Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I do not want to sign up for summer camp. If it were up to me, I’d turn around and disappear forever, go back to my home in Alaska and never interact with the gods or their offspring again.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against demigods, just their parents. The gods are a complete mess, every single one of them, and I would rather burn to death than get involved in their drama. Unfortunately, that choice isn’t entirely up to me.

You see, before I was born, a great prophecy was issued regarding a child of the Big Three. I don’t know the whole thing, but I do know it involves Kronos, which is horrible news for literally everyone.

Anyway, I recently got word that King Manbaby had his pwecious wittle bolt stolen and is currently throwing a divine hissy fit. If no one returns it, there’s a strong chance of an Olympian civil war, and if that happens, Kronos rises to power completely unopposed.

So yeah. Not great.

Technically, I could avoid all of this. I could run away and live with my patron for the rest of eternity. But I suffer from a terrible condition called empathy, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let the world end.

So now I stand at the entrance to Camp Half-Blood (Which, by the way, is a bit of an insensitive name) ready to face the judgment of the gods. I could have put this off longer if I wanted to, but I figured I might as well rip the bandage off now.

The plan is simple: show up at camp, get claimed, go on a quest, then disappear forever and hope I never have to interfere again. Which, knowing my luck, is unlikely, but a demigod can hope, right?

I step through the barrier beside the unusually powerful pine tree that seems to contain a human soul. Did the gods really turn someone into a tree just to protect the camp? I wouldn’t be surprised. The poor person probably said the wrong thing and BAM tree.

The valley beyond is surrounded by rolling hills. I stand atop the tallest one, giving myself a clear view of the camp below. It’s beautiful: acres of strawberry fields spread beneath the night sky, groves of trees, and a winding stream. A nice sight, even if I still prefer the cold blues and whites of Alaska.

Everyone appears to be asleep, which makes sense considering I arrived around two in the morning. I slip into camp unnoticed and head straight for the cabins, each one styled after a different god.

I already know my divine parent, but unfortunately I can’t just show off my powers and march over to the right cabin. I have to be officially claimed, and that might take a while. It’s only been a week since the winter solstice, and the gods are probably still arguing with Zeus.

As I enter the circle of cabins, I notice a small child tending the large fire pit at the center of camp. I walk over and sit beside her, staring into the warm flames.

She has mousy brown hair and fire-red eyes, literally filled with fire. Not the scary kind, though. Warm. Comforting. Like the hearth itself. She wears a simple brown dress with a scarf draped over her head.

“Hey, Auntie Hestia,” I say casually, "How’s the fire going?”

It’s not the first time I’ve met Hestia. In fact, I interact with her fairly often. Alaska might be considered a land without gods, but thanks to my presence, and the frequent sacrifices I make, she has more influence there than anywhere else. Plus, it’s cold, and people light fires all the time.

She looks at me with a small, gentle smile, "Quite well, nephew. I do wonder why you’ve decided that now, of all times, is when you need to enter camp.”

I sigh, "I think you already know the answer to that.”

She chuckles softly, "Yes. Yes, I do.”

The conversation ends there. We sit together in a comfortable silence while I help her tend the fire for a while. Eventually, I lie down along the stone edge, letting the warmth seep into my bones as I drift into a deep sleep.

Hopefully tomorrow won’t suck.

===

I wake from a restless night’s sleep in the Athena cabin, bracing myself for yet another day of waiting. However, when I step outside, I’m completely unprepared for the sight of a total stranger sleeping on the fire pit.

Sure, it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s never happened before. If this is a new demigod, why didn’t he arrive with a satyr? Curious, I decide to take a closer look and approach him slowly.

His features are soft and sharp at the same time, almost feline. Long black hair is braided into a thick ponytail that reaches his knees, resembling an outcrop of tendriled coral. His skin gleams like molten celestial bronze. His body is thin and wiry, with long limbs clearly built for speed and agility.

He wears black cargo pants with bulging pockets, black leather boots, a white shirt, and a silver pelt coat draped over it all.

What strikes me most are his eyes, or rather, the absence of them. A midnight-blue cloth is wrapped around his head, embroidered with silver thread depicting various plants. At its center is a single eye motif that feels as though it’s watching me.

Leaning against the stone beside him is a metal bow. It’s as tall as he is, forged from pitch-black metal that seems to dim the light around it. Silver lines swirl across its surface in an infinite, mesmerizing pattern. I can’t tell whether it’s an illusion or if the metal itself is actually moving.

He looks almost… godlike. That’s strange, because I can’t think of a single god he resembles. Maybe Artemis? No, that’s impossible. She’s an eternal maiden, and besides, his bronze skin clashes with her silvery, moon-touched aesthetic.

I hesitate, going back and forth for a moment before finally deciding to wake him. Just as I’m about to, a voice sounds behind me.

“Hey, Anna! What’s with the hobo of the hearth?”

I flinch as Connor strolls up with a mischievous grin.

My eye twitches as I glare at him, "I don’t know. I was just about to wake him.”

Connor tilts his head, eyeing the bow beside the stranger, "I wonder…”

“Don’t even think about it,” I snap. On the off chance this is a god in disguise, the last thing I want is to steal from them.

Connor ignores me and immediately reaches for the bow. Before his fingers can even brush it, the “hobo” snaps awake and pops right into Connor’s face, wearing a wide grin that shows off perfectly straight white teeth.

Connor yelps and leaps backward, scrambling to hide behind me.

The stranger stands and stretches casually. I notice he’s a bit shorter than I am. Once he’s done, he grabs his bow and slings it over his shoulder, then turns his head to “look” directly at us.

“Whatcha doing there?” he asks, his voice light and gleeful, like a kid hopped up on sugar, "Robbing a poor blind demigod while they sleep? I know Hermes is the god of thieves, but you should at least have some morals about stealing from someone defenseless.”

I raise an eyebrow at that last statement, "Defenseless?” He clearly wasn’t even asleep, and while he may be blind, he must have some way of sensing his surroundings. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be using a bow.

He shrugs, "I guess not. But the point still stands.”

He tilts his head as if to look at Connor behind me. Connor awkwardly clears his throat and steps out from behind my shoulder.

“Ah, right. Sorry,” Connor says, "I was just curious. I’ve never seen a weapon like that before.” He recovers quickly, slipping back into his signature grin.

The stranger chuckles, "Well, it is one of a kind, so I’m not surprised you’d be interested.” He suddenly straightens and smacks his fist into his palm, "Ah, right! Introductions. My name’s Perseus, but you can call me Percy.”

My curiosity urges me to ask more about the bow, but I rein it in and introduce myself instead, "Annabeth, daughter of Athena.”

Connor bows extravagantly at the waist, "Travis Stoll, son of Hermes, at your service!”

I shoot him a look and he winks at me. With an eye roll I turn back to Percy, "So you’re a demigod. Do you know your godly parent?”

Percy tilts his head, "I’m unclaimed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I frown. How does he even know that term? His entire presence is strange. He carries a one of a kind weapon that’s clearly a divine gift, yet he doesn’t know his godly parent. If he’s a demigod a satyr should’ve found him, but instead he just shows up on his own?

Before I can voice my suspicions, Connor groans beside me, "Ugh, great. Well, in that case, you’ll be sleeping in the Hermes cabin. Come on newbie, I've got to wake up my siblings anyway.”

Percy starts to follow him, "Whatever you say, Connor.”

Connor and I both freeze.

Percy walks past us, heading straight for the Hermes cabin. We stare at each other in disbelief before Connor snaps back into his full grin, clearly delighted by the idea of a demigod with some kind of foresight.

He jogs ahead to catch up with Percy, while I linger behind, a contemplative frown on my face. Percy is certainly strange, but he clearly knows far more about our world than he should.

Which means he might be the one I’ve been waiting for.

Shaking my head, I follow after them at an unhurried pace.

===

“I’d rather sleep on the fire pit,” I deadpan, glancing around the cramped cabin and then at the patch of floor I’m apparently supposed to call a bed.

Connor snickers, "Yeah, it’s pretty bad. But what can you do? Dad’s the god of travelers, so we can’t exactly turn anyone away. Still, it’d be nice if there weren’t so many unclaimed.”

I shake my head. Why do the gods have so many children if they won’t even bother to claim them? Without another word I turn on my heel and walk out the door, leaving a bewildered Connor sputtering behind me.

“Whoa, wait! Where are you going?” Connor jogs after me, confusion written all over his face.

“I wasn’t kidding about the fire pit,” I reply evenly, "At least it’s warm, and I won’t be cramped.” Even now, I’m already making plans to force the gods to claim their children. Fatal flaw or not, this is ridiculous.

Connor blinks, then shakes his head, "That’s not how it works. You have to sleep in a cabin. There’s a curfew, unless you want to get eaten by the harpies.”

I stop short and whirl on him, "I’m sorry, the punishment for breaking curfew is death?” I ask incredulously.

Connor snickers, "Nah, they just drag you back to your cabin. Mr. D just loves threatening us.”

The corners of my mouth twitch, "Of course he does.”

Connor tilts his head, "You know, I’m surprised they didn’t haul you off last night. Even if you’re new, they should’ve shoved you into the Hermes cabin.”

Before I can answer, Annabeth walks up to us, "Already settled into the Hermes cabin?”

I turn toward her, "No.”

Connor slings an arm around my shoulders, "He’s apparently decided to sleep outside.”

Annabeth opens her mouth to argue, "Yes, I told him about the harpies.”

She furrows her brow and shoots me a sharp look. I shrug, "They can’t drag me back if they can’t find me.”

Her eye twitches, "What do you mean they couldn’t find you? You were literally sleeping out in the open.”

I just smile and “look” in her general direction. After a moment, it’s clear I’m not going to explain. She exhales and gives me a look that clearly says I’ll-find-out-eventually.

“You should probably greet Chiron and Mr. D before we do anything else,” she says.

“Oh, joy…” Connor mutters.

I shrug, “All right, lead the way.”

I follow Annabeth as Connor trails stiffly behind us. She leads me to a multistory, sky-blue farmhouse accented in white, with a porch wrapping all the way around it. Around the corner, Dionysus, Chiron, and a satyr are in the middle of a card game.

Annabeth brings me straight over. Chiron looks up, confused, "Oh, hello, Annabeth. And this is…?”

“He arrived last night,” Annabeth explains tersely.

“Ah. How unusual for a demigod to arrive on their own, though not unheard of.” Chiron gestures to the chair beside Dionysus, "Why don’t you join us? That way we’ll have four for pinochle.”

I take the offered seat. Dionysus studies me with bloodshot eyes, then heaves a great sigh, "Very well. I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don’t expect me to be glad to see you.”

Annabeth exchanges a look with the satyr before walking off, Connor eagerly following. I ignore the sulky god and turn to the satyr instead.

“Hello. My name’s Perseus, but you can call me Percy. What’s yours?”

He blinks owlishly, then stammers, “A-Ah! I’m Grover Underwood!”

I give him a small smile, "Nice to meet you, Grover.”

Dionysus gives me an almost imperceptible look of approval before shuffling the deck, "Do you know how to play pinochle?”

I nod, "Yep.”

“Yes, sir,” he corrects.

I don’t bother responding and he hums neutrally as he deals the cards, I don’t pick mine up. Instead, I lay them out in front of me, arranging them by importance.

Dionysus raises an eyebrow, "Not going to look at your cards?”

I point at my blindfold.

He huffs, "Very well. It’s your loss.”

The game continues in silence for a while, broken only by the occasional curse muttered under Dionysus’s breath as he steadily loses. Eventually, Grover speaks up.

“Um… do you have any questions?”

I tilt my head, considering that, "Not really. I already know about the gods, monsters, how Olympus hangs over the Empire State Building, and what demigods do. So honestly, I’m just here for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh.” Grover looks a little stunned, but he returns his attention to his cards.

Dionysus grumbles again, crushes an empty Diet Coke can in his fist, and tosses it toward Grover, who snatches it out of the air. Dionysus then waves his hand, and a goblet appears on the table, as if the sunlight itself bends and weaves the air into glass. The goblet fills with red wine.

Chiron sighs, "Mr. D, your restrictions.”

Dionysus glances at the wine and feigns surprise, "Dear me.” He looks up at the sky and shouts, “Old habits! Sorry!”

Thunder rolls overhead. I suppress an exasperated sigh.

Dionysus waves his hand again, and the goblet transforms into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighs unhappily, pops it open, and returns to the game.

“Restrictions?” I ask, already expecting a stupid answer.

Chiron chuckles, "Mr. D offended his father some time ago. He took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits.”

“Declared off-limits,” I repeat flatly. Of course the king of lust would punish his son for a crime he commits daily.

“Yes,” Dionysus says, unapologetic, "Father loves punishing me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly. Absolutely horrid ten years. The second time, well, she really was quite pretty, and I simply couldn’t stay away. So he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. ‘Be a better influence,’ he told me. ‘Work with youths instead of tearing them down.’ Ha. Completely unfair.”

I do my best not to give him an exasperated look, "I agree it’s unfair, but… aren’t you married?”

He raises an eyebrow, "And your point is?”

I shrug, "Nothing. Just that it can’t be all bad. You’re the only god who actually gets to spend time with their children.”

He studies me for a moment, then looks out over the fields where his kids are working. A faintly fond expression crosses his face, "Hmm. I suppose you make a good point.”

Grover looks utterly flabbergasted that Dionysus agreed with me so easily, while Chiron watches in quiet contemplation.

“Also, have you ever tried brewing non-alcoholic drinks to stay closer to your domain?” I gesture toward the can in his hand, "Even if it doesn’t work, it’d be more entertaining than doing nothing all day.”

Mr. D blinks at me, carefully masking his surprise, "Well. Not a bad idea, Peter. Keep this up and I might even find you tolerable.”

I give him a soft smile, "No problem, Denis.”

He frowns, "Watch it, boy.” But I can clearly see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

I turn back to my cards, blatantly ignoring him, and he does the same. The game continues for a while longer until Mr. D slams his cards down with a manic grin, "I believe I’ve won.”

Chiron examines the cards, then calmly lays his own down, "Not quite. The game goes to me.”

Before either of them can argue further, I flip my cards face up, "Are you sure?”

They both stare at my hand in open surprise. Then Chiron smiles broadly, "Well, it seems I stand corrected.”

Mr. D leans back in his chair, arms crossed, muttering, “Oh great. Now there are two of them.”

Chiron rises from his wheelchair, his waist stretching as two horse legs clop onto the ground, the rest of his equine body following smoothly, "Since you clearly understand your situation, there’s no need for the orientation video. How would you like a tour of the camp instead?”

I stand and stretch my limbs, "Sounds good.” Then I turn toward Grover, "Actually, do you think he could show me around?”

Chiron blinks, then nods, "Yes, I suppose that would work. Grover, are you up for it?”

Grover gives me an odd look before nodding, "Uh… yes. I can do that.”

“Great,” Mr. D says lazily, "I’ll be taking a nap.”

With that, he vanishes in a gust of wind.

===

The two of us walk through the camp fields in awkward silence.

I let it linger, waiting for Grover to finally ask the question that’s clearly been rattling around in his head.

“You know how to play pinochle,” he says at last.

I nod.

He falls quiet again.

“Is that a problem?” I ask, a teasing lilt creeping into my voice.

Grover panics and starts waving his hands, "No! It’s just… strange, is all. The game’s ancient and not really played by, well, young people.”

I shrug, "I know a lot of tabletop games. My… best friend? Landlord?” Grover gives me a confused look, "Anyway, the point is she’s an old soul. Like, older-than-most-gods old. She taught me a lot of those kinds of games.”

Grover blinks, "Older than the gods? How?”

I grin, "There was a time before the gods, you know. It’s not impossible for them to have elders.”

He shakes his head, "I know that. I’m just confused about how you know one personally.”

I shrug again, "Demigods live strange lives. Mine might be the strangest, but I’m not bragging.”

Grover frowns, clearly tempted to push further, but decides against it, "She’s your landlord?” He pauses, "Wait, do you pay rent?”

I chuckle, "No. She owns the house and lets me live there. Actually, it’d be more accurate to say she bought it for me and just happens to enjoy my company, so she visits often.”

Grover furrows his brow, "She bought you a house.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“A guilty conscience.”

He gives me an exasperated look, already realizing I’m not going to elaborate, "Okay then…” he mutters.

He continues leading me around camp. As we pass the volleyball pit, several campers nudge each other, whispering behind their hands while staring at me. I’m tempted to call out, I can hear you! but decide to restrain myself, for now.

“News travels fast, huh?” I tilt my head toward the gossiping campers.

Grover fidgets, "Well, it’s interesting. Despite all the excitement of being a demigod, most campers don’t actually deal with that many problems.” Under his breath, he adds, “And there haven’t been any quests for a while.”

I hum in acknowledgment, though his last comment makes me frown internally. If there haven’t been any quests recently, what are the odds they’ll let me go after Zeus’s bolt? I might end up staying here longer than I planned.

We move on, passing the strawberry fields, the forge, the armory, the lake, the stables, the sing-along amphitheater, and the training grounds, with an arena, a javelin range, an archery range, a climbing wall complete with flowing lava, and an unused racing track.

At the end of the tour, Grover leads me back to the cabins, arranged in a U-shaped ring around the massive firepit I slept on the night before.

“I assume you already know the cabin system, and which one belongs to whom,” Grover says.

I nod, "Just one question, though.” Grover perks up, eager to answer the only thing I’ve asked about camp so far, "Where’s Hades’s cabin? Isn’t he an important god too?”

Grover visibly deflates, "Oh… well, he doesn’t have a throne on Olympus either. He mostly does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here…” He shudders, "It wouldn’t be pleasant. Let’s leave it at that.”

I frown but decide not to press the issue. Besides, Grover isn’t the one I should be complaining to; that would be Chiron. After all, why shouldn’t Hades have a cabin? If one of his children ends up here, would they be stuck in the Hermes cabin forever?

I glance at the overcrowded Hermes cabin and come to a firm conclusion: every god should have a cabin, not for the gods’ sake, but for their children.

“Hey there!”

A tall, muscular guy jogs up to us, short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly grin. He’s wearing an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace strung with five different colored clay beads. A thick white scar runs from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.

“You the new guy?” He pointedly ignores Grover, who in turn looks away, guilt written all over his face.

I file that away for later and turn to the camper, "Yep. I’m Perseus, but you can call me Percy. What’s your name?”

“Luke. Nice to meet you, Percy.” He holds out his hand, and I take it gingerly, "I’m the head counselor for the Hermes cabin.”

I nod, "Ah, I see. Good to meet you, Luke.”

He beams, "You too. If you need anything, just call me, alright?”

I return the smile, "I will.”

With that, he heads off toward the training grounds. Grover visibly relaxes. As much as I want to ask about it, we’re not close enough yet, so I let it go.

Instead, my attention shifts to a girl from the Ares cabin staring at me with a calculating gaze.

She looks about fourteen, wearing an oversized XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camo jacket. Her blond hair is long and stringy, and she looks like she’s itching to pick a fight. I give her no indication that I can see her at all.

At the same time, Annabeth walks up beside me, her expression just as calculating, "So,” she says, “did your introduction go well?”

I hum, "More or less. What’s with Mean and Red over there?” I tilt my head just barely in the other girl’s direction.

Annabeth immediately follows my gaze. The moment their eyes meet, the girl flashes Annabeth an evil sneer and starts marching toward us.

I suppress a sigh. You’d think the daughter of Athena would understand discretion, but apparently not. Then again, if I wanted to avoid a fight, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

Damn my curiosity.

Annabeth frowns as she steps forward, "Percy, meet Clarisse, daughter of Ares.”

Clarisse flashes me a cruel grin, "You’d better remember it, newbie.”

Against my better judgment, I hold out my hand, "Nice to meet you.”

Clarisse blinks, momentarily thrown off, but she quickly recovers. Her grin widens as she grabs my hand with crushing force and leans in, towering over me, "We’ve got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy.”

“Clarisse-” Annabeth starts.

“Stay out of it, wise girl.”

Oh great. I sigh internally as Clarisse yanks my arm, literally dragging me across the lawn. I refuse to move my feet, wearing only a mildly annoyed expression. Annabeth follows behind, glancing between us, clearly worried, and more than a little confused by my reaction.

Clarisse doesn’t seem to notice my minimal resistance. She probably wouldn’t even if I fought back, given how much bigger and more muscular she is. She drags me toward the girls’ bathroom, and that’s when I decide enough is enough.

The shadows beneath my feet darken, and my boots sink into the ground, bringing us to an abrupt halt.

Clarisse is yanked backward by the sudden resistance and releases my arm, sending me tumbling into the dirt. Shadows crawl up my body, lifting me back to my feet without me moving a muscle. Clarisse whirls around, glaring at me.

“What the hell was that Prissy?!” she snarls.

Behind me, Annabeth looks just as stunned, staring at the retreating shadows around my feet.

I shrug, "I have no reason to tell you.”

Her eyes narrow as more members of the Ares cabin converge on us. Annabeth wordlessly backs away, wisely avoiding their attention. Clarisse growls and jabs a finger at me, "Get him!”

They lunge.

I slip between them, moving too quickly for any of them to grab me. Undeterred, they keep trying to pin me down. I dodge effortlessly, stepping just out of reach of one before appearing right in front of another, only to evade them again.

I feel Clarisse’s frustration mounting, so I end the game.

The shadows rise and tug at their legs, dragging them just enough to throw them off balance. They crash into one another in a tangled heap of limbs. By now, a crowd of campers has gathered, laughing at the spectacle of the mighty Ares cabin tripping over itself.

Clarisse is the first to her feet. She glares at me with pure hatred, "You are dead, new boy. You are so dead.”

I smirk, "Been there, done that. What else you got, Clark?”

She spits and snarls as the rest of her cabin drags her away.

With that settled, I turn to Annabeth. She’s staring at me like I’m a fascinating new puzzle.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask.

She blinks, clearly realizing only now that she’s been staring. She looks me up and down, then nods to herself, "Join my team for Capture the Flag.”

I tilt my head, "What?”

Chapter Text

Annabeth leads me back toward the cabins, muttering under her breath. Around us, campers point and whisper even more than before, and I have to suppress a sigh. I’ve never liked attention. It usually means I’m about to die, so this is starting to get uncomfortable.

As we approach the cabins again, Grover walks up to us. He must’ve moved away earlier when Clarisse showed up, "Sorry for ditching you, it’s just…”

I wave it off, "It’s fine. I probably would’ve done the same if I were you.” A lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. Sometimes it’s better to lie for someone else’s sake.

Grover exhales in relief. A flicker of guilt crosses his face, then vanishes just as quickly, "Right,” he mutters.

By now, Annabeth has already wandered off toward her cabin, lost in her own thoughts. I shake my head in amusement and turn back to Grover, "Wanna hang out at the lake? I need a break from all this excitement.”

Grover nods, and we head over together. We sit at the edge of the pier, and Grover peers down into the water. About twenty feet below, two naiads sit cross-legged at the base of the dock. They’re wearing blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, their brown hair floating freely around their shoulders as minnows dart in and out. They smile and wave at me like I’m a long-lost friend.

I return the greeting just as warmly.

Grover watches the exchange with fascination, "You’re strange,” he says.

I snort, "Wow, thanks.”

He flushes, "I didn’t mean it in a bad way…” he mumbles.

I sigh and lie back on the dock, feeling the cold wood beneath me, "Hey, why are there so many campers here in the middle of winter?”

Grover perks up, "Oh, something happened at the Winter Solstice this year. The gods made everyone come back so they could keep an eye on them.”

I nod, "Do you know what happened?”

He shakes his head, "No one does. Not even the head counselors who were there.”

Of course they didn’t tell their kids anything. Why would they? I turn my head toward the pine tree on top of the hill, "What’s the story with that?”

Grover follows my gaze and immediately pales. He looks away just as fast, "I-I don’t want to talk about it…”

“Okay.” Once again, I decide not to press the issue. If he wants to tell me, he will. Still, it tells me one thing: Grover clearly knew whoever got tree-ified, and judging by the pine tree beads on the other campers’ necklaces, it was a recent event.

“I’m sure you’ve got a load of questions for me,” I add, "Go ahead and ask. I won’t promise answers, but I won’t be offended.”

Grover takes a deep breath, steadying himself, "Okay… can you see?”

“Not with my eyes,” I reply.

He nods, confirming something he’d already suspected, "Why don’t you have a scent? Every demigod gives off some kind of smell that attracts monsters, but the only thing I can smell on you is… nature.”

I smile, "That’s because I’m concealing it.”

“Concealing it?” Grover tilts his head.

I raise my hand, index finger pointed skyward, "Yeah. I’m manipulating the Mist to remove every trace of my existence, so monsters can’t track me.” I swirl my finger, and the Mist visibly gathers above me, a thick gray fog that glitters faintly.

Grover’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, "I’ve never heard of that…” he mutters.

I snap my fingers, and the Mist dissipates, "That’s probably because it isn’t feasible for anyone else. I’m essentially recreating death-mist while still alive. To do that requires… experience in the subject.”

Grover frowns, clearly worried.

I don’t elaborate.

After staring at me for a long moment, he moves on, "Right. And the nature smell, is that also the Mist?”

I shake my head, "No. That’s probably because I live in Alaska.”

Grover does a double take, "What?!”

I chuckle at his reaction, "It’s actually a nice place. You’d love it. There aren’t many people, and it might be one of the last places on Earth where nature magic fills the air freely. I guess the scent rubbed off on me.”

Grover looks gobsmacked, then slowly sinks into thought, "If that’s true, then Pan…”

I raise an eyebrow, "Pan?”

He looks back at me, "Since you already know everything else, I’m guessing you know satyrs have been searching for Pan for thousands of years.”

I nod.

Grover takes a deep breath, "If what you’re saying is true, then Pan might be in Alaska…”

“Maybe,” I say, tilting my head, "But it’s called the Land Without Gods for a reason, Grover. Nature magic may run rampant there, but it’s still antithetical to divinity of any kind.”

Grover lowers his head, "But that might be exactly the point. It could be why we haven’t found him yet. He might be hiding, from the gods, and from humans who ruin his domain.”

I hum thoughtfully, "I won’t completely deny the possibility, however unlikely. Just don’t set yourself up for disappointment. If Pan is in Alaska, then your job just became much harder. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the monsters, but the sheer size of the place, along with the terrain and the weather, can be deadly all on their own.”

Grover looks downcast for a moment, then quickly shakes himself out of it, "I know. But if there’s even a tiny chance that Pan is waiting for us in Alaska, then I have to try.”

I raise an eyebrow, "You’re a searcher?”

Grover deflates, "Well… not yet.”

I smile at him, "Well, tell you what. When I’m done with what I need to do here and head back to Alaska, I’ll search for Pan too.”

His eyes widen, "You’d do that?”

I nod, "Of course. I love nature, and I love exploration more than anything. If Pan is in Alaska, I can guarantee I’ll find him.”

Tears gather in Grover’s eyes, "I- thank you, Percy. You don’t understand how much that means to me.”

I sit up and place a hand on his shoulder, "It’s my world too man. If I can help bring back what humans have ruined, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Grover sniffs and blinks away the tears, "Right.” He flashes me a beaming smile, "Okay, last question, and then we should head over for dinner.”

I nod, "Shoot.”

“Why are you dressed like a Hunter of Artemis?” Grover points at my silvery fur coat.

I tilt my head, "Well… that’s complicated. And no, I’m not just LARPing because I like the aesthetic.” I cross my arms, considering how much to reveal, "Okay. Do you know Zoë Nightshade?”

Grover nods, "Artemis’s lieutenant.”

“She’s the landlord I mentioned earlier.”

Grover blinks, then his eyes blow wide open, "What?!”

With a laugh I jump to my feet and head toward the smell of barbecue while Grover scrambles after me, firing off rapid-fire questions that I completely ignore.

===

The mess hall pavilion sits just up the hill from the lake. Free-standing marble columns, ringed with torches, surround a sprawl of colorful picnic tables themed after the gods of each cabin. At the center burns a massive bronze brazier the size of a bathtub set atop a large slab of marble.

Scanning the tables, I spot Grover sitting with Mr. D, who appears to be deep in an animated conversation with his children, much to the confusion of the other satyrs nearby. I can’t help but wonder if what I said earlier had something to do with that.

When I turn to Cabin Eleven’s table, I grimace at how packed it is and decide to stand beside it, instead leaning against one of the marble columns. I earn a few confused looks, but I also notice a couple of campers following my lead, choosing to sit on the grass or stand behind others to ease the crowding.

Chiron stands off to the side as well, the picnic tables being far too small for a centaur. He raises an eyebrow at the improvised seating around the Hermes table and shoots Mr. D a look. Mr. D barely glances over before waving it off. Chiron sighs and shakes his head.

Annabeth sits at table six with her siblings, all sharing gray eyes and honey-blond hair. I raise an eyebrow at that. I would’ve thought blond hair was more of an Apollo thing. Athena herself isn’t blond, and while gods don’t have DNA, certain physical traits still seem to transfer, given how divine “procreation” works. Then again, Athena doesn’t even give birth to her children. Does she intentionally make them blond?

I shelve the thought for later.

Nearby, Clarisse laughs and belches with her siblings, apparently having already forgotten how I tripped them earlier.

Finally, Chiron pounds a hoof against the marble base of the brazier and raises a glass, "To the gods!”

Everyone echoes, “To the gods!” I raise my glass as well, though the words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

Wood nymphs step forward with platters of food, grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and barbecue.

I load my plate quickly, deliberately avoiding the barbecue. Luke notices and raises an eyebrow, "Not to your taste?”

I shake my head, "No. I’m vegan.”

Surprise flickers across his face as he looks me up and down, "Really?”

The corners of my mouth twitch upward, "Yeah. I’ve had some bad experiences with animal products in the past. Kind of turned me off them altogether.”

Luke winces, "Ah. Yeah, I get that.” Then, under his breath, he mutters, “More than you know…” and shoots a quick glare at a platter of apples.

I’ve never understood people who think lowering their voice makes them impossible to overhear, especially around demigods with enhanced senses. Still, I choose not to comment.

Luke quickly recovers and points at the glass in my hand, "It’ll fill with whatever you say, as long as it isn’t alcoholic, of course.” He flashes me a mischievous grin.

I hum appreciatively and raise the glass, "Pomegranate juice.”

Luke blinks at the request as the glass fills with a deep red liquid, complete with pulp and entirely unsweetened, just the way I like it. It lacks the richness of homemade juice, something subtle and familiar, but it’s good enough.

“That’s certainly a choice…” Luke mutters, watching with fascination as I let my plate hover to my left so I don’t have to hold it, gray mist propping it up like a foggy pillow.

Stepping away from the column, I take the sweetest strawberry from my plate and toss it into the fire with a silent prayer to my patron. The shadows at my feet flicker with contentment as I return to my spot, the plate still floating obediently beside me.

Once everyone settles back into place, Chiron pounds his hoof again to get our attention. Mr. D stands with an exaggerated sigh, as if he’d rather be anywhere else, though I notice the performance is just a little too dramatic to be genuine.

He surveys us, then clears his throat, "Yes, I suppose I’d better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, informs me that the next game of capture the flag is Friday. Cabin Five currently holds the laurels.”

Cheers erupt from the Ares table. I notice campers from Athena’s table shooting them dirty looks, along with a few sharp, determined glares.

“Personally,” Mr. D continues, “I couldn’t care less. But congratulations anyway. Also, I should mention that we have a new camper today. Peter.”

I snort and raise my glass toward him, "Cheers Denis.”

A few campers stare wide-eyed, glancing between me and Mr. D as if expecting divine retribution. Mr. D merely looks bored, though I don’t miss the faint twinkle in his eye. The Hermes kids snicker under their breath, and a couple of Ares campers give me an appraising look, almost respectful, before snapping back into glares when Clarisse notices.

Chiron sighs and whispers something into Mr. D’s ear. Mr. D rolls his eyes, "Oh, fine. Percy,” he corrects before plowing on, "That’s right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on.”

Everyone cheers and streams toward the amphitheater, where Apollo’s cabin leads a sing-along. They belt out camp songs about the gods, roast s’mores, and joke with one another. A few people still stare at me, especially since I linger at the back, nursing my never-ending cup of pomegranate juice, but the warm, welcoming atmosphere eventually pulls me in, and I join the singing.

When the conch sounds, everyone disperses back to their cabins. I return to the hearth once more, earning plenty of odd looks, though most are more amused than concerned. As the camp settles and the harpies begin their patrol, I rise quietly and walk away.

“Guess it’s time to stretch my legs a little.”

The shadows gather and pool at my feet. Then I step forward, and fall through the ground into endless darkness.

===

I watch the city below me, the lights of New York flickering as cars stream through the streets. My legs dangle between the bars of my balcony. I’ve always seen more than anyone else. I learned early on that no one would believe me, no matter what I saw or what happened.

Take today, for example. I skipped school again, mostly to spite my dad, and headed to a café I like. That’s when everything went to hell. Three massive black dogs stalked through the streets, each the size of a car, fire burning in their eyes and lava dripping from their teeth. Everyone around them ignored the creatures completely, stepping around the walking death like it wasn’t even there.

I turned my head away. I learned a long time ago that as long as I don’t acknowledge things like that, they leave me alone, just like they do with everyone else. But the street was too quiet. Curious, I glanced back.

I locked eyes with one of them.

It barked, and I tumbled backward out of my chair. The thunderous sound shattered a few windows, and suddenly everyone noticed. People screamed and ran as the dogs charged.

Fear seized me as my life flashed before my eyes.

Then the first dog exploded into a cloud of golden dust.

The other two skidded to a halt, confused. The second burst a heartbeat later. I barely had time to process what I was seeing before the third bounded away in a seemingly random direction. For a brief moment, I saw an arrow of pure darkness embedded in its forehead, then it too disintegrated into dust.

I let out a shaky breath and leaned my head against the balcony bars. Even now, I don’t understand what happened. Strange things have always occurred around me, things no one else can see, but this is the first time I’ve ever watched one of those monsters die. Did they die?

A shiver runs down my spine. I feel something watching me.

I whip my head around, my gaze landing on the rooftop of a nearby building. A boy stands there, wrapped in moonlight, his bronze skin shimmering in the silver glow.

My breath catches. He radiates an ethereal beauty that leaves me frozen in place. His eyes are covered, yet he is unmistakably looking right at me. He tilts his head.

Tentatively, I lift a hand and wave.

He smiles, and eagerly waves back, before dissolving into a pool of shadow and vanishing from sight.

I stare at the spot where he disappeared, then a black boot enters my peripheral vision. Slowly, I turn my head and see him standing right beside me, leaning against the railing and “looking” out over the city below, silent.

I rise to my feet, never taking my eyes off his face. Even without him facing me, I get the distinct impression that he’s watching me.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

The sounds of New York fade away as he turns toward me, smiling with impossible warmth.

“Perseus, but you can call me Percy.”

Just like that, I relax. His presence alone makes my worries feel distant, as if they’re dissolving simply because he’s here.

“Rachel,” I reply, so quietly I can barely hear myself.

“Nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

I nod slowly, unsure whether I’m hallucinating or dreaming, "Yeah… can you see them too?”

“The monsters?” he asks.

A weight lifts from my shoulders, "Oh, thank God. I thought I was going crazy.” Even knowing they’re real, especially when they break things, it’s still hard when everyone around you denies it so fiercely.

“Gods,” he corrects.

I blink, "What?”

He giggles softly, "I’d love to explain, but this probably isn’t the best place for a conversation.” He grimaces at the city below, then turns back to me and extends his hand, "I can’t guarantee I’ll answer every question, but I promise I won’t lie to you.”

Some small, rational part of my brain realizes this boy is essentially offering to kidnap me, and if the way he disappeared earlier is any indication, he’d leave no trace behind. But a larger, louder part of me knows I can trust him.

“Okay.”

I take his hand. His fingers are calloused, his palm surprisingly soft as it presses into mine.

“This might be a bit awkward,” he says.

Before I can ask what he means, he pulls me toward him, one arm wrapping around my back as he presses me against his chest. Oh, we’re the same height, I think, just before the world vanishes and we fall into an endless void.

An eternity seems to pass, and yet no time at all, before I find myself standing in a pine forest at the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean.

I feel lightheaded and nauseous. My legs wobble like jelly, and I clutch his silver coat as he steadies me, holding me upright.

A thick gray fog curls around my head, and the headache vanishes. He gently lowers me onto a nearby stump.

“Sorry about that,” he says, "Most people don’t react well to shadow travel, so I figured I’d steady you beforehand.”

My body still feels weak, and only now do I notice a deep chill settling into my bones. “Right…” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth.

A weight settles across my shoulders. I look up to see him draping a silvery blanket over me, embroidered in black depicting various flowers. I pull it around me as he sits on the grass beside me. The fabric is softer than anything I’ve ever felt.

Silence stretches between us as I watch the waves, listening to them crash against the cliff below.

“Where are we?” I ask, turning to him.

He doesn’t meet my gaze, "Maine. Lovely weather this time of year.”

I frown. It’s the middle of winter. What lovely weather? I look around and realize there’s no snow near us, just a clear circle carved out of the forest, where the air is warm and the wind gentle.

I gesture around us, "What is this?”

“Magic,” he says, "More specifically, nature magic.”

Magic. Of course magic is real. “Okay…”

He turns toward me, wearing that same smile from earlier, "How about I start from the beginning?”

He explains, about the Greek gods being real, about monsters dying and reforming endlessly, about demigods and how he’s one of them. Finally, he tells me what a clear-sighted mortal is, and that I’m one.

“Though I’ve never met a mortal who could see through my concealing mist,” he adds.

“Concealing mist?” I ask, overwhelmed but endlessly curious.

He nods, "As I said earlier, the Mist hides all divine activity. But it can also be used for magic. By manipulating it, you can achieve all kinds of things.” He swirls a finger through the air, conjuring a thick gray fog, "I use it to hide myself from monsters and mortals. But you saw me.”

I knit my brow. I have a thousand questions, but it’s late, and the warmth and quiet lull me toward sleep despite my efforts to stay awake.

He notices and stands, stretching, "That’s enough for today. How about we get you home?”

I want to protest, afraid this will all vanish if I let go, but when I try to stand and nearly collapse, I know it has to end. He wraps me tightly in the blanket and lifts me into a princess carry.

The world falls away again, but this time it barely affects me.

He sets me gently on my bed. Drowsily, I wonder how he knows where it is.

“Goodbye, Rachel.”

He turns to leave, but I reach out and grab his coat.

“Wait,” I mumble, "Will I see you again?” Panic edges my voice, a desperate need for someone who understands all of this.

He turns back, smiling, "Of course.”

My hand slips free, and I sink into a deep sleep, dimly aware that he stays by my side until I do.

When I wake the next morning, I bolt upright, scanning the room for any sign of him. My gaze locks onto the silvery blanket still wrapped around me.

“It wasn’t a dream,” I mutter.

Then my eyes drift to the nightstand, where a folded note rests.

Hey Rachel,

I figure you’ll still have questions when you wake up, but unfortunately I’ve got other things I need to take care of. So instead, I’ve taken the liberty of giving you a Whisper Stone. Just hold it close and think about me, and I’ll come running if I can.

Sincerely,

Percy

I stare at the note, then at the small black stone beside it, a silver eye etched into its surface. I look back and forth between the two.

“What the fuck just happened?”