Rue identified immediately. "Probably a scout."

[Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into.

My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I’d somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.]

Simon snorted, “okay, so off topic but, I actually got cradled by a snake as a kid.”

“WHAT?!" Came the general consense.

“It’s true, I had to wrangle it off with the assistant’s help.” Darryl confirmed, “Simon—he was a toddler at the time too, if i’m right—kept laughing like it was the funniest thing.”

“Hey! I was a very happy baby!” He shot, “besides, it was kinda funny how scared you were.”

”Everyone was, kid.” Darryl sighed.

Jam squinted, piping up, “Oh! Just like Hercules!”

The hero in question puffed up us chest in pride, “exactly!”

“NEVER, ever compare either of us to that jerk.” Percy Jackson growled.

Zeus frowned. “Why? My son is clearly the best demigod to ever live!”

The reaction was instantaneous and unified. The entire cohort of modern demigods, along with Chiron, Dionysus, and even some of the minor gods, let out a chorus of boos and vehement head-shakes.

"He's a bully!" Clarisse La Rue shouted.

"He tricked Zoë!" Simon booed, making a young girl, who’d been silent, blush. She looked Persian and about twelve years old, in a silver parka jacket and a shimmering circlet, a bow across her back.

"He's a glory-hogging oaf!" Annabeth Chase concluded.

Heracles looked offended, but wisely said nothing under the weight of so much collective disdain.

[In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn’t make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn’t want that.]

Simon groaned into his hands, “story of my life. L.A.I.R., Kennedy, Camp—take your pick.”

Maya Lin Abbott smirked. "I mean, it kinda is. Little cosmic disaster."

Ajax Lin Abbott narrowed his eyes. "Maya, don't call your brother a disaster."

"He is though," She fired back, looping her arm through Simon's anyway. "But he's my disaster."

Simon snickered, “You hear that folks? She claimed me. You can't revoke it now."

Darryl grunted, but there was a ghost of a smile. Ajax Lin Abbott didn't relax; his arm had subtly moved to rest on the back of Simon's chair, like a silent claim of protection.

[“I’ve tried to keep you as close to me as I could,” my mom said. “They told me that was a mistake. But there’s only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you. And I just…I just can’t stand to do it.”

“My father wanted me to go to a special school?”]

“No, he wanted you at Camp.” Simon corrected, “Darryl somehow legacied me into L.A.I.R.. He never ever wanted me there to be at the academy until he was dying.”

“Hah, nepo baby.” Maya grinned.

“Excuse me? You and half of the people in this room are nepo babies.” Simon reminded.

“Hey!”

[“Not a school,” she said softly. “A summer camp.”

My head was spinning. Why would my dad—who hadn’t even stayed around long enough to see me born—talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn’t she ever mentioned it before?

“I’m sorry, Percy,” she said, seeing the look in my eyes. “But I can’t talk about it. I—I couldn’t send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good.”

“For good? But if it’s only a summer camp…”

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.]

Percy hugged his mom, “I’m sorry, mom.”

She cradled his head, “there’s nothing to be sorry about, Percy.”

[That night I had a vivid dream. It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse’s muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle’s wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.]

Simon groaned, like he knew the questions were gonna come flying in, “No, i wasn’t that golden eagle. I couldn’t shift at the time. It would’ve been Lord Zeus, my mother or Orion.”

I nodded, “but our community didn’t know that the Greek Gods still existed so that leaves Lord Zeus.”

[I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse’s wide eyes, and I screamed, No!]

Lord Zeus let out a smug laugh. “Ha! I won!”

Lord Poseidon rolled his eyes.

[I woke with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, “Hurricane.”

I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.]

The atmosphere in the throne room tightened. Everyone knew what was coming. This was the moment everything changed.

[Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice—someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain.

But he wasn’t…he wasn’t exactly Grover.]

A wave of anticipation swept the room. The newer demigods and all the Animalgams leaned forward. This was it.

[“Searching all night,” he gasped. “What were you thinking?”

My mother looked at me in terror—not scared of Grover, but of why he’d come.

“Percy,” she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. “What happened at school? What didn’t you tell me?”]

"Finally!" Travis Stoll yelled. "The big reveal!"

“Shhh!” Julia Feingold shushed.

[I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.

“O Zeu kai alloi theoi!” he yelled. “It’s right behind me! Didn’t you tell her?”]

"He understood Ancient Greek immediately," Simon murmured to Maya. "The connection was already strengthening."

“Hello, I’m here too, Simon.” Nolan scoffed.

“Bug off.” Maya Lin Abbott snapped, “he’s allowed to tell me things.”

”it means ‘Zeus and the other gods!’ If anyone’s wondering.” Darryl translated.

”You know ancient Greek?” The Black Widow queen asked.

Darryl gave a curt nod, “only a bit, same with Latin, German, Russian along with some Spanish, Chinese, French and Malay.”

”Gods bless our multilingual family.” Ajax beamed.

[I was too shocked to register that he’d just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I’d understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn’t have his pants on—and where his legs should be…where his legs should be…]

The room held its breath.

[My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she’d never used before: “Percy. Tell me now!”

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, “Get to the car. Both of you. Go!”

Grover ran for the Camaro—but he wasn’t running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.]

“Go Sally!" Rachel Dare cheered.

Grover buried his face in his hands. "This is so embarrassing."

[Because where his feet should be, there were no feet.

There were cloven hooves.]

The screen froze on the image of Grover's hooves.

For a second, there was utter silence.

Then the throne room erupted.

Chapter Text

Ajax Lin Abbott’s POV

After the Fates—or the screen they were using, so to speak—calmed everyone down, they continued playing.

[My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting]

Simon grinned, shooting Sally a look, “we love a versatile queen.” He praised as Sally beamed.

”Always such a charmer. Must’ve gotten it from Ajax.” She shot back, sending me a look, a hand on her pregnant belly.

”Guilty as charged.” I nodded.

[We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn’t know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I’d gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo—lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

All I could think to say was, “So, you and my mom… know each other?”]

The demigods and Simon burst out in laughter while the younger Animalgams chuckled. “Gods, Perce, that’s iconic!”

He shrugged. “Look, it wasn’t the most important thing at the time, but I latched onto it. I was picturing them just sending emails back and forth like ‘Hey is my son dead yet’ ‘No Mrs. Jackson’ ‘Okay thanks’.”

Sally laughed, and nudged Percy. “That… that’s kind of what most of them said!”

Grover grinned. “Well, that, and then her sharing tips on how to deal with you.”

“HEY!”

[Grover’s eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. “Not exactly,” he said. “I mean, we’ve never met in person. But she knew I was watching you.”

“Watching me?”]

“Stalker!”

[“Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn’t faking being your friend,” he added hastily. “I am your friend.”

“Um…what are you, exactly?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

“It doesn’t matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey—”

Grover let out a sharp, throaty “Blaa-ha-ha!”]

The Stolls cackled gleefully, “Can’t top Simon’s reaction when he found out!” 

Maya let out a long suffering sigh, but she was grinning, “what did Twiggy say?”

One of them—Travis, maybe—pointed at Simon, “say it, Thorn.”

Simon muttered, his face bright red, “the original furries...”

“Can’t hear you.” The other one said, teasingly.

“I said, I called them the original furries!”

A ripple of laughter went through the campers and a few surprised snorts from the Animalgams and gods. It was a moment of levity, but I saw the way Simon's shoulders hunched slightly, a mix of embarrassment and a strange fondness for the memory. Darryl, sitting stoically beside him, gave a faint, almost imperceptible shake of his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

[I’d heard him make that sound before, but I’d always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

“Goat!” he cried.

“What?”

“I’m a goat from the waist down.”]

“But you said it didn’t matter!” Jam Fluke questioned.

[“You just said it didn’t matter.”]

Simon snorted, covering it with a cough, “Sorry, Jam, you have Percy-itus now.”

The Animalgams, particularly the younger students from L.A.I.R., looked utterly bewildered. The concept of a "Percy-itus" was alien to their structured, literal world. Orion Sky let out a derisive snort, while Celeste Thorn simply looked annoyed by the demigods' flippancy in the face of clear danger.

Among the gods, Hermes chuckled, but Zeus's brow was furrowed in impatience. The Romans and Heroes of Old offered small, wry smiles, familiar with the bizarre logic that governed this world.

The Heroes of Old, however, looked more perplexed. Heracles frowned, muttering about "word games," while Odysseus simply stroked his chin, his eyes calculating, already trying to decipher the satyr's cryptic nature.

[“Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!”

“Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like…Mr. Brunner’s myths?”

“Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth? Was Birdie trying to help you a myth?”

“So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds! And a boy!”]

“Why am I getting dragged into this?” Simon groaned. “Actually, why did I even agree to be lookout at the museum, i suck at stealth!”

“You were twelve back then,” I said, “I think you’ve improved quite well.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” He shrugged, “I still trip on my feet.”

Grover, meanwhile, winced, looking guilty. “I didn’t realize…”

Percy sighed and ran a hand down his face. “It just took me a while to understand. I mean, I know you and Chiron were trying to protect me, and I know you were in between a rock and a hard place because Chiron was the one who told you to do it, but… it hurt.”

“I’m sorry Perce.”

[“Of course.”

“Then why—”

“The less you knew, the fewer monsters you’d attract,” Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. “We put Mist over the humans’ eyes. We hoped you’d think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are.”

“Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean?”]

A tense silence fell. The Animalgams leaned forward, their earlier confusion replaced by a dawning, serious intensity. They were beginning to understand that every word in this world carried a hidden, dangerous weight. The Fluke family exchanged grim looks; this sounded like the prelude to a mission briefing about a high-value target.

The Romans sat straighter; this was the prelude to a revelation they knew was coming. The Heroes of Old, men like Achilles and Perseus, recognized the tone of a mentor about to unveil a terrible truth.

The gods were a mixed tableau: Athena watched Chiron’s proxy with academic interest, Ares with boredom, and Hera with distaste. Poseidon, however, had gone still, his stormy eyes fixed on the screen, knowing what was coming for his son.

[The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

“Percy,” my mom said, “there’s too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety.”

“Safety from what? Who’s after me?”

“Oh, nobody much,” Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. “Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.”]

The casual delivery of that line sent a visible shockwave through the Animalgam contingent. General Fluke’s spine went ramrod straight, his mind instantly categorizing the threat level as "cataclysmic." Marina Fluke’s hand went to her mouth. Orion Sky’s sneer finally vanished, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. This wasn't a monster; this was a declaration of war from a divine kingdom.

On Olympus, Hades straightened on his throne, a flicker of annoyance in his dark eyes. "A gross exaggeration," he intoned, though a faint, proud smirk touched his lips at the mention of his "blood-thirstiest" minions. Zeus rolled his eyes, but Poseidon’s grip on his trident tightened, a low rumble of thunder echoing his agitation. The sheer, casual scale of the threat was a stark reminder of what his son faced.

[“Grover!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?”

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn’t do it.

I knew this wasn’t a dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.]

Simon seemed to remember he had chocolates on him and fit a handful in his mouth, puffing up his face as Maya poked his cheeks—I only heard “hah! You look like a hamster, Twiggy.” From her and just that.

Meanwhile, among the Romans, Frank Zhang and Reyna exchanged a grave look. This was the kind of understated, terrifying statement they were trained to recognize. Jason Grace’s hand twitched, a ghost of a gesture towards a sword that wasn’t there.

The Heroes of Old, men like Achilles and Odysseus, leaned forward. This was a language they understood: a simple statement of overwhelming, existential danger.

[“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The summer camp I told you about.” My mother’s voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. “The place your father wanted to send you.”

“The place you didn’t want me to go.”

“Please, dear,” my mother begged. “This is hard enough. Try to understand. You’re in danger.”

“Because some old ladies cut yarn.”]

“Hey! They’re aren’t just some old ladies,” Maya started.

“Yeah, they’re our Nanas’.” Simon continued after he swallowed down his confectionaries.

“Who are also the Fates secretly.” Castellan finished but was backhanded by Maya, who muttered him to shut up.

[“Those weren’t old ladies,” Grover said. “Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you’re about to…when someone’s about to die.”

“Whoa. You said ‘you.’”

“No I didn’t. I said ‘someone.’”

“You meant ‘you.’ As in me.”

“I meant you, like ‘someone.’ Not you, you.”

“Boys!” my mom said.]

“Thank you, Auntie!” Thalia exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air but her voice seemed hoarse, “they were confusing me too.” The other demigods and a few Animalgams nodded along.

Sally smiled sadly, “it’s okay, Thalia. No problem.”

The tension in the room spiked. Even the gods looked sobered. My eyes flicked to Simon, my son in all but blood. He was staring at the screen, his face a mask, but his fingers were twisting the edge of his shirt into a tight knot. He knew about near-death. He'd lived it.

[She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she’d swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

“What was that?” I asked.

“We’re almost there,” my mother said, ignoring my question. “Another mile. Please. Please. Please.”]

On screen, Sally swerved. In the throne room, she let out a sharp gasp, her body lurching sideways as if she’d been in the driver’s seat herself. Paul grabbed her arm to steady her. “Sally?”

“I—I felt that,” she stammered, her eyes wide. “The wheel jerking in my hands.” The Fates’ enchantment was already pulling them in.

[I didn’t know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she’d changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn’t been human. She’d meant to kill me.]

Percy shuddered violently, a full-body spasm that made Thalia, sitting next to him, startle. He rubbed his arms as if shaking off a chill. The memory of that first, true, life-or-death fear was etched into his very bones.

“What gave it away?” Nico deadpanned, but he scooted closer to him while Thalia flanked Percy’s right, where Simon once sat.

[Then I thought about Mr. Brunner…and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck.

There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.

I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time.]

On screen, the car erupted. In the throne room, Percy cried out, a short, sharp sound of pain as he was thrown back against his seat. His hands flew up to shield his face from a phantom blast. At the same moment, Sally Jackson flinched violently, a wave of heat flushing her skin. Grover, across the room, let out a pained bleat and clutched his side, where the memory of impact was blooming into a deep, shared bruise.

For a split second, the sharp, acrid scent of ozone and burning metal filled the air around them, making those nearby cough and wave a hand in front of their faces. It was gone as quickly as it came—a phantom sensation gifted by the Fates' memory.

The reactions were immediate and visceral. The Animalgams stared in utter horror. This was beyond their understanding—a shared, physical memory of trauma. Leo Thorn looked physically ill. Zia Stone had a hand clamped over her mouth, her knuckles white.

The Romans were on their feet. Jason and Reyna were at Sally and Percy’s sides in an instant, though they didn’t know how to help. Frank was at Grover’s side, his healer’s instincts warring with his confusion.

[I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver’s seat and said, “Ow.”]

He groaned and sat up from where he was leaning against the couch. “Ow.”

Simon frowned deeply, “wait—I came into the room soaking wet and throwing up with some cuts, Ica’s pants were wet and you’re in pain? What is this?”

A letter flew down, and he yanked it, reading it with wide eyes. His eyes slid over it twice, then again and he read it out—his voice uneven, his hands trembling slightly, “‘What happens in the screen, our grandson, will happen to the corresponding person in the throne room. You were knocked into roses, burned from the inside and downed, Luke Castellan had dunked you in the river, etc etc—we apologize for not telling you before hand but prepare for any injures you may endure during the screenings’.”

A wave of pure, unadulterated horror washed through the non-Olympian factions. The Animalgams recoiled as one. This was no longer a story; it was a direct, physical violation. Isabel Thorn's hand flew to her mouth, her face draining of color as she stared at Simon, imagining him reliving the agony of the ambrosia poisoning. Nolan looked like he might be sick, his gaze locked on his twin with dawning terror. Malcolm Thorn’s face a mask of grim fury.

The Romans went rigid. Reyna’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. To be forced to physically relive your worst traumas was a form of psychological torture they could scarcely comprehend. Jason’s fist clenched, a spark of electricity crackling unintentionally at his fingertips. Even the stoic Frank looked deeply disturbed, his hand instinctively moving to the piece of firewood in his pocket.

The Heroes of Old were no less affected. Heracles’s boastful grin vanished, replaced by a scowl. These were not the glorious battles of song, but the raw, painful scars of childhood terror being ripped open. Perseus himself looked at the younger Percy with a new, grim respect, understanding now that his own legend had likely been sanitized of such visceral, personal pain.

“By the gods,” Odysseus murmured, his face pale. “They are not merely watching. They are reliving it.”

[“Percy!” my mom shouted.

“I’m okay.…”]

Everyone frowned. “Perce… I don’t like your version of okay.”

He painfully shrugged at Will. “I wasn’t bleeding, I didn’t have any broken bones, and my vision wasn’t swimming. For me, that’s pretty good.”

“Your head…” Will Solace was already moving, his healer’s senses screaming, but he stopped, helpless. How did you treat an injury that was happening in the past and the present simultaneously?

Simon gulped, “let’s finish this chapter, I think the next one might be him in the sick room.”

[I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn’t dead. The car hadn’t really exploded. We’d swerved into a ditch. Our driver’s-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We’d been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. “Grover!”]

Sally let out a small, choked sob, her hand pressed to her mouth. She was watching her worst nightmare play out, and the maternal terror was as fresh as it had been that night.

The smell of sea salt fills the air, and I look up to find Poseidon glaring at Zeus. “ZEUS! I have never, NEVER hurt one of your children. I let them enter my domain freely. I protect them while they are in my domain, the same as I would any of our family’s children. By the Fates, I saved your daughter!”

Everyone blinked at that revelation, and Isabel cleared her throat before speaking. “Lord Poseidon, what do you mean?”

His eyes softened slightly as he turned to look at Thalia and Percy. “Thalia wasn’t initially in fatal danger. She could have been saved if she had gotten immediate medical attention. I could have healed her fully, given the chance, but my brother didn’t let me. So I turned her into my sacred tree, a pine.” Poseidon looked back at Zeus, fury returning to his eyes. “The only reason I hold back, the only reason I don’t strike you down now is because my son is here, alive. But if you make any threat, any action toward him, I will unleash the full wrath of the seas on you.”

Zeus glared at him, and I stiffened.

There’s no way this is going to go well… 

Then, Amphitrite stood up and put a hand on Poseidon’s shoulder. “Peace, my lord. We can discuss this later when no others are present.”

He sighed, and I take a breath of relief as the smell of sea salt starts to disappear. When Poseidon was calm again, she sat back down.

[He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you’re my best friend and I don’t want you to die!]

Grover groaned, his hand flying to his own mouth. When he pulled it away, his fingertips were smeared with a faint red—the memory of blood, given temporary, ghostly form. He stared at it, his eyes wide with shock and fear.

The throne room was dead silent. The last vestiges of disbelief had been vaporized. They were all prisoners in this theater of pain, and the show was just beginning.

[Then he groaned “Food,” and I knew there was hope.]

A wave of relieved laughter swept the room. It was strained, but it was there. Even Grover managed a weak smile, though he unconsciously touched the side of his mouth where the memory-blood had been.

Simon wrapped his arms around Maya’s arm, putting his chin on her shoulders as she leaned her cheek in the top of his head, “Relatable.” He said quietly, continuing to much on his chocolates.

[“Percy,” my mother said, “we have to…” Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road.

The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His. top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.]

The Minotaur. There was no mistaking it now. Ares was grinning, leaning forward with a predator's interest. The other gods looked on, a mixture of disdain and morbid curiosity on their faces. For them, this was a spectacle. For the demigods, it was a shared trauma.

For the Animalgams, it was a waking nightmare. This was not a noble beast or a powerful shifter form; this was a mindless, grotesque engine of destruction.

Several of the younger Animalgams recoiled, their faces pale. Wilhelmina Webster pulled her daughter Ariana closer, a stark, protective gesture. The sheer, primitive horror of the Minotaur was a blasphemy against their entire understanding of what it meant to have an animal nature.

Ares, by contrast, leaned forward with a wide, predatory grin. "Now that's a proper monster," he declared, earning a glare from his daughter Clarisse. Apollo frowned, his healer's sensibilities offended by the creature's mindless brutality.

The younger demigods, the ones who knew the story but hadn't lived it, leaned forward. The veterans—Clarisse, Annabeth, the Stolls—had their faces set in grim lines. They knew what was coming.

[I swallowed hard. “Who is—”

“Percy,” my mother said, deadly serious. “Get out of the car.”

My mother threw herself against the driver’s-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might’ve been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.]

Percy's breathing hitched. He started pushing against the air in front of him, a mute, frantic pantomime of shoving a car door that wouldn't budge. The feeling of being trapped, of primal panic, was overwhelming him again.

[“Climb out the passenger’s side!” my mother told me. “Percy—you have to run. Do you see that big tree?”]

Thalia smiled. “Hey, it’s my introduction!”

Percy turned and glared at her. “Not something to be happy about, Thals.”

Travis blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, Pearce?”

He hugged Thalia as she muttered an apology to him. “I don’t like being reminded that she had to sacrifice herself for her friends. It was her decision and I respect that, but I hate that she felt it was necessary.” 

[“What?”

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree–sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

“That’s the property line,” my mom said. “Get over that hill and you’ll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don’t look back. Yell for help. Don’t stop until you reach the door.”

“Mom, you’re coming too.”]

"No, Sally, don't—" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, a low, ragged whisper.

I knew what was coming.

I'd seen that look on a parent's face before—the look of absolute, self-sacrificing resolve. Darryl had worn it. I saw his hand clamp down on my knee, his knuckles white.

[Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

“No!” I shouted. “You are coming with me. Help me carry Grover.”

“Food!” Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn’t be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head… was his head. And the points that looked like horns…

“He doesn’t want us,” my mother told me. “He wants you. Besides, I can’t cross the property line.”]

The Romans nodded grimly. They understood borders, boundaries, and magical limitations all too well. The Heroes of Old watched with keen interest; such magical boundaries were the stuff of their own legends.

The Animalgams, however, looked frustrated. The concept of an invisible line that could not be crossed was alien to their more physical understanding of the world. This statement caused visible frustration among the Animalgams. A property line? An invisible, magical barrier? To creatures whose identities were tied to physical forms and territorial dominance, it was a ludicrous concept.

To them, a boundary was maybe a wall, a fence, a geographical feature—something tangible. This magical limitation seemed like a pathetic, illogical weakness. Leo Thorn shook his head in open contempt. "What kind of protection fails at a property line?" he muttered to Zia, who nodded in fierce agreement.

Luke Thorn shook his head, muttering about, "nonsensical rules.

Nolan Thorn shook his head, muttering, "Just run. Why is she stopping?"

Robert Rivera, the former Cottonmouth leader, scowled. "A line on the ground is not a wall. This makes no tactical sense."

Their world was one of tangible strengths and weaknesses; this mystical limitation seemed like a fatal, foolish hesitation.

The gods, however, understood perfectly. Zeus nodded slightly; such divine boundaries were a cornerstone of their power. Artemis’s silver eyes gleamed with approval at the clear demarcation of her brother's sacred ground.

[“But…”

“We don’t have time, Percy. Go. Please.”

I got mad, then—mad at my mother, at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull.]

I frowned. Percy loves his mom the same way Simon loved Darryl. “Why were you mad at her, kid?”

Percy huffed. “Cause she told me to leave her. She really thought I was just going to do that.”

Sally smiled softly and hugged him. 

[I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. “We’re going together. Come on, Mom.”

“I told you—”

“Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover.”]

Percy was shaking now, tears of frustration and remembered fear welling in his eyes. He was muttering "no, no, no" under his breath, trapped in the past. Thalia had a firm hand on his shoulder, her own expression stormy. Nico leaned in, his face grimacing.

[I didn’t wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn’t have carried him very far if my mom hadn’t come to my aid.

Together, we draped Grover’s arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other ’ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear—I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would’ve looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn’t get from an electric sharpener.]

The description, so vivid and absurdly terrifying, sent a wave of revulsion through the room. Several of the Aphrodite kids looked like they were going to be sick. The Animalgams, used to powerful animal forms, were nonetheless horrified by the sheer, mindless brutality of the creature. A few examples were Leo Thorn looked physically ill, or his daughter Zia Stone had a hand clamped over her mouth. The Fluke daughters, predators themselves, stared with a mixture of disgust and fear. The Minotaur was a perversion of nature, a mockery of the bond between human and animal that defined their very existence.

[I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn’t be real.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. “That’s—”

“Pasiphae’s son,” my mother said. “I wish I’d known how badly they want to kill you.”

“But he’s the Min—”

“Don’t say his name,” she warned. “Names have power.”]

A lesson every demigod and shifter learned the hard way. A respectful, fearful silence fell. Naming something could draw its attention.

Simon whistled, “even Auntie had to tell you, and you keep saying their names.”

“So many titles.” Percy complained. “Their names are easier.”

[The pine tree was still way too far—a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows—or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn’t sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

“Food?” Grover moaned.

“Shhh,” I told him. “Mom, what’s he doing? Doesn’t he see us?”

“His sight and hearing are terrible,” she said. “He goes by smell. But he’ll figure out where we are soon enough.”

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe’s Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.]

“Oops.” Simon snorted.

[Oops.]

“Dang it.” He grumbled, “I got Percy-itus too.”

“Join the club, little brother,” Maya grinned.

“Both of you, don’t fight.” Darryl grunted.

“Yes, Baba.” They recited, rolling their eyes at him.

[“Percy,” my mom said. “When he sees us, he’ll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way—directly sideways. He can’t change directions very well once he’s charging. Do you understand?”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’ve been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me.”]

Sally began to cry quietly, the guilt of that night still a raw wound. Paul, who had appeared beside her at some point, held her close. Percy looked at her, his own grief mirrored in his eyes.

The mood in the throne room sobered instantly. Sally Jackson's voice, filled with a mother's desperate love and fear, was a gut punch.

Isabel Thorn glanced away, her jaw tight, a flicker of something unreadable-perhaps shame, perhaps a dawning, horrible understanding-in her eyes. The other Animalgam parents, like Marina and the General, looked at Sally with a new, grim respect. This was a battlefield they understood: the protection of a child, no matter the cost.

Percy hugged her, “you weren’t selfish, mom. You just trying to keep me close.”

“But—” Sally tried, but Simon cut her off.

“But nothing, Auntie.” He said, not kindly but firm, “you thought you were doing the best for Percy. What’s the shame in that?”

“He was hurting and—”

“No one’s perfect. You’re human too, Sally.” Darryl said, “You were doing what you could. I was to. And so was every other decent parent to their kid.”

[“Keeping me near you? But—”

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He’d smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn’t getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he’d be on top of us.]

"No, no, no," Percy whispered, his voice breaking. He knew what was coming. We all did.

[My mother must’ve been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. “Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said.”

I didn’t want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn’t work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side.]

Percy jerked sideways in his seat, a violent, involuntary dodge. Several people yelped in surprise. He was breathing in ragged gasps, his heart pounding a visible rhythm against his shirt. He was there, on that hill, facing down death.

Simon tried to run forward but Maya held him back, shaking her head, “The Nanas have spoken, Simon. What happened then, is gonna happen again here and now.”

[The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

We’d reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We’d never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.]

A tense, horrified silence gripped the Animalgams. They were hunters and warriors; they understood the tactic of a sacrificial diversion. But seeing a mother use herself as bait for her child was a profound, chilling shock. Isabel Thorn’s breath hitched, her hand flying to her own chest. She looked from Sally’s determined face on the screen to her own son, Simon, and a complex wave of guilt, fear, and a terrible, reluctant admiration washed over her. This was a level of self-sacrifice their political, power-structured society rarely demanded.

General Fluke gave a slow, grim nod of respect. He had led soldiers into battle, but this was different. This was a mother’s war. Marina Fluke’s eyes were wide with pity and horror, her arms tightening around her younger daughters, her youngest—her son and the future leader of their people—sat far away.

On the Olympian thrones, the reactions were a study in divine detachment and rare empathy. Ares leaned forward, a brutal smile on his face, enjoying the tactical play. "Smart move," he grunted. "Draw the beast away from the weak."

Artemis, however, watched Sally with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Here was a mortal woman demonstrating the ultimate protective instinct, a ferocity that mirrored her own Hunters'. Hera’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her feelings a conflicted maelstrom of disdain for the mortal and a flicker of something that might have been envy for the pure, uncomplicated love on display.

Poseidon was a statue of contained fury and anguish. His knuckles were white on his trident. He was watching the woman he loved walk knowingly to her doom to save the son he could not protect. The sea in the murals behind him churned violently, waves crashing against unseen shores. Zeus watched his brother with a mix of impatience and a rare, unacknowledged pang of understanding.

[“Run, Percy!” she told me. “I can’t go any farther. Run!”

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she’d told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson.

His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.]

In the throne room, Sally Jackson gasped, her own hands flying to her throat as a phantom pressure constricted it. She choked, her eyes wide with the memory of the sensation. Paul held her tighter, his face a mask of helpless rage.

Poseidon shot to his feet, a roar of fury building in his chest. The air crackled with the promise of a storm. “ENOUGH!”

But the memory continued, merciless.

[“Mom!”

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: “Go!”

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother’s neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she was simply… gone.]

Percy’s cry was a raw, torn sound that ripped from his own throat in the present. He was shaking violently, tears now streaming down his face unchecked. He was twelve years old again, watching his mother be taken from him.

A collective, sharp intake of breath came from the Animalgams. This was not a death they understood. There was no blood, no body, just... dissolution into light. It was clean, swift, and utterly terrifying in its finality. It was a metaphysical horror beyond their comprehension, a fate worse than any physical death they could imagine. Wilhelmina Webster pulled Ariana fully into her lap, as if to shield her from the erasure. Leo Thorn looked ill, muttering, "What kind of death is that?"

Isabel Thorn stared, her face ashen, her mind unable to process this form of death. For a society built on physicality and tangible power, this was a horror beyond their comprehension. Nolan made a small, wounded noise, and Simon instinctively wrapped an arm around him.

On Olympus, the reaction was one of solemn recognition. This was the fate of those touched by the divine, claimed by the Mist. It was a known quantity to them. But the context made it no less brutal.

The gods were largely unmoved, save for five. Hestia, by her hearth, had tears streaming silently down her cheeks. The goddess of the home and family was witnessing its most sacred bond being severed. Hera, for a single, unguarded moment, looked stricken. The Queen of Olympus, who defined herself by her marriage and her status, was confronted with a love so pure it demanded the ultimate sacrifice. She quickly schooled her features back to disdain, but the crack had been there. And Demeter, surprisingly, had a look of grim sorrow on her face. She understood a mother’s love, and she understood loss.

Poseidon stood frozen, the storm around him dying as quickly as it had risen. The fight had gone out of him, replaced by a profound, ancient grief. He slowly sank back onto his throne, his eyes never leaving the place on the screen where Sally had vanished. Amphitrite placed a gentle hand on his arm, her own expression unreadable but not unkind.

[“No!”

Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs—the same rush of energy I’d gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons.

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, snuffling my best friend, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too.

I couldn’t allow that.]

The Animalgams were frozen, their own codes of pack loyalty and protection being tested by the screen. To abandon a fallen comrade was unthinkable. The Fluke family watched, their expressions grim, waiting to see if the boy would uphold this most basic tenet of their own warrior culture.

The gods watched with clinical interest. This was the crucible. Would the boy's fear or his loyalty win? Ares was practically bouncing on his throne, hungry for the fight. Athena observed Percy's frozen form, analyzing his hesitation.

[I stripped off my red rain jacket.

“Hey!” I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster.

“Hey, stupid! Ground beef!”]

Ares let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed in the silent room. "THERE IT IS! The fight instinct! I knew he had it in him!" he roared, slamming a fist on his armrest. Most of the other Olympians simply watched, their expressions unreadable, though a flicker of interest passed through many of their eyes. The boy was choosing to stand.

“Horrible insult, but we’ll work on that.” Clarisse said, her voice unnaturally soft.

[“Raaaarrrrr!” The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea—a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I’d jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn’t happen like that.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.]

Luke Castellan’s brow furrowed, “Kronos.”

Simon sighed, “no, it must’ve been the rain—any water fuels Percy’s demigod instincts.”

Percy flushed, “I didn’t think you were such a stalker, Simon!” He joked, his voice uneven.

He smiled faintly, “trial and error, that’s all.”

[My legs tensed. I couldn’t jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature’s head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that? I didn’t have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster’s head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.]

Percy flinched again, his head whipping around as if he could smell the rotten-meat stench of the Minotaur right here in the throne room. The sensory memories were hitting him hard.

[The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I’d bite my own tongue off.

“Food!” Grover moaned.]

The tension was shattered for a brief second. Among the demigods, a few strained chuckles emerged. The gods, however, were not amused. Dionysus rolled his eyes. Zeus looked annoyed by the satyr's weakness. The Animalgams just looked more confused, the moment of comic relief completely lost on them in the face of the looming, grisly end for the satyr.

[The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—snap! The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.

The monster charged.]

The throne room was utterly silent. Every Animalgam eye was wide, fixed on the screen. You could have heard a pin drop. They were no longer observers; they were trapped in the moment, feeling the bull's charge in their own bones. The gods, for the most part, remained impassive, though Hephaestus had leaned forward slightly, interested in the mechanics of the impending collision.

[Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.]

The throne room was utterly silent. This was not a clean, shifter takedown. It was a brutal, desperate, and messy kill. The Fluke sisters recoiled as one. Zia Stone let out a muffled cry. The sheer, raw violence of a child shanking a monster with its own horn was a level of savagery that dwarfed their own controlled combat. Even the battle-hardened General Fluke looked momentarily taken aback.

On Olympus, Ares was on his feet, bellowing with approval. "YES! USING THE ENVIRONMENT! A KILL IS A KILL!" The other gods showed a range of reactions: Athena gave a slight, approving nod at the tactical use of the horn. Artemis looked away, disdainful of the messy kill. Poseidon, however, watched his son with a fierce, proud glint in his eyes.

[The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief. I’d just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse. I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover—I wasn’t going to let him go.]

“Personal loyalty.” Simon smiled.

“Yeah,” Thalia sighed, wrapping an arm around Percy’s shoulder. “Loyal to a fault.”

The throne room was utterly silent. The Animalgams looked on in stunned, horrified awe. The fight had been primal and savage, a raw display of a power they did not understand. The image of a twelve-year-old boy covered in muck, trembling with grief and adrenaline, having just brutally slain a monster, was seared into their minds.

As the screen faded, the silence in the throne room was profound. The Animalgams did not speak. They simply stared, their earlier arrogance and condescension completely shattered. They had come to retrieve a prince and found a feral, traumatized warrior. They had entered a world of myths and found a reality more brutal and terrifying than any of their own legends.

[The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her black and blond hair curled like a princess’s. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, “He’s the one. He must be.”

“Silence, Annabeth,” the man said. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”]

As the screen faded, the silence in the throne room was profound. The Animalgams did not speak. They simply stared, their earlier arrogance and condescension completely shattered. They had come to retrieve a prince and found a warrior. They had entered a world of myths and found a reality more brutal and terrifying than any of their own legends.

The horror on their faces was not just for what they had seen, but for the grim understanding of what their own lost son, Simon, had been a part of all along.

Chapter Text

Luke Thorn's POV

The screen shifted, pulling us from the violent aftermath of the Minotaur fight into something quieter, more intimate.

[I Play Pinochle With A Horse.]

[I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.]

A few demigods chuckled weakly, but the sound died quickly. We were all still raw from watching Sally Jackson dissolve into golden light.

Percy himself looked hollowed out, his shoulders slumped as if bearing the weight of that memory all over again. Simon, seated between that Lin Abbott girl and my lookalike, had gone very still, his eyes fixed on the screen with a strange, almost painful intensity. Luke Castellan—that man—leaned in close as if to comfort Simon, his chin bobbing shakily over the top of Simon's head.

And he leaned in. A soft sigh escaping his lips as Castellan put all his weight on my son’s head. 

[I must’ve woken up several times because I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoonfed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding.]

Simon flinched, a full-body shudder that made the Lin Abbott girl tighten her grip on his arm. Luke Castellan—that man—leaned in closer, his chin nearly resting on the crown of Simon's head as if to shield him. A hot, possessive anger flared in my chest.

Get away from my son.

Darryl, ever watchful, saw it too. He clicked his tongue, a low, warning sound, and shot my eldest son a look. A silent question passed between them, one I wasn't privy to.

Simon gave a minute, almost imperceptible shake of his head. I'm fine.

But he wasn't. The tension in his shoulders was a bowstring drawn taut.

"Ambrosia," one of the Apollo kids said quietly. "Standard post-trauma protocol."

Isabel, beside me, stiffened. "They were feeding him... god food?" she whispered, her voice laced with a fresh wave of horror.

The memory of Simon's "allergy," the golden-black veins and the choking, was clearly seared into her mind as well. She looked from the screen to Simon as if expecting him to start convulsing right there.

[The first bite sent warmth flooding through me, and for a second, I smelled my mom’s blue cookies—then it vanished, and the girl’s face swam back into focus. 

She had curly dark brown and blond hair, and she smirked as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon. When she saw my eyes open, her expression turned deadly serious. She glanced at the door, then hissed: “What will happen at the summer solstice?”]

Annabeth Chase, the girl on the screen, let out a soft groan from her seat. "Gods, I was such a little spy," she muttered, though there was a hint of fondness in her voice for her younger, more ruthless self.

"Wait... wait wait wait wait. Hold on. Hold. The. F. On." Maya's brown eyes narrowed and she locked onto Annabeth, looking between Simon, who wore a sad, knowing expression, then back at Annabeth, who was flushed red. The glare Maya shot the daughter of Athena was almost identical to Darryl's most intimidating glower. "That's why no one could find you! You know that no one except the Apollo kids and Chiron are allowed in the infirmary without special permission. Besides that, you'd specifically been banned from there."

Apollo frowned, leaning forward on his throne. "Banned?" The word was a soft, dangerous melody.

Will Solace sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not completely, Father. She'd been temporarily barred from unsupervised visits because she kept interrogating our patients, slowing their recovery. We still treat her if she needs it, of course."

The god of healing nodded, appeased but still looking displeased.

"But then," Vanessa, one of the wolf shifters from the Pack, piped up, her face scrunched in confusion, "who had clearance to be in there with Jackson if it wasn't her?"

No one answered. The demigods looked around at each other, a collective shrug passing through them as if they'd all forgotten a crucial piece of the puzzle.

[“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I don’t…”

Somebody knocked, and the girl jammed another spoonful into my mouth. This time, the warmth flared hotter, and my vision went gold at the edges as she cursed, "No! Thorn!" she muttered, shoving the spoon at me like a weapon, vanishing from my sight. The door creaked open, and her footsteps hurried away as my vision gilded over.]

Thorn.

My name.

Our name.

The girl on screen had cursed my son's name while interrogating this boy. Simon had been there. He'd been part of this from the very beginning, and I was only just now learning the shape of the life he'd lived while I was dead to the world.

Celeste Thorn, my adoptive mother, let out a low growl. "Our name, used as a curse by a demigod child." Her disdain for this entire world was palpable. Orion Sky, my-father in-law, simply looked furious, his lips pressed into a thin, white line.

["Thorn?" I wanted to ask, but the gold swallowed me whole.]

Our heads swiveled to Simon, who was still leaning underneath Luke Castellan's chin. He didn't say anything, just watched the screen. Maya leaned into Simon's shoulder, her eyes full of a sea of exhaustion. Ajax, watching his daughter, gave a soft, understanding sigh. He knew this story.

"Yeah," Simon admitted softly, not meeting anyone's gaze directly. "It was me."

“W-why?” Nolan choked out, the shock hitting him.

[The next time I woke, she was gone. But someone was carding their fingers through my hair, humming softly. The tune hooked into my ribs, like a song I’d heard in another life, but the notes slipped away before I could place them.

I cracked open my eyes.

A boy—his hair haloed in the dim light, like he’d been dusted with sunlight—leaned over me. I squinted, was this dude an angel? Everything about him seemed to glow faintly—his hair, his teeth, even his fingertips—or maybe I was hallucinating.]

And there he was. A vision straight out of a painting.

My boy.

Simon. Maybe eleven years old, maybe twelve—his hair was a curly, messy, sun-streaked halo, his small hands gentle as he carded them through a stranger's hair. He looked ethereal, softer than the sharp-edged young man he’d become.

He looked like almost his mother, as much as he looked like me.

A lump formed in my throat, so sudden and painful I could barely breathe. This was a version of my son I had never known. A version that had soothed a grieving, traumatized boy with a tenderness that stole the air from my lungs.

He was a caretaker.

When had he learned that? From Darryl, I supposed. As it was certainly not from any of us.

[I felt that his palms were small, soft—not calloused. A scribe’s hands, or a thief’s. His voice was softer than the girl’s, but just as firm. Like he was used to not being heard. 

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. It took me a second to realize the surfer dude wasn’t just blond, he had blue eyes—at least a dozen of them—on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands. The glowing boy—i realized then, that he was the kid from the museum—turned to him, his mouth moved but the words were like I was underwater, bubbling like I was sinking into the deep.]

Among the Animalgams, there was a wave of uneasy shifting. Robert Rivera, the Cottonmouth leader, grimaced. "An abomination," he muttered, though he was quickly shushed by his granddaughter, Winter, who looked more fascinated than revolted.

The Fluke family, used to marine oddities, and the insect-arachnid shifters took it in stride, though a few of the younger ones wrinkled their noses.

"The Many-Eyed One," one of the Roman demigods murmured with clear respect.

"Argus," several campers from Camp Half Blood said at once. As if “Argus” was a familiar, if unsettling, sight.

Ajax Lin Abbott let out a low, fond chuckle. "Argus," he repeated, as if that explained everything. "Never could hide his soft spot for the kid."

So this was their world. Many-eyed monsters and children who were part gods, all watching over my oldest son while he watched over this new, dangerous demigod.

A fierce, possessive jealousy, hot and entirely irrational, flared in my chest. I should have been the one watching him. I should have been the one he turned to with that playful smirk.

[The surfer guy's eyes all turned to him, softening and cracked a small smile, before half splitting to me and hardening; his smile evaporating. The glowing boy tilted his head, lips moving in a playful smirk, and the surfer man rolled half his eyes—like this was an old argument they’d had before—and nodded.]

Travis Stoll grinned, shaking his head. "Dang, even Argus couldn't say no to Simon. Dude had everyone wrapped around his finger from day one."

The comment was fond, but it was another brick in the wall separating me from my son's life. He had a history here, a network of relationships and inside jokes that excluded his own family. I saw Nolan's jaw tighten, his own confusion and jealousy mirroring my own. My sister, Zia, looked utterly bewildered, as if the Simon she knew—the quiet, often sullen nephew—was a complete stranger.

[The boy—Birdie, Thorn, whatever his name could’ve been based on what Grover and that girl said—turned back to me, running a hand through my hair once again, humming, “Sleep,” and the word settled into my bones like a spell.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance.]

I was barely processing it. I was stuck on that image of Simon's small, glowing hands. Isabel was rigid beside me, her face pale. She had seen it too: the proof that our son had a whole life, a purpose, and a family that wasn't us. 

[The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt. On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it.]

“How do you know what that’s like?” Poseidon asked his son anxiously. The god’s concern was so raw and human it was jarring.

“I don’t.” Percy shrugged, looking just as confused.

Simon frowned, “not even after—” He pointed at Luke Castellan, who’d finally broken out of Maya’s bootlaces, “him?”

“No.”

[“Careful,” a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover. Not the goat boy.]

There was some sniggering.

“Thanks for that, Grover. Not sure I could have dealt with waking up to you being a Satyr.” Percy said.

“Anytime, Perc.” His best friend smiled at him.

[So maybe I’d had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we’d stopped here at this big house for some reason. And…

“You saved my life,” Grover said. “I…well, the least I could do…I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this.”

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap. Inside was a black-and-white bull’s horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn’t been a nightmare.]

“Good. Spoils of war are important.” General Fluke curtly nodded. “It means you’ve survived.”

"I'd rather have had my mom." Percy shrugged.

“I second that.” Simon said. “But like, also Darryl.”

[“The Minotaur,” I said.

“Um, Percy, it isn’t a good idea—”]

“Telling him it’s not a good idea only encourages him.” Simon laughed, a brittle sound.

[“That’s what they call him in the Greek myths, isn’t it?” I demanded. “The Minotaur. Half man, half bull.”

Grover shifted uncomfortably. “You’ve been out for two days. How much do you remember?”

“My mom. Is she really…”

He looked down.

I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold.

Nothing should look beautiful.]

Sally sighed and hugged Percy. “Honey…” Paul’s arm around her tightened, his face a study in shared grief.

[“I’m sorry,” Grover sniffled. “I’m a failure. I’m—I’m the worst satyr in the world.”]

“No you’re not!” Simon, Percy, Thalia and Annabeth all shouted.

"It's not your fault the Gods like trying to kill us." Percy told him. 

[He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

“Oh, Styx!” he mumbled.

Thunder rolled across the clear sky.]

“Well, he was going to find out at some point.” Connor laughed. Grover sighed.

“At least I had time to wake up a little.” Percy grinned at his friend.

[As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I thought, Well, that settles it.

Grover was a satyr. I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I’d find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaurs. All that mean was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.]

Grover made a muffled sound of protest as his hands flew to his hair. The Stolls exchanged mischievous grins.

“No shaving Satyrs.” Simon and Chiron told the brothers in exasperated tones.

“Awww.” They both complained.

Nolan blinked, “is this—”

“Yes, absolutely.” Simon finished as he leaned in, keeping his voice low.

[I was alone. An orphan. I would have to live with…Smelly Gabe? No. That would never happen. I would live on the streets first. I would pretend I was seventeen and join the army. I’d do something. Grover was still sniffling. The poor kid—poor goat, satyr, whatever—looked as if he expected to be hit.]

We all scowled at the mention of Gabe before most of the ones from Camp Half Bloods all erupted into coughing fits.

“What?” Percy asked indignantly.

“You thought you could pass for seventeen?” Clarisse asked him in amusement as Maya howled. “Back then you could barely pass for the age you were let alone five years older.”

“I wasn’t that short.” Percy protested.

“Annie was taller than you.” Simon pointed out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annabeth’s expression had gone from fond amusement to indignation. “You were literally the shortest in the Hermes cabin for three consecutive years.”

Simon’s face burned bright red, “N...nothing.” He told her unconvincingly, his shoulders still shaking. 

[I said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you.”

“Did my mother ask you to protect me?”

“No. But that’s my job. I’m a keeper. At least…I was.”

“But why…” I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Grover said. “Here.”

He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips.

I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn’t that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. And not just any cookies—my mom’s homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn’t go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I’d drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I’d just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn’t even melted.

“Was it good?” Grover asked.

I nodded.]

Ares snorted slightly but said nothing out loud.

“Be careful.” Apollo winced.

“I know that now.” Percy rolled his eyes. “Besides, Grover was right there.”

Sally smiled sadly. "I'm glad it could bring you a little comfort, even then."

[“What did it taste like?” He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

“Sorry,” I said. “I should’ve let you taste.”

His eyes got wide. “No! That’s not what I meant. I just…wondered.”

“Chocolate-chip cookies,” I said. “My mom’s. Homemade.”]

“That sounds amazing.” Connor and Travis said together.

“They are.” Nico nodded as Simon loudly complained he was thirsty. An iced chocolate drink appeared in his hand.

“You’ve had some?” Annabeth frowned. Nico suddenly found the floor very interesting.

“Auntie makes them when we come over.” Simon said, taking a sip. Maya snatched the cup from his hand, taking a few gulps.

“Mhm.” She grinned, “tastes like home.”

The word "Auntie" was a knife. Sally Jackson was more of a home to my son than his own blood. Isabel looked down at her hands, her shoulders stiff. Paul gave Sally a small, sad smile, fully aware of the role she played for my son.

[He sighed. “And how do you feel?”

“Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards.”

“That’s good,” he said. “That’s good. I don’t think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff.”

“What do you mean?”]

“I’m not sure any amount of nectar could make you able to do that.” Clarisse sneered. Percy just smirked at her.

“He would’ve burst into flames if he drank anymore,” Simon, meanwhile, explained to the Animalgams, who nodded, some looking horrified at the idea of internal combustion from food.

[He took the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. “Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.”

The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held on to it. I’d paid for that souvenir the hard way. I wasn’t going to let it go. As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must’ve been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance.]

 “That got SO annoying!” Percy exclaimed. “Like, every single time I asked a question, it would be ignored.”

Simon snorted, “okay, but imagine how i felt when I was surrounded by only Animalgams for nine months after Darryl died, little human interaction at all.”

“Torture!”

“Ding ding ding! Right on target.” Maya grinned as the Animalgams shot Percy and Maya glares and scowls. Rachel chuckled, earning a few looks herself.

[Between here and there, I simply couldn’t process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs played volleyball.

Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover’s were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.]

All the Greeks had dreamy looks on their faces, thinking about their Camp.

“You have Pegasi?” Reyna asked in awe. 

“Yes.” Silena nodded with another dreamy smile. “They’re lovely.” The Romans all looked jealous at this pronouncement.

“I do love Blackjack.” Percy grinned.

Nolan turned to Simon, “do you…?”

“What? Oh, uh, kind of.” Simon scratched the nape of his neck, “Maya and I share one.”

“Ace always liked you better.” Luke Castellan chuckled, “even after you grew wings.”

“You named a Pegasus after a poker card?” Malcolm said, raising a brow.

“Yes.” Maya and Simon said in unison.

“It’s the best card in the deck, obviously.” Simon explained, “Maya insisted on naming him Spadille, but we call him Ace of Spades.”

[Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-and-black-haired girl who’d spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels—what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That’s it. He looked like a cherub who’d turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would’ve fit right in at one of Gabe’s poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could’ve out-gambled even my stepfather.]

All the gods except Dionysus were trying desperately to hide their laughter. Apollo and Hermes failed completely.

“You should show some respect, boy.” The wine god said sternly, glaring at the demigod.

“I didn’t say it out loud. It was just my thoughts and I can’t control those.” Percy scowled back. The wine god did not look impressed with this argument.

[“That’s Mr. D,” Grover murmured to me. “He’s the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that’s Annabeth Chase. She’s just a camper, but she’s been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron.…”

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.]

“Yeah, Percy doesn’t do polite at the best of times, let alone when he’s confused and grieving.” Simon pointed out. “But does anyone really?”

 “Just a camper?” Annabeth looked at Grover.

“Compared to Mr D who is a God and Chiron who is an immortal teacher.” Grover shrugged. Annabeth conceded he had a point.

[“Mr. Brunner!” I cried.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

“Ah, good, Percy,” he said. “Now we have four for pinochle.”]

There was some good natured groaning from the Greek demigods. The Hermes kids looked quite impressed and a bit sad they didn’t get Chiron as a teacher in the mortal world. 

[He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. “Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don’t expect me to be glad to see you.”

“Uh, thanks.” I scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.]

“Dionysus.” Poseidon frowned. 

“What? I don’t want to be there.” Dionysus shrugged. “Nor am I pleased to see more children that I’m supposed to look after.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mr D’s punishment is actually a punishment for us kids.” Percy muttered. All of the Greek campers nodded.

At the next scene, most of them looked at Percy wondering if he had actually been afraid of Dionysus because of his experience with the drunken mortal.

Sally’s expression was pained. "He saw Gabe in everyone," she whispered to Paul, who nodded grimly.

[“Annabeth?” Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. “This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don’t you go check on Percy’s bunk? We’ll be putting him in cabin eleven for now.”

Annabeth said, “Sure, Chiron.”]

“Look at you being civil.” Simon grinned.

“I’m always civil, Thorn.” She huffed. 

[She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight. She glanced at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a Minotaur! or Wow, you’re so awesome! or something like that.

Instead she said, “You drool when you sleep.”

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her braided hair flying behind her.]

Everyone at the demigod side burst out in laughter while the Animalgams chuckled nervously.

[“So,” I said, anxious to change the subject. “You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?”

“Not Mr. Brunner,” the ex–Mr. Brunner said. “I’m afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron.”

“Okay.” Totally confused, I looked at the director. “And Mr. D…does that stand for something?”]

“Ex-Mr Brunner?” Leo snickered.

"Grover already said his name is Chiron." Clarisse rolled her eyes.

[Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I’d just belched loudly. “Young man, names are powerful things. You don’t just go around using them for no reason.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“I must say, Percy,” Chiron-Brunner broke in, “I’m glad to see you alive. It’s been a long time since I’ve made a house call to a potential camper. I’d hate to think I’ve wasted my time.”]

“It definitely was not a waste.” Chiron smiled at Percy.

“When was the last time you made a house call?” Percy asked a little tentatively.

“Over a century ago.” Chiron told him with a smile. Most of the Animalgams’ and Percy’s eyes went wide. 

[“House call?”

“My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to…ah, take a leave of absence.”]

“So all fauns, I mean satyrs, are useful?” Reyna asked.

“Of course we are.” Grover said indignantly. “What do your fauns do?”

“Wander around and beg mostly.” Hazel said quietly.

“Beg?” Grover looked horrified. The Romans all nodded their heads.

[I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

“You came to Yancy just to teach me?” I asked.]

 “There’s the beginning of his big head.” Annabeth sighed.

“Percy doesn’t have a big head.” Simon frowned at her, pulling the two jackets he had closer together. “He’s just… confident, that’s all.”

Thalia nodded, “Yeah, he’s the most modest male I’ve ever met. He has the odd moment, don’t we all, but mostly he underestimates himself.” Artemis was intrigued by her future Lieutenant’s statement.

[Chiron nodded. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that’s always the first test.”]

Sally turned to Chiron, and her eyes seem to glow with a protective rage. “What. Did. You. Just. Tell. My. Son.” Chiron gulped, and she glared at him. “You will not do any more introductions for any campers.”

Wow… If anyone had told me years ago that someday—long after I died, I would witness a mortal woman making a millennia-old centaur cower, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Paul stood a little straighter, a proud, defiant look on his face as he supported his wife.

[“Grover,” Mr. D said impatiently, “are you playing or not?”

“Yes, sir!” Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn’t know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.]

Some more sniggering from the other gods.

“There is nothing wrong with Hawaiian shirts.” Poseidon said, looking at his son.

“Sure, dad.” Percy agreed, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

[“You do know how to play pinochle?” Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

“I’m afraid not,” I said.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” he said.

“Sir,” I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less.]

Dionysus glared at him some more but Poseidon glared right back. 

“The feeling is mutual, Perry.” The wine god muttered.

[“Well,” he told me, “it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules.”

“I’m sure the boy can learn,” Chiron said.

“Please,” I said, “what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?”

Mr. D snorted. “I asked the same question.”

The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

“Percy,” he said. “Did your mother tell you nothing?”]

“Nope. Not even a little bit.” Percy sighed.

“Yes, we know that now. I didn’t realise you had absolutely no idea at all.” Chiron replied looking grim.

“You taught him for a year. Surely you should have realized how little he knew.” Rachel pointed out. Chiron didn’t reply.

[“She said…” I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. “She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn’t leave. She wanted to keep me close to her.”

“Typical,” Mr. D said. “That’s how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?”

“What?” I asked.

He sighed, grumbling about some kid named Simon being a better bidder than I was, and explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

“I’m afraid there’s too much to tell,” Chiron said. “I’m afraid our usual orientation film won’t be sufficient.”

“Orientation film?” I asked.

“No,” Chiron decided. “Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know”—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—“that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive.”]

The Campers from camp half blood’s eyes widened, “You didn’t watch the Orientation film?” Connor Stoll gawked.

And someone—Calla Velasco, I believe—repeated the question louder, her brows to her hairline. “YOU DIDN’T WATCH THE FILM?!”

He shook his head, bewildered. “No. I thought everyone knew that?”

Simon grumbled. “No, Perce. We all assumed you had. Everyone always watches the film, no matter what.” Here, he sent a glare at Chiron. “I don’t know why you didn’t.”

Chiron’s tail swished nervously. “He had defeated the Minotaur.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “And? Clarisse fought an empousa. Lee fought an eidolon. Connor and Travis fought a cyclops. I fought a hellhound. If defeating a monster was the reason for not watching the orientation film, a lot of campers wouldn’t have watched it.”

Percy sighed. “It’s all good, guys. It happened a long time ago, it’s over now.”

“I call bullshi—” Simon started but was cut off by the screen.

[I stared at the others around the table.

I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, “Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!” He cackled as he tallied up his points.

“Mr. D,” Grover asked timidly, “if you’re not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?”

“Eh? Oh, all right.”

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

“Wait,” I told Chiron. “You’re telling me there’s such a thing as God.”

“Well, now,” Chiron said. “God—capital G, God. That’s a different matter altogether. We shan’t deal with the metaphysical.”

“Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—”

“Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That’s a smaller matter.”

“Smaller?”]

 “Smaller?” Zeus thundered furiously. Chiron decided to say nothing.

[“Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class.”

“Zeus,” I said. “Hera. Apollo. You mean them.”

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

“Young man,” said Mr. D, “I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you.”]

“Top ten things Prissy won’t listen to.” Maya said. “But seriously, Jackson, be more careful.”

Percy squinted at her, “You’re only saying that because Simon would be sad if I died.”

[“But they’re stories,” I said. “They’re—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They’re what people believed before there was Science.”]

“Oooh.” All the older Greek demigods and Simon winced while the Heroes of Old frowned in confusion.

“Yeah, I know. Bad move.” Percy held his hands up. 

[“Science!” Mr. D scoffed. “And tell me, Perseus Jackson”—I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody—“what will people think of your ‘science’ two thousand years from now?” Mr. D continued. “Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That’s what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they’ve come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me.”]

The Animalgam’s eyes widened in unison before nodding in understanding. They wouldn’t like either if someone told them if they were myths.

[I wasn’t liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if…he wasn’t. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut.

“Percy,” Chiron said, “you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?”]

“That would be cool.” Leo Valdez said.

“Not really.” Percy frowned. “Staying alive forever while all your loved ones pass on.”

Simon nodded somberly, “It’s… a bad feeling. Hurts worse if you have to watch them fade in your hands.”

[I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron’s voice made me hesitate.

“You mean, whether people believed in you or not,” I said.

“Exactly,” Chiron agreed. “If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?”]

“Honestly, I’d love something like that.” Simon admitted, popping the last of his chocolates as he handed the plastic to Maya, who snapped her fingers and the plastic disappeared from her hands. “Would’ve helped if someone—somebody very fatherly—died at the end, you know, just to sell the whole Greek tragedy thing.”

“Stop describing the day Baba died.” Maya groaned.

“No.” Simon said before taking a giant swig of his drink.

“That was harsh, Chiron.” Thalia said reproachfully.  

The Centaur nodded. “I’m sorry, Percy. That was unnecessary."

[My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn’t going to let him. I said, “I wouldn’t like it. But I don’t believe in gods.”

“Oh, you’d better,” Mr. D murmured. “Before one of them incinerates you.”

Grover said, “P-please, sir. He’s just lost his mother. He’s in shock.”

“A lucky thing, too,” Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. “Bad enough I’m confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don’t even believe!”

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.

“Mr. D,” he warned, “your restrictions.”]

“Dionysus.” Zeus said warningly. 

“It’s not bad enough you make me look after all the brats that you lot ignore, you also won’t let me have my own invention and domain. It’s not fair.” Dionysus complained. “You wouldn’t ban Uncle Poseidon from the sea.”

“He does have a point, brother.” Hestia said softly. Zeus’s frown deepened but he said nothing.

[Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

“Dear me.” He looked at the sky and yelled, “Old habits! Sorry!”

More thunder.]

“Old habits?” Zeus questioned.

“I was able to summon wine whenever I wanted for millennia. It’ll take a while to forget that habit.” Dionysus pointed out. Zeus considered this and nodded slightly. While he suspected his son had done it completely deliberately, he did have a valid argument.

[Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked at me. “Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits.”]

“Stop chasing after off limit Nymphs then.” Hermes told his half brother.

“Why exactly was the nymph declared off limits?” Hera asked her husband. Zeus didn’t reply but gestured for the screen to continue.

[“A wood nymph,” I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

“Yes,” Mr. D confessed. “Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn’t stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. ‘Be a better influence,’ he told me. ‘Work with youths rather than tearing them down.’ Ha! Absolutely unfair.”]

“I do not.” Zeus protested. All the other Gods stared at him incredulously.

“Yes you do.” Apollo said firmly.

"The only ones of us you don't like punishing are Artemis and Athena." Hermes stated.

“Yeah, a better influence is not something you could ever accuse Mr D of being.” Clarisse muttered to herself. Those near her all nodded their agreement.

[Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

“And…” I stammered, “your father is…”

“Di immortales, Chiron,” Mr. D said. “I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course.”

I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master.

“You’re Dionysus,” I said. “The god of wine.”]

Simon smiled, a shy blush on his face, “Better than me, I called him Deimos.”

”I mean, he does cause Panic, no?” Maya snorted, making the God glare at them both.

[Mr. D rolled his eyes. “What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, ‘Well, duh!’?”

“Y-yes, Mr. D.”

“Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?”]

“You wish.” Aphrodite sniffed disdainfully.

[“You’re a god.”

“Yes, child.”

“A god. You.”]

Maya rolled her eyes, “He sure doesn’t act like one.”

“Looks can be deceptive, son.” Poseidon warned Percy. His son nodded.

“Yeah, I definitely learnt that lesson.”

[He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.]

Darryl crossed his arms and shot Dionysus a look that was utterly devoid of fear. "You're being a drama queen again, Dio.” His voice was a low, gruff rumble that cut through the tension.

The entire throne room froze. A mortal—or near enough—was chastising a god. To my astonishment, Dionysus just rolled his eyes, looking more like a petulant teenager than an all-powerful deity. "You try dealing with this nonsense for a century, you overgrown oak stump," he grumbled back.

[“Would you like to test me, child?” he said quietly.

“No. No, sir.”]

“Wow, that’s twice that Percy has done the safe thing.” Thalia laughed.

“I used up all the safe options back then.” Percy grinned.

“That explains so much.” Nico snickered.

[The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. “I believe I win.”]

Simon gasped, “For real?”

“No freakin’ way!” Travis exclaimed.

“I’m perfectly capable of winning.” Dionysus said, affronted.

“Except against Chiron.” Connor muttered. “Or Simon.”

Simon shrugged, “Blame Colin, he taught me how to play.”

“You were nine and new to camp when you won against him.” Chris pointed out.

The Animalgams raised their brows and looked between Connor and Simon.

“His uncle.” Simon deadpanned, “his uncle taught him, then said uncle and him taught me when i came over to his house.”

[“Not quite, Mr. D,” Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, “The game goes to me.”

I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.]

“He is.” Will laughed.

“I don’t believe he has ever won.” Clarisse said.

“No, he has not.” Chiron told them with a slight smile. Dionysus glared at the Centaur.

“There we go.” Beckendorf chuckled to himself.

Dionysus grumbled unhappily.

[“I’m tired,” Mr. D said. “I believe I’ll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment.”

Grover’s face beaded with sweat. “Y-yes, sir.”

Mr. D turned to me. “Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners.” He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.]

Poseidon nodded to himself at that. But my attention was fractured, pulled back again and again to my son. Simon watched the exchange between Chiron and Percy with a familiar, weary expression. He'd heard all this before. He'd lived it.

[“Will Grover be okay?” I asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. “Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He’s been…ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can’t stand waiting another century before he’s allowed to go back to Olympus.”]

The god frowned. ”I hate that I’m restricted from my main domain, I hate that I can see my children daily but have no interaction with them outside of being camp director. I hate being away from my wife. But I don’t hate the job itself. Chiron, you know this. I’ve told you millions of times. Why—” The god trailed off, sighing.

[“Mount Olympus,” I said. “You’re telling me there really is a palace there?”

“Well now, there’s Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there’s the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It’s still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do.”]

Connor tilted his head at Pollux and Castor. “You’re not allowed any time with your dad outside of the normal demigod stuff?”

Pollux shook his head. ”No. Dad is watched too closely for anything to happen.”

“Gods bless whoever made those rules.” Simon said sarcastically as Maya nodded, mouthing an “Amen.”

“You dare mock me?” Zeus rumbled.

“I dare a lot.” He murmured quietly.

[“You mean the Greek gods are here? Like…in America?”

“Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West.” 

“The what?”

“Come now, Percy. What you call ‘Western civilization.’ Do you think it’s just an abstract concept? No, it’s a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn’t possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods.”

“And then they died.”]

“Really, Perc?” Nico asked with a laugh.

“I know you’ve had a lot of shocks recently but you literally just met a God.” Thalia rolled her eyes. Percy shrugged with a sheepish grin.

[“Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they’ve ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren’t very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here.”]

The Animalgams grew quieter and quieter. The scale of it all—the gods being tied to Western civilization, Olympus moving to America—was a geopolitical shock of divine proportions. General Fluke looked like he was mentally rewriting every strategic doctrine he’d ever known.

[It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron’s we, as if I were part of some club.

“Who are you, Chiron? Who… who am I?”]

The question hung in the air, echoing for everyone in the room. Who was Percy Jackson? Who were any of them? I looked at Simon, at the way he held himself apart even within his found family, and I had no answer. Isabel reached for my hand, her grip tight and desperate.

[Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

“Who are you?” he mused. “Well, that’s the question we all want answered, isn’t it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s’mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate.”]

A ripple of fond laughter went through the veteran campers and the Heroes of Old. The image of their venerable mentor getting excited over campfire treats was a familiar and comforting one.

Maya nudged Simon, a wicked grin on her face. “Took after grandpa, did you?”

Simon rolled his eyes and popped another chocolate in his mouth, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I have you know, Chiron and I—“

”What?” Leo Thorn—my father—sputtered from his seat, his face a mask of outrage and confusion. The idea of his grandson casually claiming kinship with a mythical centaur was a bridge too far. "What is this—?!"

“Hush, old man,” Maya said, waving a dismissive hand without even looking at him, her focus entirely on teasing Simon. “Anyways, you know it’s true, Simon. You two once finished a whole table of s’mores!”

“I like sweets, not just chocolates,” He reminded her, though his protest was weak, undermined by the fact that he was currently eating chocolate.

Ajax Lin Abbott chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Takes after his old man, too," he said, clapping a hand on Darryl's shoulder. "Darryl has a hell of a sweet tooth when he thinks no one's looking." Darryl didn't deny it, merely grunting in a way that could have been affirmation or annoyance.

[And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn’t move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn’t underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn’t a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must’ve been magic, because there’s no way it could’ve held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse’s trunk.

“What a relief,” the centaur said. “I’d been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let’s meet the other campers.]

I looked at my eldest son, now a young man, surrounded by his true family.

He met my gaze for a fleeting second, and in his eyes, I saw no regret, only a quiet, resigned acknowledgment of the chasm between us.

He had been a part of this world, this strange, terrifying, beautiful family, long before we ever came to take him back. And as I watched him now, smiling and laughing with his friends, I knew with a sickening certainty that we had already lost him.

He had chosen his side long ago.

Chapter Text

Calla Velasco POV

[I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom]

I didn't have much time to think when the screen shone again. My younger half-sister, Maya, and Clarisse La Rue both burned a furious red. The Greek demigods around us erupted into knowing laughter, a stark contrast to the bewildered silence from the Roman contingent and the outright scowls from most of the Animalgams.

“Hey!” they snapped in unison, their glares promising future retribution. Maya shrugged off her camo jacket with practiced irritation, tying it around her waist. In a swift, protective motion, Simon undid his own jacket and tied it around her hips, the long fabric ensuring her skirt was fully covered. The simple, wordless act screamed of a long-established routine.

[Once I got over the fact that my Latin teacher was a horse, we had a nice tour, though I was careful not to walk behind him. I’d done pooper-scooper patrol in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times, and, I’m sorry, I did not trust Chiron’s back end the way I trusted his front.

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the Minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, “That’s him.”

Most of the campers were older than I was. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I wasn’t normally shy, but the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.]

A ripple of laughter went through the demigods. Chiron himself gave a long-suffering sigh, but a faint smile touched his lips. "Some things," he murmured, "are universal."

The Heroes of Old were mixed. The original Perseus watched with a keen, almost nostalgic interest. "To see the old training grounds again... it stirs the blood." Theseus looked mildly offended on his old trainer's behalf, while Odysseus stroked his beard, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Heracles just grunted, "The boy's got a point. Centaurs are... messy."

"Such a disrespectful observation," Lord Anthony sniffed, his lips pursed. "To speak of a mentor in such a manner."

Orion Sky gave a stern nod of agreement. "It speaks to a lack of discipline."

Connor Stoll grinned, ignoring the adults. “Well—i mean, you killed the Minotaur, Percy!”

“So had Theseus!” Percy sputtered, gesturing to his godly half-brother.

The legendary hero Perseus, who had been watching with quiet interest, gave a regal nod. "A feat worthy of song, even for one so young." His gaze was assessing, and for the first time, he looked at Percy not as a curiosity, but as a potential peer.

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago,” Lysander snorted, adjusting his hearing aid. “Like, a million years ago. You're the first in living memory, Jackson. Cut yourself some slack.”

From the Animalgam section, General Fluke gave a curt, approving nod. "A warrior's reputation is built on such deeds. He should wear it with pride."

[I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I’d realized—four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

“What’s up there?” I asked Chiron.

He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. “Just the attic.”

“Somebody lives there?”

“No,” he said with finality. “Not a single living thing.”

I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain.]

Blinking, Apollo turned to Percy. “She moved?” 

“Yeah.”

He frowned. “She was drawn to you from the start… interesting.”

“He’s very perceptive,” Athena commented, a note of reluctant surprise in her voice. She studied the younger Percy on screen as if he were a complex theorem. “For a child of Poseidon to so easily read between the lines of a centuries-old secret… it speaks to an innate cunning.”

Poseidon, who had been watching his son's journey with a mixture of pride and pain, allowed himself a small, sharp smile. "The sea does not reveal all its secrets at once, Niece. It hints. It whispers. My son listens."

Simon frowned, his eyes flicking between the screen, Apollo and Percy with such concentration—I almost wondered if he saw the Oracle move too on his first day.

[“Come along, Percy,” Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. “Lots to see.”

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe. Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. “It pays our expenses,” he explained. “And the strawberries take almost no effort.”

He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead. I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire. I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D.

“Grover won’t get in too much trouble, will he?” I asked Chiron. “I mean…he was a good protector. Really.”]

Dionysus, who had been sulking, suddenly looked immensely pleased with himself. "Of course they do," he preened, swirling his Diet Coke. "Even grounded, my touch brings life. It's a burden, really."

Demeter, for the first time, looked mildly impressed. "The strawberries are always particularly robust," she conceded, though she pointedly did not look at her nephew.

“I wasn’t,” Grover bleated, his shoulders slumping in shame. The entire Apollo cabin, led by Will Solace, shot him sympathetic looks.

“Grover, don’t sweat it. It was a long time ago,” Percy said, his voice firm.

[Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horse’s back like a saddle. “Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill.”

“But he did that!”

“I might agree with you,” Chiron said. “But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I’m afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there’s the unfortunate…ah…fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover’s part.”]

“The council can shove it!” Thalia Grace snapped, her electric blue eyes flashing. Several other senior campers and I muttered in agreement, a unified front of support for our friend.

The satyrs in the audience, however, shifted uncomfortably. The rules of their world were strict, and Grover's failures were, by their code, significant.

“Thank the gods—and Pan—, he’s the Lord of the Wild then, no?” Simon sighed, shooting Grover a proud look.

Annabeth and Thalia smiled and Percy nodded, “Yeah… thank Pan.”

[I wanted to protest. None of what happened was Grover’s fault. I also felt really, really guilty. If I hadn’t given Grover the slip at the bus station, he might not have gotten in trouble.

“He’ll get a second chance, won’t he?”

Chiron winced. “I’m afraid that was Grover’s second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He’s still so small for his age.…”

“How old is he?”

“Oh, twenty-eight.”]

Rhode Fluke’s brows furrowed in clear distaste. “Twenty-eight? And he’s… acting so… childish.” Her tone was one of pure, military disapproval. In her world, a twenty-eight-year-old was a seasoned officer, not a nervous adolescent.

The reaction from the demigods was instantaneous and fierce. Percy and Annabeth both turned glacial glares on the Colonel. “Stand down, Colonel Fluke,” they said in unison, their voices cold and sharp. The command hung in the air, a clear boundary drawn. The Fluke daughters stiffened, their hands twitching for weapons they didn't have.

Thalia Grace crossed her arms, her electric-blue eyes crackling. "He's a satyr. Their maturity is different. And he's braver than any of your shiny-shark soldiers."

Piper squinted, “Yeah, aren’t you in your forties, Rhode?”

“Thirties,” Simon said, then added, “I think..?”

Dev whistled, “nice save.”

[“What! And he’s in sixth grade?”

“Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Quite,” Chiron agreed. “At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career…”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?”

Chiron looked away quickly. “Let’s move along, shall we?”

But I wasn’t quite ready to let the subject drop. Something had occurred to me when Chiron talked about my mother’s fate, as if he were intentionally avoiding the word death. The beginnings of an idea—a tiny, hopeful fire—started forming in my mind.]

“Twenty-eight?” Rachel repeated in astonishment. Grover nodded. “And in sixth grade?”

 “Satyr’s mature half as fast as humans.” Chiron told the mortal girl.

“So he’s roughly the equivalent of fourteen?” She asked. “Back then, anyway.” Chiron nodded. “That sucks.”

“Yes it does.” Grover stated firmly.

Heracles let out a loud, booming laugh. "By the gods! A permanent childhood! Now that is a curse worse than any of my labors!" He seemed to find the concept immensely amusing. Grover just buried his face deeper in his hands.

“Is no one going to answer any of his questions?” asked Piper, frowning.

"nope.” Percy said, popping the P.

[“Chiron,” I said. “If the gods and Olympus and all that are real…”

“Yes, child?”

“Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?”

Chiron’s expression darkened. “Yes, child.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now…until we know more…I would urge you to put that out of your mind.”

“What do you mean, ‘until we know more’?”

“Come, Percy. Let’s see the woods.”

As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron said, “The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go Armed.”]

“I understand your reasoning nephew, but please do not venture into my domain,” Hades said. Simon, Nico, Thalia, and Percy snorted in unison. 

“Son?” Poseidon seemed almost hesitant to ask,

“We've taken a few trips to see Uncle H,” Thalia chirped happily. 

“Armed?” Tiberius Siles asked, “for what? I was under the impression Camp Half-Blood was a safe haven.”

“You’re gonna be under a lot of assumption then,” Simon replied dryly, sinking into his seat.

[“Stocked with what?” I asked. “Armed with what?”

“You’ll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?”

“My own—?”

“No,” Chiron said. “I don’t suppose you do. I think a size five will do. I’ll visit the armory later.”]

“He’s still not answering anything,” Artemis huffed, disliking how Chiron was acting.

[I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn’t seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

“Sword and spear fights?” I asked.

”Cabin challenges and all that,” he explained. “Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there’s the mess hall.” Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

“What do you do when it rains?” I asked.

Chiron looked at me as if I’d gone a little weird. “We still have to eat, don’t we?” I decided to drop the subject.]

“Usually?” squeaked Jam, looking between Greek demigods who all seemed to have blood-thirsty grins.

“Usually.” Simon repeated, nodding grimly, and then multiple gods speak up at once.

“Usually?”

“CHIRON!”

“USUALLY?!” 

The Animalgams looked shocked, their mouths agape. Chiron sighed, the sound weary and familiar. “I assure you, the safety of our campers is paramount. The ‘usually’ refers to the non-lethal nature of our sparring matches, not to any inherent danger in the camp itself.”

“Didn’t Simon get a concussion at Camp?” Lysander deadpanned.

“Semantics.” Chiron replied in the same tone.

Simon thought for a second, “there’s a barrier over camp that keeps out any anomalies. The weather and climate won’t affect the camp unless Mr. D, and or the other gods, wills it to be.”

[Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I’d ever seen. Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. 

Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined fire pit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.]

Percy turned to look at her. “I’m sorry I didn't stop to talk to you.”

Hestia smiled warmly. “Not many notice me, young one. The fact that you, Simon and later Nico, even acknowledged me was more than most campers ever did.” All the campers looked down sheepishly, and she shook her head slightly. “I do not say this with malice, children. I simply mean to point out a fact.”

“Twelve?” Jason Grace asked, “no, there were way more.”

“Before, the Titan War.” Maya murmured, “we only had Olympian cabins, none for the minor gods’s kids so we roomed in Hermes.”

[“Zeus and Hera?” I guessed.

“Correct,” Chiron said.

“Their cabins look empty.”

“Several of the cabins are. That’s true. No one ever stays in one or two.”

Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot.]

”they should be empty.” Hera sniffed.

“That’s one way to put it.” Selena chuckled.

“Rude, but true.” Drew grinned, “I like it.”

[Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty? I stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three. It wasn’t high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and was wet coral, as if the slabs had been shewn straight from the  bottom of the ocean floor. I peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that!”

Before he could pull me back, I caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely, I was glad when Chiron put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Come along, Percy.”]

Poseidon frowned, “Chiron, I wouldn’t blast someone just for looking in my cabin.” Chiron coughed.

Simon snorted, “I did that too, y’know, Chiron.”

“What?” Chiron sputtered as Travis and Connor groaned.

“When Trav and Connie were giving me a tour, I popped my head in.” He shrugged. “didn’t know what it meant at first.”

Connor rolled his eyes, “we thought you were gonna die, idiot! No camper can go in an empty cabin that isn’t theirs or if they’re unclaimed, you were practically writing your death certificate.”

Percy grinned, “Dude! You felt it too right?”

Simon nodded as Chiron out his hand over his heart. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, Simon.” He muttered.

[Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar’s head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared.

The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.]

“It was.” Sherman smirked as Ares grinned proudly at his cabin description.

“Oi!” Clarisse protested.

“Sorry, Clarisse.” Percy said.

“You will be, punk.” She grumbled.

[I kept walking, trying to stay clear of Chiron’s hooves. “We haven’t seen any other centaurs,” I observed.

“No,” said Chiron sadly. “My kinsmen are wild and barbaric folk, I’m afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won’t see any here.”

“You said your name was Chiron. Are you really…”

He smiled down at me. “The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am.”

“But, shouldn’t you be dead?”]

“Ahhh, the Party Ponies.” Travis said wistfully.

“They were pretty cool when you got them to help us out.” Percy said. Chiron smiled slightly.

“But my name’s Heracles?” Heracles questioned, sounding completely unsure of himself for a fleeting second. Unfortunately, that was all that was needed for us demigods to begin laughing. 

“Yes, yes you are Heracles,” Lysander chuckled holding onto his stomach. 

“So…?” 

“Eh, it’s a change with the times thing,” Holly said nonchalantly. 

“But—“ 

I cut in, ignoring Heracles' confused and affronted expression, for Percy’s on-screen question. “Technically, they—” I gesturing to the Heroes of Old, the Traitors, Orion Sky, Perrin, Celeste Thorn and Lord Anthony,“—should be dead, but they’re here, alive.”

“Only because the gods willed it for the heroes.” Connor said. “They were taken from the underworld, not alive just alone. But…” He held out a hand, mock-confusion as he waved it around.

Travis nodded, continuing for his brother. “Yeah, Orion Sky fell on some rocks at some fortress, Celeste Thorn was shot by Orion’s arrow—how fitting for his namesake, a literal archer—, Mr. Perrin was shot by his own son, Rowan Perrin, and Lord Anthony was… cocooned by the Black Widow Queen’s web.”

Simon looked over, his face shocked, “you remembered that on the top of your head?”

He and Travis shrugged, their faces both pinkish as they looked away, “You were gone for nine months, and… we missed you.”

[Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. “I honestly don’t know about should be. The truth is, I can’t be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish…and I gave up much. But I’m still here, so I can only assume I’m still needed.”

I thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn’t have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list. “Doesn’t it ever get boring?”

“No, no,” he said. “Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring.”

“Why depressing?”

Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again.

“Oh, look,” he said. “Annabeth is waiting for us.”]

“Me neither.” Simon, Leo, Travis, Connor and Nico agreed.

Maya rolled her eyes, “can’t relate, it’d be awesome to be remembered for eternity and still tell my story.”

“Okay, but do you really wanna see everyone you love die?” Simon asked, “and imagine remembering embarrassing things from like, hundred of years ago.”

Maya deflated, “you’re no fun, but fair enough.”

“But we are very glad it was the thing Chiron wished for. I hate to think where we would be without him.” Annabeth smiled. All the Greeks nodded and Chiron looked a little embarrassed. 

“Not your best topic change.” Hermes snorted at the Centaur, who blushed harder.

[The braided-haired girl I’d met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven.

When we reached her, she looked me over critically, like she was still thinking about how much I drooled. I tried to see what she was reading, but I couldn’t make out the title. I thought my dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn’t even English. The letters looked Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek. There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

“Annabeth,” Chiron said, “I have masters’ archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cabin eleven,” Chiron told me, gesturing toward the doorway. “Make yourself at home.”

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was one of those doctor’s symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call it…? A caduceus.

Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center. Chiron didn’t go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.

“Well, then,” Chiron said. “Good luck, Percy. I’ll see you at dinner.” He galloped away toward the archery range.]

The Hermes kids, Minor Gods’s kids and Simon all winced and the other Gods looked at Hermes sympathetically. They once again made a silent vow to be better at claiming their kids. Piper, Leo and Jason looked confused again. They all exchanged glances.

[I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren’t bowing anymore. They were staring at me, sizing me up. I knew this routine. I’d gone through it at enough schools.

“Well?” Annabeth prompted. “Go on.”

So naturally I tripped coming in the door and made a total fool of myself. There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.]

There was snickering in the room as well. Even Percy laughed a little. I saw the Thorns kept staring at Simon and Maya, who were chuckling along, with Maya mimicking the face Percy made that day, while Simon just watched with a quiet smile.

[Annabeth announced, “Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven.”

“Regular or undetermined?” somebody asked.

I didn’t know what to say, but Annabeth said, “Undetermined.”

Everybody groaned.]

“What does that mean?” Ariana Webster questioned. 

[A guy who was a little older than the rest came forward. “Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there.”

The guy was about nineteen, and he looked pretty cool. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.

A kid stood beside him, maybe my age or a little younger. He had messy dirty brown hair—so light it almost looked blonde in the light—and sea-glass blue eyes that reminded me of Montauk on a stormy day. He looked like the boy from the museum and the glowing guy at the infirmary. He wore a hoodie with colorful hand-drawn constellations, and ripped jeans with bright red sneakers.]

Everyone, except for Simon, turned and looked at Percy in shock.“You… you had a crush on Luke, and Simon?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah… Why is it so surprising? About half the camp had a crush on Luke, and, everyone at Camp likes Simon, even the Harpies.”

“Oh, wow, uhm…” Maya fumbled, her quick tongue suddenly turning to ash, “I-uh…. Prissy’s crushing my brothers'… like—like, Pokemon cards?”

“Tarot cards.” Percy corrected, then added on when shot confused stares by the Animalgams. “What? Simon loves his cards, he owns, like, the UNO! Flipped and No Mercy editions, and, he’s crazy good at cards—and, you saw the screen! Mr D and the other campers even admitted it!”

“I’m not that good,” Simon mumbled, stunned by Percy’s rambling. Everyone turned quiet, and it was clear no one knew how to react else to that information.

[Annabeth nodded to the older guy. "This is Luke." Her voice softened—just a little—before she caught herself and scowled. "And that’s Simon Thorn. He’s only here during the holidays. Luke dragged him in three years ago."

Luke grinned and ruffled Simon’s hair. “This one here’s my lucky charm. Keeps me from losing my mind. Mostly.”

Simon batted his hand away, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “You literally begged me to read your tarot last week. Twice, Luke.”

Luke leaned in like he was telling me a secret, lowering his voice. “Word of advice—don’t let Birdie read your cards unless you want an identity crisis before breakfast.”]

“I was not.” She protested.

“You so were.” Connor told her, his voice still more subdued than normal.

“‘Lucky Charm.’” Simon mimicked, as Maya was budging her way between him and Nolan.

Luke Castellan blushed, “you were—are, still, my lucky charm, Birdie.”

“Yeah, you were his Lucky Charm, Twiggy,” May repeated, “and all you did was fuel the flames of his dumb ideas.” She added in sing-songed, purposely elbowing Luke.

"Hey!" the present-day Luke protested weakly, but there was no heat in it.

[“Why?” I raised an eyebrow, looking at the blonde-brown haired boy. “Birdie?” That was the name Grover used… for the guy at the museum and Annabeth had shouted Thorn when she was nursing me back to health.

“Long story,” Simon muttered with a sigh, then added, “Ask Luke. He tells it better.”

“Luke’s first ‘successful retrieval mission,” Annabeth said dryly, clearly over the whole thing, “the cards were a present from Luke two years ago, Simon loves playing seer.” Before I could press for more, Annabeth motioned to the cramped cabin. “Anyway. Luke’s your counselor for now.”

“For now?” I asked, blinking.]

Kayla rolled her eyes, “Hey! We, and Simon, nursed you back to health, Annabeth didn’t!”

“Sorry.” Percy said.

“I don’t love playing Seer, thank you,” Simon sniffed.

Luke Castellan raised a brow and dug out a Tarot Card deck box from his semi-dry pockets, “Then you won’t miss these, Lucky-Charm?”

Simon scowled and snatched the cards from him, shuffling the cards with surprising dexterity, “Gimme that, you thief.”

[“You’re undetermined,” Luke explained, snatching the deck of cards out of Simon’s hands and pocketing them in his pants pockets. “They don’t know what cabin you belong to, so you bunk here. Cabin Eleven takes all newcomers and visitors. Our dad, Hermes,He is the god of travelers.”

I looked at the tiny section of floor they’d given me. I had nothing to put there to mark it as my own, no luggage, no clothes, no sleeping bag. Just the Minotaur’s horn. I thought about setting that down, but then I remembered that Hermes was also the god of thieves.

I looked around at the campers’ faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they were waiting for a chance to pick my pockets.]

“Aww.” Hermes complained good-naturedly while his kids grinned.

“Of course.” Travis laughed.

“Sadly, Percy is annoyingly observant. It was really hard to pickpocket him.” Chris sighed.

“Of course the challenge is what made it fun.” Simon added, laughing. Hermes nodded approvingly.

[“How long will I be here?” I asked.

“Good question,” Luke said. “Until you’re determined.”

“How long will that take?”

The campers all laughed but Simon, who was studying me with an unsettling intensity, his sea-glass blue eyes sharp and calculating.

“Could be a day,” Luke said with a shrug. “Could be a month. Depends on when your godly parent finally decides to claim you.” He grinned, but there was something bitter in it. “Or if they do.”

Simon exhaled sharply through his nose, like he’d heard this speech before and wasn’t a fan as he fiddled with the edge of his hoodie sleeve.]

The bitterness in Luke's voice was a tangible thing in the throne room. Hades and Hera shifted on their thrones, their expressions unreadable but tense. Hermes, however, looked genuinely pained, his eyes fixed on his son. From the Olympian thrones, a few gods had the decency to look uncomfortable. Demeter studied the weave of her own gown intently. Aphrodite sighed, a sound of profound weariness. "To be so uncertain of one's own parentage... it leaves such a mark on a child's heart." For a moment, the goddess of love looked less like a divine being and more like a mother grieving for all her lost children.

“Another valid question that got laughed at.” Percy complained.

“Sorry, Perc.” Travis said sincerely. “We all assumed that Chiron had explained.”

Malcolm Thorn, watching Simon's reaction, frowned deeply. "Why?" he asked, his voice low. "Why would he stay in a place where he is so... overlooked?"

Simon didn't look at him, his gaze distant. "It was home," he said simply, and the sheer weight of that statement silenced further questions.

[“And if they don’t?” I asked.

The laughter died. A few campers exchanged glances.

Luke’s smile didn’t waver, but his scar seemed to stand out more in the dim light. “Then you stay here. Hermes is good like that—takes in the strays.”

Simon made a quiet noise—not quite a scoff, but close enough to be one. Annabeth crossed her arms. “Most kids get claimed within the first week. If your parent’s got any sense of responsibility—”

“Annabeth,” Luke cut in, his tone light but firm. “Let’s not scare the new guy on his first night.”

She pressed her lips together but didn’t argue.

Simon finally spoke up again. “It’ll happen.” He didn’t sound like he was just trying to reassure me—more like he knew.

Luke shot him a look, half-amused, half-wary. “You getting visions again, kid?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “No. Just a feeling.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke ruffled his hair again, ignoring Simon’s half-hearted swat. “Anyway, Percy—welcome to Cabin Eleven. Try not to lose anything valuable. Simon here’ll help you around if Annabeth loses interest mid-way.”]

I realized then Simon often spoke with a certainty that bordered on prophecy. The quiet confidence in his voice was... unsettling.

“Aw, still the eternal optimist, Simon?” Connor teased.

“Always, unfortunately.” He said.

Nolan frowned, “Why?”

“Why what?” Annabeth asked.

“Simon, him, you—he’s sending Simon to him because it looks like you keep leaving the new campers.”

“She had.” Valentina said, “and she did. She left them mid-way, before Simon came along to finish the tour, so the newer campers went around clueless and lost, and then got escorted by the older campers.”

[I glanced around at the other campers, some of whom were already eyeing the Minotaur’s horn like it might be worth something. Great. Just great. Then I saw Simon swipe a card out of Luke’s pocket, I couldn't see it but it looked like a tower and someone falling off it, Simon shot me a look and made a zipping motion to his lips, winking. 

“Come on,” Annabeth told me. “I’ll show you the volleyball court.”

“I’ve already seen it.”

“Come on.”

Annabeth grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I could hear the kids of Cabin Eleven laughing behind me. I glanced back to see Simon catching up, falling into step beside me like it was just the most natural thing in the world.

Annabeth said, “Jackson, you have to do better than that.”]

“What?” Was the general consensus.

“I had my priorities a bit skewed back then.” Annabeth admitted.

“A bit?” Percy asked. She glared at him.

[“What?”]

“Agh! The Percy-Itus is too strong!” Maya groaned, holding her head jokingly as other demigods followed in mock pain.

[Simon gave me a sympathetic look, and I noticed how short he was compared to us—maybe a few inches off. “She’s not wrong, but she could use a filter.” He scratched the back of his neck, hesitated. “Still… you shouldn’t have had to fight the Minotaur alone. Especially not with your protector unconscious.”

Annabeth shot him a look. “You say that to every newbie, Simon.”

“Yeah,” Simon said, voice quiet but firm, “it’s because they’re almost always inexperienced."

Annabeth looked away, muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe I thought you were the one. Or you, Simon—Luke bringing you here was… stupid.”

He blinked slowly, then gave her a look like he was pained by her words. “Annie, you knew I wasn’t the one the second you saw me, but c’mon…”]

“Ooh, Simon's using his puppy dog eyes!” Chris laughed, “Place your bets, folks—will it work, or fail?”

”A fool’s bet, Rodriguez.” Maya snorted, as we agreed with her, making Chris sigh dramatically. “They always work.”

[She paused, before realizing what she said to him. I stepped between them, in front of Simon, getting in Annabeth’s face. “What’s your problem?” I was getting angry now. “All I know is, I kill some bull guy—”

“Don’t talk like that!” Annabeth told me. “You know how many kids at this camp wish they’d had your chance?”

“To get killed?”

“To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?”]

Everyone, including me, groaned, and Clarisse rolled her eyes. “What the fuck, Chase? We don’t train because we want to look cool when we fight monsters. We train so we can fucking survive when we fight monsters.” Annabeth shrugged sheepishly, and I let out a sigh before I look back at the screen.

“Not that many.” Beckendorf said, with a frown (i could tell even with my eyes off him). “I can’t say I’d particularly want to take on the Minotaur.”

“Me either.” Leo Valdez agreed firmly.

“Um–to survive?” Chris said, looking at Annabeth like she was crazy.

“Survival.” Wilhelmina Webster repeated, watching intensely. “Hm…”

[“Survival.” Simon dryly interjected, under his breath.]

“hah, Simon-itus!” Maya grinned as Simon flicked her forehead.

[I rolled my eyes, “Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories…”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s only one.”

“Yes.”

“And he died, like, a gazillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So…”

“Monsters don’t die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don’t die.”]

“Well that clears that up.” Garrett Fierro said sarcastically.

“Of course it does.” Athena told him.

“Not when you’re new to everything.” Lysander pointed out, earning a nod from everyone.

[“Oh, thanks. That clears it up.”

“They don’t have souls, like you, me, and Simon,” Annabeth said. “You can kill them—temporarily. But they don’t stay dead. They’re more like… ideas. Chiron calls them archetypes. Primal forces. Eventually, they re-form.”

I thought of Mrs. Dodds—how she had turned to dust in front of me, that shriek still ringing in my ears.

“So…” I said slowly, connecting dots. “If I did kill one with a sword—by accident—she’s not gone? Just… pissed?”

Annabeth winced. “Very.”]

“How do you know about his teacher?” Piper asked curiously while Hermes chuckled.

[“She was a Fury, wasn’t she?” I said, remembering the way my mom used to read me Greek myths like bedtime stories. “Hades’ enforcers.”

Annabeth blinked. “Wait, how do you—?”

“My mom used to read me all the old stories. Said they were important to remember.” I frowned. “Wait—how did you know about Mrs. Dodds? I never told you her name.”

Annabeth shifted like she’d just realized she slipped. “You talk in your sleep,” she said quickly.

But I caught the glance Simon gave her.

That wasn’t the whole story.

And suddenly I got it—she wasn’t allowed in the infirmary.]

Everyone looked at her, incredulously. Noticing our looks, her face bristled. “What?”

Chiron sighed. “Child, is that how you learn about all our demigods?”

She shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Not all of them, Chiron. Just the ones that are too stubborn to tell the truth. It’s better to be observant with them.”

The centaur ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I should have listened to the other councilors—and Simon—when they said you were too young to be head.”

She looked at him, shocked. “Chiron! I’m the smartest Child of Athena in millennia! I’ve been at camp longer than any other member of Cabin six! I earned that spot! I’m the one that makes sure we get perfect inspections. I’m the one who comes up with all the victories for Capture the Flag!” She spun to Simon, “you voted against me?! Simon, how could you!”

Simon shook his head, “it’d been better if it was someone older, you were a kid, Annie. You needed time to grow up, but Chiron overestimated you far too much.”

Luke Castellan, surprisingly, let out a sharp, almost bark-like laugh, adding on. “And do you really want us to talk about your strategies for Capture the Flag?!”

At the shifters’s questioning glance, Maya elaborated. “During Prissy’s first Capture the Flag game, Owl Eyes here made a plan, like she always does, and it played out the way it always did.” She explained “and Simon, was being a dumbass. A heroic dumbass.”

Everyone tensed slightly while Simon shot her a glare.

[But he was.

“You read my chart,” I said to Simon, “you were the one at the museum who answered Brun—Chiron’s question. You were the one humming to me and the one running your hand through my hair in the sick room.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Chiron said to be on lookout at the museum—in case… You know, something happens.” He hesitated, then nodded, almost apologetically—cheeks red in embarrassment. “Sorry, I couldn’t help you back there at the museum. It was my first retrieval mission, and I didn’t know what to do.”

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s okay… You were just doing your job…”]

“Nowhere in my job descriptions says I should be running my hands through a patients hair. And I’m a nursing student!” Maya groaned, “I'd be written up for touching a patient unnecessarily, but when Simon does it, it’s ‘doing his job’!”

“I’m a volunteer, not an actual registered nurse!”

“Student!” Maya corrected, throwing her hands up, “I thought we were ride or die, Simon—and I’m taking over dad’s businesses when I’m older so really, it doesn't matter—!”

“Oh my gods.” Simon groaned, dragging his hand down his face, “of course we are! And—”

“At ease, children!” Ajax said, clapping his hands together, “Maya, Simon,” He said slowly, his voice eerily calm, “we can have this… discussion at a later time.”

”Yes sir.” Maya and Simon said instantly, shooting each other mock-glares.

[Simon continued, grateful I didn’t resent him, “I was doing inventory when they brought you in. You had a fever, kept saying her name—Mrs. Dodds. Over and over. So I put two and two together.”

Annabeth didn’t deny it, but she didn’t look proud of herself either. I could tell she hated being caught out by someone other than her.

Simon looked at me again, gentler this time. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or pry, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. No one ever checked on me just to check. “And the humming? The hair running?”

“My uncle used to do that for me when I was sick," Simon admitted softly, his fingers tapping nervously against his leg. "It always helped me sleep. I guess I just... defaulted to it when I saw how restless you were."]

Maya whistled, “fair enough, Darryl always skipped work when we got sick. What song was that anyways,” She turned to him, “the one you were singing to Percy?”

Simon thought, humming the melody we heard moments ago, “Oh right, it was Wait For It from Hamilton.”

Luke’s eyes twinkled while Nolan’s brows furrowed like he didn’t know the song and Percy’s jaw dropped. “That’s why i knew the song…” he said softly, trailing off, shaking his head, “Hamilton’s a Manhattan staple.”

”Yep!” Maya bragged, “it’s a tradition in our family whenever we go to Coney. Sadly there’s no Russian, Chinese, Greek or Malay version so it’s either English or German, or we remix it.”

“Isn’t the German one an EP and not an album?” Simon asked.

”SEMANTICS!”

[Annabeth crossed her arms, studying the floor like it had suddenly become fascinating. "Simon’s got a bad habit of playing nurse," she muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

I swallowed, my throat tight. It was weird—being seen like that. Mrs. Dodds had been this awful, terrifying secret, and Simon had just... picked it up like it was nothing. Like I was someone worth paying attention to.  

"Thanks," I said finally, because what else do you say when someone’s been kind to you in a way you didn’t expect?  

Simon shrugged, but the corner of his mouth lifted. "Don’t mention it. Literally. If Chiron finds out I was in the infirmary unsupervised again, he’ll make me reorganize the entire supply closet. Alone. After the rush hour.”

Annabeth snorted. "Again?"  

His face turned pink and he whipped his head to her. "Hey, last time was an emergency!"]

“…Last time…?” Leo Thorn asked.

Chiron smirked, “Well….”

“Chiron, don’t you dare!” Simon snapped as Chiron shot him a wink, making him flush deeper.

[Something loosened in my chest. Maybe it was the way they bickered, easy and familiar, or the fact that Simon’s kindness didn’t feel like pity. It just was.  

“So, let me get this straight,” I said finally, cutting into their conversation. “Monsters don’t have souls, they don’t die, and if I see Mrs. Dodds again, she’s probably going to try to kill me.”

Annabeth glanced nervously at the ground, like she expected it to open up and swallow her. “You shouldn’t call them by name, even if it’s a pseudonym, even here. We say the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all.”]

“There is nothing ‘kind’ about them, first of all.” Hades said annoyed.

[“Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?” I sounded whiny, even to myself, but right then I didn’t care. “Why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there.”

I pointed to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turned pale while Simon bit his lip. “You don’t just pick a cabin,” she said. “It depends on who your divine parent is. Or… your Parent.”

Simon was unusually quiet.]

“You had a right to be a little whiny.” Thalia told him. 

“And the answer is no, Zeus will probably thunder at everything you say because it’s you.” Nico laughed a little, trying to compose himself.

“Why would you turn pale? It wasn’t an offensive question, really.” Beckendorf looked at Annabeth curiously. Then at Simon, thinking, “and… well, Simon’s usually quiet…”

“Hey!” Simon snapped, “I’m plenty chatty, Charlie-Bear.”

“Yeah, sure, you are, Goldilocks.”

I snorted, shaking my head. Maybe someone else should have shown Percy around, one who didn’t have such high and ridiculous expectations of him—like Simon, but then he couldn’t stop her tirade but smoothen its rough edges. While Annabeth had been right, he was ‘the one’ she had been waiting for, it wasn’t fair of her to put those expectations onto someone who didn’t know what was going on.

[“My mom is Sally Jackson,” I said. “She works at the candy shop in Grand Central Station. Or used to…”

Simon spoke up softly, “That’s… That’s nice. You knew her.”

I turned to him. “What does that mean?”

Annabeth gave him a look, almost warning. “Simon…” She sighed, not annoyed but like it was a topic neither liked to talk about, then turned to me, “I’m sorry about your mom, Percy. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about your other parent. Your dad.”]

Maya snorted, “It means that, Missus Isabella Thorn left a baby Simon with Darryl for twelve whole, straight years and didn’t think he’d start a family without her and her husband's family.”

“What.” All the Thorns said in unison, staring at Simon for confirmation.

“What what? She’s not wrong.” Simon said hesitantly, “She’s my sister—adoptive, of course. Or is it step…?”

“Step.” Ajax said, “Lukas is adopted, you and Mags are step-siblings.”

“Great, thanks pops, so anyways, so i have: two fatherly figures, a sister, a brother, and like, four different grandparents—the Lin Abbotts, Chiron, the Hollands-slash-formerly-Ivanov-and-Wolfe and the Nanas-slash-the-actual-literal-flipping-Fates.” Simon listed, counting on his hands.

Connor whistled, “that’s like, twelve different people, Birdie."

“And that’s excluding our extended family.” Maya added, grinning, looking between from Leo Thorn to Malcolm Thorn all the way to Nolan from her place at, what I’d dubbed, the Thorn Couch™, “so, really, do the Thorns really matter in this context? To Simon?”

“Maya!” Darryl and Simon scolded.

[“He’s dead. I never knew him.”

Simon stayed silent and Annabeth sighed. Clearly, they both have had this conversation before with other kids. “Your father’s not dead, Percy.”

“How can you say that? You know him?”

“No, of course not.” Simon said gently, “None of us really met them.”

“Then how can you say—”]

“You’d be waiting a while.” Clarisse snorted.

“This whole thing would have been a lot less painful if you just told me rather than waiting for me to guess. It should have been obvious I still didn’t get it because everybody just sat around waiting for me to get it rather than just telling me.” Percy sighed.

“You’d actually met a God by then and been shown round by Chiron. I assumed you’d have accepted Gods were real by then. Besides, it’s usually easier if you come to the conclusion on your own because you’re more likely to accept it.” Annabeth told him.

“Hm,” Piper murmured before looking at Simon, “Simon, who’s your godly parent? You never told us.”

Simon thought for a minute, dodging the question, “well, my main patrons are Nike and Hermes, y’know?”

“That’s… that’s not what i asked.”

“Well, it’s what you’ll get, McLean.” Maya said, not unkindly, “Simon’s been unclaimed since he was nine, we don’t know why, but it sure as hell isn’t your business.”

Simon shrugged, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “I’m unclaimable, apparently.”

[“Because I know you. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t one of us.” Annabeth replied.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I said.

“No?” She raised a brow. “I bet you’ve been kicked out of six schools in six years. ADHD. Dyslexia.”

“How—?” I tried not to feel exposed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battle-field reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."]

“One of us! One of us!” Connor and Travis chanted.

“You make it sound like we are a cult or something.” Selena said.

“Well, we kinda are, Lena.” Simon snorted.

“It looks creepy that you know so much about him.” Will laughed.

“Oh, that’s comforting. Telling him most teachers are monsters.” I scoffed.

“Besides, it’s not most of them.” Chiron corrected, shooting Annabeth an amused look. “Some are but the majority are simply mortals who do not understand.”

“Surely if they were monsters, they would want us dead?” Questioned Jason. Annabeth scowled at the floor. She really hadn’t done a great job of showing Percy the ropes, and we had to acknowledge that years later.

“It might be hardwired for Ancient Greek but that’s still a pain to read.” Percy complained.

“Unless you’re a child of Athena.” Thalia added before Annabeth could.

“Or Simon.” Luke Castellan smiled faintly as Simon shot him a glare.

[“You sound like ... you went through the same thing?"

“Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

“Ambrosia and nectar." Then Simon's hand flew to his throat like he was choking on a memory, his face making this pained expression—almost like he was choking— before he caught himself and shoved his hands into his pockets—trying to act nonchalant. I glanced at him. “What, does that stuff taste that bad?”

He shook his head, softly, “The food and drink we were giving you to make you better, that’s ambrosia and nectar. That stuff would’ve killed a mortal. It would’ve turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you’d be dead. Face it. You’re a demigod.”

A demigod.]

Piper made a face. As i wondered why, she shot Simon a pleased look and he smiled at her.

[I was reeling with so many questions I didn’t know where to start.

Then a husky voice yelled, “Well! A newbie!”

I looked over. The big girl from the ugly red cabin was sauntering toward us. She had three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean-looking like her, all wearing camo jackets. Simon stiffened beside me.

“Clarisse,” Annabeth sighed. “Why don’t you go polish your spear or something?”

“Sure, Miss Princess,” the big girl said. “So I can run you through with it Friday night.”]

Ares and Clarisse glared at Percy who shrugged.

[“Erre es korakas!” Annabeth said, which I somehow understood was Greek for ‘Go to the crows!’ but judging by the way Simon barely stifled a laugh, it was probably worse than it sounded. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll flatten you,” Clarisse said, though her eye twitched. Then her gaze slid to Simon. “You’re back early, Twiggy.”

Simon barely reacted. I could see the tension in his jaw, but he smiled faintly, like it was all a routine. “Miss me already, Ape Girl?” 

“Like a rash,” Clarisse smirked. "Hope you packed your special snacks, Twigs. Wouldn't want you passing out mid-game again."]

“It is worse than it sounds,” Annabeth confirmed, her chin held high.

Will frowned, leaning in, “yeah, by the sounds of it: Simon’s hypoglycemic.”

[Simon's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Wow, you remembered my dietary needs. I'm touched, Claire. Maybe Mynx had to remind you?”

”Yeah right.” She snorted, nudging the girl beside her. Mynx.

She had long black hair that was tied in a ponytail, tanned skin, deep dark brown eyes and a complicated look, like she couldn’t tell whether to sneer or smile—but she was less ugly than Clarisse was. Mynx had a camo jacket as well. The only thing separating her from Clarisse and her minions was that she wore a light pink combat skirt but even that looked scary when I saw the dagger hanging off her belt.]

“Oh, it’s me!” the present-day Maya grinned, looping an arm around Simon’s neck from her seat beside him. “Look at baby me, trying so hard to be scary.”

[I stared between them. There was something practiced about their exchange, like an old song they both knew the words to. Then Clarrise’s eyes landed on me. “Now, you. We’ve got an initiation for newbies.”

“Don’t,” Simon said, grabbing her wrist as if that’d do anything. Compared to her, he looked like a twig. But I could see her pause, turning to look at him.

She arched her brow. “Since when do you care this much?”

He folded his arms, steadier now. “Since now.”

She sneered. “You’re still so soft on them newbies, that’s why Luke doesn’t trust you with a sword sharper than a butter knife. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh! And miss hacking away at the dummies? Clearly, I'm at a loss here.” he spat back, grinning at her as he took his hand back.

“Yeah. Well, you’re sneaky, so, that’s something,” she muttered—missing his tone entirely, or maybe she knew—like it was both an insult and a compliment. “And, my lieutenant seems to like you.”]

Maya rolled her eyes in the present, pulling Simon closer in a mock-headlock. “I tolerate him at best.”

“Sure you do, Mynx,” Simon snorted, batting her arm away lightly.

“Mynx?” Nolan asked hesitantly, his eyes flicking between them as if afraid of the answer. “Where’s that from?”

“Combination of Maya and Lynx,” Simon shrugged. “She loved it—thought lynxes were ‘fiercely competent’.”

“And because Simon was obsessed with animal names and puns when we were younger, ‘cause of his mom’s postcards,” Clarisse added, shooting a significant, cutting glare toward the pale-faced Isabel Thorn. “You know he used to call Luke ‘Asp’? Like, after the snake breed that killed Cleopatra. He also kept calling Silena, Beckendorf, and Harley his ‘bears’—I think he just meant that one time they dressed up as Goldilocks and the Three Bears for book week.” She rattled off a few more instances, her voice carrying a strange mix of fondness and bitterness.

Selena smiled, “I remember that, Charlie and I couldn’t get Harley off Simon for the whole day, we comprised with Simon carrying him while I carried the picnic basket.” She patted her pockets and frowned, cursing under her breath, “I don’t have the photo. I always have the photo.”

”Later, Lena.” Simon said.

“No way,” Dev breathed, his jaw agape.

“Yes, way,” Cecil grinned, clearly enjoying the reveal. “You didn’t think lil ol’ Birdie didn’t have some quirks before he met you all, did you?”

[Mynx—who must’ve been said lieutenant—nodded, her eyes were on Simon. Soft. It felt weird to see it on a girl like that to a boy like Simon.

Then, finally, she looked at me properly. “So, who’s this little runt?”

“Percy Jackson,” Annabeth said, “meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares.”

I blinked. “Like… the war god?”

Clarisse sneered. “You got a problem with that?”

“No,” I said, recovering my wits. “It explains the bad smell.”]

“Not like the War God. The War God.” Clarisse snarled. “The War God.”

“Yeah, I got that now.” Percy rolled his eyes. The throne room then erupted. The Greek demigods howled with laughter, while the Romans tried and failed to hide their smirks. Ares himself roared with approval, slamming a fist on his throne. The Animalgams just looked confused.

“FINALLY! A bit of spirit!” the war god bellowed, forgetting his initial anger. “Insult the enemy! Good form!”

Hephaestus chuckled into his fist. Aphrodite looked vaguely offended by the lack of civility.

“You really don’t have any sense of self preservation, do you?” Thalia asked Percy in exasperation.

“I just really hate bullies.” He told her, glaring back at Clarisse, who glared back.

[Clarisse growled, tightening her grip before letting go. “We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy.”

“Percy.”

“Whatever. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Clarisse—” Annabeth tried to say.

“Stay out of it, wise girl.”]

“Oh wow!” Connor muttered, eyes wide.

“What?” Leo asked.

“Percy got his nickname for Annabeth... from Clarisse!” Travis breathed. “That’s so weird.”

[Annabeth looked pained, but she did stay out of it, and I didn’t really want her help. I was the new kid. I had to earn my own rep.

Simon seemed to know what I was thinking, since he gave me a small nod and a soft smile despite his uneasy face. I handed my Minotaur horn to him. He took it carefully, eyes darting to Clarisse like he wanted to stop her but didn’t know how. “Good luck,” he mouthed.

I nodded and got ready to fight, but before I knew it, Clarisse had me by the neck and was dragging me cinderblock building that I knew immediately was the bathroom.]

The Romans all nodded in agreement.

“What have I told you about your initiation ceremony?” Chiron looked at Clarisse with a disappointed expression.

“To stop it.” Clarisse muttered petulantly.

“Indeed. We shall speak of this later.” He frowned. She nodded and scowled at the floor. The Fluke sisters watched, their predatory instincts engaged. This was a dominance ritual. They understood it perfectly.

“Naturally.” Ares boasted, grinning at his daughter. Clarisse now looked slightly pained and he frowned. She should be enjoying this.

[I was kicking and punching. I’d been in plenty of fights before, but this big girl Clarisse had hands like iron. She dragged me into the girls’ bathroom.

There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other. It smelled just like any public bathroom, and I was thinking—as much as I could think with Clarisse ripping my hair out—that if this place belonged to the gods, they should’ve been able to afford classier johns.

Clarisse’s friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the strength I’d used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn’t there.

“Like he’s ‘Big Three’ material,” Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets. “Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid-looking.”

“Clarisse, stop that.” Simon said, his voice firm.]

“Never underestimate an opponent in battle.” Ares told her sternly. Percy stifled a laugh, trying not to catch Grover’s eye. Poseidon and Thalia looked at them both in confusion.

“Yes, father.” Clarisse nodded as Simon grinned, shooting her a look.

“Here it comes~” he laughed, as Annabeth, Maya and Clarrise shot him glares.

“He’s got a spine, that one,” Marina Fluke murmured to her husband, the General, who nodded once, his eyes assessing Simon anew.

[Her friends snickered, maybe at me, maybe at Simon, I didn’t know.

”Clarrise,” Mynx echoed, like she wasn’t sure but still liked the drama, “Maybe—“

”Maya.” Clarrise growled, “It’s just some camp hazing. No big deal. Or are you actually going against my—“

”No.” Maya said sharply, eyes hardening. Clarrise shot her a grin and she smirked, “Just thinking you could pants him as well, and hang him by the ankles.”

Clarisse let out a screechy cackle, “Genius, Lin Abbott!” Then went back to her bullying while her friends cheered her on.]

Ajax looked shocked by his daughter’s cruelty, “Maya Eva Lin Abbott, that is not how i raised you!”

Maya looked down, murmuring an apology. “Sorry dad. And Jackson.”

”Told you you shouldn’t have done that.” Simon snorted.

[Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers while Simon began walking to us inside after hesitating at the ‘girls’ bathroom’ sign—his cheeks burning red in embarrassment and horror.

Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won’t.]

There’s the stubborn Percy we all know and love.” Thalia snickered.

[Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse’s grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me.

I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, narrowly missing Simon—who hit the deck and slid under a sink—and hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall.]

Ares then groaned as Poseidon began to smile. All of the demigods, except Annabeth, Maya and Clarisse, burst out laughing. Even the Romans were amused, though, Frank was busy looking slightly horrified by his half sister’s behavior. A rumbling echoed throughout the throne room—and, a massive wave burst through the room; water shot out of the walls, crossing eachother but never touching as they wiped Maya, Clarisse and the other Ares girls off their feet.

The throne room was utterly silent for a split second as we stared at the screen then back at the girls, and then, chaos erupted. Poseidon shot to his feet, a massive, proud grin splitting his face. “YES! That’s my boy!” The storm in his eyes was now one of pure, unadulterated joy. The pools and fountains in the room swelled and bubbled in response, spraying the girls once more, knocking them off their feet again.

The Animalgams stared in stunned disbelief. This wasn’t a fight; it was a force of nature. Tiberius Siles, the fly shifter and Spymaster for H.I.V.E.—from what I’d heard from Simon—, actually buzzed in shock. Leo Thorn’s jaw was genuinely hanging open.

The Heroes of Old were equally stunned. Theseus looked grudgingly impressed. Heracles scowled, seemingly annoyed at being upstaged. Odysseus simply stared, his mind racing to calculate the tactical applications.

Zeus’s face was a thundercloud. “Uncontrolled! Reckless!”

“Magnificent!” Poseidon boomed back, not caring an iota for his brother’s displeasure. “Simply, magnificent, little brother!”

[She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

As soon as they were out the door, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started.

The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth hadn’t been spared. She was dripping wet, but she hadn’t been pushed out the door. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.]

I watched as a hole opened from above Annabeth and doused her in sewer water, lapping at people’s feet as they pulled them up to avoid spoiling their pants and shoes—then, all the water seemed to drained, leaving Annabeth soaking wet like Maya, Clarisse and the rest of their former gang.

[The only person who’d managed to avoid getting completely drenched was Simon. He was on his knees, head down to the floor, arms covering his head like he was bracing for a bomb. His clothes and shoes were wet, his hoodie clinging to him, stars from the fabric smeared across his back. Wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead and ears, making him look more stunned than ever.

He slowly sat up, blinking like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His eyes locked on me, wide and confused, like I’d just sprouted wings or burst into flames.

That’s when I noticed the floor.

The water had parted around me like I was Moses in a plumbing disaster. Even my shoelaces were bone-dry, while everyone else looked like they'd taken a swim in a tsunami.]

A spritz of sewage sprayed over Simon’s body—missing his face by an inch. He wrinkled his nose, “Gross.” ignoring that he bore the least of the punishment.

"Lucky bastard," Travis Stoll muttered in the present, earning a snort from his brother—I wasn’t sure if he meant Simon or Percy.

Among the Heroes of Old, Achilles leaned forward, a fierce, wild grin on his face. This was not the glorious, single combat he was known for, but it was a fight. It was a refusal to be broken. "The sea's fury in a water closet!" he laughed, a sharp, approving sound. "I like this one. He does not go gently."

[I got to my feet, my legs shaky. “You okay?” I asked Simon.

“Better than them,” he rasped, nodding toward Clarisse, then his eyes flickered to Maya before looking away, slapping a hand over his eyes like he'd been flash-banged.

I looked and, Maya was… in a compromising position… so to speak, her legs were sprawled over the ground while her skirt flew up to her navel—I blushed, eyes darting anywhere but her lower body. She looked dazed, her eyes foggy as she groaned, spitting the sewage.

I really hoped she wore shorts or something underneath or… never mind, she probably did.]

Simon, without missing a beat, immediately covered his eyes, looking away as he slapped a hand over Nolan’s eyes—multiple people, men, mostly, looked away as well, turning to the screen, their faces burning in embarrassment from seeing Maya’s body, even if most of us demigods knew she wore shorts—it just was principle for us to look away. 

[Annabeth’s voice was cautious, a little breathless. “How did you…”

“I don’t know,” I said.

We headed for the door. Outside, Clarisse and her lackeys were sprawled in the mud, soaked and steaming with rage. A crowd of campers had gathered, whispering, pointing.]

“Traitors.” Clarisse and Maya scowled jokingly as everyone turned back to the screen, relived it was over.

[Maya, rapidly blinking, pulled her skirt over her legs—a bright red flush over her cheeks as she scowled at my direction. And, I thought, maybe she didn’t wear shorts underneath..? Gods, I hope she did, or that’d be awkward for the both of us.

Clarisse looked like she’d just crawled out of a sewer. Her hair was plastered to her face, and her camouflage jacket dripped sludge. She glared at me with unfiltered loathing.

“You are dead, new boy. Totally dead.”

I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Really, I did.

“You wanna gargle toilet water again, Clarisse?” I said. “Try keeping your mouth closed.”

Her friends had to hold her back (after they all got up). She lunged, snarling, but they dragged her off toward cabin five, her boots kicking up mud as the crowd gave her a wide berth.]

The throne room then erupted. Ares bellowed with laughter, slamming a fist on his throne. "HA! Now that's a warrior's spirit! Insulting your enemy, even in defeat! I like this one!"

Clarisse, in the present, just growled, but a flicker of respect was in her eyes. "He had guts, I'll give him that."

From the Animalgam side, there was a mix of shock and grim approval. Robert Rivera, the Cottonmouth councilman, gave a slow nod. "A snake may be cornered, but its fangs are no less sharp. A good instinct."

[Simon stared at my shoes like they were the most interesting thing this year but Annabeth just stared at me. I couldn’t read her expression—somewhere between baffled and impressed, but with an edge of annoyance. Maybe because I’d drenched her too.

“What?” I said. “What are you thinking?”

She gave me a look I couldn’t quite place. Then: “I’m thinking,” she said slowly, “that I want you on my team for capture the flag.”]

“A bit,” Annabeth mumbled, then a slow grin spread across her face, a mirror of her younger self's dawning realization. "The best strategic decision I ever made," she said proudly.

Athena, on her throne, allowed a rare, genuine smile. “Indeed. To recognize a new, unpredictable variable and immediately seek to harness its potential. That is the mark of a true strategist."

Chapter Text

Malcom Thorn

[My Dinner Goes Up In Flames]

“See! Cult!” Connor grinned as I stared, bewildered at the titles. “Burning our food for the gods.”

“A lot of cultures do that.” Malcolm Pace pointed out, gingerly touching his glasses.

[Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever I went, campers whispered and pointed-some at me, some at Annabeth (who was still dripping wet), but most at Simon, who looked like he'd just witnessed a ghost. His usual easygoing smile was gone, replaced by a haunted stare that made me feel guilty as he stared at the ground.

I had scared him. I scared one of the only campers who's been nice to me since he’s known of me, and I turned him into a nervous wreck after the toilet incident.]

“You should have changed,” tutted Vanessa. “You could have caught hypothermia,”

“Nah,” Connor grinned. “We were definitely staring at you, Percy.”

Percy just rolled his eyes. Then, without missing a beat, all the campers at camp half blood whipped their heads to Simon, who was busy wrinkling his nose, pinching his shirt away from himself, before he looked up, “What? You try to be normal after you almost get blasted into next week with toilet water.”

[The two of them showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn’t get to the top fast enough.

And through it all, Simon stayed quiet the whole time, head low and hugging himself like he was cold—even though it was early June.

Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins.

“I’ve got training to do, so Simon’ll escort you back to the Hermes cabin” Annabeth said flatly while Simon nodded, still looking at my shoes. “Dinner’s at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin—or Simon—to the mess hall.”

“Annabeth, Simon, I’m sorry about the toilets.”

“Whatever.” She said.

“It’s fine.” Simon mumbled.]

“Two types of people.” Cecil Markowitz snorted.

Thalia Grace elbowed Percy in the side. “Everything’s your fault.”

“Rude,” Percy muttered, rubbing his arm.

Maya raised her eyebrows. “Jackie, 99.9% of the time something goes wrong, it’s your fault.”

“When in doubt, blame Percy.” Clarisee La Rue decreeded.

“Also, you’re not really being fair, Annie.” Simon frowned. “He wouldn’t have known how to control it in the first place.”

Annabeth sniffed. “I wasn’t attacking him. Why was I caught in it?”

“Because he couldn’t control it!”

[“It wasn’t my fault.” I insisted.

Annabeth looked at me skeptically, and I realized it was my fault. I’d made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures. I didn’t understand how. But the toilets had responded to me. I had become one with the plumbing.

“You need to talk to the Oracle,” Annabeth said.

“Who?”

“Not who. What. The Oracle. I’ll ask Chiron.”

I swore I saw Simon mouth “Attic” and point up but, when I looked back, he gave me a sad look. I stared into the lake, wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once.]

Lord Poseidon smiled at his mortal son. “You probably were. They weren’t allowed meet with you, so instead they kept watch over you.”

“Huh… that explains a lot…” Percy replied.

“Hey! I gave you a hint!” Simon sputtered, dropping his t-shirt from between his fingers. “That’s practically rare for a seer!”

“So you admit it?” Ariana asked, almost amused.

“No, i don’t.” Simon deadpanned. “When’ve I ever said that?”

“…Anyways,” Travis Stoll got off the couch and knelt down with a solemn expression on his face. “Hail, the king of plumbing.”

“Funny, Travis.” Maya, Simon and Percy deadpanned before looking at each other, pointing, “Jinx! Double jinx! Triple jinx!”

“You have an oracle?” Reyna asked, looking at the Hermes boy.

“Yup! We don’t have an augur. Just a 100% authentic oracle.” As Octavian Simmons huffed and muttered under his breath. I was too busy finding it dehumanizing to refer to someone as ‘it’.

[I wasn’t expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below. They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend.

I didn’t know what else to do. I waved back.  Simon followed my eyes and faintly smiled, giving a small wave at them as well. They grinned, waving back at him, like they were friends as well.]

“Ugh! Don’t encourage them,” Annabeth snapped. “Naiads are terrible flirts.” She shot Simon a look. "You know this."

Simon shrugged weakly. "They're nice."]

Almost immediately, the expressions on the Greek immortal sea family’s faces plummeted. “Tell me,” Lady Amphitrite began in an almost deadly voice, “why they are considered ‘flirts’?”

Annabeth crossed her arms stubbornly. “All they do is giggle and wave. What else would that be?”

The queen of the sea breathed in deeply. “Or they could simply be friendly, like, what Simon had said. I do not take lightly to the insults to my cousins.”

[“Naiads,” I repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. “That’s it. I want to go home now.”

Annabeth frowned. “Don’t you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us.”

“You mean, mentally disturbed kids?”]

“Story of my life. Again.” Simon groaned, “and with Maya dating my—” he paused, his cheeks burning, before continuing in Russian—i’m not sure what it means or how it's pronounced but it sounded like, “moy paren!”

“He wasn’t your—wait, was that a lie?” Maya blinked. “No, you guys weren't a thing, right?”

Simon blinked, “Uh, not that i know of? I mean, we were something a few years ago but he ghosted me.”

”Harsh.” May growled, “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry .”

“I always worry when i’m with you.” He deadpanned, “but, doesn’t this mean I can lie in different languages?” Simon suddenly gasped before grinning, continuing in Russian, “Ya gluboko lyublyu i uvazhayu Selestu Torn i sozvezdiye Oriona—Hah!”

Ajax let out a breathless laugh, “You can lie, just not in English, kid.”

“What’d he say?” Nolan asked, speechless while the rest of Animalgams stared at Simon in a range of shock and surprise to genuine curiosity to awe.

“‘I have a deep love and respect Celeste Thorn and Orion Sky’.” Darryl translated easily as Mother and Orion turned a vibrant shade of red while I stared at both of them, “well, he’s definitely lying,”

“So, loopholes?” Castellan said, a hint of pride in his voice that made my blood boil.

“Guess so? We’ll have to wait if the Fates are gonna fix that.” Simon shrugged.

[“She means ‘not human’. Not totally human, anyway.” Simon said, slowly gaining his volume as he stared at the lake, “Half-human.”

“Half-human and half-what?”

“I think you know.” He said cryptically.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I was afraid I did. I felt a tingling in my limbs, a sensation I sometimes felt when my mom talked about my dad.

“God,” I said. “Half-god.”

Annabeth nodded. “Your father isn’t dead, Percy. He’s one of the Olympians.”

“That’s…crazy.”

“Is it? What’s the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they’ve changed their habits in the last few millennia?”

“But those are just—” I almost said myths again. Then I remembered Chiron’s warning that in two thousand years, I might be considered a myth.

“But if all the kids here are half-gods—”

“Demigods,” Annabeth said. “That’s the official term. Or half-bloods.”]

Chiron received a few more glares at that. Then, Ajax, Simon and Piper and many other mixed kids shuddered, “Never half-blood.” They agreed.

“Isn’t your term Hybred, Simon?” Frank Zhang asked.

“Schematics.” Simon grumbled. “Means the same, a child of two different soeices is almost the same as a child of different countries or ethnicites.”

[“Then who’re your dads?”

Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I’d just trespassed on a sensitive subject, while Simon sniffled and stared down at the lake.

“My dad is a professor at West Point,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.”

“He’s human.”

“What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?”

Simon sighed, “But it’s the most common—you can’t blame him for what’s been known generally. The stories always talked about male gods’ children.”

Annabeth opened her mouth to retort but clamped it shut.]

“Simon saving the day since, forever.” Connor Stoll grinned.

“It's habit,” He shrugged, “when you’re the co-tour guide, you tend to smooth things to get it over with. Besides, isn’t it true?”

“I mean, most of the myths—stories i’ve heard were mostly of guys.” I said, feeling out my depth ariund these people, “so you're not wrong there.”

[“Who’s your mom, then?” I asked, feeling grateful Simon backed me up.

“Cabin six.”

“Meaning?”

Annabeth straightened. “Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle.”

Okay, I thought. Why not?]

“I thought she was a virgin goddess?” Dev asked, confused.

“They’re brain babies.” Simon deadpanned.

Benjamin raised his brows, “What? You’re kidding.”

“You know how Athena came to be, right, Jam and Dev?” Malcolm Pace said, “Zeus ate Metis and then, the amount of time isn’t mentioned but say, nine months, Athena pops out the left of Zeus’s head, through his eye, fully formed and an adult." He explained, “so, that's how children of our mother came to be. She interacts with people on an intellectual level and gives them children from her head, no… you know…”

“Oh my gods, Mal.” Maya said brazenly, “Sex, it’s sex, Pace. Anyways, does this mean Athena can customise her kids like video game characters.”

Simon and the Hermes kids gasped.“Oh the gods, i think so!”

[“And my dad?”

“Undetermined,” Annabeth said, “like I told you before. Nobody knows.”

“Except my mother. She knew.”

“Maybe not, Percy. Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”

“My dad would have. He loved her.”

Annabeth gave me a cautious look while Simon stared. Neither of them wanted to burst my bubble.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll send a sign. That’s the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens.”]

“Now, you just want to be difficult,” snorted Thalia Grace.

“Okay but, Darryl didn't tell dad he was a wolf shifter, or that he was practically royalty, or that he was on the run, or that—" Maya said quickly before stopping herself, clearly out of breath, “Gods, that's a mouthful, but point is, they loved each other.”

Ajax crossed his arms, a languid expression on his face as he turned his head, “Care for an explanation, Dar?”

“I told you later, Alexander.” Darryl snapped, just without any heat.

“That's quite a bad way to claim your child.” Tiberius Siles said smoothly, “too much of a spectacle, no?”

[“You mean sometimes it doesn’t?”

Simon froze in place while Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. “The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don’t always…Well, sometimes they don’t care about us, Percy. They ignore us.”

I thought about some of the kids I’d seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. I’d known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn’t have the time to deal with them.

But the gods should behave better.

Then I remembered Simon, who was still quiet, he didn’t seem as sullen and depressed as most of the unclaimed, at least not on the surface. He smiled, joked, and  took care of and defended me but was that just what he was portraying? An act?]

A few of the gods bowed their heads in shame while the others seemed disgruntled to be compared to mortals.

“That doesn't sound…” I tried to find the words. I’d waited twelve years to meet Simon, and I’d gotten to know him for only a short five years—what did I know? He barely spoke to me most days, especially since the last few months...

“Not an act.” Simon said, “Just, as frustrated as anyone else would be.”

“So, hypothetically, if Luke didn’t complete the prophecy, you would?” Ethan said, sounding like he was trying to be joking, “you kinda are like him, in a fe ways.”

Simon shrugged, “probably. But, sadly for Kronos, and a whole lot of people, I’m more suicidal than I am murdeous, so, evil revenge isn’t really my thing.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” My brother Luke and I, tried to say but they came out raspy and thin. Simon prompty ignored us.

[“So I’m stuck here,” I said. “That’s it? For the rest of my life?”

“It depends,” Annabeth said. “Some campers only stay the summer, like, say Simon—who comes during the holidays. If you’re a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you’re probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it’s too dangerous to leave. We’re year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they’ll ignore us until we’re old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you’d know them. Some don’t even realize they’re demigods. But very, very few are like that.”]

“‘Not a powerful force, hm?’” Aphrodite examined her nails. You wouldn’t have thought she was bothered, but if you looked closely, you could see the fire blazing in her eyes.

“Foolish child!” Demeter spat, thorns sprouting from the grasses woven in her hair. “I have starved millions! Yet you darecall me weak!”

Simon immediately stood up, “She didn’t mean that—okay, well kinda, but she was twleve.” He explained quickly, “she was just a kid, and she’s learned, my ladies—isn’t that right, Chase.”

Annaebth nodded quickly, catching Simon’s tone, “Yes! Yes, I’ve learned and changed my ways. I’m sorry i’ve offened you Lady Demeter and Lady Aphrodite.”

“Not really—” Percy Jackson murmed.

“Percy!” Simon and Annabeth hissed in unison, before almost screaming at each other in Ancient Greek.

“Sorry.” Percy said instantly, clearly apologetic, then bowed, “Lady Demeter, Simon and I request that you calm your rage. I am unsure as to what Simon’s Nanas’ have in store for those that cause conflict but it must not be good.”

Simon smiled faintly at that comment, “Well, they’re creative ladies, my Nanas’, Lady Demeter. Trust me.” He winked and sat back down, as the goddess’s face went pale.

[“So monsters can’t get in here?”

Annabeth shook her head. “Not unless they’re intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside.”

“Why would anybody want to summon a monster?”

“Practice fights. Practical jokes.”

“Practical jokes?” 

Simon nodded, "Usually ends well.” he said, softly.]

Grover Underwood perked up. “Hey Perce!”

The demigod groaned. “No. Just no.”

“But it’s foreshadowing! Percyyyyy!”

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

“…Fine.”

“Again, usually?!” Jam exclaimed.

“It was character building.” Calla Velasco protested, “it enforced strategy and quick thinking."

“They could’ve gotten hurt!” Marina Fluke scowled, “or even died! What kind of safe, summer camp place allows for that?”

“What kind of family allows for your daughters to bully and haze and prod their brother, your youngest and heir?” Maya Lin Abbott snapped, “What excuse can you have? I get you wanted Rhode Fluke to be your future General and Leader, but even then, Jam is your heir, and it's your responsibility to raise him to take on that role!” She looked like. was gonna say more but the screen continued before she could, causing her to stomp her foot.

[“The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm.”

“So… you’re a year-rounder?”

Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke’s, except Annabeth’s also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring.

Simon followed her, but he had three beads, and instead of a big, gold college ring, he had what looked to be a thin, scratched silver dog tag strung on—it looked like someone from the military must’ve given it to him. I wondered who, maybe his father? Or some elder brother?]

“Uhmmm.” Simon said, his brain blue screening but already holding out his hands as something metallic dropped in his hands, “it’s explained later on.”

“Ajax gave you that?” Thalia Grace asked, trying her best to see from her seat across from us. “Looks military-issued grade.”

Simon shook his head, putting it on with a small smile, “Nah, Darryl got it for me for my birthday.”

[Something I noticed was this single bead on their necklaces—this bead was smaller than the others. It was painted a light blue with small dark blue squiggly lines that looked like waves, a small gold teardrop at the center and had black cracks that looked like veins—or roots?—with gold lines inside.

Annabeth’s gold bead had a dim glow while Simon’s seemed to shimmer around his fingers—like it was reacting to them, or something.

“I’ve been here since I was seven,” she said. “Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I’ve been here longer than most of the counselors, and they’re all in college. Simon’s been visiting us every holiday since we were nine.”

“Why did you two come so young? Why won’t Simon stay year-round?”]

“Oh… that's long.” Zia said, as Simon’s hand went to his neck a second later.

“It glows off of you…” Nolan murmured as Simon found the glowing bead that was now between his fingers, suddenly silent.

“They won’t answer that.” Castor Angevin said.

“Percy could work some of his magic.” Thalia shrugged.

“For the last time, Thals! I don’t have magic!”

[She twisted the ring on her necklace—her fingers twitching against the golden bead but she flinched inwardly like it burned. “None of your business.”

Simon stiffened, looking upset with my questions before tucking his necklace back in, “Yeah.”

“Oh.” I stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. 

Simon shuffled his feet, awkwardly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. "If it makes you feel a bit better, I never knew my dad either, my uncle told me he died when I was a baby.” He paused. Annabeth made a soft scoff but didn’t interject, “I never knew my mom either, but she’s alive. She visits my uncle and I from time to time. And, she’s been sending me postcards since I was two.”

Annabeth scoffed again—this time louder, “Right.” She mumbled under her breath, almost hotly, “like sending postcards only about animals from all over North America is a good way to connect with your estranged son, who’s getting raised by your brute of a brother-in-law, is good parenting.”

I didn’t know why she sounded so mad, but Simon shook his head. “She’s… trying.”]

“See.” Castor Angevin gestured to the screen. “She doesn’t tell anyone.”

Thalia’s eyes shined. “Five drachmas that she tells Percy by the end of this… screening.”

Castor Angevin glanced at her warily, he didn’t like that glint in her eyes. Travis Stoll, however, didn’t have such reservations.“Deal!”

The Greek Demigods then scowled at the next few parts, “how long have you been making those excuses?” Ellis Wakefield asked, “You’ve always been like this, Simon.”

“Okay, but you try not believing in your parents when you were my age, or even younger.” Simon argued.

Isabel raised a brow, her face clearly showing her shock and guilt, “you talked about me to them?”

Simon nodded, “Ajax sends me the postcards when I was at camp, and Darryl talked about you to us sometimes, so, of course they hear about you from me. And Maya, and Luke.”

“Yeah.” Maya Lin Abbott said as I contemplated her next few words, “we had the living room bugged so we could you hear you guys from either across the apartment hall or the floor above when we visited so we could listen in.”

“And, man, have I heard a lot about you, Minister.” Ajax Lin Abbott, her father, added, “But, i won’t expose you out here, the screen might come to that later.”

[I figured he must have said it to make me feel better, but it really didn’t work, “So…I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?”

“It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D’s or Chiron’s permission. But they wouldn’t  have given permission until the end of the summer session unless…” Annabeth replied, out of her angry mumbling about Simon’s mom.

“Unless?”

“You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time…” Her voice trailed off. I could tell from her tone that the last time hadn’t gone well.

“Back in the sick room,” I said, “when you were feeding me that stuff—”  

“Ambrosia.” She said hesitantly. Simon stiffened and he shot Annabeth a look, which she mostly ignored but patted the back of his hand comfortingly—like he needed it.

“Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice.”

Annabeth’s shoulders tensed. “So you do know something?”

“Well… no. Back at my old school, I overheard Simon,”—Simon flinched, like he’d been poked with a burning stick—“Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn’t have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?”]

“It means someone—not naming names—done fu–messed up.” Calla Velasco said, correcting herself.

“Okay, but can we just appreciate that, despite everything, we’re all united that Isabel Thorn nee Sky is a bad mom to Simon?” Drew Tanaka said, standing up as she languidly walked to Simon, who stood up as she came over, “Like she’s as a bad as our parents, isn’t that right, Simmy?”

“Always casuing trouble aren’t you, Dede?” Simon grinned, putting his hands on his hips as she crossed her arms, “Well, fine. I’ve admitted to somethings about my mother, but that’s for a later chapter in here, on the quest, of course.”

“That’s what i like to hear.” She beamed, and hugged Simon, squeezing, “miss you, idiot,” she whispered softly that i almost didn’t hear it, before walking back to her seat as Simon sat back down.

“Hasn’t he just woken up?” I asked. “How would he know?”

Will Solace continued. “A few minutes ago, he didn’t even know he was a demigod.”

Annabeth Chase scowled at the floor. “I thought they might have told him something.”

[She clenched her fists. “I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won’t tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time we was there, everything seemed so normal.”

“You two’ve been to Olympus?”

“Some of us year-rounders—Luke and Clarisse and I, and a few others, like Simon—we took a field trip during winter solstice. That’s when the gods have their big annual council.”

“But… how did you get there?”

“The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor.” She looked at me like she was sure I must know this already. “You are a New Yorker, right?”

“Oh, sure.” As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out.

“Right after we visited,” Annabeth continued, “the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I’ve overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn’t returned by summer solstice, there’s going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping…I mean—Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she’s got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something.”]

Clarisse pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought you were supposed to be smart, princess.” Annabeth’s scowl deepened even further.

Reyna blinked, though her face remained impassive. “You just know that off the top of your head.”

Percy smiled, though it seemed a little tight. “That’s what happens when you’re a New Yorker. It’s quite useful to know where everything is, especially if there are monsters after you. Simon’s a bit better at it than me though, since he went to all five boroughs.”

“Oh, yeah!” Connor Stoll grinned, “it was super useful during out not-quest seven years ago, what’d he say?”

“‘I’m the only one who’s actually gotten lost in all five borughs’.” Travis Stoll and Maya Lin Abbott deadpanned, mimicking a horrible Simon’s voice, “And’ NYC’s my turf’, and ‘city rules, you learn to listen’.”

“Oo-kay, glad to know you actually listen to me, Stalkers.” Simon joked, “and all of that is true, I stand by that.”

“You’ve been to Olympus before, Simon?” Benjamin asked.

Simon jumped, eyes wide then shrugged, “I mean… I guess…in a way? My trips were highly supervised by Maya and Luke back then.”

“I’m also pretty sure Athena doesn't get along with Triton, either, Annie.” Percy piped up.

Artemis, who’d been had been silently polishing her bow as the others argued, piped up. “Child, it is not up to you to carry the grudges of your mother.”

Annabeth Chase huffed. “If my mother made those grudges then they are correct. My mother is the goddess of wisdom for a reason.”

[I shook my head. I wished I could help her, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions.

“I’ve got to get a quest,” Annabeth muttered to herself. “I’m not too young. If they would just tell me the problem…”

Simon pulled his jacket closer, stepping to my side, “Annie, it’ll happen, but c’mon, not every new person’s the one.” His voice took a firm tone and she stiffened.]

Darryl blinked, “Chiron! That was incredibly foolish! Why did you do it?”

The centaur shuffleed his hooves. “Well, you see, she was very convincing.”

Clarisse La Rue laughed. “Convincing? Chiron, she cried for not even 10 minutes and you caved.”

He frowned, and the girl rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Clarisse. He’s allowed to have favorites, Simon’s even in there on the list.”

Luke Castellan crossed his arms, fixing an almost bored look, “Simon doesn't use his status as a Chrion Favorite to gain what he wants. He’s a smart kid, yeah, but he knows his limits… or at least, in our world…” he trailed off, shaking his head, “point is, Annabeth, Simon actually backs up his worth by his own meaning, you're way over your head sometimes—and you’ve clearly lost a filter on your mouth.”

She huffed, knowing she was outnumbered and beat, “Okay, well, I admit, i’m a little too brash, but, I wanna prove my worth.”

“We all do.” Ethan Nakamura said, “we’ve slaved for approval, why should you get it for so little when we don’t for so much?”

[I could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must’ve heard my stomach growl. She told me to go on, she’d catch me and Simon later. 

We left her on the pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan. Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to me, or Simon, as I walked over to my spot on the floor and plopped down with my minotaur horn while Simon sat in front of me, still quiet—like he was in deep thought.

The counselor, Luke, came over. He had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact.

“Found you a sleeping bag,” he said, ruffling Simon’s hair, “And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store.”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding about the stealing part but Simon grinned like he knew—I realized how similar Simon looked to the other Hermes kids, especially Luke— with blonde-ish hair, blue eyes and mischievous smiles—that I almost thought they were brothers, like they had the same parents kind of brothers.]

Luke smiled faintly but he didn't touch Simon, “We kind of are. In a way.”

“Yeah, i guess.” Simon said, “It was nice, to have older siblings with one looking exactly like you.”

“But…?” Nolan said, his voice small and hopeful.

“Buuttt, it's even better when i have my real twin with me, along beside my step-sister and adoptive brother.” Simon added with a gentle smile as he looped one arm around Castellan’s waist and one, over Maya’s neck before connecting to Nolan’s shoulder.

[I said, “Thanks.”

“No prob.” Luke sat next to me, pushed his back against the wall. “Tough first day?”

“I don’t belong here,” I said. “I don’t even believe in gods.”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn’t get any easier.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised me, because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything.

“So your dad is Hermes?” I asked.

He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, and for a second I thought he was going to gut me, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. “Yeah. Hermes.”

“The wing-footed messenger guy.”]

Thalia grinned, her mood changing instantly. “Hey Perce!” An elbow to the ribcage. “Do you believe in gods now?”

Percy rubbed his side to soothe the pain of his cousin’s sharp elbow as he considered the question. “I have to, don’t I? Definitely doesn’t make anything easier though, makes it worse.”

“That’s one way to call me.” Lord Hermes chuckled at his mention on the screen.

[“That’s him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That’s why you’re here, enjoying cabin eleven’s hospitality. Hermes isn’t picky about who he sponsors.”

I figured Luke didn’t mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind.

“You ever meet your dad?” I asked.

“Once.”

I waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell me, he’d tell me. Apparently, he didn’t. I wondered if the story had anything to do with how he got his scar.

Luke looked up and managed a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they’re mostly good people. After all, we’re extended family, right? We take care of each other.”]

Bianca Di Angelo spoke up for the first time. “He probably did. What better way to make you reliant on him than lower your self esteem?”

Dozens of eyes swivelled to stare at the dirty blonde man sitting on the spare couch. Percy Jackson snorted. “Luckily for me, my self esteem was already nonexistent. Would have worked.” He said dismissively, unaware of how some were looking at him in concern.

“So, basically everything?” Winter said gingerly, when it came to the part about Hermes’s domains.

“Pretty much.” Connor Stoll nodded.

“Yeah, well.” Percy smiled to near the last part, “we're a family—got each other’s backs.”

“Word.” Simon said, leaning on Maya’s shoulder as she wrapped her arm around his waist, giving a comforting squeeze.

[He seemed to understand how lost I felt, and I was grateful for that, because an older guy like him—even if he was a counselor—should’ve steered clear of an uncool middle-schooler like me. But Luke had welcomed me into the cabin. He’d even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me all day, apart from Simon trying to defend me. 

I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon. “Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being ‘Big Three’ material. Then Annabeth…twice, she said I might be ‘the one.’ And Simon said I might not be. She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?”

Luke folded his knife. “I hate prophecies.”]

“Low Bar, Percy.” Ajax Lin Abbott said sadly. “You're doing better, yeah?”

“Yeah, Mr. Ajax,” Percy nodded.

“Doesn't everyone?” Thalia Grace snorted at the prophecy part.

“I was mostly nice to you Percy mainly because Simon asked me to.” Castellan explained, “he was all “Luke! You better not haze this one too badly, Brad—A son of Morpheus, by the way—still has nightmares of you guys putting dirt on his bunk and live bugs!’” He mimicked, giving Simon a too high of a voice as Simon repeatedly punched him in the shoulder.

“Jerk! I don’t sound like that.” Simon grumbled.

“I know, i know.” He turned to face Percy, “But, still, you were a good kid, i’m sorry for what i did to you.”

[“What do you mean?”

His face twitched around the scar. “Let’s just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last three years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn’t allowed any more quests, especially after Simon ran back home on foot when he first got here with my two of my half-brothers and a Nike girl he befriended—you must’ve met her. Maya Lin Abbott? Clarisse’s lieutenant? Simon calls her Mynx.”

I paled. Oh no. My eyes searched the room and I saw Maya Lin Abbott, in clean clothes (a camp tee and jeans), hanging out with her Nike siblings—she still looked flustered, with her hands over her lap as she conversed with them. She looked over her shoulder and sent me a glare that would’ve put me under if Simon didn’t shoot her a tired look—like they’ve had this conversation before.

Her face stiffened and she nodded hesitantly before going back to her conversation.]

“Hey! I’m literally your guys’s sisters, and all i get is ‘just a Nike girl he befriended’!?” Maya Lin Abbott screeched, throwing her hands in the air.

[Luke gently nudged me to focus, "anyways, Annabeth’s been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He’d had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn’t tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn’t destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until…somebody special came to the camp.”

“Somebody special?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Luke said. “Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she’s been waiting for.”]

Wilhemina frowned. “That’s not something you should have told anyone, let alone a twelve-year-old.”

Annabeth sighed, running a hand through her hair, her attitude faltering slightly when she piped up. “I handled it fine, Ms. Webster.”

The Black Widow Queen’s eyes narrowed, “Not exactly, judging by what’s on the screen.” She had nothing to counter that.

[Simon nodded, but he seemed a little out of it, shivering—look pale. Like, ‘a vampire had sunken their fangs into him and drained him of all his blood’ kind of pale. Luke gave him a look and Simon nodded, got up and walked to the door across from us, connected to another room, and slipped in, shutting the door. The other campers didn’t bat an eye, going on with their activities.

“Where’s Simon going?” I asked.

“My room.” Luke said, “Each cabin has a room for the counselor. It’s supposed to be reserved for the counselor only.”

“So, why’s Simon in there?”

“He’s not a year-rounder so Chiron, Mr. D and I allow him to stay in my room, besides, all his stuff's in there.”

“The campers aren’t jealous?”

“What do you mean?”

"I mean, he gets special treatment," I said. "Private room, comes and goes as he pleases. The other campers don't mind?"

Luke's smile tightened just a fraction. "Simon's situation is... different. The others know it and aren’t resentful—as far as I know, plus, he always sleeps on the floor instead of my bed. Now, come on, it’s dinnertime.”]

Simon clapped his hands together, “Oh, so, it's because, i’m, you know, deathly allergic to godly food and Luke keeps his room spotless and clean, i’m really like, bratty about it.” He joked, “kidding, I literally refused a matress from Luke, said something about me sleeping the Asian way.”

Ajax snorted, “He’s right, back home in Malaysia, my mother use to make me sleep on the floor at her childhood home in Taiping, strengthened my back it did.”

“Heart of Cabin Eleven he is.” Chris Rodriguez said with a soft smile, “if anyone had a problem with him, they'd get a whole lecture and witness testimonies—but even that was rare after they met him.”

“Perks of being likeable in one of the biggest cabins in Camp.” Maya grinned.

[The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Somehow, I knew it was a conch shell, even though I’d never heard one before.

Luke yelled, “Eleven, fall in!”

The whole cabin—Simon included, who scrambled out of the counselor’s room in clean clothes and a jacket thrown on—, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. Maya yanked Simon by his wrist to her side, wrapping her arm around his shoulder as she shot him a grin, which he returned.

We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.

We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods—and when I say out of the woods, I mean straight out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill. In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads.

At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven’s was way overcrowded. I had to squeeze on to the edge of a bench with half my butt hanging off.]

Another glare from the messenger god to the others as the Animalgams shared confused, judging looks.

[Maya Lin Abbott and Simon sat in front of me and Luke—and for a moment, Maya didn’t look so scary, well apart from the dagger that was strapped to her arm. She seemed to always have that thing on her at all times, did she even sleep with it on?

I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey-blond hair.

Clarisse sat behind me at Ares’s table. She’d apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her Ares friends.

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. “To the gods!”

Everybody else raised their glasses. “To the gods!”]

The Greek Demigods and Simon rose their mock-glasses, “to the Gods!”

“I love that you keep saying my full name, Prissy,” Maya snorted. “And yes, i sleep with my sheath on.”

”can confirm.” Simon nodded.

[Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! My glass was empty, but Luke said, “Speak to it. Whatever you want—nonalcoholic, of course.”

“In a camp full of children,” Simon snorted to Maya, who snickered. Luke shot them an amused look, reached over and flicked Simon’s forehead like a scolding elder brother.

I said, “Cherry Coke.”

The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid. 

Then I had an idea. “Blue Cherry Coke.”

The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.

I took a cautious sip. Perfect.

I drank a toast to my mother. She’s not gone, I told myself. Not permanently, anyway. She’s in the Underworld. And if that’s a real place, then someday…]

Grover chuckled. “It’s always you and blue food.”

Percy mocked glared at him. “Blue food is life. Especially Mom’s blue cookies.”

“It’s as real as you and me, buddy.” Ajax said softly as Sally Jackson hugged Percy while Paul Blofis patted his shoulder.

[“Here you go, Percy,” Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket.

I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. I wondered if they were going for dessert or something.

“Come on,” Luke told me.

As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

Luke murmured in my ear, “Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell.”]

Simon let out a laugh, “Before dinner? Really, Seashell?”

Percy huffed and crossed his arms. “Bug off, Feathers. I didn’t watch the orientation film, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You’re kidding.” All the Animalgams said, bewildered and disbelived at the thought of someone liking the smell of smoke.

[“You’re kidding.”]

All the modern Greek demigods grinned, “Percy-itus!”

[His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn’t help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.

Maya was up, with Simon behind her, she jerked her head forward then scraped all the chicken off her plate, “Nike.”

Simon thumbed his plate before spilling the contents into the flame, “For all the gods and goddesses.” He said, then he quickly tossed a ripe, bright red strawberry in, mumbling so softly I wouldn't have caught it: “and for my uncle.”

The fire burned a bit brighter—i watched as the smoke curled around itself midway, like a knot in a rope before unfurling to west. To Manhattan. Not up, like it had for the previous campers, but no one else seemed to notice. Simon leaned over to the fire, his color immediately flushing back into his face. He smiled—like he smelled something nice—before Maya yanked him back with an easy smile.]

“Ah, Standard offering.” Theseus said.

I blinked. "Standard offering?" I asked, the words tasted strange, foreign on my tongue. “How…?”

Perseus inclined his head "We would offer the fattiest parts of the meat to our patrons, and the gods. It’s customary.” He explained. The Gods and Heroes of Old then watched the next few parts, shocked at what happened—an offering to a mortal, and it was accepted… I didn't know what to say either but Simon’s face burned red,

“it’s a habit.” He said, his voice high. “To pray for my family. I prayed to mom… once… when i first came to camp…”

“Oh… Simon…” Isabel chocked out, her eyes already wet.

“It was a long time ago mom—” he tried to say but got cut off.

“How come I, Ajax Iskander Lin Abbott, don’t get a prayer, Simon Lin Abbott-Holland-Thorn!” Ajax whined, dropping his head on Darryl’s shoulder, “Do you hear that, Oak Tree? Me! Not in this prayer!”

“The kids always liked me better.” Darryl mused, as Ajax rolled his eyes and punched him in the arm.

“How do you like the smell of smoke.” Nolan questioned, flabbergasted.

“It’ll be explained in a bit.” Simon said, “I think.”

“Holland?” The General asked.

“Ah! That’d be my parents-in-laws!” Ajax said, “they’ll be explained later, i assume?” Percy Jackson nodded.

[They’ll also be sent here, Ajax] the screen said suddenly. [But perhaps later]

”Thank you, My ladies.” He winked as the screen resumed.

[Luke then approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. “Hermes.”

I was next.

I wished I knew what god’s name to say.

Finally, I made a silent plea. Whoever you are, tell me. Please.

I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames. When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn’t gag. It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn’t have gone well together, but did.

I could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke. When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.]

“Oh so that’s why you’re around fires so much,” Ariana said, looking like the dots finally connected in her head, “Why you sometimes hide food in your pockets and room, you were making offerings, and—”

“Why i sticked my head into fires sometimes, it’s a habit.” Simon finished coolly, “especially if it’s a big fire.”

[Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. “Yes, I suppose I’d better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels.”

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

“Personally,” Mr. D continued, “I couldn’t care less, but congratulations.

Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson.”

Chiron murmured something.

“Er, Percy Jackson,” Mr. D corrected. “That’s right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on.”

Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo’s cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s’mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn’t feel that anyone was staring at me anymore. I felt that I was home.]

“Same.” Simon said softly, “It was home… for a while…”

Silena smiled, “Well, we’re all here, aren’t we, lovedove? Maybe, we can do that again.”

[Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins—Simon grabbing Luke’s hand as they slipped inside the counselor’s room. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on my borrowed sleeping bag.

My fingers curled around the Minotaur’s horn. I thought about my mom, but I had good thoughts: her smile, the bedtime stories she would read me when I was a kid, the way she would tell me not to let the bedbugs bite.

When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly.

That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood.

I wish I’d known how briefly I would get to enjoy my new home.]

“Here comes my concussion.” Simon deadpanned, already gingerly touching his head.

“Gods save us all.” Lee Fletcher quipped. “We’ll alert, okay Birdie?”

“Thanks.”

Chapter Text

Travis Stoll POV

[We Capture A Flag]

“Bo-a-ring!” I groaned, “can't it be: ‘How managed to get the Camp Sweetheart sent to ER from a concussion, Hellhound style’?”

Connor pouted, puffing up his cheeks. “Yeah! Why is the title so boring!”

Chris, on the other hand, was looking rather pale. “Hey guys…”

The attention turned from us to him. “Wasn’t this when the… ahem… thing attacked Percy and Simon?”

I blinked. Perc’s first capture the flag game? Wasn’t that when the hellhound… oh shit!

It looked like Simon and Percy caught on too and they looked at their families.

"Hey, er… moms, dads? Simon's family?" Percy started weakly as the sea gods, Paul, and Sally turned their gaze to him while Simon's family—the Animalgam contingent plus Ajax—shifted their attention to their boy. "Erm… try not to get too angry, but something happens in this chapter that I think you might not appreciate."

Poseidon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Percy…”

Paul frowned, while Sally shook her head, “Oh Percy.”

“Yeah…” Simon said, his voice a bit too high while Maya grabbed Simon shoulder, pressing her manicured nails into his shoulder, gesturing vaguely, “everyone… seriously why are so many of you.”

Thalia stared at her cousin-brother and Simon in curiosity. And suddenly, i slap myself: we didn’t tell her about what happened, or about Percy and Simon.

Percy held up his hands in protest. “In all fairness, it wasn’t even my fault.”

Poseidon sighed, a bone-weary sigh that carried a few millennia of exasperation. “What do I need to prepare?”

Simon said quietly, “Just an injury.”

Clarisse shouted out. “Just an injury?! That was not what you call ‘just an injury’!”

Luke paled rapidly. He was sitting in the same room as an easily angered god who was famously overprotective of his children—especially his current favorite. And he was surrounded by Simon's Animalgam family and friends, who from what I'd heard, were protective enough to make the Ares cabin look reasonable. His hand instinctively moved toward Simon, like he was checking that he was still there.

“Nah,” Lou Ellen said, rolling her eyes way too casually than required, “too long. Besides, Simon would've thrown a fit about us blaming Percy again.”

“True." Simon nodded, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Seriously, it was my choice to—"

Get a concussion?" Malcolm Thorn asked skeptically. His voice was flat, but there was something underneath it—something that might have been concern buried under years of warrior discipline. "Don't you value your life at all, Simon?"

Simon opened his mouth, closed it, then said with a shrug, having the grace to look slightly abashed. "Mhm…"

A non-answer that was, subjectively, masterful in its evasion. I made a mental note to study that technique later—the art of saying nothing while sounding like you're saying something. Across the room, Malcolm's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. A warrior's stillness. He was filing that response away for later, and from the look in his eyes, Simon was going to get a lecture the second they had privacy.

That's not reassuring, I thought.

[The next few days I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don’t count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn’t that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I’d rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. Chiron tried to teach me archery, but we found out pretty quick I wasn’t any good with a bow and arrow. He didn’t complain, even when he had to de-snag a stray arrow out of his tail.]

“It never stops being weird,” contested Leo.

Will shook his head quickly, “Please never go near a bow, we’d all like to keep our body parts.” He grimaced.

“Okay, I'm not that bad, Solace,” Percy told him dryly.

Every single demigod gave him incredulous looks. I mean, every single one. Even the younger kids who hadn't been there looked at him like he'd just claimed the sky was green. Harley, who was eight, actually gasped.

"With that shot, every single sibling of mine immediately knew you weren't a child of Apollo," Will cried out, eyes wide. "Even the people in cabin seven who don't have powers that have anything to do with archery aren't that bad."

Simon shook his head. "Poor Grandpa." He was grinning now, the tension from earlier finally easing.

Maya snorted. "R.I.P., Chiron's backside. How ever will he sit again?"

Thalia poked the boy beside her. "Where was Chiron even standing?" she teased, her voice full of malicious glee.

Percy flushed, crossing his arms and pouting like a kindergartener who'd been told he couldn't have another juice box. "Behind me…" he answered sullenly.

Frank stared at him, gobsmacked. "How? How does that even happen? The arrow literally—it had to go around him to hit his tail!

“No idea.”

Calla scoffed. “I’ve seen you launch your sword at a monster. Can’t shoot an arrow but that was dead center.”

Maya hummed thoughtfully. “You had good aim with the space food too.”

Absolute silence.

Ariana Webster broke it. “Space food?” She glanced around quizzically.

Percy glared at Thalia and Maya. “Spoiler. Can’t say anything.”

“Oh, c’mon, that like, six or seven stories away!” Lysander groaned, “we gotta sit through Twiggy’s spinoff, i just know it.”

“Rude,” Simon scoffed, “really feeling the love, Mirror.”

Lysander immediately signed. »Love you too, baby cousin.«

[Foot racing? No good either. The wood-nymph instructors left me in the dust. They told me not to worry about it. They’d had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But still, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree.

And wrestling? Forget it. Every time I got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize me.

“There’s more where that came from, punk,” she’d mumble in my ear.]

Hera gave all her fellow gods a pointed glare, her eyes promising retribution for something none of them had actually done. Unfortunately—or fortunately—no one reacted. Even Zeus had the good sense to look at his shoes.

Then I paused for a moment, actually considering it. "Huh. That is kinda embarrassing." I tilted my head, watching Percy's ears go pink. "You lost to Clarisse. Multiple times."

The girl in question cracked her knuckles menacingly, a grin spreading across her face. "I'll beat you every time, Prissy. Don't think being the big hero changes anything. I've been training since I was in diapers."

Percy smirked back at her, something flickering in his sea-green eyes that I recognized as pure, unadulterated stubbornness. "Not so sure about that, La Rue. Things have changed since we were kids."

Clarisse's scowl deepened, but there was something almost fond in it. Almost.

[The only thing I really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn’t the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur. But Simon seemed weirdly amused—not mocking, more like he found it a bit funny that I beat the Minotaur but could only row.

I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching me, trying to decide who my dad was, but they weren’t having an easy time of it. I wasn’t as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I didn’t have Hephaestus’s skill with metalwork or—gods forbid—Dionysus’s way with vine plants. Luke and Simon told me I might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none and that Simon himself had similar troubles when he first came—but he was good at most things, apart from wrestling where Maya used to punt him—thankfully she had stopped doing that to him after he dislocated his shoulder but still. But I got the feeling both were just trying to make me feel better. They really didn’t know what to make of me either.]

Rhode Fluke, the strategic eldest daughter of the General, blinked. Her eyes, sharp and calculating like her father's, narrowed at the screen. "How did you not know? The water affinity wasn't obvious? He exploded toilets!”

Grover buried his face in his hands with a mournful bleat that went on for a solid ten seconds. "It's so clear in hindsight! The toilets, the creek, the water fountain that one time… Ugh, I'm the worst protector ever. I should have known. I should have—"

Annabeth sniffed, crossing her arms. "How could we have expected him to be a child of the Big Three? He didn't exactly look like much. He was short. Scrawny. Couldn't hold a sword properly."

Katie glared at her over the bowl of strawberries the Fates had given her, her green eyes flashing. "In case you forgot, he killed the Minotaur! With no training! With a broken horn! While grieving his mother! What more did you want, a handwritten invitation from Poseidon himself?"

"The oath," Calla murmured, her fingers still working through Maya's hair. "We thought… we all assumed…"

"It was so obvious…" Grover muttered sullenly into his hands.

Hermes sat up, looking genuinely offended. "Hey! I'm a master of many trades!" he squawked, gesturing wildly at himself. "Jack-of-all-trades is a compliment! It means versatility! Adaptability!"

Apollo sniggered behind his hand, his golden eyes dancing with amusement. "You have to admit, there's a lot of them. Messenger, thieves, travelers, merchants, shepherds, athletes, orators, writers—should I go on?"

"Like you can say anything, Mr. Sun-Prophecy-Music-Archery-Medicine-Poetry-Dance-Epidemics-Light-Truth-Knowledge-Protection of the Young!"

Damien let out a laugh that turned into a cough when Apollo looked his way. "That's why she stopped beating up him!?" he managed, pointing at Maya.

Maya rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "I beat him at home. Much safer. Less witnesses. The floor's softer when I throw him."

Darryl's voice was a low rumble that cut through the chatter. "You beat him at home because the floor's softer and I can patch him up when he breaks something."

Simon's face went red. "Darryl!"

"What? It's true. You've always been a terrible fighter. You get your feet tangled."

Ajax snorted, draping himself across Darryl's shoulders. "Oak tree, you're supposed to let the kid have some dignity. Let him pretend he doesn't trip over Maya’s leg."

"What dignity? He tried to climb the bookshelf last time they were training and landed on his head trying to escape Maya. The bookshelf didn't even move. He just—" Darryl mimed someone grabbing air, losing their balance, and falling sideways.

Maya was cackling while Simon sputtered and Luke snorted. Nolan was staring at this exchange like he'd never seen his brother before—like the Simon who bickered with his uncles about bookshelves and dignity was a stranger.

He kind of is, I thought. To them. To us, this is just Simon. Just Simon being Simon.

Across the room, I saw Darryl's lips twitch—the closest he ever got to a smile in public. Ajax, meanwhile, was nodding along with Maya's words like she'd just stated an undeniable fact.

Which is probably why the Thorns looked like they'd swallowed a lemon, I thought, glancing at the stiff, silent Animalgam contingent. They're seeing it too. All of it. The life he built without them.

[Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real dad. Nothing came. Just that warm feeling I’d always had, like the memory of his smile. I tried not to think too much about my mom, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save her, to bring her back….]

“Poseidon frowned. “Usually I wait for my kids to get used to camp before claiming them. I suppose I waited due to the circumstances.”

Percy nodded. “Yeah, you told me a while ago.”

[I started to understand Luke’s bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn’t they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn’t my dad, whoever he was, make a phone appear?]

Annabeth scoffed. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“Yeah, yeah… we know that!” Connor shot back. “You don’t need to comment on everything!”

Winter frowned, “Is she always like this?”

“Sometimes.” Simon shrugged.

[At least Simon’s mom sent him postcards—always about animals from all over North America—he told me, showing the latest ones he hadn’t stuck up on his wall back in Manhattan. The picture front showed a coiled rattlesnake, its tail frozen mid-shake.]

Simon immediately choked, coughing as he doubled over. “WHAT!?”

Lacy rubbed her arm nervously, trying to help him out, “I mean. Your mom sends you postcards…”

“She doesn't anymore!” Simon wheezed as Maya patted his back in a way that looked less comforting and more like she was smacking a ghost out of his diaphragm.

[He flipped it over, his eyes scanning the cramped cursive before handing it to me. "Here, Percy—you'll get a headache trying to read her writing."

I squinted at the looping letters that seemed to twist like snakes. "Gods, is this even English? How do you even read this?”

Simon chuckled and took it back. "My mom’s a zoologist. Writes like she's still scribbling field notes." but he didn't hesitate—he'd clearly read it enough times to recite it from memory.]

Immediately all of us Greek demigods groaned. "The pain! The torture!” We moaned.

“Ah, back when Twiggy was still ignorant,” Lysander sighed remorsefully as he turned down his hearing aids’s volume.

"Hey!” Simon shrieked.

[“'The sidewinder rattlesnake doesn't chase its prey’," he paraphrased, tracing the words with his finger. "'It waits. Strikes fast. Doesn't waste venom on what it can't swallow.'" He paused, then added with a disappointed half-smile, "She didn't sign this one either."

“Whoa,” I said in awe, “are eyes like, super-powered or something? Your dyslexia malfunctioned?”

He smiled, “No, well yes, but also no. My dyslexia-gene is practically none existent—it’s why I help around camp. Besides, she’s been sending me these postcards since i was two, I could recognize her handwriting with a few lines.”]

“Dyslexia gene?” Isabel asked,

“Demigod thing,” I answered quickly, but my grin was gone.

Simon, in the present, groaned. “In her defense, that is solid advice.”

“In what way? Don’t waste… your venom?” I then gasped dramatically, clutching my chest. “Wait! Are you implying something, Thorn?”

”I’m always implying something, it’s in my city’s air.” Simon deadpanned.

But I saw it—the way his hand moved to his chest, where that necklace sat. The bead. The one that glowed. The one that had been given to him after he almost died.

He's been carrying that memory this whole time, I realized. And we've been joking about it like it's nothing.

Across the room, I saw Perseus—the original one, the hero—lean forward. "A postcard with a rattlesnake," he murmured. "The sidewinder's patience. The economy of venom." His eyes narrowed. "That is not a mother's message. That is a warning."

Achilles nodded slowly. "She was telling him something. Without telling him."

Odysseus's sharp gaze flicked to Isabel. "What was she warning him about, Minister? What venom was he not supposed to waste?"

Isabel's mouth opened, then closed. She had no answer. Neither did any of the Thorns.

The silence was deafening.

[I suddenly frowned, remembering what was written on the card. "Wait, that’s it? No 'how's school' or 'miss you' from her? No return address? Doesn’t she want you to write back?”

Simon shrugged, tucking the postcard away into his bag’s pocket. "She's not really the sentimental type when she writes. But she's consistent. Darryl says that counts for something.”]

Ajax Lin Abbott perked up. “What did I say?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eye.

Simon, sensing a trap, answered with careful precision. “Sadly, for political and social purposes within this assembled company, I cannot answer that.”

“But I can!” Maya chirped, beaming. “You said, Abah—and I quote—: ‘That zoo-obsessed harpy can take her field notes and shove them up an elephant’s trunk’.”

A snort of laughter escaped someone—I think it was Chris—quickly muffled. Ajax pointed at Maya, a proud, vengeful grin on his face. "See? Honesty! A valued trait!"

Simon just buried his face in his hands, his ears bright red. Darryl sighed heavily and reached over to cuff both Maya and Ajax lightly on the backs of their heads. "Both of you. Behave."

"But Baba—" Maya started.

"No. You know how he gets about his mother." Darryl's voice was gruff, but there was no real heat in it. His hand settled on Simon's shoulder, squeezing once. "He doesn't need you two stirring up trouble."

"I'm helping," Ajax said, completely unrepentant. "I'm teaching our children the importance of speaking truth to power."

"You're being a menace." Darryl sighed heavily again. "Alexander, you're not helping."

"I'm helping me," Ajax shot back, draping an arm around Darryl's shoulders. "Besides, you can't tell me you didn't say worse about Isabel after she—"

Darryl's hand clamped over Ajax's mouth. "We're in polite company."

Maya snickered. "Since when do you care about polite company, Baba?"

"Since your Oma and Dedulya started ruining me," Darryl muttered, and for a moment, I saw Simon's smile—the real one, not the careful one—flicker across his face

“I miss Oma and Dedulya.” Simon said quietly.

“They’ll come soon, kid. They always do.”

I watched the Animalgam family's reactions. Isabel had gone very still. Luke Thorn's jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. Malcolm—Malcolm just watched, his warrior's stillness back in full force, cataloguing every word.

They're realizing how little they know, I thought. How much of Simon's life was interpreted for him by people who actually cared.

"But Baba—" Maya started, looking for an opening.

"No. You know how he gets about his mother." Darryl's voice was gruff, but there was no real heat in it.

"Fine," she muttered. "But she's still a harpy."

"She's still his mother," Darryl said quietly.

Ajax opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Darryl shot him a look that could have curdled milk. Ajax wisely closed it.

Darryl sighed, reaching over to cuff Ajax lightly on the back of the head again. “Still not helping, Alexander."

"I'm helping Simon," Ajax corrected, ducking away with a grin. "There's a difference."

"You're causing a scene."

”I’m half Malaysian, it’s in my blood.”

I watched the Animalgam family's reactions. Isabel had gone very still. Luke Thorn's jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. Malcolm was watching Simon with an expression I couldn't read—but his hands were clenched at his sides.

They're realizing how little they know, I thought. How much of Simon's life was interpreted for him by people who actually cared.

But it was the Heroes of Old who caught my attention next. Perseus was frowning, his brow furrowed. "This woman—Isabel Thorn—you are Simon's mother?"

"Yes," Isabel said quietly.

"And she sent him postcards. Of animals. With coded warnings." Perseus's voice was flat. "Instead of raising him."

Achilles let out a humorless laugh. "The gods aren't the only ones who abandon their children, it seems."

Isabel flinched. Luke Thorn's hand shot out to grip hers, but he didn't defend her. He couldn't. There was nothing to defend.

Heracles—who had been slouched in his seat looking bored—straightened. "You're telling me this kid's mother sent him rattlesnake warnings instead of tucking him in?" He looked genuinely baffled. "What kind of—"

"Heracles." Athena's voice cut through, cool and sharp. "Perhaps save your judgment for those who haven't, you know, also abandoned their children."

Heracles shut his mouth.

Odysseus, ever the strategist, was watching Simon with something like respect. "The boy survived it. Thrived, even. Found other people to raise him." His eyes flicked to Darryl, to Maya, to Ajax. "Found people who would fight for him."

"Found people who would die for him," Patroclus added quietly, and Achilles's hand tightened on his arm.

[There was something in his voice—not quite bitterness, but a resignation that made me think this wasn't the first time he’d had this conversation. I thought about my mom's blue cookies, the way she'd hug me after nightmares. Even Gabe's stupid poker parties were proof someone noticed I existed.]

“Yeah,” Simon said quietly, “I told that story too many times at camp.”

I looked at him—really looked. He was rubbing his chest again, right where that cursed bead sat. The one that glowed. The one that had been given to him after he almost died.

[Thursday afternoon, three days after I’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I guess I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good.]

Chris groaned. “It wasn’t fair! You broke the tradition!”

The children of Hermes—minus Luke—all had varying expressions of disgruntlement on their faces.

Silena scanned the room before turning to murmur quietly at her boyfriend. “No one seems to know. It’s not like the Hermes cabin to keep gossip quiet.”

Beckendorf huffed a quick laugh. “Judging by their expressions, it was probably something embarrassing.”

Clarisse growled. “Good reflexes? Don’t you dare say we lost to ‘good reflexes’.”

Percy shrugged. “It wasn’t really that impressive, especially since I had only just started learning how to fight. Besides, it was mainly the w-” he ducked his head as a pillow came flying in his direction.

Clarisse snarled at him. “That is not ‘good reflexes’, that is ‘natural talent’! And if I swear if you speak of ‘just good reflexes’ again, I will pulverize you!”

Percy gulped at the murderous look in her eyes. “Noted.”

I saw Poseidon watching the exchange with a mix of pride and concern. Across the room, the Heroes of Old were murmuring among themselves. Perseus was leaning forward, his eyes bright with interest. "The boy disarmed the best swordsman in a century on his first day?" he asked, clearly impressed.

Heracles snorted. "Beginner's luck."

"Maybe," Odysseus said slowly, his sharp eyes on the screen. "Or maybe something else."

But it was Achilles who spoke next, his voice thoughtful. "I've trained with the best. I've been the best. And I can tell you—instinct like that isn't taught. It's born." His eyes found Percy across the room. "You're a natural, boy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Percy's ears went pink. "I, uh. Thanks?"

Achilles smiled—a rare, genuine thing. "You're welcome."

[The problem was, I couldn’t find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me.

We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be my partner, since this was my first time.

“Good luck,” one of the campers told me. “Luke’s the best swordsman in the last three hundred years.”

“Maybe he’ll go easy on me,” I said.]

Poseidon frowned. “Chiron, you should have known who he is. Children of the sea must have a blade forged with some relation to the sea. I sent you plenty of weapons for him, why did you not give them to him.”

Chiron grimaced sheepishly. “I wanted to be absolutely certain that he was yours.”

Percy blinked. “There were multiple?”

His father turned to him. “What?”

“Weapons. There was more than just a sword?”

Hearing those words, Poseidon scowled at the hero trainer. “Yes. I sent plenty, in case you preferred a different weapon.”

“Huh…”

The General, who had been watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, finally spoke. "You sent weapons for a child you'd never met? Before he was claimed?"

Poseidon's gaze was steady. "He was my son. I knew. I always knew."

Something flickered across the General's face—something that might have been respect. Or envy. Or both.

Later on, the veteran campers snorted while I puffed out my chest, grinning wide. "Hey, it's me!"

Thalia grinned and wrapped an arm around Percy's shoulders. "Not anymore! That title belongs here now!"

Percy's cheeks pinked slightly at the praise. "I'm really not.."

"Hush, Percy. Let me see exactly why you are!"

[The camper snorted.

Simon elbowed the camper but gave me a sympathetic look, “Don’t count on it. Luke can get… intense, at times.”

Luke showed me thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way. With every swipe, I got a little more battered and bruised. “Keep your guard up, Percy,” he’d say, then whap me in the ribs with the flat of his blade. “No, not that far up!” Whap! “Lunge!” Whap! “Now, back!” Whap!]

Percy stared at the few random bruises that appeared on his arms. “This is really weird. I can feel it happening, I can see the injuries… but nothing is happening.”

Poseidon pinched his nose as his mortal son just watched as another nasty bruise appeared on his forearm.

[By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea, I did the same.

Instantly, I felt better. Strength surged back into my arms. The sword didn’t feel so awkward as the water dripped down my neck. Nearby, Simon was handing out damp cloths to the other campers.]

Travis paused. “Wait… the fucking water! Percy! You absolute cheater!”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

Connor groaned as Chris rubbed his temples. “That explains so much now…”

“Manager Simon,” Chris grinned wryly.

Achilles, who had been watching in silence, spoke up. "The sea's touch," he said, his voice thoughtful. "I've heard stories. Children of Poseidon draw strength from water. It sharpens their senses, heals their wounds." He looked at Percy with new respect. "A formidable gift."

"Formidable and unfair," Heracles grumbled.

Perseus elbowed him. "You're just jealous."

But it was Odysseus who leaned forward, his sharp eyes fixed on the screen. "The boy didn't know. He didn't know what he was, what he could do, what his father had given him." He looked at Percy across the room. "And still, he disarmed the best swordsman in three hundred years. Imagine what he'll become when he does know."

The room went quiet. Even Ares looked thoughtful.

["You okay?" he asked quietly, offering me a cloth.

“Peachy.” I wheezed, taking the white towel.

He hummed and plucked an unopened bottle of water from the drinks cooler, “Swish it in your mouth then spit out the water, it helps feel you less thirsty."

I did as he asked, spitting water to the grass, “How’d you know that?”

“My uncle.” Simon said, “he watches a lot of sports back home—saw some footballers do it.”

“I see.” My throat felt weirdly better even though the water hadn’t gone down. I eyed him—he was bone dry. “You didn’t participate?”

“Nah. Luke and the directors said I should only do light stretches.” He said, tucking a curl behind his pointy ear, “besides, most of the campers try to go easy on me. It gets boring after a while.”]

“It really does.” Simon sighed dramatically.

Darryl's face turned complicated, "You could have told me they weren't letting you participate."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Maya told me anyway."

Luke and Simon whipped around to glare at her. "Maya!" They said in unison.

She shrugged, utterly unrepentant. "He asked."

[Maya Lin Abbott sauntered up, her ever-present dagger glinting at her belt. She snatched the remaining cloths from Simon's hands. "Stop mother-henning, Twiggy. The newbie's fine." She tossed her dark ponytail as she shoved a protein bar into his hands. "Eat.“

“This from Luke again?” He asked.

“Yep.” She said, popping the p, and patted his shoulder with her free hand. Simon groaned but took the bar and walked off as Maya tossed the last few towels around directly into everyone’s arms, shooting me a glare each time.]

Simon, without looking away, raised a hand to Luke Castellan, who immediately placed a protein bar in his palm. The motion was so automatic, so practiced, that I realized they'd done this a thousand times before.

"Still doing that?" Luke asked with a small smile.

"You started it."

"And you kept it going."

Maya snorted. "You two are disgusting. Where's my protein bar?"

Simon broke the bar in half and handed her a piece without missing a beat.

Darryl watched the exchange, his expression unreadable. But I saw his hand twitch, just slightly, as if he wanted to be the one providing that protein bar.

Ajax, beside him, noticed. He leaned in and murmured something I couldn't hear. Darryl's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

[“Okay, everybody circle up!” Luke ordered. “If Percy doesn’t mind, I want to give you a little demo.”

Great, I thought. Let’s all watch Percy get pounded.]

Clarisse snorted, “If only that had happened, I would’ve loved to see it.”

My younger twin brother flopped back against the couch. “I give up. Even Percy thought he was going to get beaten!”

Leo blinked, looking up from the mini-catapult he had somehow made whole we weren’t looking. “…Are you saying he didn’t?”

Thalia grinned. “When does logic actually apply to Percy?”

[Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. Maya was grinning with absolute delight while Simon was nibbling on his protein bar, his eyes shifting between me and Luke.

I figured they’d been in my shoes before and couldn’t wait to see how Luke used me for a punching bag. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy’s blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.]

Maya walked over and poked Connor, who still looked completely lifeless. “It was good entertainment, at least.”

Another groan.

“He broke tradition!”

”Percy breaks a lot of things.” Maya said casually, “it’s in his name. Really.”

Jason frowned. “Did he really try to teach you that in your first lesson? That’s a really difficult technique.”

Percy shrugged. “I had absolutely no idea what was even happening then. I was just gong with it.”

Grover let out a mildly amused bleat. “That’s all you ever do, man.”

Thalia agreed. “Kelp Head here, runs purely on instincts.”

Nico added his own comment. “Like the floating river.”

“Exactly.”

Percy tried to protest futilely, “There was no time. There wasn’t really another choice…”

Thalia side eyed him. “I wonder if Uncle P is gonna think of it that way.”

Percy froze. “I’m not thinking about that right now.”

Thalia cackled. “You can’t escape, Kelp Head!”

“Morai.”

“It’s gonna turn up!”

“Morai.”

“Percy-”

“MORAI!“

[Don’t yell, boy] The screen wrote, before continuing, [“This is difficult,” he stressed. “I’ve had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique.”

He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of my hand. “Now in real time,” he said, after I’d retrieved my weapon. “We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?”

I nodded, and Luke came after me. Somehow, I kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of my sword. My senses opened up. I saw his attacks coming. I countered. I stepped forward and tried a thrust of my own. Luke deflected it easily, but I saw a change in his face. His eyes narrowed, and he started to press me with more force.]

“Precisely why he shouldn’t be teaching this to a beginner.” General Isiah grumbled, “That’s practically asking for him to fail. You don’t teach something like that to a beginner.”

“Wait…” Dev turned to Percy as he squinted. “Does the water make you stronger?”

Annabeth glowered. “How is that fair?”

Percy, deciding to ignore Annabeth, turned to the cockroach Animalgam. “Not really, water just sharpens my senses. I don’t believe it affects my skills?” He turned to give his dad a questioning look.

Poseidon nodded. “Water energizes my children. However,” he furrowed his brows, “usually it works best salt water. There have been a few who feel the same effect with fresh water, but never something a simply as drinking water.”

Percy blinked. “That’s not normal?”

Poseidon gave him a flat stare. “After only a few chapters, I can safely say that nothing to do with you, my son, ever is.”

[The sword grew heavy in my hand. The balance wasn’t right. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before Luke took me down, so I figured, What the heck?

I tried the disarming maneuver.]

Jason turned to Percy. “If you get that, I will-”

“Somebody cover his mouth.” Simon said, as Reyna quickly covered up Jason's mouth, continuing, “I wouldn’t do that, Jace. It’s Percy, never bet on him unless you don’t mind losing.”

My blade hit the base of Luke’s and I twisted, putting my whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang.

Luke’s sword rattled against the stones. The tip of my blade was an inch from his undefended chest.]

Silence.

“What- but how!” The General spluttered.

The Hermes campers groaned.

“It’s out…”

“We’re never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Still can’t believe he broke tradition.”

The other campers were silent. Maya looked almost impressed with me—like I wasn't the reason she was covered in toilet water and… you know the rest. 

I lowered my sword. “Um, sorry.”]

Everyone blinked, “Why are you apologizing?” Tyche asked, slowly.

“Sorry?” Ares laughed. “Kid, that is some mad talent!”

He flushed, ignoring Ares’s comment, “Everyone was staring at me, I had thought I did something wrong.” 

Conner, Travis, and Chris snorted, “No, we were surprised. We hadn’t ever seen anyone disarm Luke. Especially someone as young as you were.” Chris told him.

“And scrawny.” Lysander added verbally.

“Hey!” Percy cried.

I watched the Animalgams. They were exchanging glances—the General with his eight kids and wife, Orion Sky with his lieutenant—Alistar Perrin, Malcolm with his brothers. They were reassessing, recalculating. This skinny, dyslexic kid had just disarmed the best swordsman in three hundred years on his first try.

Welcome to the Percy Jackson experience, I thought. Nothing makes sense, and everything is impossible until he does it.

[For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

“Sorry?” His scarred face broke into a grin. “By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!”

I didn’t want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted.]

Connor muttered. “That certainly explains why you lost the second time.”

[This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, “Beginner’s luck?”

“Definitely jealous." Maya stage-whispered to Simon, who nodded, still chewing his protein bar.

Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised me with an entirely new interest. “Maybe,” he said. “But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword….”]

Grover rolled his eyes. “A lot, that’s what.”

Percy snorted. “It’s not that bad, G-man.”

Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten me. My shirt had smoking holes in it. The hairs had been singed off my forearms.]

Percy watched as the hair on his arms collapsed, like they had fallen to enemy fire. “That is crazy accurate.” while Thalia bit her lip worriedly.

[We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, until I got up the nerve to ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D.

His face turned a sickly shade of yellow.

“Fine,” he said. “Just great.”]

“That sure sounds reassuring.” Halie Fluke muttered.

[“So your career’s still on track?”

He glanced at me nervously. “Chiron t-told you I want a searcher’s license?”

“Well…no.” I had no idea what a searcher’s license was, but it didn’t seem like the right time to ask. “He just said you had big plans, you know…and that you needed credit for completing a keeper’s assignment. So did you get it?”

Grover looked down at the naiads. “Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn’t failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he’d consider the job complete.”

My spirits lifted. “Well, that’s not so bad, right?”

“Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest… and even if you did, why would you want me along?”]

Simon sighed, “Of course he’d want you along, Grover!”

[“Of course I’d want you along!”

Grover stared glumly into the water. “Basket-weaving… Must be nice to have a useful skill.”

I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. We talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins.

“Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis,” he said. “She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn’t have one, she’d be mad.”]

“And the hunters.” Thalia piped up.

Zoë glared at Grover before huffing something that sounded suspiciously like “foolish satyr”.

[“Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?”

Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. “No. One of them, number two, is Hera’s,” he said. “That’s another honorary thing. She’s the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn’t go around having affairs with mortals. That’s her husband’s job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos.”

“Zeus, Poseidon, Hades.”]

Hades scowled.

Apollo sniggered into his hand while Hermes started cackling. Will gave both of them a stare of mild concern while the Romans looked absolutely horrified.

“You!” Octavian shouted, pointing at Grover. “You are disrespecting the gods!” He yelped as a bolt of lightning came down directly in front of him.

Thalia sat back, somehow looking both smug and serious at the same time. “Listen, augur. No one messes with Grover, no one! Or you’re going to find that we Greeks aren’t as laid back as we look.”

Octavian muttered something as he shifted back against the couch. He narrowed his eyes towards Thalia, eyes flickering nervously to her fingertips which were still sparking.

You did good. Simon mouthed.

I know. Thalia preened.

[“Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what.”

“Zeus got the sky,” I remembered. “Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But Hades doesn’t have a cabin here.”

“No. He doesn’t have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here…” Grover shuddered. “Well, it wouldn’t be pleasant. Let’s leave it at that.”]

Hades’ expression darkened even further as Persephone rested a calming hand on his shoulder.

Nico scowled angrily at the Lord of the Wild as Grover frantically waved his hands. “I don’t think that anymore! I just…” he sighed, “I suppose I listened to whatever everyone else was saying.”

”Neeks, calm—no, wait, sorry, wrong word.” Simon said carefully, “Grover didn’t mean it like that.”

Nico considered this, “apologize to my father, Grover.”

Grover nodded and turned to bow his head towards Hades. “I’m very sorry, Lord Hades.”

Hades narrowed his eyes at the satyr.

[“But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?”

Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. “About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn’t sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx.”

Thunder boomed.]

Hera sneered disdainfully at the aforementioned gods. “A rarity, I can assure you.”

“Any idea why she’s pointing this out when there are perfectly good examples in this room?”

Thalia sniggered under her breathe at her cousin’s remark whispered while Jason stared at them wide eyed, no doubt due to the respect that had been ingrained in him.

“I actually have a question.” Lysander piped up. “I’ve always wanted to ask but I didn’t exactly know who to. Does that path have some sort of duration? Or are you never allowed to have children with mortals everagain?”

Michael straightened up from where he had been sitting. “Yeah! And does that mean every child of the big three is gonna be forbidden?”

“Wouldn’t that probably mean they would all ‘suffer a fate worse than death?” Frank piped up, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, thankfully we were able to convince him for it to last until the end of the-” Poseidon’s voiced stopped. Huh… so the Great Prophecy was confidential… how annoying. “…I cannot say.”

“Wait, we?” Nixie Fluke asked, raising a brow, “all three of you?”

Calla nodded, “Wasn’t Lord Hades the one forced into the oath?”

Zeus’ eye twitched and Hades sighed. “Neither I nor Poseidon were particularly pleased by the proposal. But it was that or have our existing children be-” He blinked. “…Never mind.”

At this point, I had given up on receiving anymore answers.

“That is the most deceptive reason I have ever heard.” I heard Simon and Percy grumble.

[I said, “That’s the most serious oath you can make.”

Grover nodded.

“And the brothers kept their word—no kids?”

Grover’s face darkened. “Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn’t help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia…well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he’s immortal but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter.”

“But that isn’t fair! It wasn’t the little girl’s fault.”]

“Quite obviously not considering… y’know…” Simon gestured to the Hazel, Nico, Bianca, Jason, Thalia and Percy. “Them.”

“Oi!” Thalia elbowed Percy at the side. “I am not little!”

“You were twelve!”

“So were you!”

“…Well you’re little forever now!”

”Can we hurry up!” Maya groaned, “I do not want a repeat of the Capture the Flag incident FOUR years ago.”

”What happened four years ago?” Nolan asked.

”Thalia and Percy happened.” Maya scowled.

Nolan looked at Simon who shook his head, “don’t look at me, I got kidnapped.”

”… excuse me, waht.”

A beat.

"I said don't look at me, I was busy getting kidnapped." Simon's voice was perfectly flat, but there was a glint of something mischievous in his eyes—the same glint I'd seen whenever he was about to say something that would get him in trouble. "Again."

"Again?" Nolan's voice cracked. "How many times have you been kidnapped?"

Simon pretended to count on his fingers. "Let's see… there was the time when i was stuck interacting with mostly only Animalgams for nine months—but that’s subjective, really, since Camp thought I was kidnapped. Then the time in Colorado on the train. Then the time in California on a boat—but i was drowning. Then the time with the Black Widow Queen in Michigan at a school. Then the time with the—"

"That's—" Nolan's face was cycling through several emotions at once: shock, disbelief, and something that looked almost like offense. "That's my job!"

The words hung in the air for a beat.

Then Simon burst out laughing—a real laugh, the kind that crinkled his eyes and made him double over. "Your job?"

"Yes!" Nolan crossed his arms, but there was no heat in it. "I'm the one who gets kidnapped! It's what I do! You can't just—you can't just steal my thing!"

"Your thing is getting kidnapped?"

"It's a skill!"

Around them, the Animalgams were staring. I saw General Fluke's eye twitch. Marina Fluke had her hand pressed to her mouth, but her shoulders were shaking. Even Orion Sky looked like he'd been hit with something he couldn't quite process.

Then Nolan's face shifted. The indignation faded into something quieter. "But… that gives us something in common, no?"

The laughter died in Simon's throat. He stared at his twin—really stared—and something passed between them. Something I couldn't name.

"Yeah," Simon said softly. "I guess it does."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Nolan reached out and knocked his fist against Simon's shoulder. "Next time," he said, "I get kidnapped. You stay safe."

"You can't just call dibs on getting kidnapped."

"Watch me."

Across the room, I saw the Heroes of Old watching the exchange with expressions ranging from amusement to something more complicated. Odysseus was smiling—a real smile, not the sharp one he wore when he was calculating. "The family resemblance," he murmured to Perseus, "is stronger than I thought."

Perseus nodded slowly. "The older one—Simon—he's the shield. The younger… he's learning to be one too."

Achilles tilted his head. "They've both been taken. They've both survived. That's not nothing."

Patroclus, beside him, added quietly, "Shared scars make strange bonds."

"Your job is getting kidnapped," Simon repeated, and there was wonder in his voice now. "You really think that's your thing? That's what you want to be known for?"

Nolan's chin lifted, his jaw set in a way that was so familiar it made my chest ache. "It's our thing," he said. "Apparently. If you'll let me have it. If you'll let me share it."

Simon's smile was small, but it was real. "I can share. I've had enough kidnappings for one lifetime. You can have the next one."

"You better. I'm very good at it. I'll show you how it's done."

Maya threw her arms around both of them, nearly knocking them off the couch. "This is disgustingly wholesome. I hate it. Never stop. I want to see this energy forever."

"Get off—"

"You're crushing my—"

"I'm expressing love! This is how I show affection! Deal with it!"

Darryl sighed heavily, the sound of a man who had been dealing with this particular brand of chaos for decades. "Alexander, take a picture. I want to remember this. I want to frame it."

Ajax was already pulling out his phone, his grin wide. "On it. I'm going to print it. I'm going to put it on the fridge. I'm going to show it to everyone who visits."

Across the room, I saw Isabel Thorn watching her sons. Her face was pale, her hands folded tight in her lap. Beside her, Luke Thorn had gone very still, his eyes fixed on Simon and Nolan with an expression I couldn't read—longing, maybe. Or grief.

And Malcolm Thorn—the warrior uncle who must’ve spent the whole chapter cataloguing threats and weaknesses—was watching his nephews with something that looked like wonder.

He didn't know, I realized. None of them knew. Not about Simon’s kidnappings, not about Simon’s concussions, not about any of it.

Simon built his life in the spaces they left empty. And Nolan—Nolan is just now finding out there was more than enough room for him all along.

[Grover hesitated. “Percy, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn’t too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she’d befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill.”

He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where I’d fought the Minotaur. “All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn’t want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That’s why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill.”]

Thalia shivered and Jason stared at her. “You died…”

She winced. “Yeah, I did. Don’t do that, it’s painful. Highly unrecommended.”

“You died and you’re making jokes about it…”

Thalia sighed as she wrapped an arm around her brother. “It’s fine, Jace. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Jason stayed frozen, staring at his lap. “…I know, I just can’t believe how close I was to not meeting you.”

Octavian decided that this was the perfect moment to pipe up. “As touching as this moment is,” he drawled, “are we not going to question how she is here now?”

Jason looked like he had just been rebooted. “…How are you here?”

Thalia held a finger to her lips as her eyes sparkled mischievously.

Percy grinned from beside her. “Spoilers! We wait for… seven stories!” 

Octavian looked like he had eaten a lemon.

[I stared at the pine in the distance.

The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. Next to that, my victory over the Minotaur didn’t seem like much. I wondered, if I’d acted differently, could I have saved my mother?]

Thalia immediately turned to Percy. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for anything!”

Percy huffed. “It’s fine, Pinecone Face. Everything turned out alright anyways.”

The Lieutenant of Artemis squinted at him suspiciously before conceding with a nod. Annabeth rolled her eyes from where she had been forgotten, but no one bothered to pay attention.

[“Grover,” I said, “have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini.”

“And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?”

“Dead?”

“No. Never. Orpheus came close….Percy, you’re not seriously thinking—”]

Hades groaned, the sound echoing through the throne room. "Why?! Why must mortals always travel into my domain?! Why is it always 'let's go to the Underworld' and never 'let's send Hades a nice fruit basket'?!"

Percy snickered slightly while Simon bit his lip, but his cheeks were puffed up in a way that people knew he was hiding a laugh. "Apologies, Uncle. The Underworld is simply a lovely place to visit. The architecture is very… permanent."

The god of the dead stared at his nephew with disbelief. "Lovely? Lovely?! The Underworld isn't meant to be lovely! It's meant to be terrifying! It's meant to make people want to stay alive!"

Bianca and Nico snorted from their place beside their father, their shoulders shaking.

“No,” I lied. “I was just wondering. So…a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?”

Grover studied me warily. I hadn’t persuaded him that I’d really dropped the Underworld idea. “Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems.”

“And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special.”]

Hades groaned and he only appeared even more forlorn after Poseidon sent him a sneaky grin that was visible from across the room.

Connor snorted. "Great subject change, Perce! Very subtle! No one noticed at all!"

His brother piped in. "Not suspicious in the slightest! Just a casual conversation about the Underworld and then immediately changing the topic!"

"Only mildly concerning!" Maya continued with a grin, joining in the teasing. "The son of the sea god, casually asking about traveling to the land of the dead. Very normal. Very demigod behavior."

Percy pouted as he tried to come up with a comeback. Looked like he couldn't think of one.

Grover laughed, the sound surprising everyone. "You really didn't. You were just curious. I just didn't think you would actually hang onto that idea. I thought you'd forget about it. Like you forgot where you put your shoes. Like you forgot about the orientation film."

Percy grinned. "What can I say, G-Man? I'm incredibly stubborn! I remember things that matter!"

Simon snorted. "I think most of us are, Percy. That's not a unique trait. That's just being us."

Grover groaned at the last part. "I was really hoping you weren't a child of the Big Three. I didn't want another Thalia. I didn't want another tragedy. Oh, er… no offense…"

"None taken, Goat Boy." Thalia said, but she was smiling.

Grover looked as if I’d just led him into a trap. “I didn’t… Oh, listen, don’t think like that. If you were—you know—you’d never ever be allowed a quest, and I’d never get my license. You’re probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don’t worry, okay?”]

“Goddess.” Ethan scowled, “My mother is a goddess.”

Simon whistled, “Even in women's fields, a man takes the credit.”

Allison—when did she get here?—blinked, “was–was that a meta joke?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged. “But, hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.”

Grover groaned. “Nemesis is a goddess! Maybe that’s why we had such back luck!”

Thalia snickered. “I still think any back luck is just Percy.”

“Hey!”

[I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than me.

That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual. 

Simon sat between me and Luke with Maya in front of us, his head on our counselor’s shoulder as we waited. Luke had his arm wrapped around Simon's shoulder, playing with the younger’s mussed hair, whispering in his ear making Simon laugh every once in a while.]

“I was.” Grover deadpanned.

“Touch my hair and I’ll sock you.” Simon said to Luke, without looking at him, as Luke reached to touch his hair.

“Sorry.” Luke said weakly as Maya elbowed him in the stomach, making hum double over.

But it was Darryl who laughed. A quiet, rumbling sound. "He gets that from me," he said, and Ajax snorted.

"You wish. He gets it from me. I'm the one who taught him self-defense."

"You taught him to fight. I taught him to threaten."

They were joking. Bickering. The way people do when they've raised kids together, when they know each other's rhythms so well they don't have to think about it.

[At last, it was time for capture the flag.

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we all stood at our tables.

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar’s head.

I turned to Luke—past Simon, who was bending over the table to talk with Maya, who had her hair up into a tight bun—and yelled over the noise, “Those are the flags?”

“Yeah.”

“Ares and Athena always lead the teams?”

“Not always,” he said. “But often.”]

Percy lifted a finger to his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Since the Big Three cabins are so small, should we just team together? For capture the flag? Combine forces?"

"I think that would be less of a game and more of a thrashing!" Thalia chortled, her eyes bright.

Nico smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Our win would be guaranteed. Three cabins, three Big Three kids. Plus Simon'd be included on our side. Probably. If he wanted."

"Again," Simon said calmly, but he was smiling. "I'm not claimed. I'm not anyone's. I'm just—"

"But you're special, Simmy." Thalia's voice was gentle. "You've always been special."

The Greek mini-three cackled together as Simon, Hazel, and Jason watched with bemusement and mild concern.

I stared at them in horror. "Oh no, what disaster have we just witnessed! What have we unleashed!"

"Shut up, Prissy! I'll still crush you!" Maya and Clarisse bellowed in unison, their voices perfectly matched despite the distance between them.

“So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do—repaint the flag?”

He grinned. “You’ll see. First we have to get one.”

“Whose side are we on?”

He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn’t. The scar on his face made him look almost evil in the torchlight. “We’ve made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help.”

The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins.

Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what I’d seen, Dionysus’s kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter’s kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren’t very aggressive. Aphrodite’s sons and daughters I wasn’t too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus’s kids weren’t pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares’s cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.]

Percy shuddered, the movement visible from across the room. "If only I actually listened to my instincts," he muttered. "If only I'd thought about it for more than two seconds. If only—"

The older campers blinked at the screen, then Maya turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Those are a lot of stereotypes, no? Aphrodite kids only care about looks? Hephaestus kids aren't pretty? Ares kids are ugly?"

"I know, I know… I just…" Percy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay? I was twelve. I was scared. I didn't know any of you. I'd been here for three days. I'm sorry."

The older campers looked at each other and considered this. Then Chris snorted, nodding. "You clearly haven't seen Katie go after Travis yet. She's terrifying. She once turned him into a flower bed for a week."

Percy rolled his eyes bashfully. "Obviously. I know now. I've seen you all fight. I know what you can do."

The love goddess glanced at him and Percy flushed. "It's not that I think they're weak. It's just that I haven't seen them do much else. At that point. When I was twelve. When I didn't know anything."

Aphrodite laughed, the sound like wind chimes. "Don't worry, I know my own children quite well. They know when to fight and when to make themselves look like they're not a threat."

Silena added her own thoughts, her voice soft. "We still train plenty. We just aren't as bothered when we're just playing a game. When it matters, we're there."

Percy nodded. "Yeah, you all fight quite well when it's serious. Aphrodite the warlike and all that. I've seen you."

Beckendorf raised an eyebrow. "Not pretty, really? The Hephaestus kids? Not pretty?"

Percy spluttered. "W-well it's not that you weren't, it's just the comparison between the children of Aphrodite and—" Percy squinted as Beckendorf's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "…You're messing with me, aren't you? This is a bit."

Beckendorf finally lost his fight and burst out chortling, the other campers soon joining in, and even Apollo and Hermes as Dionysus watched idly from his throne, his expression bored but his eyes bright.

Percy threw himself back in his seat to pout sulkily at the rest of them. "Bullies, all of you. Every single one of you. I'm surrounded by bullies."

"Oh…" Simon gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. "You had him so well, Charlie! That was beautiful!"

Clarisse then shot him another glare when she remembered her cabin's part, her eyes promising retribution.

Percy raised his hands in surrender, his pout shifting to a grin. "Hey, I already told you I was prejudiced. I can't exactly change it now. It's in the past. It's a memory. It's—"

[Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

“Heroes!” he announced. “You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!”

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

Whoa,” I said. “We’re really supposed to use these?”

Luke looked at me as if I were crazy as Maya and Simon fought over a shield, yanking it to their side as they bickered. “Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit. You’ll be on border patrol.”]

Michael snorted. “No Percy, you’re supposed to fight with your fists.”

Pink coloured Percy's cheeks lightly. "I just didn't realize we were using real weapons! Real bronze weapons! That could actually hurt people! I thought they were props!"

Without missing a beat, the ground where the campers' feet were was covered in weapons, while our clothes transformed into armor, as if it was nothing—all the campers at Camp Half-Blood's clothes shifted, the fabric shimmering and reforming into bronze breastplates and leather greaves and helmets with horsehair plumes. Then, immediately, both Simon and Maya started fighting over a shield like on screen while Luke tried pulling them apart, visibly struggling, his face red. "Stop it, you two! This is not the time! There are gods watching!"

"Gimme!" Maya shrieked, trying to stomp on his toes, ignoring Luke completely. "I'm older! I get first pick!"

"No, you don't need it!" Simon scowled—it was hard to tell—as he kicked his foot at her breastplate, a loud claang ringing through the room. "You have a dagger! You’re scarier, i’m skinnier! I need the shield!"

Darryl sighed, got up from his seat, and picked up a spear and a dagger—the spear for Simon, dagger for Maya—sauntering over to his fighting kids. His footsteps were deliberate, unhurried. "Here," he said, pressing the spear into Simon's hands and the dagger into Maya's. "Stop kicking each other. You're both terrible at it. You have terrible form. Your balance is off. Your footwork is sloppy."

"We are not—" Maya started, indignant.

"You hit your brother with the same shield last time you fought over. You knocked him into the lake. He had to be fished out by the naiads."

"He started it!"

"I did not—" Simon protested, his voice cracking as he pressed a foot into Maya's face. "She took my—"

Darryl raised an eyebrow. They both shut up.

Ajax was watching with undisguised delight, his grin threatening to split his face. "This is why he's the favorite," he announced to no one in particular. "I could never get them to stop fighting. I tried. For years. They just kept going."

"That's because you encourage it," Darryl said flatly, not looking at him.

"I encourage healthy competition. I encourage growth. I encourage—"

"You gave them boxing gloves for Christmas that one time. Matching ones. With their names on them."

"They needed to learn! How else are they supposed to—"

Simon and Maya had stopped fighting. They were both looking at Darryl with expressions that were almost identical—half-exasperated, half-fond. A silent acknowledgment that this was their normal. Their family.

[My shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. It weighed about a million pounds. 

I could have snowboarded on it fine, but I hoped nobody seriously expected me to run fast. My helmet, like all the helmets on Athena’s side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes.

Annabeth yelled, “Blue team, forward!”

We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

I managed to catch up with Annabeth—and Simon, who had lost the shield argument with Maya as he now carried a different one and a dagger that was as big as his palm—without tripping over my equipment. “Hey.”

She kept marching.]

"Someone's talking to you, girl," Marina Fluke said, her voice carrying a note of reproach that made several of the younger demigods straighten up instinctively. There was something about the way she said it—the tone of a mother who had raised eight children and knew exactly how conversations were supposed to work.

The General's wife had her arms crossed, her dark eyes fixed on the screen with an expression that was part disapproval, part something else. Beside her, Rhode Fluke shifted uncomfortably, her military training warring with the urge to defend Annabeth.

Thalia snorted, not even trying to hide her amusement. "Good luck with that. Annabeth's been ignoring people since she was seven. It's a talent. A very specific, very annoying talent."

"She's not ignoring him," Silena said quickly, though her voice wavered. "She's just… focused. On the game. On winning. She has a plan, she always has a plan, and when Annabeth has a plan she doesn't really—she forgets that other people exist. Temporarily. Not permanently. Just—"

"Forgets that other people exist," Beckendorf repeated, his voice dry. "That's one way to put it."

"I'm not saying it's a good thing!" Silena's cheeks flushed. "I'm just saying it's not personal. With Annabeth, nothing is personal until she decides it is."

Connor leaned forward, his earlier slump forgotten. "You know, I've always wondered—does she actually not hear people, or does she just choose not to respond? Because I've seen her in the library, and someone could literally set off a fire alarm and she wouldn't look up from her book."

"It's both," Malcolm Pace said quietly, adjusting his glasses. "It's a focus thing. Children of Athena process information differently. When we're locked in, the rest of the world tends to fade out. It's not intentional. Usually."

"Usually," Chris repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What about the other times?"

Malcolm didn't answer. He didn't need to.

[Simon gently nudged her with the flat of his blade, “Someone’s talking to you, Annie.”]

“Simon-itus, folks!” Cecil announced, “take your bets on what's more contagious! Simon-itus, or Percy-itus!”

[“So what’s the plan?” I asked, hoping Simon caught her attention with his nudge. “Got any magic items you can loan me?”

Her hand drifted toward her pocket, as if she were afraid I’d stolen something.

“Just watch Clarisse’s spear,” she said. “You don’t want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don’t worry. We’ll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?”]

Chris blinked. “Is that really all you were warned about?”

[“Border patrol, whatever that means.”

“It’s easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan.”

She pushed ahead, leaving me in the dust as she and Simon marched.

“Okay,” I mumbled. “Glad you wanted me on your team.”]

“Oof.” Leo winced, “That sounded painful.”

“She didn’t mean it that way.” Silena said gently, "none of us did.”

“Alone, really?” Percy nodded.

Frank hesitantly spoke up. “Yeah, wouldn’t it be better for someone to stay with you, especially in your first game?”

Percy huffed. “You’ll see.”

Thalia frowned, considering her cousin’s words. “Athena always has a plan…” she murmured before a flash of realization crosses her eyes. “Oh, Annie, tell me you didn’t…” She glanced around at the gathered gods. Poseidon had a mild frown on his face, though she doubted it would be mild for much longer if what she hoped wouldn’t happen, did.

Percy patted her on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Thals.” He whispered. “No violence, remember?”

She shook her head, Percy’s reaction had practically confirmed her suspicions. “It shouldn’t have happened to you either.”

He just smiled softly while Simon made a face. “I’m sorry, i should’ve warned you.”

Percy shook his head, “no, it’s fine, seriously, you didn’t think it’d happen.”

“Well, yes, i did… but, i didn’t.” Simon cut himself off, “ugh, never-mind.”

“You did what you could," Darryl said quietly. "That's all anyone can ask."

[It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed me next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees.

Standing there alone, with my big blue-feathered helmet and my huge shield, I felt like an idiot. The bronze sword, like all the swords I’d tried so far, seemed balanced wrong. The leather grip pulled on my hands like a bowling ball.

There was no way anybody would actually attack me, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right?

Far away, the conch horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory.

Great, I thought. I’ll miss all the fun, as usual.

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by. I raised my shield instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me. Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating.]

Connor snorted. “You looked like an idiot.”

All he got was a glare from said ‘idiot’.

Nico rolled his eyes. “I wish.” He muttered. Though perhaps he wasn’t as quiet as he thought when some in the room turned to stare at him. He pinked slightly but didn’t show any other sign of embarrassment.

Clarisse blinked before leaning forwards. “It was already there?”

Percy simply nodded grimly.

[On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark.

“Cream the punk!” Clarisse screamed. Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet.

She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better.

They charged across the stream. There was no help in sight. I could run. Or I could defend myself against half the Ares cabin.

I managed to sidestep the first kid’s swing, but these guys were not as stupid as the Minotaur. They surrounded me, and Clarisse thrust at me with her spear. My shield deflected the point, but I felt a painful tingling all over my body. My hair stood on end. My shield arm went numb and the air burned.

Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric.

I fell back.]

Clarisse blinked before leaning forwards. “It was already there?”

Percy simply nodded grimly.

Leo paused his fiddling to stare at the screen. “You didn’t run, did you?”

Percy grimaced. “I would have tripped before going very far anyways.”

[Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt.

They could’ve kicked me into jelly, but they were too busy laughing.

“Give him a haircut,” Clarisse said. “Grab his hair.”]

Silena gasped. “Clarisse! Not his hair!”

Piper blinked at her sister, and i could tell she was wondering if she was being serious.

“Oh no,” Simon deadpanned, holding out a hand, “not the hair—Nanas’s, the photo please.”

A small photograph floated down into Simon’s hand, he smoothed out the edges and showed it to the room. Clarisse doing the same thing to him, but in her cabin and she had dull, blunt scissors instead of a real weapon, both of them were clearly fighting—she had him in a headlock and Simon’s face was bright red, both of their mouths curled into a scream.

Clarisse’s face burned, “How–?!”

“Sherman,” Simon shrugged as said camper sputtered and looked away, “gave him two months of my ice cream privileges to get this.”

”Horrible trade, should’ve haggled more.” Darryl commented. “And you’re like, really red in there—both of you are.”

”Shush. You told me to me more healthy. Here’s your healthy, Baba.”

[I managed to get to my feet. I raised my sword, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew. Now both my arms felt numb.

“Oh, wow,” Clarisse said. “I’m scared of this guy. Really scared.”

“The flag is that way,” I told her. I wanted to sound angry, but I was afraid it didn’t come out that way.

“Yeah,” one of her siblings said. “But see, we don’t care about the flag. We care about a guy who made our cabin look stupid.”

“You do that without my help,” I told them. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say.]

“She will be.” Michael muttered lowly to Will.

Meanwhile Percy was looking pretty miffed as he stared at his arms. “I can’t feel them!” He was whining to Thalia and Nico, and also Simon, who all simply snorted.

“I wonder how bad it’s going to be for our fight.” Thalia said.

Grover bleated loudly. “It most definitely wasn’t, I tell you!”

Percy sighed, “I just can’t control myself, you know what I’m like G Man.”

“Unfortunately…”

[Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise my shield, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn’t been wearing an armored breastplate, I would’ve been shish-ke-babbed. As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabin-mates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut. 

Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time.

“No maiming,” I managed to say.

“Oops,” the guy said. “Guess I lost my dessert privilege.”]

Percy watched as the cut appeared on his arm, “Simon!” He whined theatrically, “helppp!”

Simon rummaged through his pockets, before his hands found a small tin—standing up, he threw it at Percy’s head, where it bounced off and fell into Percy’s hands before sitting down, “There! You’ll be fine!”

”No, I won’t!” Percy called back, and he grabbed a few band-aid and layered them over his cut.

At the last part, Malcolm Thorn’s eyebrows rose up. “That’s the punishment for maiming?”

Eyes turned to Chiron who calmly explained. “Usually any maiming is an accident. Of course, if it were on purpose, the punishment would be much heavier.”

“Only if we can prove it.” Connor muttered angrily to his brother.

[He pushed me into the creek and I landed with a splash. They all laughed. I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die. But then something happened. The water seemed to wake up my senses, as if I’d just had a bag of my mom’s double-espresso jelly beans.

Clarisse and her cabin-mates came into the creek to get me, but I stood to meet them. I knew what to do. I swung the flat of my sword against the first guy’s head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water.]

Clarisse glared around the room, daring anyone to speak

Suddenly, the pressure within the room practically exploded. Poseidon shot up from his seat. He looked like he was seconds from physically growling. “Girl!”

Percy rushed forward and frantically clung onto his father’s hand. “Dad! I was just being sarcastic!”

“She planned to hurt you.”

“We were children!” Percy turned to his mother, stepmother and stepbrother with pleading eyes, hoping they would say something to intervene.

Amphitrite rose gracefully and laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Peace, husband. The girl seems to get along with your son now, there is no need to strike her.”

”Please, Poseidon.” Sally begged. Triton just rolled his eyes and grumbled while Ares watched the interaction with caution. Poseidon huffed before returning to his seat. His eyes remained trained on Clarisse, who appeared relatively unbothered, though most knew otherwise.

Connor groaned, attempting to alleviate the tension. “Candy…”

Simon looked at Will, who nodded and said, “Frankly, I think you’ve already had too much sugar.”

“What?! No!”

“Doctor’s orders, Connor. Including the volunteer’s.”

“Ugh.”

Percy quickly peeled off the band-aids—where Simon, Maya and at least half of the Apollo cabin screeched at him for wasting band-aids—watched as the cut on his arm started to heal..

Percy winced near the last part. “That might have been a bit too far.”

The daughter of Zeus nudged him. “Do you regret it?”

“Nah. Or I would have been beaten into a pulp.”

[Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. I slammed one in the face with my shield and used my sword to shear off the other guy’s horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn’t look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, I caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig.

“Ah!” she screamed. “You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!”

She probably would’ve said worse, but I smacked her between the eyes with my sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek.]

Clarisse shot a glare at him. No one dared to interrupt as the game continued. Reyna looked as if she were taking mental notes, so that she could add them to Camp Jupiter’s own war games.

[Then I heard yelling, elated screams, and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team’s banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys and Simon, whose entire face was hidden through his helmet—the only thing I could see were his wide blue eyes, pupils blown up—covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse.

“A trick!” she shouted. “It was a trick.”

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers.

The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody but Simon on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders while Simon yanked off his helmet, running to my side. His entire face was sweaty and pinkish but he was smiling. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over.]

Screams went off in the room as various people celebrated ‘their’ victory.

”Hey! It’s me!” Simon gasped, looking to Maya, who grinned.

[We’d won.

“Open your palm.” He said, his voice breathless.

“Why?” I asked, doing as he said almost automatically. 

Simon looked around like he was watching for wandering eyes, and placed a stone in my hand. I looked a bit closer and he’d given me a small smooth stone that almost looked blue and it had a caduceus etched on it. 

“For you.” He said, “Luke and I made a bunch, figured it’d be a nice souvenir for surviving everything that’s happened lately. Forgot about it till now.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know why but I felt my face suddenly felt warm. I closed my fingers around the smooth stone, the cool surface pressing against my palm. Simon's blue eyes were bright with excitement, his cheeks still flushed from the battle. A strand of his messy hair stuck to his forehead, and I had the sudden urge to brush it away.

"Thanks," I managed to say, my voice coming out a little too rough. I cleared my throat. "I mean—it's really cool.”
 
Simon grinned at me before Maya dragged him away, his laughter ringing over the cheers of our teammates. I clutched the smooth stone in my pocket, still warm from his grip. I was about to join the celebration when Annabeth’s voice, right next to me in the creek, said, “Not bad, hero.”

I looked, but she wasn’t there.]

Poseidon clenched his jaw tight some sailors within the sea might have even heard the creaking of the seabed, and sea creatures fled to open waters. The other mortals watched him warily, worried about experiencing the famous wrath of the legends.

Percy, however, only scanned for the reactions of the gods (like i was). Some gods, like Apollo and Hermes, looked grim, though not surprised. Athena looked both smug and worried in the face of her uncle’s rage. Annabeth watched the god of the seas from the corner of her eye. I could tell she didn’t regret her strategy, after all, that was what allowed them to win. But that didn’t mean she planted for Percy—and Simon—to get seriously hurt, right?

The Heroes of Old watched with expressions ranging from concern to cold assessment. Perseus, the original, leaned forward with interest. "He fought well for an untrained child," he murmured to Theseus, who nodded slowly.

Heracles grunted. "The water helped. But the instinct—that's harder to teach."

Odysseus, ever the strategist, was watching Annabeth. "A calculated risk," he said quietly. "The boy was bait. Effective, but dangerous."

Achilles' eyes were fixed on Simon, who was now watching the screen with a haunted expression. "The shifter boy," he said. "He threw himself between the monster and the other. That's not strategy. That's heart."

Patroclus, beside him, nodded silently.

A quiet rustling, hands reaching into pockets, pulling out small objects caught my attention. Calla was the first. She dug into the pocket of her jeans and produced a small stone, smooth and dark, with a laurel etched into its surface. The lines were clean, precise—newer. "Still got mine," he said, holding it up.

Lysander was next, his stone tumbling out of his jacket pocket. "Same." His was rougher, the lines slightly more worn, the edges softened by years of handling.

Then Chris. Then Connor and me. Then Cecil. One by one, the older campers—the ones who'd been there when Simon first came to camp—pulled out small, smooth river stones. Each one unique. Each one etched with a symbol that represented us and our cabin: a caduceus, a dove, a sunburst, a hammer, a spear, a owl and so many more. Some were worn smooth with age, the lines faded. Others were sharper, cleaner—gifts given in later years.

Simon's face had gone very red. "You guys—you kept those?"

"You gave us a rock," Jake said, deadpan. "We're not throwing away a rock you gave us."

"It was a special rock."

"It was a rock, Simon."

Connor held his up to the light—a frowning theater mask with coins and a lock. "A rock you spent hours finding, smoothing, and etching by hand. With tools Luke and Maya and us helped you steal—I mean, acquire—from the arts and crafts cabin."

"Allegedly acquire," Luke Castellan muttered, but he was smiling. A real smile, not the bitter one he'd worn all evening. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a stone—older than the others, the caduceus on it worn almost smooth from handling. "I've still got mine too, Birdie."

Simon's blush deepened. "You were supposed to keep them somewhere, not carry them around for—how many years has it been?"

"Seven," Annabeth said quietly. She held up her own stone—an owl, the lines sharp and precise, newer than some but not as new as others. "You gave me mine after my first year as counselor. Said I needed something to remind me that not everything was a battle."

"D'you still have yours, Charlie?" Silena asked, leaning into Beckendorf's side.

Beckendorf grinned and pulled a chain from under his shirt. On it hung a stone—a hammer over a fire, the lines deep and worn, wrapped in leather cord to keep it from breaking. "Never took it off."

A ripple went through the campers as more stones appeared. Michael's with a sunburst. Lee's with a lyre. Harley’s with motorcycle and a wrench. Castor and Pollux with matching grape clusters. Katie’s with a sheaf of wheat. Malcolm—Malcolm Pace—‘s with an owl that mirrored Annabeth's but older, the lines softer. Clarisse's with a spear.

The newer campers—the ones who'd come after Simon had already been visiting for years—held up their stones too. But theirs were different. The lines were cleaner, more precise. The symbols more detailed. Simon had gotten better over time, had learned to control his hands, to make the etchings deeper and more even.

But the older stones—the ones given to the veterans, the ones who'd known him when he was nine and scared and barely able to hold a etching tool steady—those were rougher. The lines wobbled in places. Some symbols were slightly off-center. A few looked like they'd been started over more than once.

They were perfect.

"Wait." I turned to Percy. "You still have yours?"

Percy's hand went to his pocket. For a moment, he looked almost shy. Then he pulled out a small stone—smooth, river-worn, with a faint blue tint. But the etching on it wasn't a caduceus anymore.

It was a trident.

And underneath it, faint but visible, the lines of a caduceus had been carefully, deliberately crossed out.

Percy held it up. "He changed it," he said simply. "After everything. After I got claimed. He said I deserved a symbol that was mine."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with something I couldn't name.

Then Maya snorted, pulling out hers—a lynx cat with a dagger in its mouth and a laurel beside it. "You're all disgusting. Sentimental idiots, the lot of you."

[“Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?” she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she’d just taken it off her head.

I felt myself getting angry. I wasn’t even fazed by the fact that she’d just been invisible. “You set me up,” I said. “You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out.”

Annabeth shrugged. “I told you. Athena always, always has a plan.”

“A plan to get me pulverized.”

“I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but…” She shrugged. “You didn’t need help.” Then she noticed my wounded arm.

“How did you do that?”

“Sword cut,” I said. “What do you think?

“No. It was a sword cut. Look at it.”]

Percy hummed. “If I wasn’t a son of Poseidon, I probably would have been pulverized.”

Leo piped up. “But if you weren’t a son of Poseidon, you wouldn’t have exploded the toilets in the first place.”

Maya and Simon also started to add to the conversation. “But then he probably would have never come to camp.”

“No, he would have come earlier! Auntie wouldn’t have thought he would have to stay away forever, so he would have been sent there sooner.”

[The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared.]

Percy grumbled. “About time. It was taking ages.”

Thalia stared at his now wound free arm in contemplation. “How come you, and technically also, Simon—but it’s a very far stretch when it’s only Camp water that can heal him—, heal when you’re in Uncle’s domain, but I don’t.”

Percy snorted. “What? You want to try flying?”

Thalia paled slightly, but continued. “But why doesn’t Nico heal in the Underworld.”

Nico blink at them, unused to being addressed.

Percy deadpanned back at the daughter of the sky. “Healing in the Underworld? Are you hearing yourself.”

And so, the conversation ended.

[“I—I don’t get it,” I said.

Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at my feet, then at Clarisse’s broken spear, and said, “Step out of the water, Percy.”

“What—”

“Just do it.”

I came out of the creek and immediately felt bone tired. My arms started to go numb again. My adrenaline rush left me. I almost fell over, but Annabeth steadied me.

“Oh, Styx,” she cursed. “This is not good. I didn’t want…I assumed it would be Zeus….”

Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest.

The campers’ cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: “Stand ready! My bow!”

Annabeth drew her sword.

There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

It was looking straight at me.]

Percy sagged in his seat. "This really is getting annoying. The foreshadowing. The waiting. The—"

Thalia wrinkled her nose as she glanced at her cousin of a brother. "Yeah… that is definitely a valid possibility. Someone in camp. Someone who wanted to—"

Zeus, who had been sitting quietly for the past few minutes, stiffened. When he glanced at the queen of Olympus, her thunderous expression made him keep whatever question to himself.

Those who had been at Camp Half-Blood at the time went silent. Whispered conversations paused and nervous glances started between the book and the king of the seas.

Percy huffed and crossed his arms. To the others who turned to look at him, he almost looked like he was pouting. "I miss Mrs. O'Leary. She was a good dog. The best dog. She never tried to kill me."

Most of the Greek demigods nodded understandably while the gods and Animalgams were a little more confused. Who now?

"Oh man," Simon sighed. "I miss her too, actually. She was sweet. In her own way."

"I like Tsar and Kaiser better," Maya commented, not looking up from where she was inspecting her nails. "Less monstrous. More cuddly."

"Yeah. I like them too, but try telling that to Felix! Wait, where is Felix?" Simon asked, looking around, his head swiveling.

"Maybe he'll come when he's mentioned? Like how Dad and the Jackson-Blofises did? Like a summoning spell?"

Across the room, I saw Darryl's hand tighten on the arm of his chair. His eyes were fixed on Simon with an intensity that made my chest ache. Like he was trying to memorize him. Like he was trying to make up for lost time.

[Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, “Percy, run!”

She tried to step in front of me, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her—a monstrous shadow with teeth-and slammed into me, claws shredding through my armor like tissue paper. I stumbled back, bracing for the killing blow—

Then Simon's growled.

Not in a human way, more like… a rapid animal, baring its teeth to prey.

He shoved me aside, planting himself between me and the hellhound. The beast froze, massive head tilting as if confused by the snarl. Simon didn't flinch, but he did looked nervous, continuing to growl and snarl and bark—all in perfect dog sounds. Like he could mimic it down to the dot, as he snapped it.

The hellhound obeyed, its haunches thudding to the ground hard enough to tremor the earth. But Simon—always a little clumsy and with one foot in mid air—lost his footing on the uneven ground. He hit the dirt face-first with a sickening crack against a jagged rock, skidding across stone and sand.

The hellhound leaned down, drool spattering Simon's motionless form as it sniffed him. I saw its nostrils flare—curious, not yet aggressive—when the arrows came.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.]

The room went absolutely silent.

And then Simon—the present Simon, the one sitting between Maya and Luke like this was just another story—crumpled in on himself.

It happened fast. One moment he was sitting up, watching the screen with that familiar tired expression. The next, his hands flew to his head and he doubled over with a sharp, choked gasp that cut through the quiet like a blade.

"Simon!" Maya's voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and panicked.

Blood was seeping through his fingers. Not the slow trickle of a paper cut—a proper head wound, the kind that bleeds and bleeds and makes everyone in the room go cold. It was dark, almost black in the low light, running down his wrists, dripping onto his shirt, pooling in his lap.

Maya was already moving, her hands replacing his, pressing hard against the gash that had opened on his temple. Her palms were red in seconds. "Hey—hey, look at me—eyes open, idiot—"

Across the room, the Animalgams were frozen. I saw their faces—shock, confusion, horror, disbelief. They didn't understand. They couldn't. Magic that made wounds appear from the past, from memories, from things that had already happened—this was beyond anything their world had prepared them for.

General Fluke was on his feet, his hand on his sword, his face carved from stone. His wife Marina had her hand pressed to her mouth, her other arm wrapped around her youngest daughter. The Fluke sisters were clustered together, Rhode's face white, Coralia's eyes wide, the younger ones crying silently.

Wilhelmina Webster, the Black Widow Queen, had gone very still. Her daughter Ariana was clutching her arm, and I could see her fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Robert Rivera's usual sneer had vanished entirely, replaced by something that might have been fear.

Orion Sky was staring at the screen with something that might have been shock—or might have been something far more complicated. Across from him, Celeste's face was unreadable, but her hands were clasped so tight her knuckles were white.

Isabel Thorn made a sound like something breaking. She was on her feet, but she didn't move forward. Didn't know how. Luke Thorn—Simon's father, the one who'd died—had his hand pressed to his mouth, his face ashen, his other hand reaching toward the screen like he could reach through time. Zia Stone and Leo Thorn just stared, jaws open and faces pale.

Nolan looked like he'd been punched, his face white, his hands clenched at his sides. "What—what's happening to him—why is he bleeding—"

"The memory," Percy said. His voice was tight, controlled. "What happens in the memory happens to him. We told you. We said there would be injuries. We said—"

"You said just an injury!" Malcolm Thorn was on his feet now, his voice rising above the chaos. His hands were clenched, his whole body rigid with the effort of not moving. "This is not—this is not 'just an injury'! This is—" He stopped. Swallowed. I saw his hands clench and unclench at his sides, a warrior's instinct to do something warring with the helplessness of the moment. His face was pale, his eyes wide.

And Darryl—

Darryl's face was stone, but his hands were shaking. Not from fear, I realized. From rage. Controlled, barely-leashed rage that was taking everything he had not to unleash. The only thing keeping him back, was Ajax.

Luke Castellan looked like he'd been punched. His hands were clenched at his sides, and I could see him mouthing something—not again, not again, not again—over and over.

The Animalgams watched. The Fluke family, the Websters, the Thorn pack—all of them frozen, their faces a mixture of shock and something that looked almost like fear. They could turn into animals. They could fight and hunt and survive in the wild. But this—magic that reached through time and reopened old wounds, that made the past as real as the present, that made a boy bleed on a floor for something that had happened seven years ago—this was beyond their understanding.

General Isiah Fluke, who had commanded armies and fought in wars, looked utterly lost. "How," he started, then stopped. Started again. "How is this possible? How is he bleeding? How is he—"

"The Fates," Annabeth said quietly. Her face was pale, her voice barely a whisper. "What happens in the memory happens here too. We're reliving it. All of it. The good and the bad and the—"

"That's barbaric," Marina Fluke breathed, her hand pressed to her mouth. "That's—"

Nobody disagreed.

Leo Thorn's face had drained of all color. "He—he commanded a hellhound? A creature from Tartarus?"

"With a growl," Zia Stone whispered. "He just… told it to sit. Like a dog."

"He can command monsters," Robert Rivera said slowly, his snake-like eyes fixed on the screen. "With a growl. A single growl, and a hellhound from Tartarus sat like a trained dog."

"It was just a concussion," Percy said quietly. "The bleeding was superficial. Head wounds just look worse than they are."

"Superficial." Malcolm Thorn's voice was ice. "He was unconscious. On the ground. With a hellhound sniffing him."

"The hellhound wasn't going to hurt him," Annabeth said, her voice small. "We didn't know it at the time, but later… Simon could always talk to animals. Monsters too, sometimes. We didn't know the limits of it then."

"You didn't know," Isabel Thorn repeated. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, "You let him go into a battle against monsters without knowing what he could do?"

"He wasn't supposed to be fighting!" Annabeth's voice cracked. "He was supposed to be running support! He was supposed to—he wasn't supposed to jump in front of Percy!"

"He did," Malcolm said quietly. "He did what none of you did. He put himself between a monster and a friend."

The silence that followed was deafening.

[There was a cascade of them, the sound like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hound’s neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead an inch where Simon had fallen.

By some miracle, I was still alive. I didn’t want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor. My chest felt warm and wet, and I knew I was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would’ve turned me into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat.

Simon groaned, lifting his head weakly. Blood streamed from a nasty gash on his temple, matting his hair. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. He looked utterly disorientated, like he couldn't place where he was.

Maya scurried to his side, her hands fluttering near the bloody gash but afraid to touch it. ‘Look at me. Hey—eyes open, idiot!” she demanded, her voice thick with panic. She gently cupped his cheek, trying to keep his lolling head still. Her perfect bun had come undone, dark hair sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks.

Simon’s eyes were foggy, unfocused, rolling back slightly as he tried to focus on Maya, blood dripping over his brow. “Mynx—“

“Shut it.” She spat, brushing his hair back, “don’t talk.”]

Ajax's grip on Darryl's arm tightened. "That's our girl," he said, and his voice cracked on the last word. "That's our girl, protecting her brother."

Darryl didn't answer. He was watching the screen with the intensity of a man watching a battle he couldn't reach.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from the Animalgam section, who all sat down from shock. The Fluke daughters were staring at the screen with wide eyes, and even General Fluke looked shaken. Orion Sky's perpetual sneer had vanished, replaced by something that might have been shock—or guilt.

Darryl didn't say anything. He just held on.

Ajax's hand came up to cover Simon's, warm and solid. "We've got you," he said quietly. "Right here. We've got you."

Simon nodded, a tiny movement. His eyes were closed now.

Nolan Thorn had gone very quiet beside his twin. I saw him looking at Simon—the present Simon, the one sitting between Maya and Luke Castellan like this was just another story—with something that looked like dawning horror.

"You did that," Nolan said. "You stood in front of a hellhound. For him." He jerked his chin at Percy. "For someone you barely knew."

Simon shrugged, but it was a careful, controlled movement, like he was aware of how many eyes were on him. "He was in trouble."

"He was bait," Maya corrected, and there was no kindness in her voice now. "Annabeth's plan, Athena's strategy. Percy was bait. And Simon—" She stopped, her jaw working.

"Simon did what he always does," Luke Castellan said quietly. "He saw someone who needed help and he helped. Without thinking about himself."

"Stupid," Maya muttered, but she was crying now, silent tears tracking down her face. "Stupid and brave and I'm going to kill you when we get out of here."

Simon smiled at her, small and tired. "Love you too, Mynx."

Nolan was watching them—all of them. Darryl, holding his twin. Ajax, covering his hand. Maya, pressed against his side like she could shield him from the memory. Luke Castellan, hovering just behind, ready to catch him if he fell.

That's his family, I thought again. That's who he chose.

And for the first time, I wondered if Nolan understood.

[Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

“Di immortales!” Annabeth said. “That’s a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don’t…they’re not supposed to…”

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron said. “Someone inside the camp.”

Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone—his eyes widening at Simon’s limp frame as he hurried over, fear turning his face ashen as he saw the blood and Simon's glazed eyes.

He crouched, his movements suddenly careful. 'Easy, Simon, easy...' Luke murmured, his voice trembling. He carefully slid one arm under Simon's shoulders and the other under his knees, mindful of his neck. Maya helped support Simon's head as Luke lifted him, pressing his own face briefly into Simon's blood-matted hair, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, mumbling something under his breath.

Clarisse yelled, her voice rough with emotion, “It’s all Percy’s fault! Percy summoned it! It’s his fault Simon had to intervene with his freaky animal-whispering—whatever the Hades it’s called—and get hurt!”

“Be quiet, child,” Chiron told her, turning to Simon, “it seems Simon’s gift extends to all creatures of instinct-beasts, monsters, even those twisted by divine rage, it seems.”

We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared before eyes flew to a bleeding and dazed Simon between a glaring Maya and a worried Luke.]

Zeus's voice cut through the murmuring that had started. "A hellhound," he said slowly, "in the camp. Under the protection of my daughter's tree." His eyes narrowed. "This is a grave matter."

"Someone summoned it," Hades said quietly. His voice was calm, but there was something dangerous underneath. "Someone with access to the darkest parts of my domain. This is not a small thing, brother. This is an act of war against the neutrality of the camp."

Ares leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. "Who could summon a hellhound? That's not exactly beginner magic."

"The question," Athena said, her grey eyes sharp, "is not who could. It's who would benefit from the boy's death."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, very quietly, Simon spoke. "It was just instinct. I didn't think."

Malcolm Thorn's voice was rough. "That's what makes it real."

Simon looked at his uncle—really looked—and something passed between them. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition. The kind that comes from people who've both put themselves between danger and someone they love.

But it was Darryl who answered. "You did what you had to do," he said, and his voice was steady. "You protected someone who needed protecting. That's never wrong."

Simon's grip on his arm tightened. "Bab—"

"I know," Darryl said. "I know."

[“You’re wounded,” Annabeth told me. “Quick, Percy, get in the water.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” she said. “Chiron, watch this.”

I was too tired to argue. I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me.

Instantly, I felt better. I could feel the cuts on my chest closing up. Some of the campers gasped.

“Look, I—I don’t know why,” I said, trying to apologize. “I’m sorry….”

But they weren’t watching my wounds heal. They were staring at something above my head.

“Percy,” Annabeth said, pointing. “Um…”

By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

“Your father,” Annabeth murmured. “This is really not good.”

“It is determined,” Chiron announced.]

The trident blazed above the screen, green light washing over the throne room. I felt it, even here—the weight of that moment, the world shifting.

Poseidon sat very still, his face unreadable. But his hand had found Sally's, and she was holding on tight—her other hand holding onto Paul’s, who squeezed her hand comfortingly.

Percy stared at the symbol with an expression I couldn't read. "There it is," he said quietly.

Poseidon rose from his throne. The sea in the murals behind him churned, waves crashing against unseen shores. "My son," he said, and his voice was not the rumble of a god but the roar of the ocean itself. "My son."

He didn't move toward Percy. He didn't need to. The connection between them was visible, tangible—a thread of power that had finally been acknowledged, claimed, seen.

[All around me, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn’t look happy about it. Luke awkwardly bowed with Simon in his arms—his eyes watering as Simon laid motionless. Maya glared at me with wet eyes before she fell to her knees, biting down her curses to me.

“My father?” I asked, completely bewildered, staring at Simon, Luke and Maya.

“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Storm-bringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

Luke bowed his head lower, his tears now falling freely onto Simon's still face. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry… not again, Birdie.”

Maya's jaw clenched as she traced the camp bead on Simon's necklace-the one with the tiny wave pattern. Her lips moved soundlessly: And what about him?]

For a long moment, no one moved. Then the throne room erupted.

The gods were arguing—Poseidon and Zeus locked in some silent battle of wills, Athena defending her daughter's strategy, Ares actually defending Percy's fighting instincts. The Romans were conferring in hushed voices, Reyna's hand on Jason's arm, Frank looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

The Heroes of Old were watching the younger generation with expressions I couldn't read—respect, maybe, or recognition.

And the Animalgams—

The Animalgams were looking at Simon. At the boy who had faced down a hellhound with nothing but a snarl and a prayer. Who had thrown himself between a monster and a stranger. Who had gotten a concussion for his trouble and never once complained.

Nolan was crying silently, tears tracking down his face. Isabel looked like she'd been slapped. Luke Thorn—Simon's father, the one who'd died—had his hand pressed to his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

And Malcolm Thorn, the warrior who had watched his nephew bleed, simply sat back in his seat and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, they were clear. Focused. He looked at Simon, and for the first time, I saw something other than distance in his gaze.

I see you, that look said. I see what you did. I see what you are.

But Simon wasn't looking at Malcolm. He was looking at Darryl.

And Darryl was looking back.

I saw Darryl move then. He crossed the space between his seat and Simon in three long strides, and before anyone could say anything, he pulled Simon into his arms.

Simon went stiff for a moment, then relaxed into the embrace. "Baba," he said, his voice muffled against Darryl's shoulder. "I'm okay."

"You almost died," Darryl said. His voice was rough, scraped raw. "You almost died."

"I didn't. I'm here."

Darryl didn't let go. His arms were wrapped around Simon like he was trying to keep him from disappearing, and Simon—Simon just let him. Let himself be held.

I looked away, feeling like I was intruding on something private. Across the room, I saw Malcolm Thorn watching the embrace with an expression I couldn't name. Nolan looked like he wanted to be part of it but didn't know how. Isabel's face was pale, her hands folded in her lap.

Chapter Text

Lysander Mirr's POV

[I Am Offered A Quest]

"Already?" Theseus asked curiously, leaning forward in his seat among the Heroes of Old.

"Yep." Percy sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of memory.

The screen flickered to life, and I felt Calla shift beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine in that familiar way she had when she was bracing for something unpleasant.

She's thinking about Simon, I realized. About that summer. About how close she came to losing him.

I didn't blame her. I thought about it too, sometimes. The way Simon had looked in the infirmary—pale as death, the golden-black veins still faintly visible under his skin even after the seawater treatment. The way Maya had sat vigil at his bedside, refusing to leave even when Luke threatened to carry her out.

She'd been terrifying. More terrifying than I'd ever seen her.

I reached over and rested my hand on her knee—a silent I'm here. She didn't acknowledge it, but she didn't shake me off either.

[The next morning, Chiron moved me to cabin three.

I didn't have to share with anybody. I had plenty of room for all my stuff: the Minotaur's horn, one set of spare clothes, and a toiletry bag. I got to sit at my own dinner table, pick all my own activities, call "lights out" whenever I felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.

And I was absolutely miserable.]

The demigods cringed, a collective wince that rippled through their section like a wave. "We really do apologize for that, Perce," Katie muttered, guilt written across her features.

Percy shrugged, the movement easy, practiced. "Long time ago. Doesn't matter much anymore." He smiled at them—a real smile, not the tight, strained ones he'd been wearing earlier. But I'd seen enough soldiers to know when someone was lying about old wounds.

He's still not over it, I thought. He's just learned to carry it.

Lady Rhodes—Lord Poseidon and Lady Amphitrite’s godly daughter, not Rhode Fluke; which was a mistake I often made despite what i knew—raised an eyebrow, her expression sharp and assessing. "What did you insolent demigods do?" she asked, her voice bored but with a slight edge of curiosity.

No one answered her directly. The silence was answer enough.

[Just when I'd started to feel accepted, to feel I had a home in cabin eleven and I might be a normal kid—or as normal as you can be when you're a half-blood—I'd been separated out as if I had some rare disease.

Nobody mentioned the hellhound or that Simon got hurt trying to save me, but I got the feeling they were all talking about it behind my back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that I was the son of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill me. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.]

"You shunned him?" Luke Thorn raised a disappointed brow, his voice cutting through the murmurs. The dead man's face was pale, but his eyes burned with a father's fury—directed not at Percy, but at the campers who'd made his son's friend feel like an outcast. "I know he got my son injured, but that doesn't give an excuse to shun him."

Guilt rippled through the demigod section. Heads bowed. Shoulders hunched. Even Clarisse, usually so defiant, looked away.

We know, I realized. We've always known. And we've been carrying this guilt for years.

Percy shrugged again, that same easy motion that was starting to look more like armor than indifference. "Honestly, it doesn't bother me as much as it did back then." He smiled at us—at me, I realized, including me in his audience. I gave him a tight, strained smile in return. It was all I could manage.

Amphitrite raised an eyebrow, her regal face etched with disapproval. "It should, boy. Many things could have gone wrong."

Percy shrugged—a third time, which meant he was either genuinely unconcerned or very good at pretending. Amphitrite huffed and gave her husband an annoyed look. Poseidon, to his credit, looked troubled.

"I wonder if that would have happened to me?" Thalia asked, her voice thoughtful.

"Probably," Will said. "Especially as you were the first child of the broken oath." Thalia sighed, something dark flickering across her face.

She looked at Percy and shook her head. "No offense, Percy, but I'm really glad I didn't have to go through that."

Percy rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue like a child, breaking the tension just enough to let everyone breathe.

He's good at that, I noted. Defusing. Redirecting. Making himself the target so others don't have to be.

"The monsters weren't able to invade camp. Someone summoned it," Simon pointed out, his voice quiet but firm. He was sitting between Maya and Nolan now, still pale but more present than he'd been earlier. The bandage around his head was gone, though I noticed he touched his temple occasionally, as if checking for blood.

"Clarisse had already accused me of summoning it myself, and getting you hurt, Si, didn't help." Percy reminded him as Simon threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Sorry," Clarisse muttered, her voice gruff. The Sea God glared directly at her, and she had the decency to look uncomfortable.

"To be honest, we were definitely talking about you, but we knew monsters couldn't invade the camp." Travis paused, then slowly continued, "Many people thought you summoned it." He grimaced, and many demigods in the room nodded reluctantly.

Percy's eyebrows shot up, incredulous. "Why would I do that?" He huffed, annoyed.

"To prove yourself, or even to show you were better than us because you already knew your heritage," Katie drawled with a roll of her eyes. "Obviously untrue, but many people were talking."

Percy threw his hands up like Simon had done—a gesture that was clearly borrowed, shared between them—and fell back against the couch dramatically. "Oh, and part of my grand scheme is getting Simon, Simon T. Lin-Abbott-Holland-Thorn, Camp sweetheart—"

"Not a sweetheart," Simon said coolly.

"Shut up," Percy said without missing a beat. "Anyways—get him hurt."

Garrett Barrett, the North American puma shifter, leaned forward with a puzzled expression. "What does the T even stand for?"

Simon, with the most deadpan tone I'd ever heard from him, said: "Testosterone."

The room went silent for a beat. Then Maya burst out laughing—a sharp, surprised sound that cracked through the tension like ice breaking. I found myself smiling despite everything. Even Nolan cracked a grin.

"That's not—" Garrett sputtered.

"It's definitely not," Simon agreed, his lips twitching. "But it's funnier than the truth."

There he is, I thought. There's the Simon who used to make Maya laugh during weapons training, who'd crack jokes while we were both bleeding from sparring matches, who never let the darkness swallow him completely.

[The other campers steered clear of me as much as possible. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with me after what I'd done to the Ares folks in the woods, so my lessons with Luke became one-on-one. He pushed me harder than ever, and wasn't afraid to bruise me up in the process.

"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised, as we were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."]

Said cabin eleven campers—including me—flushed in embarrassment, “We apologize, Perce. We were wary but unfair towards you.” Chris stated at Percy. Travis and Conner nodded in agreement.

“It seems you demi-gods are just rude and insolent. None of you seem to have any sense.” Kymopoleia voiced her annoyance, before she could say anything else she was shut down by a stern glare from her Father.

Percy huffed and gave Kymopoleia a look, “They were nervous, I was the first big three demi-gods to make it to camp in almost a century.” He paused, “Sorry Thaila.” Thaila grinned in turn and waved it off.

“Anyway, they had a reason to be nervous. Sure they were a bit rude, but people make mistakes. No need to be rude to them,” He said, his voice was more impolite and tactless as he spoke. It was short and snappy as he spoke to Kymopoleia, gaining nasty looks from his siblings.

“I was defending you, Perseus. I’ll make sure to not do it again in the future.” She snapped at Percy.

As Percy opened his mouth Poseidon cut him off, “Both of you, cut it out. Now.” He told them. Percy huffed but didn’t say anything else.

Hermes looked at his children in disappointment. "He only did that to them because they attacked him unfairly," he told them.

"We know, Dad," Connor said. "We train with Percy now." Hermes nodded, appeased.

"It was just a bit disconcerting that he was good enough to beat all those Ares kids after only a week of training," Chris admitted. Hermes nodded again, understanding in his ancient eyes.

"Well, he's not wrong," Percy muttered bitterly.

Ares nodded his approval, “That’s a good way to train a newbie.”

Percy muttered to Thaila, “Yeah, well he wasn’t exactly wrong when he said I would need it in the future.” He said, bitterly. Thaila's shoulders dropped as she nodded sadly.

"Fifty? He really was pushing you," Jam Fluke stuttered out. The Romans and a few of the Animalgams—especially those with military bearing—nodded approvingly. I found myself among them. Fifty repetitions of a complex strike with live blades and flaming torches was brutal, but effective.

Conner whistled lowly, “Wow, that’s a lot.”

"Came in useful though," Percy noted.

"I wonder how he feels about the fact that it's partly thanks to him how good you are?" Thalia gave a hollow chuckle. Percy nudged her gently, but didn't disagree.

[Annabeth still taught me Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time I said something, she scowled at me, as if I'd just poked her between the eyes.

After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest…Poseidon?…Dirty rotten…Got to make a plan…"

Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she both wanted to kill me for breaking her magic spear. I wished she would just yell or punch me or something. I'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored.]

"Seriously?" Thalia looked at her friend, disappointment clear on her face.

"I took our parents' rivalry seriously," Annabeth admitted. Athena nodded approvingly—of course she did—but Poseidon frowned. "I was twelve."

Poseidon raised an eyebrow, and Percy glared at his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend? Were they even dating in the first place? I wasn't sure anymore, but Annabeth went very red in the face, her mahogany-coloured face making her blush more obvious.

"Sorry, Lord Poseidon," she muttered.

"Even if you felt that way, there was definitely no need to say that about his dad in front of Percy," Rachel stated bluntly. Annabeth winced.

"Sorry, Percy," she said. The boy shrugged.

He shrugs a lot, I noticed. It's his shield.

"You shoulda said. I'd have loved to pulverize you," Clarisse told him, a hint of her old aggression bleeding through.

"I think I'm quite alright really, thanks anyway," Percy grinned.

[If I had free time, I'd visit Simon in the infirmary—he was mostly healed but the Apollo kids were still worried—usually Maya or Luke were there, using up Simon's visiting hours. It almost felt like a deliberate attack on me.

The first time I tried to visit Simon, Maya was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his cot, sharpening her dagger with long, deliberate strokes. She didn't look up when I entered, but the scrape of metal against the whetstone grew louder, more aggressive.

Simon was propped up on pillows, reading a comic—his face still too pale, a bandage wrapped around his forehead where the rocks had grazed him.]

Maya laughed sadly beside me, the sound hollow. "I was doing too much."

Simon snorted. "Definitely." Then he doubled over, holding his head in his hands. "Ow! Why does it hurt more!?"

"You have a head injury, stupid," Nolan teased awkwardly, reaching out as if to touch Simon's shoulder before pulling back.

Maya rolled her eyes. "Oh, like you didn't get a head injury, Nollie Pollie—especially that one from Michigan."

"What? Nollie Pollie? And how do you know about that?"

Simon squinted at them, leaning his head on Maya's shoulder, looking at his twin with tired amusement. "Nollie Pollie—like Rollie Pollie? That insect pet thing that curls up on itself? Real popular during the 2000s?"

"Yep!" Maya said brightly, turning to Nolan with a less fierce smile. "And Simon told me, by the way."

Nolan's mouth opened and closed like a fish. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

Still, I thought, looking, at least he's trying now. That's more than some of them can say.

I glanced at Isabel Thorn, who was watching the screen with an expression I couldn't read. Luke Thorn sat beside her, his dead eyes fixed on his son's younger face. They were both ghosts in their own way—her of the mother she'd failed to be, him of the father who'd never gotten the chance.

[“Hey," I said, hovering in the doorway. "I brought ambrosia squares. The ones shaped like dolphins. Thought you might—"

"He's allergic to that," Maya said sweetly, finally looking up. Her dark eyes glittered. "Deathly allergic to both ambrosia and nectar, in fact!" The whetstone screeched as she dragged it down her blade.

Simon winced—whether from the sound or her tone, I couldn't tell. His fingers twitched against the sheets like he wanted to reach for something, but he stayed quiet.

"Uh," I said, staring at the ambrosia squares in my hand. The golden edges shimmered mockingly. "But... how does he heal, then?"

Maya's grin was all teeth. "Slowly."]

I remembered this. Not the moment itself—I hadn't been there—but the aftermath. The way Maya had come back to our cabin that night shaking with rage, how she'd paced back and forth while I sat on my bunk and watched.

"He almost killed him," she'd snarled. "He brought ambrosia. To Simon. In the infirmary. After everything."

I'd asked what she'd done.

"Nothing," she'd said, which I knew was a lie. Maya never did nothing.

Now I knew the truth. She'd sharpened her dagger and made a scene, and honestly? I couldn't blame her. If someone had almost poisoned any of my family through sheer ignorance, I'd have done worse.

[Simon exhaled through his nose and finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "Mynx, knock it off." He turned to me, his blue eyes dull with exhaustion but still startlingly sharp. "It's true though. My body can't process any godly food properly. Almost died when we all found out." I noticed him fingering the smallest, glowing bead on his necklace—the one almost everybody at camp had and touched. I had a feeling that bead was connected to whatever happened with Simon's allergy.

"I didn't know," I said lamely, pocketing the ambrosia squares. My fingers brushed the smooth caduceus stone Simon had given me—the one I'd carried everywhere since capture the flag.]

The Heroes of Old exchanged glances at the mention of the bead. Perseus leaned forward, his weathered face creased with curiosity. "A bead that glows? Connected to an almost-death?"

"The camp makes them every summer," Annabeth explained. "One for each year you survive. Simon's bead was... different. It was made with nectar and ambrosia mixed into the clay."

"That sounds like it would kill him," Odysseus said slowly.

"It glows when he's near," Luke Castellan said quietly. "We—the camp—we made it for him. So we'd know. So we could find him. After what happened, we couldn't stand not knowing if he was okay."

The Animalgams stirred uneasily. A magical tracking device embedded in a piece of jewelry—it was both invasive and deeply caring. The kind of thing you'd do for someone you couldn't bear to lose.

I saw Isabel Thorn's hand go to her chest, as if feeling for a necklace that wasn't there. She's realizing, I thought, how much she didn't protect him. How much others did.

[Simon shrugged, dropping his hand from his necklace. "Not your fault."

Maya made a noise like a boiling kettle.

I ignored her. "How you feeling?"

"Could be better," he said, forcing a smile as he gestured to the empty chair beside him where a book on Greek medicinal herbs lay open. "Willow bark tea helps. So does seawater, apparently."

Maya snorted. "Yeah, real convenient discovery that was." Her eyes flicked to me, loaded with meaning. "Almost like someone's daddy decided to throw him a bone after nearly getting him killed."]

I tensed between Holly and Calla. Maya, I wanted to say, ease up.

But I knew her—knew that when she was scared, she got mean. And she'd been terrified for Simon. Had been terrified of losing him.

So I stayed quiet and let her have her moment of viciousness. She'd earned it.

Poseidon shifted on his throne, looking uncomfortable. Amphitrite's expression was unreadable, but her hand had found her husband's arm, a silent gesture of support—or restraint.

“Is that true?" one of the younger demigods asked. "Did Poseidon actually—"

"The sea healed him because the sea heals," Poseidon said flatly. "Not because I intervened directly. There are... limits to what a god can do for a child who is not his own."

"But you wanted to," Athena said. It wasn't a question.

Poseidon didn't answer.

["Maya!" Simon chided, before turning back to me. "Anyways, Chiron and Mr. D say I'll be cleared for light duties tomorrow. The seawater… It really helped."

“Which means inventory. Always inventory," Maya muttered.

The door creaked open behind me.

Luke stood there, arms crossed, his usual easygoing expression replaced with something colder. His gaze landed on the ambrosia in my hand, then flicked to Simon's bandages. His scar stood out starkly against his suddenly pale face.

"Visiting hours are over," he said flatly.

Maya didn't move. "We were just educating Fish Boy here on basic camp survival skills. Like, don't poison your allies."

Luke's voice dropped. "Maya. Out."]

Hermes leaned forward, his messenger's eyes sharp. "He was protective even then."

"He always was," Chris said quietly. "Simon was... different. Special. Luke made sure everyone knew it."

"'Special' how?" Luke Thorn asked, his voice rough. "By being your camp's little mascot?"

Chris hesitated, glancing at Simon. Simon gave a small shake of his head.

"He just was," Chris said. "Apart from being my cabin's heart and the Camp Sweetheart… And Luke..." He trailed off, looking at the screen. "Luke would have burned the world down for him. Before everything went wrong."

The silence that followed was heavy with meaning.

[For a second, I thought she'd argue. Then she stood, sheathing her dagger with a snick, and brushed past me hard enough to knock my shoulder. "Have fun playing nurse, counselor."

"Have fun playing nurse, counselor."

The door slammed behind her.]

And there it is, I thought. Maya's exit. Always dramatic, always sharp-edged.

Maya winced beside me, her earlier bravado fading. "I was such a brat."

"You were scared," I said quietly. "There's a difference."

She didn't answer, but her shoulder pressed harder against mine.

[Silence.

Luke let out a sigh, sitting on the foot of the bed as he ran a hand through his hair.

Simon watched with wary amusement. "You didn't have to scare her off, you know. She was just—"]

"Being Maya," Simon, Percy, and about half the camp said in unison.

Maya grinned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hey! I'm a delight, and you know it!"

"You're a menace," I corrected quietly. "But you're our menace."

Maya made a crude gesture and Calla elbowed me in the ribs, but gently.

Gods, I love my sisters.

["Being Maya," Luke finished, rubbing his temples. "Which is exactly why I did have to scare her off." His eyes flicked to me, then back to Simon, his expression softening just slightly. "You're supposed to be resting, not entertaining visitors who bring you literal poison."

I flinched. "I didn't know—"

Luke held up a hand, cutting me off. "Yeah, yeah. Not your fault. But maybe ask next time before you try to shove godly food down someone's throat?" His tone was light, but there was an edge to it, something protective and sharp beneath the teasing.]

He cares about Simon, I knew—we all knew that. Really cares. Not like a counselor caring for a camper, but like—

Like a brother.

The thought sat strangely in my chest. Luke Castellan, the traitor, the one who'd almost destroyed Olympus—and yet here he was on screen, young and fierce and protective, smoothing Simon's blankets and chasing away anyone who might hurt him.

People are complicated, I reminded myself. Even the ones who become monsters.

[Simon rolled his eyes, shifting slightly against the pillows. "Dramatic. I've had worse."

Luke's jaw tightened. "That's not the point." He reached over, adjusting Simon's blanket with a precision that suggested he'd done it a hundred times before. "You don't get to have worse. Not if I can help it."

Simon huffed, but there was something fond in his exhaustion. "You're such a mother hen, Luke."

"And you're a terrible patient, Birdie." Luke shot back, but his fingers lingered on the edge of the blanket, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle.]

"Mother hen," Maya repeated, a genuine smile breaking through her earlier tension. "That's exactly what he was. Is. Was. I don't know—time is weird."

Simon snorted. "He used to follow me around camp making sure I ate enough. Wouldn't let me train if I looked too tired."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Connkr said dryly, glancing at Maya.

She had the grace to look abashed. "I'm not that bad, Connie."

“You literally sharpened your dagger at a twelve-year-old for bringing the wrong snack."

"That was different."

“How?”

“Just was.”

[I cleared my throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on something private. "I should... go."

Luke barely glanced at me. "Yeah. You should."

Simon, at least, had the decency to look apologetic. "Thanks for stopping by. And, uh, the thought."

I nodded, backing toward the door, feeling out of place just by looking at them, and mortified that if Maya hadn't stopped me, I'd actually killed Simon.

I wondered if Simon would've let me…]

He would've let you, I thought. That's the problem. He would've let you, and then he would've smiled and told you it wasn't your fault, and he would've meant it.

Because that was Simon. Too forgiving. Too kind. Too willing to shoulder blame that wasn't his.

More suicidal than murderous, he'd said earlier.

I believed him.

Isabel Thorn made a choked sound beside her husband. Luke Thorn's arm came around her, pulling her close. I saw the guilt etched into their faces—the realization that their son had been carrying this weight, this disregard for his own life, for years. And they hadn't known.

[The next time I visited after a few days, both Maya and Luke weren't there—only a few Apollo kids who were grinding up herbs and storing away salves in the cabinet.

Simon was lying down, sleeping—drool smeared over his cheek and his pillow. He looked peaceful, with his pink lips parted and his chest rising and falling steadily. The bandage around his head was smaller now, just a strip of gauze taped above his left temple. Someone—probably Luke—had brushed his hair back from his face, the soft brown strands curling slightly against the white pillowcase.

I hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to wake him.]

"Aww, lil Percy's in love," Maya teased, her earlier tension melting into familiar mischief.

Percy and Simon looked at each other, and both their faces burned red—a matching flush that was almost comical in its symmetry.

Luke Castellan—the older one, the one who'd become a monster—blanched. "Oh, the Nanas have no mercy."

"Good! They shouldn't!" Maya declared.

I watched the exchange with interest. There's something there, I thought. Between Percy and Simon. Something neither of them wanted to name.

But that wasn't my business.

Not yet.

But for now, i’ll let the Aphrodite kids handle it—they were much betters of the affairs of the heart than I was.

[The Apollo campers paid me no mind, too absorbed in their work. Until one of them—a girl with golden streaks in her braids—glanced up briefly. "He's been out cold for an hour," she said. "If you're here to yell at him, now's your chance."

"I—what? No. Why would I yell at him?"

She shrugged. "Everyone else has. Even the dryads. Apparently, risking your life to stop a hellhound from mauling someone is 'reckless' and 'stupid' and—" She deepened her voice in a poor imitation of Chiron, "You must learn to value your own safety, Simon Thorn."]

Kayla beamed at the screen. "Hey, it's me!"

"You look so weird without green hair," Austin snorted.

Kayla's grin didn't falter. "I look amazing at any age, thank you very much.”

[I winced. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." She went back to grinding her herbs, the rhythmic crunch-crunch filling the silence.]

I glanced at Simon, who had gone very still beside Maya. His eyes were fixed on the screen, and there was something fragile in his expression—something that made me want to look away.

He's remembering.

Remembering how it felt to wake up and find the whole camp angry at him for caring too much.

[His eyes fluttered open. "Wha— Percy?" He yawned, pushing himself up. He didn't seem like he needed to be in the infirmary any longer to me. "What time is it?"

"Almost breakfast," I said.

"Good," Simon yawned, swung his feet off the cot and pulled his jacket on. "C'mon, walk with me."

"Aren't you—?"

"Oh, no. The rocks didn't crack my skull or anything, just gave me a scratch. The medics are just overprotective."]

"Overprotective," Will Solace repeated, his voice flat. "You had a concussion, Simon. You were throwing up for hours."

"I've had worse."

"That's not the flex you think it is."

Simon shrugged—a gesture he'd clearly picked up from Percy, or maybe Percy had picked it up from him. They were so intertwined it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

[The walk to the dining pavilion felt like navigating a minefield in slow motion. Simon moved with a slight stiffness, a barely perceptible hitch in his step that contradicted his dismissive words about the injury. He kept his head up, offering tired but genuine smiles to everyone we passed—a dryad tending roses, a group of Hermes kids rushing to breakfast, a solemn Hephaestus camper covered in soot. Every single one stopped, their faces lighting up with relief and warmth.

"Simon! You're up!"

"Looking good, Thorn!"

"Glad you're back on your feet, man!"

"Don't scare us like that again!"]

Isabel Thorn's hand found her husband's, squeezing tight. Her eyes were wet, though she didn't seem to notice. Luke Thorn gripped her fingers like a lifeline.

The Animalgams watched in silence. Some looked uncomfortable—this wasn't the Simon they knew. The Simon they knew was careful, guarded, measured. This boy on screen was open in a way their Simon never really was with them.

Because he doesn't have to be careful here, I thought. Because here, he's safe.

Nolan's expression was unreadable, but his hands were clenched in his lap. He was watching his twin receive the kind of welcome he'd probably never gotten—the kind of welcome Simon had built for himself, brick by brick, year by year, without any of them.

[Their greetings were bright, effusive. Then, inevitably, their eyes would slide to me, walking beside him. The warmth vanished, replaced by suspicion, coldness, or outright hostility. Smiles froze or disappeared. Conversations died mid-sentence. The Hermes kids glared; the dryad turned her back pointedly; the Hephaestus camper's expression hardened into a scowl.

It was like Simon radiated sunlight, and I cast a freezing shadow that extinguished it wherever we went.

Simon seemed oblivious, or perhaps he was just practiced at ignoring the undercurrents. He waved back, called out greetings, even stopped briefly to reassure a tiny Demeter girl clutching a wilting flower that he'd look at her project later. He was patient, effortlessly kind. That was why he was the camp favorite. He paid attention to everyone, remembered small things, and offered help without being asked. Watching him interact with the others only sharpened the sting of my own isolation. He belonged here in a way I clearly never would.]

"No comment," Simon said blankly, but his voice cracked on the last word.

Maya wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. "You belong wherever you want to belong," she said firmly. "And if anyone says otherwise, I'll stab them."

"That's not—"

"I'll stab them, Simon."

I caught Percy's eye across the room. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt—like we were witnessing something private, something we weren't supposed to see.

But that's the whole point, isn't it? I thought. The Fates are making us watch. Making us see.

The screen flickered, and I braced myself for whatever came next.

[By the end of today, I knew somebody at camp resented me—probably Maya with how vocal she was about it, and the fact all of camp knew I tried to give Simon ambrosia by dinner while Simon was still in the sick room—, because one night I came into my cabin and found a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article took me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I got, the more the words floated around on the page.

BOY AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT

BY EILEEN SMYTHE

Sally Jackson and son Percy are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family’s badly burned ’78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding.

Mother and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident.

Ms. Jackson’s husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past.

Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his mother’s disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline.]

Everyone blinked in confusion. "Why would someone put that there?" Katie whispered, leaning over to Travis, who shrugged, just as confused.

Speculations rippled through the room—a jealous camper, a test from Chiron, the work of Ares's cabin seeking revenge for the broken spear, Maya in her anger. None of the theories felt quite right.

Nico spoke up, his voice low. "Was that… you know who?" He questioned.

Percy grinned despite the situation. "You know who?" He asked, his tone dispelling all the tension in the room.

Nico flipped him a finger. "You know what I meant, Jackson." Nico huffed.

Percy chuckled and shrugged. "I'm not sure. I never found out who put it there, but I would guess it was them," he said.

"I'm actually very curious to know who this person they're talking about is, but I know they won't say anything," Psyche muttered, gaining a few nods from a few other minor gods.

The Heroes of Old exchanged glances. Odysseus's eyes were sharp, calculating. "Someone wanted to destabilize him," he murmured. "To shake his confidence before the quest began."

"Or to remind him what he was fighting for," Perseus countered. "Fear can be a powerful motivator."

"Fear can also break," Achilles said quietly. "The question is which it did."

[The phone number was circled in black marker.

I wadded up the paper and threw it away, then flopped down in my bunk bed in the middle of my empty cabin.

“Lights out,” I told myself miserably.

That night, I had my worst dream yet. 

I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance.

About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.

I had to stop them. I didn’t know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back, until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand.

Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, Give it back! Give it back! Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.]

“Ah, if only it had stayed that way. I’ve sadly had much worse ‘dreams’.”  Percy sighed.

“What exactly is this fight over? What makes you two act like actual children.” Hades asked, mostly muttering to himself.

“That’s basically what they are—toddlers.” Hera stated, agreeing with her younger brother.

“Give it back?” Zeus looked at his brother. “You stole from me, really?”

“Or you just accused me for no reason.” Poseidon rolled his eyes.

Zeus ignored him, “Petty theft, brother. I thought that would come from Hermes, not you, brother.” Hermes looked slightly offended but he didn’t deny it.

Poseidon glared, “I do not resort to petty theft. You have obviously wrongly accused me of something, just like it seems you have done to my son.” Poseidon shot back at Zeus.

Percy threw his hands up, “Finally, someone finally is on my side that I didn’t do anything.” He whispered-yelled, he was heard by a few minor gods and the demi-gods on the couch with him.

Zeus rolled his eyes, “We’ve already talked about this, I don’t wrongly accuse people of things without an investigation. You have obviously done something.” He drawled at Poseidon who opened his mouth to probably go and defend himself again.

Hestia sighed, “We will talk about this after this chapter during the break, like the other four things we need to talk about.” She told them

[The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt.

I yelled, Stop it! Stop fighting!

The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice.

Come down, little hero, the voice crooned. Come down!

The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me.

I woke up, sure I was falling.]

Everyone turned to look at Hades who was frowning

“Hey!” Nico protested. “Don’t just assume it’s my dad.”

“It has to be.” Zeus stated.

“No, it doesn’t. Just because you don’t want something to be true doesn’t mean it isn’t.” Simon told the King of the Gods.

“It can’t be anyone else.”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon.” Percy sighed. Poseidon paled.

[I was still in bed in cabin three. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn’t dreamed that.

I heard a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold.

“Come in?”]

Grover perked up. "That was me!"

"We know, G-man," Percy said fondly.

“Why did you use your hoof?” Piper asked, puzzled.

“It was louder.” Grover answered.

[Grover trotted inside, looking worried. “Mr. D wants to see you.”

“Why?”

“He wants to kill…I mean, I’d better let him tell you.”

Nervously, I got dressed and followed, sure that I was in huge trouble.]

Mr. D sighed dramatically. "I wasn't going to kill him. Just... hex. Slightly."

"That's not better, Father," Castor said.

"It's marginally better."

“With you, Dio? It never is.” Darryl snorted.

[For days, I’d been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that I was declared a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren’t supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for me just to be alive. The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me for existing, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Grover if we needed an umbrella.

“No,” he said. “It never rains here unless we want it to.”

I pointed at the storm. “What the heck is that, then?”]

The Heroes of Old shifted uneasily. Achilles leaned toward Patroclus, his voice low. "A storm that should not be. This is not natural."

"The gods are fighting," Patroclus replied. "It's always the weather, isn't it? When they fight, the world suffers."

Odysseus's sharp eyes were fixed on the screen. "The boy sees more than he should. Dreams of gods, of the Underworld... this is not normal for a newly claimed half-blood."

"He's not normal," Athena said simply. "None of them are."

[He glanced uneasily at the sky. “It’ll pass around us. Bad weather always does.”

I realized he was right. In the week I’d been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I’d seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley.

But this storm… this one was huge.

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo’s cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus’s twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.]

“Everyone knew something was coming," Chris murmured. "You could feel it. The whole camp was holding its breath."

"We thought it was just the gods fighting," Katie added. "We didn't know about the quest yet. Not officially."

"But you suspected," Malcolm Thorn said. It wasn't a question.

Chiron nodded slowly. "I suspected. And I prepared as best I could."

[Grover and I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt, Diet Coke in hand, just as he had on my first day.

But this time, Simon lounged sideways in the chair beside him, legs dangling over the armrest as he shuffled a deck of tarot cards with practiced ease. Every few seconds, he'd flick a card toward Mr. D's head, missing spectacularly each time. The cards littered the floor around the god's feet like fallen leaves.

"Must you?" Mr. D muttered when a Queen of Pentacles bounced off his soda can.

Simon grinned, tapping the next card against his chin. "You're the one who said my aim was pathetic. Practicing, sir."]

The Heroes of Old stared at the screen with expressions ranging from shock to grudging admiration. Achilles leaned toward Patroclus, murmuring something I couldn't catch, but his eyes were fixed on Simon with newfound interest.

“He throws things at a god's head," Odysseus said slowly, "and the god simply... complains about his aim?"

"Mr. D's been here a long time," Percy explained. "Simon's one of the few people who isn't afraid of him. I think... I think Mr. D respects that. Even likes it."

Mr. D sniffed. "I tolerate him. There's a difference."

"You let him sit in your chair that one time," Pollux pointed out.

"I was getting up anyway."

"You were not."

Dionysus waved a hand dismissively, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

[Chiron sat across the table in his wheelchair, playing against two sets of hovering cards. His tail flicked impatiently.

“Well, well,” Mr. D said without looking up from his cards. “Our little celebrity.”]

“ooh, he sounds just like Snape from Harry Potter.” Connor snickered.

“He does!” Travis howled.

Percy winced at the memory of the title. "He called me that for weeks. Every time I walked past him."

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "It was either mockery or spontaneous combustion. I chose mercy."

“That's your definition of mercy?"

"Be grateful, boy."

[I waited.

“Come closer,” Mr. D said. “And don’t expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father.”

A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Dionysus said. Simon tossed a card to the director’s ear. “Ow.” He said, not at all pained.]

Heracles let out a bark of laughter, then quickly stifled it when Zeus glared. "Apologies, Father. It's just—the boy has no fear."

"He has fear," Simon corrected quietly. "I just don't let it stop me."

[Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

“If I had my way,” Dionysus said, “I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We’d sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm.”]

The Animalgams exchanged uneasy glances. The casual way the god discussed incinerating a child—even as a joke—was deeply unsettling to their hierarchical sensibilities.

General Fluke's jaw tightened. "This is the man entrusted with their safety?"

"He's more useful than he looks," Annabeth said. "Sometimes."

[“Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D,” Chiron put in.

“Nonsense,” Dionysus said. “Boy wouldn’t feel a thing. Nevertheless, I’ve agreed to restrain myself. I’m thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father.”

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

Simon squinted at him suspiciously, but his voice was uncertain, "You wouldn't.“

He studied Simon for a long moment before sighing dramatically. "No, I suppose not. Though you're becoming nearly as tiresome as your uncle with these interventions, Thorn."

Simon beamed, seemingly proud, “I’ll tell him you said that.” He said in a sing-song voice.]

"Your uncle," Amphitrite repeated, looking at Simon with new interest. "He means the wolf shifter. Darryl."

Simon nodded, his expression soft. "Darryl used to write to Mr. D. Checked in on me. Made sure I was eating, sleeping, not pushing myself too hard."

"He sent care packages," Maya added. "Homemade brownies. Darryl could bake to save his life thanks to Oma and Dedulya, and gods, his cooking was delicious. Mr. D complained every single time, but he always made sure Simon got them."

"A god," Odysseus said slowly, "receiving correspondence from a mortal. About a child."

"The world has changed," Chiron said. "Or perhaps it has not changed enough."

[Mr. D groaned, turning back to me. “There’s one more option. But it’s deadly foolishness.” Dionysus rose, and the invisible players’ cards dropped to the table. “I’m off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I’ll turn him into an Atlantic bottle-nose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you’re at all smart, you’ll see that’s a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do.”

Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass.

He snapped his fingers.

The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.]

The Heroes of Old watched with knowing eyes. They'd seen gods come and go—the scent, the folding air, the casual display of power. But for the Animalgams, it was something else entirely.

Wilhelmina Webster pulled Ariana closer. "They simply... vanish," she murmured.

"They're gods," her daughter replied, as if that explained everything.

Perhaps it did.

[Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. “Sit, Percy, please. And Grover.”

We did.

Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn’t gotten to use.

“Tell me, Percy,” he said. “What did you make of the hellhound?”

Just hearing the name made me shudder. The memory of those glowing red eyes and dagger-like teeth made my skin crawl. I could still see Simon's blood on the rocks, the way Luke had cradled him like something precious and broken.

Chiron probably wanted me to say, Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast. But I didn’t feel like lying.

“It scared me," I admitted. "If Simon hadn't..." I trailed off, glancing at the boy in question.]

“I'm fine," Simon said quietly, though his hand drifted to his temple where the scar was. "I've always been fine."

"You've always lied about being fine," Maya countered. "There's a difference."

[“You’ll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you’re done.”

“Done…with what?”

“Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?”

I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers then Simon, who looked equally confused. “Um, sir,” I said, “you haven’t told me what it is yet.”

Chiron grimaced. “Well, that’s the hard part, the details.”

Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

“Poseidon and Zeus,” I said. “They’re fighting over something valuable…something that was stolen, aren’t they?”]

Athena's eyes narrowed. "You deduced this from weather patterns and dreams?"

"I'm not stupid," Percy said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "I just learn differently."

"Clearly," Athena said, and there was something almost like respect in her tone.

[Chiron and Grover exchanged looks—Simon tilted his head at me. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. “How did you know that?”

My face felt hot. I wished I hadn’t opened my big mouth. “The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she’d overheard something about a theft. And…I’ve also been having these dreams.”

Simon murmured but he didn’t seem convinced. “Sounds… legit,” 

“I knew it,” Grover said.

“Hush, satyr,” Chiron ordered.

“But it is his quest!” Grover’s eyes were bright with excitement. “It must be!”]

Grover ducked his head, embarrassed. "I was... enthusiastic."

"You were insufferable," Simon said, but he was smiling.

[“Only the Oracle can determine.” Chiron stroked his bristly beard. “Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt.”

I laughed nervously. “A what?”

“Do not take this lightly,” Chiron warned. “I’m not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you’d see in a second-grade play. I’m talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives.”

“Oh.”]

The campers from camp half blood snickered who,e the Animalgams shifted uncomfortably. Tiberius Siles, a fly shifter and the Spymaster, leaned toward Queen Odona. "These gods carry weapons that could destroy cities," he murmured. "And they lose them."

"Apparently," Odona replied, her expression troubled.

[“Zeus’s master bolt,” Chiron said, getting worked up now. “The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers.”

“And it’s missing?”

“Stolen,” Chiron said.

“By who?”

“By whom,” Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. “By you.”]

The room erupted.