Fate of a Wallflower

by KoalaBird

Summary:

Leo Valdez has returned from the dead and from Ogygia. By all rights, his story should be over. Gaea lies defeated, the Titans scattered, and the girl he crossed worlds to save walks beside him at last. Yet perfection has a way of slipping through his fingers. Scars linger and whispers from his past refuse to let him go.

When signs of a gathering power begin to surface, born from the fractured remains of the Second Titan War, Leo finds himself drawn into a game older and deadlier than any quest. The Fates are watching. The threads are tightening. And some destinies are not meant to be escaped.

Chapter 1: Reunion

Leo POV

Leo had opened his eyes only moments ago, which, in his professional opinion, was a miracle worthy of at least three celebratory tacos. Four if they came with extra guac. Maybe a party hat too. Definitely some confetti.

Given the fact that he had been — you know — dead not too long ago, being alive enough to blink felt like a win in itself. Getting blown to smithereens by Gaea, then being revived via ancient magical not-even-sure-what-just-happened resurrection cure, all within twenty-four hours… yeah, there was no medical handbook in existence that would call that “healthy.” Especially if you were a demigod. Or had bones. Or internal organs.

Being dead had sucked. Shocker, right? Even now, some stubborn fragment of it lingered, a cold after-death tingle running down his spine. Like he’d swallowed an entire snowstorm and it was still melting somewhere between his ribs. He wasn’t sure if that was normal post-resurrection side effects or just his body’s way of saying, “Congratulations, you broke me.”

Festus’s wings beat in a steady rhythm beneath him, every movement punctuated by the low groan of bronze joints flexing in the wind. The cold air pressed against Leo’s back, and the air roared past his ears, sharp enough to sting. Beneath him, the dragon’s back was warm, almost soothing, the heat radiating into his aching muscles. He let it wash over him, partly because it kept him awake and partly because it reminded him he wasn’t a pile of ashes anymore.

Leo groaned softly and rubbed a hand over his face, scraping away some dried salt from his skin. Tilting his head, he glanced at the astrolabe strapped to his wrist. The mechanisms inside clicked with each passing moment, a sound almost like a Geiger counter—though Leo seriously hoped it didn’t function like one. Dying to Gaea’s return only to end up taken out by radiation poisoning would be a pretty lousy way to go. Especially considering how close he was… how close…

He was almost there.

Almost to Ogygia.

He thought about sitting up — maybe throw his arms wide like “I’m back, world!” — but the idea of pitching off Festus’s spine and plummeting into the Atlantic put a quick stop to that. Turns out, when you’re flying several thousand feet above the ocean on the back of a magical bronze dragon, sitting up is less “brave” and more “excellent way to become sky salsa in five seconds flat.” For now, slouching was the smarter option. His muscles still felt wrung out, his joints heavy, and somewhere in his gut there was a strange hollowness that he didn’t want to think about too hard.

Not just because his insides were still somewhere on the scale between “overcooked pasta” and “frozen mashed potatoes.”

Okay, maybe those were most of the reasons.

But mostly, it was because they were close. So close.

To her.

Calypso.

Even just thinking her name made something twist in his chest—not in the ow, I broke a rib way. He let the cold wind bite at his face until his cheeks went numb. Calypso had been, well, the love of his life. Sure, they had only known each other for less than a week. And sure, she was an immortal Titaness who was several thousand years old. And sure, she had been cursed to fall in love with every hero who washed up on her island, only to lose them forever—a long list of names he assumed he was now part of. But something about her… he knew she had felt it too.

Well, at least he hoped she had. What other meaning could the kiss she gave him moments before he left have had? Just thinking about it made Leo wince in embarrassment. Who knew he could be such a romantic?

He pulled his thoughts elsewhere. Friends. Right. He had friends. And most of them were probably going to want to strangle him when they found out he wasn’t dead.

His thoughts drifted to Frank and Hazel. They were probably getting wrung out right about now, considering they were the only ones who had actually known about his plan. At the time it had seemed like a good idea. They were Roman, and Romans practically had a degree in the whole self-sacrifice thing. But now, thinking back, it was probably unfair to dump that kind of burden on their consciences. He hoped they weren’t beating themselves up about it.

Then again, he didn’t even know what “now” was. Or how long he’d been dead. For all he knew, Piper could have already done the whole yelling-at-them-for-letting-him-die thing. Or maybe she hadn’t gotten to it yet. Either way, the thought brought up an important question—how long had he actually been gone? That probably should have been the first thing to cross his mind when he woke up. In his defense, he had just gone from literally blowing himself up to waking up somewhere over the Atlantic. A little mental lag was understandable.

Still, the problem remained. How exactly was he supposed to tell everyone he was alive without getting himself killed again in the process? He imagined walking back into camp, acting casual, and immediately getting tackled, punched, or both. After the first time, he had come to a very firm conclusion: Leo Valdez did not enjoy dying. And he wasn’t looking for a sequel any time soon.

He tried out possible reunion lines in his head.

“Hey guys, surprise, not dead!” — No. Too cheerful.

“Guess who just respawned?” — Too video game.

“Before you hit me, please remember my fragile bone structure.” — Actually... maybe. Worth trying out.

Festus gave a metallic chirr, the kind that always carried more judgment than a dragon should be capable of. 

“I know, I know,” Leo muttered, running a hand along the warm bronze plating. “You think I should just rip the bandage off. But you don’t have to deal with the whole ‘Valdez, what were you thinking?’ routine from six different angry demigods.”

Festus’s gears clicked in a slow, mocking rhythm. 

Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the wise old dragon, I’m the impulsive hothead. We’ve been over this.”

Leo made a mental note to check Festus’s internals and figure out what exactly was making the dragon drip with so much sass. Last he checked, this was not a feature he’d built in.

As his thoughts wandered toward all the upgrades he wanted to make—sleeker armor plates, a better heat sink for the fire core, maybe some kind of retractable espresso machine—something on the horizon caught his eye.

Normally, a few months ago, he wouldn’t have paid attention. But there was a subtle shift in the light, just enough for him to notice. The sky seemed… different. Like looking at an old childhood photo and realizing the colors had once been brighter. The air felt warmer in a way that wasn’t just the sun.

It clicked for him almost immediately. Weeks of sailing on the Argo II had made him a pretty solid navigator. Judging from the position of the sun and the way the wind curled over the water, he was getting close to Ogygia.

Not that he had the island perfectly mapped in his head or anything. Not that he’d memorized the shape of the beach, the tilt of the cliffs, the exact shade of the water. And definitely not that he’d spent way too much of his free time on the Argo II imagining it.

Nope. He would never do that.

Leo sat up a little despite himself, one hand gripping the ridge of Festus’s neck.

“We’re close, buddy.”

Festus rumbled deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through Leo’s bones like the hum of some massive, well-oiled engine. The dragon’s wingbeats slowed, each downstroke more careful than the last. It was almost theatrical.

For all the clanks, groans, and yes, the recent attitude problem, Festus had a knack for setting a mood. Leo could tell his big metal friend was more than eager to make this reunion with Calypso as cinematic as possible. The sun was angled low, glinting off the water in shimmering ribbons. The air was warm with that faint sweetness he remembered from before.

Leo gave a crooked smile. “You know, for a dragon, you really do love your drama.”

Festus let out a low hiss of steam, which Leo decided to take as agreement.

The ocean below stretched out forever, deep blue and endless, broken only by whitecaps and the occasional dark shape of something moving far beneath the surface. Schools of fish scattered like liquid glitter when Festus’s shadow passed over them. A pod of dolphins arced from the waves, catching the sunlight like silver coins before disappearing again. Somewhere far beneath them, sea creatures probably looked up, confused about the massive bronze shadow passing overhead. Maybe they thought he was some new kind of god. Festus, Lord of Fish Anxiety. Leo almost chuckled at the thought.

As Leo flew over the ocean, watching Festus’s new “subjects” scatter below—schools of fish darting in chaotic patterns at the approach of their newly appointed Lord of Fish Anxiety—he couldn’t help but reminisce about his first trip to Ogygia.

Granted, it hadn’t been the smoothest first impression. He’d literally fallen from the sky and demolished Calypso’s table in the process. Not exactly the stuff of romantic ballads. Still, the memory tugged at him with a strange nostalgia. Not so much the part where he was catapulted into the air and crash-landed—though, okay, maybe a little—but mostly the moment he first saw her.

He could still picture it perfectly: the way her face had lit with sharp indignation the second her eyes met his, like a very angry, very cute ball of sunshine who’d just watched someone dropkick her favorite centerpiece.

Yeah… he really did want to see her again.

Wow, Leo realized, he was down bad for her.

As Leo thought that, a sudden gust of wind slammed against Festus, jolting him out of his fantasy—no, memory. He raised an eyebrow and looked up to see what could possibly cause such a disturbance, then groaned.

A storm spirit. Of course.

Yeah, he recognized it instantly. He’d seen enough of them to last several lifetimes, and after burying Gaea—literally and figuratively—he’d kind of been hoping to avoid one for at least five years. Maybe ten if the universe was feeling generous. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

Now, an especially angry-looking spirit was trying its absolute best to blow him off Festus’s back.

Leo ducked low, clinging to the dragon’s bronze plating as another blast of wind tore past. His fingers burned with strain, his knuckles white against the metal. For one terrifying moment, he felt his grip slip.

“I think we’ve got trouble!” he yelled over the roar of the wind.

Festus answered with an indignant blast of steam, as if to say, You think? His bronze wings fought against the turbulence, each flap sending shudders through Leo’s spine.

The dragon snapped his jaws open and spat a column of fire, the heat curling across Leo’s back. The storm spirit darted away, cackling in a voice like shredded aluminum. A few embers whipped backward toward Leo’s head, forcing him to duck.

“Festus, buddy, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you realize we’re still moving, right? Translation: you’re setting our flight path on fire!”

Festus groaned, which in dragon language translated to something like, I have it under control, puny human. Another burst of flame erupted from his mouth—tighter, more focused this time—but the spirit slipped aside again, riding the currents.

“Nice aim,” it jeered.

Festus froze for a fraction of a second, clearly offended on a deep, mechanical level. Then the spirit zipped forward, confident in its dodge game.

Leo grinned. “Oh, you’ve done it now.”

This time, Festus didn’t blast fire. He waited. Just as the spirit zipped in close, the dragon lunged—snapping his jaws shut around the vaporous head. The shriek that followed made Leo’s teeth rattle. The spirit burst apart into ribbons of mist, which evaporated in the wind.

"Yeah, that’s what you get for messing with Leo and his flying dragon!" Leo cheered—right before coughing as the dust from the until-recently-former storm spirit hit the back of his throat.

Festus gave a sharp jerk and belched a massive plume of fire into the air, like a victory salute.

"Yeah, yeah. Show-off," Leo said, patting the dragon’s warm bronze neck.

After their little run-in with the storm spirit, the flight turned almost suspiciously peaceful. Who would’ve guessed? Remove the murderous wind elemental trying to launch you into the ocean and suddenly things were downright pleasant. For a few quiet minutes, the only sound was the slow, steady beat of Festus’s wings slicing through the air.

Then, without warning, a warmth spread over Leo like someone had flipped a cosmic light switch. The air thickened—not in a bad way, more like it wrapped around him—and a golden glow spilled across the sky. The sunlight sharpened. The ocean below shifted from restless chop to perfect glass. Even the breeze seemed to carry the scent of blooming flowers, faint but unmistakable.

It was like he’d crossed through some invisible wall. Which, considering the whole magic-island thing, was probably exactly what happened.

He knew this place. Not the island itself, not yet, but the bubble of magic around it. The invisible borders that kept Ogygia sealed away. The curse that had once made it impossible for Calypso to leave.

Leo let out a slow breath. The hard part was over—he’d found it again. Something that was supposed to be impossible.

And this time, he wasn’t here to leave her behind.

This time… he was taking her out.

The thought made his stomach knot—the same way it did when you realized a public speaking assignment was due in five minutes and you hadn’t prepared a single word.

“Okay, Valdez,” he muttered under his breath. “You died once already. This is nothing. You got this.”

Festus’s glowing ruby eyes flicked back toward him. Leo couldn’t tell if the dragon was amused or unimpressed.

“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Leo sighed.

The air grew sweeter as they flew, the familiar scent of flowers weaving through the wind. It wasn’t overpowering, just enough to wrap around his senses and make him think of warm breezes and green hills. Festus dipped lower, skimming above the glassy surface of the water.

Leo leaned over the side and blinked. The sea here wasn’t like the sea anywhere else. It was so clear it was almost invisible, yet so deep it looked endless, a shimmering window into a blue that never stopped. Even miles from shore, it felt… different. Like the water itself was holding its breath.

And then—he saw it.

Ogygia.

The island rose from the horizon like it had been waiting for him, its beaches white as pearl, its cliffs wrapped in ivy and crowned with groves of cypress and olive trees. Flowers spilled down the hillsides in colors he didn’t have names for, their petals catching the light until the whole place seemed to glow.

 

His pulse quickened. This was it.

The last time he’d seen the island, he’d been on a raft, drifting farther and farther away while Calypso’s figure grew smaller against the shore. He could still hear his own voice, hoarse from shouting, vowing on the River Styx that he would come back for her. 

Now he was close enough again to make out the fine details. The curves of the coastline. The way the cypress trees swayed in the light breeze, their leaves shifting like green silk. The white foam of the waves as they broke gently against the rocks. Every part of it was exactly as he remembered, which somehow made it harder to breathe. Somewhere down there, he knew, was Calypso.

It was beautiful—too beautiful. The whole island shimmered like it had been carved out of a dream and set adrift in its own private corner of the world, untouched by time or decay. But no matter how much the sunlight made it glow, Leo couldn’t forget what it really was.

A prison.

A cage wrapped in flowers. A place that had stolen centuries from her life and replaced them with loneliness.

His stomach twisted. He couldn’t tell if it was excitement or fear. Probably both. He’d pictured this moment so many times, imagined what he would say, what he would do. He’d wanted to show her everything—Festus, the world beyond the horizon, the people who had become his family. He’d wanted to tell her about the little things, too: how camp smelled in the summer after a rainstorm, how loud fireworks sounded when you were right under them, how the stars looked when you weren’t trapped beneath the same patch of sky every night.

Then he grimaced. Maybe he was overthinking it. Ugh. People were so much harder to figure out than machines. With Festus, if something didn’t work, you tightened a bolt or swapped out a gear. With people? You never really knew if you’d fixed anything at all.

But he did know one thing for sure.

No matter how she reacted—whether she was happy, angry, or somewhere in between—he was getting her off this island.

And this time, nothing was going to stop him.

Calyspo POV

The skies of Ogygia were always serene around this time of day. The light lingered stubbornly between afternoon and evening, refusing to commit to either. The horizon glowed with that soft, honey-gold warmth that made the sea look as if it had been poured straight from the sun itself. The breeze carried the mingled scents of salt and citrus, and every so often, the faint song of a bird echoed somewhere in the distance.

To anyone else, it would have been paradise.

For Calypso, it was just Tuesday.

She lay on her back in the meadow that sloped toward the cliffs, one arm pillowing her head, the other trailing loosely in the grass. Her hair spilled across the ground in dark waves, catching strands of green. The grass here had shaped itself to her long ago, pressed flat in a shallow outline of where she always sat — or, more often, where she always waited. It was not the most comfortable place she could sit, nor the most magical — Ogygia was filled with wonders far greater than a patch of flattened meadow — but it was the spot.

But this was the spot.

She didn’t like to admit it, but she had made it a habit to come out to this very spot every day. The sand here was warm and fine, shaped into soft grooves that she had memorized over time. In return, it seemed to carve her own silhouette into the meadow that stretched just beyond the shore. At first, she told herself she came here because she liked the view. Then she told herself it was for the sound—the constant, steady rhythm of the waves, the distant calls of seabirds. But in the end, she couldn’t avoid the truth. She came here because of him.

She could still see him in her mind: Leo Valdez, hunched over some strange contraption on the beach, his hands moving with quick, sure precision. She had stood right here, trying to coax him into resting for the night. He had insisted on working, claiming he was this close to finishing. The two of them had argued over whether he should stop, until finally, she’d lain back in the grass, calling out over the sound of the surf. She’d told him he needed one night off.

He’d looked up from his work, dark eyes ringed with exhaustion but lit with something fierce and bright, and flashed her that infuriatingly confident grin.

“Sleep is for people without style, Sunshine.”

The memory tightened something in her chest. She had so many memories of him in this spot. It was where they’d argued, teased each other, laughed until her ribs ached, and—against all reason and her own better judgment—where she had kissed him for the first time.

It was also where she had pushed him away, forcing herself to take in his figure one last time before he left.

She plucked a blade of grass now, letting it roll between her fingers as the tide whispered against the shore. She let herself sink into the memories—how she had wished he could stay just a week longer. She remembered the way he’d been so confident that he could, the way his voice carried a certainty that almost convinced her. And she remembered the look in his eyes when he realized what the raft meant.

It had been a look she knew all too well. Crestfallen. Hurt.

The same look she had worn for centuries, watching every hero she had ever cared for vanish beyond the horizon.

Her lips tightened.

She tried to imagine what might be happening beyond the mystical borders of Ogygia. Her thoughts drifted to the war Leo had told her about—the one she’d caught a glimpse of when her grandmother, Gaea herself, had risen from the shore and offered her salvation in exchange for Leo’s life. The memory sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Time on Ogygia was fickle. Some days seemed to stretch on forever, while others slipped by in the space of a heartbeat. She wondered how long it had been in the mortal world. How long since Leo had left her?

Her mind, traitorous as always, began to wander. Maybe the war was over. Maybe Leo had…

She cut the thought short before it could finish, pressing her lips together.

It didn’t matter anyway. That was the cruelty of her curse—nothing beyond the island’s borders truly mattered. Unless the gods were overthrown and some new hero washed up on her shore, the outside world could twist and change and burn, and she would remain here. Always here.

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she almost heard him again.

Calypso closed her eyes and let the wind wash over her face. For a heartbeat, she thought she could hear him again.

That quick, irrepressible laugh of his that always seemed to dance at the corners of his mouth, where a smirk was forever tugging. The scrape of his tools against celestial bronze as he worked on whatever invention had captured his brain that day. The soft, metallic clangs echoing from his cave, punctuated by the occasional spark of flame. His ridiculous, tuneless humming whenever he was lost in his work.

It was all so…

Leo.

Leo. The one hero she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind. He drove her insane. She’d been in this position before—her curse had ensured that her solitude was never without company for long—but Leo… Leo was different. Calling him a hero felt wrong somehow. Yes, he had the marks of one, had fought monsters and even defied the earth mother herself, but to lump him in with the others who had washed up on her shores over the centuries felt like an insult.

When he looked at her, it was never with that dazed, enchanted awe she had grown used to. He did notice her beauty—she’d caught him staring when he thought she wasn’t looking—but there was something else in his gaze, something that reached past the surface. It was as if he was trying to understand her, not just admire her.

Even his arrival had been so very… him. Literally crashing into her home like some stubborn, combustible star, falling straight out of the sky and right through her table. She could still see the mess, still hear his voice making some ridiculous joke as if he hadn’t just shattered half her dishes.

And she hated—absolutely hated—how much she missed it.

But then she began to see him work — the spark in his eyes whenever his hands were busy with gears and bronze, the quiet focus that settled over him like a second skin. And the way he… respected her. Not just as some myth or prize, but as herself.

For the first time, someone didn’t treat her like Calypso, the object of desire — the Titaness trapped on an island, forever at the mercy of her curse. No, Leo treated her like Calypso the person. The girl who wanted to live, who wanted to be free, who had been wounded again and again for thousands of years and would be wounded for thousands more.

She had seen through him, too. The way his laughter sometimes came a fraction too fast, like he was trying to keep ahead of something that might catch him if he stopped. The way his gaze lingered on the horizon, restless, as though he was always ready to leave before anyone could leave him first. He carried hurts he never named, and maybe that was why her chest still ached when she thought of him — because for once, she’d found someone who needed her as much as she needed them.

She pressed her palms over her eyes, trying to will away the sharp sting there.

There had been nights after he left when she cried. Not the kind of crying that came with wails or sobs — she wasn’t the type for dramatics. But the tears still came, hot and unbidden, slipping down her cheeks no matter how tightly she pressed her lips together. Because she missed him. Because she didn’t know if he was still alive. Because deep down, she believed he was never coming back.

She knew better than anyone — because she had lived it more times than she could count — that no man ever returned to Ogygia twice.

It was the most unshakable truth of her curse.

She had watched heroes come and go for centuries. She was cursed to love them. They were cursed to leave.

But there was something about Leo that both stung and clung to her at once. When she urged him to go, she had seen in his eyes that he wanted nothing more than to stay. She had known, without him saying it, that if she gave him the smallest reason, he might have remained on that island forever. But Leo Valdez had a role to play, a destiny to fulfill, and in those final moments, he had sworn on the River Styx that he would return.

Stupid, impossible boy.

She wished he hadn’t said it. If he had left without that vow, perhaps she could have let him go the way she had let the others go. Instead, the ember of hope he left behind refused to die, no matter how many times she tried to smother it.

She told herself all the things meant to make it easier. That he had moved on. That he had found someone else. That the world was too vast and dangerous for him to risk finding her again. She repeated them until she could say them without flinching. But they never took.

Because in the quiet moments, she still looked at the sky. Still listened for the sound of wings. Still wondered what it would be like to hear his laugh again.

She sat up, brushing bits of grass from her skirt. The garden would need tending soon — the roses had been unruly this week — but she didn’t move toward the hut.

That was when she heard it.

A sound rolled across the island, faint at first but growing sharper: a metallic clank, a rush of air, and then a crash that shook the ground beneath her.

Calypso’s heart stuttered. That wasn’t a wave breaking on the cliffs. It wasn’t a falling tree. It was something heavy that had landed.

For one dangerous, impossible second, hope flared in her chest.

No. She shoved it down. It couldn’t be him. The curse didn’t work that way. No man ever came back to Ogygia twice.

…Right?

The wind shifted, carrying a sharp, metallic tang threaded with smoke. Not the wild acrid smoke of fire — the mechanical heat of bronze and oil.

Her stomach flipped.

Her feet moved without her realizing. One step. Another. Slow at first, as if the island might dissolve beneath her, then faster. The pull in her chest was impossible to ignore.

It could be another hero. Someone else entirely.

But what if it wasn’t?

Leo POV

Leo Valdez had been through a lot of bad landings in his life.

But this one? Oh, this took the metaphorical cake. And the cake he’d just won was made of sand — and it was everywhere. Sand in his mouth, his eyebrows, his boots, and probably other places he didn’t want to think about. Man, he hated sand. It was coarse, rough, irritating, and it got everywhere.

Face-first on the beach, cheek mashed into the grit, Leo groaned into the earth. Beside him, Festus was half-buried in a sandbank, wings twitching like an offended metal pelican. A creaking sound followed as the dragon tried to haul himself free, which, Leo had to admit, was pretty amusing to watch. Festus clearly didn’t share the sentiment — the sand beneath Leo began to grow hotter as his dragon started melting his way back to the surface.

“Yeah, I know,” Leo mumbled, voice muffled by sand. “Not my smoothest move. But hey… style points?”

Festus responded with a loud hiss of hot steam that blasted directly into Leo’s face.

“Alright, I’ll take that as a no.”

With the dignity of a man who had crash-landed on the same island twice — or at least as much dignity as such a man could manage — Leo hauled himself upright. Festus gave a mechanical shiver before opening every vent at once, blasting out torrents of scalding air and sending rivers of sand sliding off his bronze frame.

“Yeah, well, we’ll get you a proper clean-up when we’re back at Camp Half-Blood. I can tell you from experience, that’s not enough to get all the sand out.”

Festus stomped, clearly unimpressed. Leo ignored the very moody dragon in front of him and turned his gaze back to the recipient of his spectacular landing.

Ogygia.

The sun was doing that whole dramatic golden spotlight thing. The air carried a faint mix of citrus and wildflowers. Waves lapped gently at the shore, calm and peaceful — like they hadn’t just watched him wipe out in spectacular fashion.

Even Festus, once he got over the whole crashing thing, seemed to notice how unreal the scenery was. The big guy’s whirring slowed, his head tilting as if he were actually… admiring it.

For a long moment, Leo just stood there and breathed. His chest felt tight — and not just from eating half the beach a minute ago.

This was it.

He'd made it.

And then—

"Leo?"

The voice. Oh, that voice — sweeter to Leo’s ears than any sound he’d heard in months. For a second, he thought his brain was pulling one of its cruel tricks again. But then it came again, carrying a jagged breath, like its owner had been breathless from running. There was doubt in it too. The kind he imagined would be in his own voice if he spoke now — half afraid to believe what he was seeing.

Slowly, he turned toward the cliffs.

And there she was.

Calypso.

His brain short-circuited for a good three seconds. He’d pictured this moment a hundred times — okay, more like a thousand — and every single mental rehearsal went up in smoke against the reality in front of him. She stood framed in sunlight, hair spilling in dark waves over her shoulders, amber eyes wide enough to hold the whole horizon. She looked exactly the same. She looked completely different.

"Hey, Sunshine," he managed, his voice cracking halfway through the words. "Miss me?"

Calypso didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, the glare of the sun hiding her expression, and Leo let her — he was still trying to process the fact that she was real and right in front of him. She was staring at him like he might disappear if she blinked.

Then, without warning, she moved.

One heartbeat, she was on the cliffs. The next, she was a blur of skirts and bare feet pounding across the sand. Leo barely had time to open his arms before she slammed into him full-force, knocking the wind out of his lungs and most of the thoughts out of his head.

“Ow!” he wheezed. “I’m still mortal, you know. I bleed normal blood, woman.”

She pulled back just enough to cup his face, her fingers trembling, amber eyes boring into his. Then the words came in a rush, spilling over each other so quickly they almost became one.

“HowareyouhereIthoughtyouweregoneIsawyouleaveontheraftthecurseitsimpossibleforyoutobehereareyouevenreal—”

He cut her off with one simple motion, wrapping his arms around her. Calypso froze, breath caught, before slowly melting into the embrace, her grip tightening as though she might anchor herself to him.

Calypso glanced briefly at Festus, blinked, then looked back at Leo.

“You came back,” she said, her voice soft now.

Leo shrugged, aiming for casual. “Of course I did. I mean, yeah, there were some explosions and maybe a little bit of actual dying involved, but—”

She hugged him again. This time she didn’t let go.

Leo froze for a beat. He felt her breath against his chest, the warmth of her hair under his chin. For a second, all the noise in his head fell quiet.

Then the voice came.

You know how this works, Valdez. She’s cursed. She falls in love with whoever lands here. That’s not you she loves — it’s the curse.

He tried to push it away, but the thought clung stubbornly.

If she wasn’t trapped here… if she could choose freely… would she ever look at you twice? You’re Leo Valdez — orphan, seventh wheel, too much for some, not enough for others. You don’t fit. You never have.

His arms tightened instinctively, almost like he was holding onto her against the thought itself. But the voice wouldn’t stop.

She’s a beautiful, ageless daughter of the Titans. And you’re… you.

A sliver of doubt slid in, thin but sharp. The warmth of the moment dimmed, just enough for him to notice. He still wanted this — wanted her — but suddenly he wasn’t sure if what he felt was real or if it was only the thrill of keeping a promise.

After a long moment, he loosened his hold. Not enough for her to think he was pulling away, but enough to breathe again.

“Uh,” he said, glancing over her shoulder at Festus. “I should… probably make sure the big guy’s systems are good before we think about taking off.”

Calypso’s eyes flickered — hurt, confusion, something in between — but she nodded.

Leo took the opportunity to crouch by the dragon's side. A loose panel on Festus's flank had been bothering him since they landed. He pulled a wrench from his tool belt and started tightening it, partly because it needed doing, but mostly because fiddling with gears was a lot easier than thinking about the next ten minutes. He then bent to fuss with a bronze wing joint that was perfectly fine, muttering nonsense about "pressure seals" and "hydraulic flux resistance" like Festus didn't know he was faking.

Eventually he looked up from his busy work, and saw the eyes of calypso staring down at him. gods those eyes... no leo stay focused focused on getting out of here besides you dont ev- he dispelled the thought from his head, no time for doubts now he could deal woith all this romance later he needed to keep a promise to her he was gonna get her off.

though htere was something about the curse, aside from well the whole falling in love part he was worried about.

“You know, we should probably talk about the curse thing.”

Calypso arched an eyebrow as if that was not the question she had expected him to ask after suddenly leaving their embrace, something he could she was evidently not happy about. "The curse thing."

“Yeah. You know — no man finds Ogygia twice.” He waved vaguely at himself. “Except… here I am. So if we leave together… do you know what happens to you? Could be you turn mortal. Could be you grow wings. Could be you burst into flames?”

Calypso’s expression shifted into thoughtful consideration. “I never… well, I never considered it a possibility,” she began. “But since you’re here now, on the island, that must mean on some level the island’s curse has been lifted. If something as absolute as ‘no man can find Ogygia twice’ no longer holds true, then there’s a chance the curse in its entirety has been broken.”

Another unwanted thought crept down Leo’s spine. Curse broken… she’s no longer bound to love you, Valdez. Soon she’ll see what you’re really worth and leave you like the rest.

He grimaced. “So what you’re basically saying is… you have no idea.”

A silence hung between them before she answered. “I hate you, Leo Valdez.”

He grinned. “So I’m right. You, a goddess, know just as much as me, a mere demigod, about what’s going to happen when you leave this island.”

“Oh, get over it.” She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose, as you put it, there’s a chance I could burst into flames the moment I step off Ogygia’s shores.”

“Great,” he muttered.

“But,” she continued, stepping closer, “for some reason, I don’t think I will.”

He arched a brow. “And that’s… what? Divine wisdom?”

“Call it a gut feeling,” she said softly. “I have a strange inkling that the gods have released me from this curse. You’re here, after all.” She squeezed his hand gently. The contact made his heart skip — and, inconveniently, the voice in his head stir again.

Or maybe this is just the last flicker before she sees the truth.

“Y-yeah,” he said, shaking the thought away as he finished Festus’s pre-flight checks. “Ready to go, sunshine? Got your bags packed?”

That was when he noticed the invisible servants gathering her belongings — a neat mahogany suitcase adorned with painted flowers.

“Yes,” she said, smiling softly as she looked back at Ogygia, perhaps for the last time.

“Are you gonna miss this place?” he asked.

“For everything it was, it was still my home.” She glanced at him. “But I wish it to be my prison no longer.”

They worked together to load her things onto Festus, and for a moment, it was like those first days they’d spent on the island — side by side, moving in sync. When everything was secured, Leo extended his hand. Calypso took it firmly and slid onto the back of the dragon behind him, her arms settling lightly around his waist.

Festus rumbled, wings flexing. The island’s breeze carried the scent of flowers and sea salt — and something else Leo couldn’t name.

As Festus crouched to leap into the sky, Leo looked once more at the shore. He’d done it. He’d come back for her.

And yet, as the island shrank behind them, the question gnawed at him like a loose gear in the back of his mind.

Now that she’s free… will she still choose me?

 

Chapter 2: Camp Halfblood

Percy POV

Camp Half-Blood was looking pretty good these days, all things considered. Recently, the cabin for all the minor gods had finally been finished. Annabeth had been quite proud of herself about it too — and to be fair, this was something she'd been working on for months before being very rudely interrupted by a certain goddess kidnapping him and diverting her attention away from the cabins. Percy supposed that was a pretty good reason for the long completion time.

The whole valley seemed to smell like a mix between the Demeter and Aphrodite cabin, and Percy had seen more plant life and animals around camp in the past few days than he had in weeks. A couple of dryads had planted rows of olive trees along the canoe lake, and the nymphs seemed to be in good spirits, darting between branches and occasionally shooting jets of water at any demigod unlucky enough to walk by.

It was the kind of time a poet would probably write about — or so Percy assumed, since he'd never really liked reading poetry given that a) he was lousy at writing (almost Apollo-bad, but he didn't think that was possible) and b) the whole dyslexia thing.

He sighed as he took in the scene. He had just finished a particularly rowdy sword-fighting lesson he'd been teaching, after deciding it was a good idea to try sparring four Ares kids at once. He'd won, of course, but he made a mental note never to try that again. The kids were crafty and had almost managed to land a few good hits on him.

Given all this, Percy felt like he should have been relieved — happy, even. He didn't have to constantly travel across the country or worry about fighting monsters every two seconds. By all accounts, he should have been enjoying life. Camp Half-Blood was as lively as ever, and the sight of campers relaxing, laughing, training, and eating usually lifted his spirits. Chiron was even considering expanding the camp, given how many new campers had arrived since the gods promised to be better parents — which, apparently, was quite the ask.

Instead, there was a twinge of emptiness in his stomach. Where there should have been happiness and contentment, there was only a small, hollow ache he couldn't quite name. He turned away from the cheerful scene and made his way toward the dining pavilion.

When he arrived, he scanned the area until he spotted the table where the Seven — or what was left of them — were gathered. He took a seat beside Annabeth, who instinctively reached for his hand and gave it a small squeeze.

Usually, on a day like this, they'd be smiling, laughing, maybe even teasing each other. The sun was shining, the weather was perfect. But instead, they all wore the same glum expression Percy imagined was on his own face. And it was for one reason.

Leo Valdez.

Their friend who, just four months ago, had vanished in a storm of fire during the battle with Gaea. Four months since the captain of the Argo II had cracked one of his ridiculous jokes and made the rest of them roll their eyes. Four months since Leo had accidentally set something on fire or blown something up.

A small, sad smile tugged at Percy's mouth. He'd always known they were going into something dangerous — that there was a chance some of them wouldn't make it back. But he'd never really considered what it would feel like to lose one of their own... let alone lose Leo. He'd always assumed it would be him making the sacrifice play, him struck down while protecting his friends. Now that idea felt like one massive, bitter joke.

A pang of guilt washed over him as he thought back to their time on the Argo II — and how they had all treated Leo. Only recently had Percy begun to realize just how lonely the son of Hephaestus must have been, the only one without a partner on the ship, always stuck as the third wheel. Percy wondered how much Leo had been hiding as he worked, manning the Argo II while watching his friends grow closer to each other, and to him, in different ways.

And now, Percy would never get the chance to apologize.

Annabeth must have been studying his face, because she gave another squeeze of his hand to catch his attention and fixed him with one of those Annabeth looks — the kind that said Cut it, Seaweed Brain. It isn't your fault, and there was nothing you could do.

He tried to look away, but her gaze lingered like a tether. Eventually, he dropped his eyes to the table again, jaw tight.

He knew it wasn't his fault — or at least, he told himself that. Still, the guilt clung to him. He hadn't noticed Leo's plan until it was too late. Maybe if he'd realized what Leo was doing... if he'd realized that Leo was planning to... well, maybe he could have done something. Changed something. At the very least, stopped him from—

Percy cut the thought off before it could finish.

But the truth lingered bitterly: he hadn't stopped him. And by some twisted joke from the Fates, Leo was gone forever, and he wasn't coming back.

Piper must have been thinking something similar, because she had curled into Jason's side, tucking herself into his embrace. Jason looked unsure at first, then wrapped an arm around her, and she all but sank into him. Percy turned his gaze to Frank and Hazel, who both stared down at the table, their expressions tight with shame.

They had known.

Leo had confided in them about his plan, about the risk he was going to take. They had understood. They were Roman, after all — they'd been raised to understand sacrifice. And that probably meant they carried the heaviest guilt of all. They had failed to dissuade him, failed to stop him, and Percy couldn't imagine how they'd ever live with that fact.

He remembered the day they told the rest of the group. Hazel's silent tears as she explained that Leo had sacrificed himself. The way Frank's face had seemed to shrink in on itself, dark and heavy. Percy had wanted to resent them. He'd wanted someone to blame.

But in the end, he couldn't.

Because he knew Leo. And once Leo set his mind on something, trying to stop him was an effort in vain.

Leo was stubborn like that.

Piper hadn't taken it well — and Percy understood why. She'd known Leo the longest of all of them. In every sense, Leo had been her oldest friend among the Seven.

When she'd first heard the news, he remembered how she'd raged. How she'd screamed. How she'd nearly decked Frank, blaming him and Hazel for her friend's death. For a split second, Percy had actually thought she was going to draw her weapon and strike, and his hand had instinctively gone to Riptide.

Luckily, it hadn't reached that point. Jason had stepped in — and in truth, Jason had been the one to calm all of them down. Percy could still see it clearly: Piper clutching her dagger, tears streaming down her face, shoulders shaking with fury. Jason had approached slowly, carefully, like one wrong move might shatter her completely. Then, with quiet care, he'd placed his hand over hers and gently loosened her grip on the weapon.

"Leo would've wanted this," Jason had said. "It was his call. Tearing each other apart over it isn't going to bring him back."

He'd said it like he meant it, even though his voice had cracked halfway through. Percy couldn't imagine how much it had cost Jason to hold himself together in that moment. But Jason, like Hazel and Frank, was Roman at his core. Sure, he'd been molded by Greek traditions during his time at Camp Half-Blood — after his memories had been wiped — but that Roman sense of discipline still was a part of his identity.

Jason understood the weight of sacrifice. He knew there was no point in raging at the inevitable, no point in turning on each other over someone who was already gone.

"It was his choice," Jason had repeated. Percy wasn't sure if the words were meant more for them... or for himself. "The best we can do is honor him, do what he would've wanted, and move on."

All of them had sagged ever so slightly at that comment. They knew it was true, but that didn't make moving on any easier. Piper's hands had gone slack, all the fight draining from her as she leaned her head against Jason's chest.

Since that day, they'd each tried — in their own ways — to keep going. They'd burned Leo's shroud, as was tradition, the smoke curling into the sky like it might carry some part of him with it. Jason and Piper had withdrawn for weeks after, spending most of their time together in quiet conversation or in silence. Hazel and Frank had thrown themselves into training and patrols, keeping their bodies busy so their minds didn't think about their friend. Percy had found his own outlet in hunting down monsters on the occasional outing, letting his anger bleed out with every strike. It was always Annabeth who would pull him back, steadying him with that same pained but controlled look in her eyes.

It wasn't just them, either. The Hephaestus cabin had taken Leo's death hard — maybe harder than anyone. They'd already lost Beckendorf, and just as it seemed like they were beginning to recover from that, to break the pattern of loss that hung over them, they lost Leo too. It was like someone had ripped out the heart of the cabin. The forges went cold. Tools lay untouched on workbenches. Days would pass without the clang of metal or the hiss of steam. No new cabin leader was chosen; no one seemed ready to fill the space Leo had left. They moved through camp like shadows of themselves.

And now here they were. Percy pulled himself back to the present — the seven, or what remained of them, gathered around a single bench. No one spoke. Each face was distant, lost in their own thoughts, maybe replaying memories of Leo or thinking about their own regrets.

It was Piper who finally broke the silence.

"Do you guys remember that time Leo built that mechanical squirrel to scare me on the Argo II?" Her voice was quiet. "It exploded with glitter and perfume."

Jason let out a soft laugh. "And it chased you through the stables."

Piper's mouth twitched into the smallest smile. "Yeah. He said I'd 'offended the squirrel kingdom' or something ridiculous like that."

She kept her eyes on the table. "I knew him the longest," she said. "Back before he wore those stupid goggles everywhere, before he carried a screwdriver like it was part of his hand." Her shoulders sank. "And I still didn't realize... how alone he felt."

Percy's chest tightened. He thought of Festus — great company in his own way, sure, but not someone a person should spend most of their time with when they were stuck on a ship full of what was supposed to be friends.

Piper's voice shook as she continued to speak. "I should've known. I should've said something. And now he'll never find that island he wouldn't stop talking about..."

Her tone turned sharp with bitterness.

Ogygia.

The name made Percy's chest twist—the island where the titaness Calypso was stranded. Leo had been so determined to find her after he returned, and Percy knew why — he'd fallen for her. The thought of her brought another twinge of guilt. Percy hadn't even bothered to check if the gods had kept their word about releasing her.

He remembered how cold Leo had been to him after finding out the truth, how the air between them had turned sharp because Percy had left Calypso there. He remembered, too, how they'd made up. How Leo, in his usual way, had forgiven him.

But now a bitter thought wormed its way in: No man ever finds Ogygia twice. And Leo wouldn't even get the chance to try.

Percy sat up a little straighter. Maybe... maybe he could talk to his dad. Get Calypso released. If the gods had any sense of decency, it was the least they could do. The least he could do for Leo.

A sudden sound of footsteps broke through his thoughts. He looked up, and from the corner of his eye saw that Annabeth had already noticed. She was watching the source of the noise, her brows knitting together before she flicked Percy a questioning glance.

"Guys!"

A camper — Percy was pretty sure he was from Hermes cabin — stumbled into view, panting hard, hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"What is it?" Jason asked.

The camper stopped just short of the table, gasping for breath. "Something's flying toward camp. It... it looks like a dragon. A metal dragon."

For half a second, no one moved.

Then in a blink of an eye Jason was already halfway up the hill. "Where?" he barked.

The rest of them were soon right behind Jason. Percy's heart was hammering in his chest, the pounding almost loud enough to drown out the rush of wind coming from above.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

They crested the slope to the camp's border hill, and the sight stopped them in their tracks. The hill was swarming with campers — every cabin represented in a chaotic mass of colors and armor. Dozens stood frozen, necks craned toward the sky, the early morning sun glaring off something massive and moving fast.

A metallic silhouette gleamed against the clouds.

"Move!" Jason barked, pushing through the crowd, Piper tight on his heels. Percy and the rest followed, weaving between gawking campers.

Pushing their way through the mass of bodies, the remaining members of the Seven fought to reach the front.

"Sorry—my bad—don't trip over the Aphrodite kid—" Percy muttered as they squeezed past. A couple of younger campers shot him annoyed looks, but no one stepped out of the way. Whatever was coming was too captivating to ignore.

They finally broke through to the front. Jason, Piper, Annabeth, Percy, Frank, and Hazel stood shoulder to shoulder in a loose, tense line.

Out in the distance, gliding closer with every beat of its enormous bronze wings, was Festus.

The bronze dragon soared through the morning air like it had never been torn apart, never vanished in a burst of fire. Steam hissed from his joints, and his eyes glowed bright and steady. Sunlight caught on every plate of his armor, turning him into a flying and very reflective piece of metal.

Piper let out a sharp gasp and covered her mouth. Her voice was muffled when she spoke. "It can't be..."

Hazel's voice was small, disbelieving. "Is that really...?"

Jason's jaw tightened. "It has to be."

"But he disappeared with Leo," Piper said, her voice breaking on his name.

Hazel swallowed hard. "If Festus is here... then..." She didn't finish. None of them did.

But the thought — no, the hope — was there, burning bright and dangerous in all their chests.

"He better be," Piper whispered, almost to herself.

Festus let out a deafening mechanical roar as he swooped lower. The wind from his wings blasted across the hill, forcing campers to shield their faces and stagger back — a couple even drew their weapons. His descent sent ripples through the grass. The earth trembled when he touched down, his talons digging into the soil. His wings folded with a hiss of steam.

And on the back of festus, sat two figures. he thought it was some cruel trick of light or maybe even a test from the gods but there sitting ontop of festus was leo valdez along with another figure that seemed odly familiar to percy perched behind him obscured by both festus's large head and the boy who should have been dead's bodies.

Everyone was silent for a moment. if he listened close enough and maybe got his heart to stop thumping so loudly he was convinced he could probably hear a pin drop in the silence. the boy now sitting on the top of the dragon shifted uncomfortably slightly with a slight sheepish and nervous expression plasyered on his face before finally he closed his eyes seemingly stealing himself and dismounting from the dragon and spreading his arms.

"Okay, so who missed me?"

For one stunned heartbeat, no one moved. No one breathed. The camp was frozen, holding onto the impossible moment like Leo might burst into flame if they reacted too fast.

Then Piper screamed.

She moved so fast she was almost a blur, and for one fleeting second, Percy's main concern was whether Leo's bones were about to get pulverized.

"Leo!"

She slammed into him at full speed, arms locking around him with enough force to nearly knock them both over. Leo caught her with a startled oof, staggering back a step before he managed to plant his feet.

"Whoa—okay, yeah, definitely missed me. Got it. Message received," he wheezed.

Piper didn't answer. She just clung to him, fingers fisted in the back of his jacket like if she loosened her grip, he'd vanish all over again. Percy couldn't tell if she was going to cry or punch him.

A few seconds later, he got his answer.

Piper pulled back just enough to look him in the eye—then drove her fist straight into his stomach.

Leo doubled over, wheezing. "Ow—yep, totally deserved that."

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Valdez," she said, her voice trembling between fury and relief. "You absolute idiot."

"I'd apologize," he croaked, "but I think my ribs just swapped places with my lungs."

She huffed, eyes glassy, and hugged him again.

As Piper clung to the very-much-alive Leo, Percy caught movement from the side. Jason was walking toward them, his posture straight and measured, like he was trying to keep every step deliberate. His eyes flicked over Leo, scanning him from head to toe as if to make sure he was really there and not some elaborate trick.

When he reached them, Jason set one hand firmly on Leo's shoulder. The grip looked like it could crush a bear skull. Percy caught the faint curve of a smile tugging at Jason's mouth—and if he didn't know better, he'd swear Jason's eyes were a little shinier than usual.

Leo winced, half-pinned between Jason's iron grip on his shoulder and Piper's vice-like hug around his middle. "Man, did everyone forget about gentle greetings while I was gone? I'm starting to think you guys are trying to kill me twice."

Jason's mouth twitched into the shadow of a smile, but he didn't loosen his hold. His eyes stayed locked on Leo's face, scanning him like he was trying to memorize every detail—like if he looked away for even a second, Leo might vanish again. "You're alive," he said.

"Don't sound so surprised, man," Leo shot back with a crooked grin, though there was something tight in his voice. Probably a lack of oxygen. "You know I've got the survival instincts of a cockroach. Drop me in a volcano, throw me into Tartarus, whatever—you're still stuck with me."

Jason huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, but his grip didn't soften. "Yeah, well... cockroaches don't usually explode themselves on purpose."

Piper's head jerked up at that, her eyes narrowing at Leo even as she still clung to him. "He's right. Don't ever do that again."

Leo raised his hands in mock surrender, or at least tried to, given his current prisoner-of-war situation. "Hey, hey, in my defense, I didn't exactly get a lot of volunteers for the 'fly a giant death machine into the earth goddess' face' job opening. You guys were busy."

Jason shook his head, a reluctant smile creeping in despite himself. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet," Leo said, glancing pointedly at both of them, "still here. Still huggable. Speaking of—which one of you's gonna let go first before I pass out?"

Piper's jaw worked like she wanted to stay angry, but after a long beat she finally exhaled and loosened her arms, stepping back just enough to swipe at her eyes. "Don't think this is over. I still owe you a lecture."

Jason released his grip a moment later, clapping Leo on the shoulder one last time before letting his hand drop. "Good to have you back, man."

Leo rolled his shoulders, mock-groaning. "Thanks. I was starting to worry my welcome-home party was just gonna be a group mugging."

Frank approached next, his face unreadable. For a heartbeat, he just stood there, staring at Leo as if checking to make sure this wasn't some cruel trick of the Mist. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and pulled Leo into a massive bear hug that wrapped around him like a steel trap.

Leo's feet actually left the ground. His ribs protested loudly.

"Can't... breathe..." Leo wheezed, his arms flailing for dramatic effect. "Frank... buddy... if you kill me now, all this was for nothing!"

Frank's arms didn't budge. "You're not getting away from us again," he muttered.

Leo's voice died halfway in his throat. "Yeah... well I'll try not to die again."

Hazel was right behind him, moving in before Frank could even set Leo down. She slipped her arms around both of them, creating a tangle of armor, flannel, and bronze-smudged leather. Her cheek pressed briefly against Leo's shoulder, and when she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"We thought you were gone for good," she said softly, her voice trembling on the last word.

Leo looked down at her and softened. "I thought so too, for a bit."

Frank finally set him back on the ground, but his hands stayed gripping Leo's shoulders for another moment, like he needed to physically anchor him there. Hazel lingered close, one hand resting lightly on Leo's arm as if she wasn't ready to let go either.

Leo swallowed, forcing a lopsided grin. "Man, you guys are clingy. Not that I'm complaining—just pointing it out."

Hazel's lips twitched, but she didn't look away. Frank shook his head, a ghost of a smile breaking across his face.

Finally, Annabeth stepped forward. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, grey eyes locked on Leo like she was assessing the structural integrity of his bone structure after all the abuse he'd just endured.

"Four months," she said evenly. "You vanish. No warning. No note. Just—gone."

Leo winced under the weight of her tone. "Well... I did technically explode," he offered a sheepish grin. "In my defense, that tends to make leaving a note a little tricky."

Her gaze didn't soften right away. She gave him the once-over, eyes flicking from the soot-stained edges of his jacket to the grease smudges on his hands.

Finally, she exhaled slowly, the rigid line of her shoulders loosening by a fraction. "You are impossible, Valdez," she murmured.

Leo grinned faintly. "Yeah, but you missed me."

Instead of answering, Annabeth stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. It wasn't a Piper-level tackle or a Frank-style rib-crusher, but it certainly a hug all right.

"We missed you, Leo," she said quietly against his shoulder, her voice warmer now, the edge in it fading. "Try sending a postcard next time."

For a second, Leo hesitated, almost startled. Then his arms came up, wrapping around her in return. His throat tightened, and he managed, "Yeah, I'll try."

When she stepped back, she gave him one last piercing look, the kind that said don't ever do that to us again, without a single word. Then she suddenly stepped on his foot, causing Leo to let out a loud yelp. 

Annabeth could be so scary sometimes.

Percy had hung back through all of it, leaning just on the edge of the crowd, watching the reunions play out like he wasn't quite convinced any of this was real. His arms were crossed loosely, but his grip on his own forearm was tight, like he was bracing for the moment Leo would vanish in a puff of smoke and leave them all staring at empty air again.

When he finally stepped forward, he was careful, taking deliberate steps until he stood in front of Leo. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Percy's sea-green eyes scanned Leo like how the rest of his friends had done.

"Hey," Percy said at last, the word carrying more weight than it had any right to.

"Hey," Leo replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. His mouth twitched into a crooked grin. "Thanks for not trying to break any of my bones like the others. Nice to know you're the chill one in the group."

Percy's lips quirked just slightly. "Don't tempt me. You've got plenty I could break."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Wow, so much love in this camp. Really missed it."

The corner of Percy's mouth lifted a little higher, but he didn't step in for a hug.

For once, that was enough.

Festus let out a low, almost contented rumble behind them, steam curling from his nostrils. The campers around the hill began to stir again, whispering and pointing, the shock slowly melting into awe and excitement. Somewhere in the crowd, a voice shouted, "You could have at least sent an Iris message!"

Leo grinned, glancing over at Festus. "Told you they'd miss us, buddy."

The dragon snorted in agreement, and for the first time in months, the camp felt... whole again.

Leo POV

Given all things considered, Leo figured his friends had taken his grand return pretty well. Sure, he was pretty sure Jason had cracked a rib with that shoulder clap, Frank had crushed about three of his vertebrae in that bear hug, and Annabeth had probably left some permananet damage on his foot — but that was to be expected. Occupational hazard of disappearing in a fiery explosion and then strolling back into camp like nothing happened.

Still, the warmth from those greetings hadn't faded, and he let a small smile pull at his face. It was weird. Good-weird. Like he'd been holding his breath for months without realizing it, and now, finally, he could let it out.

Then he remembered.

He wasn't the only surprise arrival today.

Leo turned back toward Festus, who was still parked like a giant bronze lawn ornament at the edge of the crowd. Behind the dragon's massive bulk, a familiar head of dark hair peeked out, just enough for a pair of wary amber eyes to be visible.

Calypso.

She was half-hidden behind one of Festus's folded wings, posture straight but her expression — well, for Calypso — was about as close to "nervous" as he'd ever seen.

If Leo could've taken a picture right then, he would've. Frame it. Hang it in the Hephaestus cabin right between the "Random Stuff Leo Made Explode" plaque and that terrible portrait of Nyssa. Not because it was funny (okay, maybe a little), but because this was one of those moments he never thought he'd actually get to see again outside his own head.

Calypso's gaze flicked to the mass of staring campers and then back to Leo, like she was silently asking, What now?

Leo cleared his throat, stepped to the side so she could see him better, and jerked his thumb in her direction. "Uh, so, before everyone gets back to pretending they weren't just crying over my return—"

"Was not crying," Jason muttered under his breath.

"—I'd like you guys to meet someone. This is Calypso."

A ripple went through the crowd. Heads turned, glances were exchanged, the kind of low murmurs people didn't think you could hear but totally could.

Annabeth's eyes locked on Calypso immediately. They narrowed just a fraction like she was mentally sorting through a library of myths and pulling up every entry about "Goddess: Daughter of Atlas, Island Prison, Known Complicated History With Heroes."

Percy's reaction was harder for Leo to miss. The guy's whole posture tensed, like someone had just tightened a coil spring in his chest. He suddenly looked down as if he found the floor to be very interesting all of a sudden. When he looked up, his eyes kept darting between Calypso and Leo, then back to Annabeth.

Hazel and Frank on their parts looked confused. Of course they wouldn't understand the uh, well history Calypso had with Percy. Piper was watching Leo with a raised eyebrow, with a small smile beginning to tug at the edges of her mouth.

Calypso, for her part, inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment to the group, but she didn't step forward. Leo could practically feel the wall she'd put up, the invisible I will stand here with dignity until I know what kind of reception I'm getting shield.

The silence stretched.

Some of the younger campers looked between Annabeth and Calypso like they were about to try and kill each other at any moment. The older campers glanced between Annabeth and Percy, waiting for one of them to say something first.

Annabeth finally spoke, her tone measured. "You're...Calypso of Ogygia."

It wasn't quite a question.

"Yes," Calypso said, her voice calm, though her knuckles tightened around the edge of Festus's saddle strap. "Yes I am."

Percy shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're...out."

Calypso's eyes flicked to him. "It would seem so."

It dawned on Leo, like a very unwanted lightbulb switching on, that Calypso and Percy had never really... talked. Not properly. Sure, he and Percy had buried the hatchet ages ago, but with that whole no man ever finds Ogygia twice curse thing still being in place until recently, Percy had never exactly gotten a chance to show up, wave hello, and explain the whole "Sorry I didn't rescue you from your eternal island prison" situation.

And now here they were. In the same place. For the first time. With a lot of campers watching.

The longer Leo thought about it, the more his stomach started doing this slow, uncomfortable sink. He remembered what Calypso had told him back on the island — that he'd arrived not long after Percy had left. Which meant she'd still been thinking about Percy when he showed up.

And just because Percy had moved on, found Annabeth, and was clearly solid in that relationship... did that mean Calypso had to move on just as fast? Or at all?

What if, Leo grimaced, what if he was just the plan B? The next best thing consolation prize the universe had shipped to her doorstep?

He blinked a few times, nerves prickling under his skin as an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation settled over him. Part of him itched to blurt out an excuse, to duck away and pretend to fuss with Festus’s wiring, but given the circumstances — and the fact that they’d be surrounded by everyone at camp soon — he had a feeling that would be a spectacularly bad idea.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

Leo almost slapped himself. This was not the time for maybe-I-don't-know potential girlfriend issues with her maybe-I-don't-know not-really-ex. That conversation would come later, preferably when there weren't fifty people staring at them.

Focus on the situation in front of you, Valdez.

He glanced at Percy, who was still standing stiffly, shoulders squared, his eyes constantly looking elsewhere. Annabeth was at his side, and while she wasn't saying anything, her eyes kept flicking between Calypso and Percy in a way that made Leo really not want to be in the middle of whatever was gonna happen once the two were in private.

Yeah. Definitely time to cut through this before it got any more awkward.

Leo raised his hands like he was trying to stop two monsters from charging each other. "Alright," he said quickly, voice pitched to carry over the murmuring crowd. "I can feel the awkward from here, and for the record, I have stood in actual monster lairs that felt less tense than this, so let's just—"

Before he could finish, a familiar, measured voice cut through the crowd — a voice he had never been happier to hear. It spared him from the burden of trying to defuse what felt like a very live, very active bomb, one he was certain was seconds away from detonating.

"My word," Chiron said, emerging from the edge of the gathering with his usual calm authority. His eyes were fixed on Calypso, but unlike everyone else's, there was no suspicion in them.

When he reached the front, he inclined his head to her. "Calypso. Welcome."

Calypso blinked, clearly surprised by his tone. "You know me?"

"Indeed," Chiron said. "Daughter of Atlas, yes? Which makes you" — he smiled faintly — "my half-sister."

There was a beat of stunned silence before murmurs erupted again, campers glancing between each other with renewed curiosity. Leo never liked to think too hard about how the whole family tree of life worked when the gods were involved. Technically, sure, gods didn’t pass down DNA in the traditional sense — but if you looked at it from an outsider’s perspective, everyone was kind of related to everyone. Which, given all the ahem inter–demigod mingling that was pretty common, was a thought Leo tried to avoid entirely.

Which was why he probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was to learn that Chiron — the head-centaur, old-hero-training, horse-guy himself — was actually related to the hot Titaness formerly trapped on Ogygia. Honestly, he wouldn’t be shocked if he and Calypso were distantly related too… though he shoved that thought deep, deep into the mental box labeled “Nope.”

Calypso’s gaze lingered on Chiron for a moment. Leo wasn’t sure how she was going to react — he doubted she’d expected to be greeted by one of her own half-siblings the moment she stepped off her island and into a demigod camp. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure if Calypso knew who Chiron was. He didn’t know all his divine siblings either. But as he was still wondering, her expression softened, and she spoke.

“I didn’t expect to be greeted as kin so soon after escaping my prison… especially here, of all places.”

Chiron nodded once. "Family takes many forms at Camp Half-Blood. You'll find we have a place for you, if you choose to stay." His gaze swept the rest of the Seven and then the crowd. "But perhaps introductions are best continued somewhere more private. The Big House, I think. There is much to discuss."

Leo clapped his hands together, forcing a grin. "Sounds good to me. The Big House has chairs, right? Preferably ones that don't punch you in the kidneys when you sit? Because I think Frank broke something in there."

Chiron's mouth twitched in amusement. "Come along, all of you."

As the campers began to disperse, still casting curious glances over their shoulders, Leo fell into step beside Calypso. She didn't speak, but her hand brushed his for the briefest second — a silent thank you or maybe a this is a lot — and Leo, for once, didn't have a joke ready.

 

Chapter 3: Dreams

Annabeth POV

Leo returning was not what Annabeth had in mind for today. She had woken up feeling unusually somber, believe it or not. Another restless night — which had become the norm ever since she'd escaped the hell that was Tartarus — had left her overseeing the finishing touches on the cabins for all the minor gods. Normally, being able to shelve a project that had consumed so much of her time and effort would have been gratifying, but the thought of Leo had been looming in her mind since morning.

For all her intelligence, she hadn't been able to save Leo from his death. She hadn't been able to figure out his plan. And she'd been living with that failure ever since she'd heard about the death of the son of Hephaestus. She had expected to spend the day like she did every month, at the memorial the Seven held for Leo's sacrifice — not in a billion years had she imagined that today he would come flying in on Festus. In spite of herself, she couldn't help thinking how typical it was for him to make such an entrance.

But none of that mattered now, because here he was: alive, breathing, blood pumping through his veins, so... alive.

And apparently, he hadn't come back alone. Walking beside Chiron toward the Big House was Calypso. Despite herself, Annabeth's eyes couldn't help but studied the titaness. She had, of course, read the myths about Calypso and her curse, and though myths had a tendency to embellish certain details, Annabeth had to admit that Calypso's beauty was not exaggerated. Her caramel hair swayed in the sun, refracting shards of light as she walked — almost as if she had been pulled straight from the myths, which, in all intents and purposes, she had.

Without meaning to, she slowed her pace, eventually drifting toward the rear of the group. Her eyes had been fixed on Calypso the entire time, and only when she'd put enough distance between herself and the others did she realize she'd been holding her breath. Her chest loosened as she finally drew in a lungful of air.

She told herself she was happy Leo was alive. And for the most part, she was. Sure, she was still reeling from the shock and disbelief — and though she would never admit it out loud, slightly annoyed at Leo. He just had that effect on people. But beneath all that, there was a thread of unease she couldn't shake as she walked up the hill toward the Big House.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that unease had a very Calypso-shaped outline. And no — she told herself — it wasn't because she was worried about Calypso's possible feelings toward Percy. That would be petty, and Annabeth Chase was not petty. She knew what had happened between them during Percy's "death." Percy had told her, and she had already suspected as much before he did. But she trusted him. He was loyal. And besides, Calypso now had Leo.

Well... she wasn't sure if "dating" was the right word. That word felt strange in this context — Leo was sixteen, and Calypso was thousands of years old and a goddess. An age gap she wasn't quite sure how to feel about. What she did know was that there were definitely feelings there, something more than platonic, though whether either of them fully recognized it was another question entirely.

Okay — maybe there was a small part of her that worried about Calypso's love life, but that wasn't the main source of her concern.

No — it was more about who Calypso was. Calypso was a Titaness. And not just any Titaness, but the daughter of Atlas — someone who had sided with Kronos during the First Titan War. It wasn't as if Calypso had been entirely blameless either. By her own admission, she had once stood with the Titans, which was why she'd been cursed in the first place.

Maybe she had softened over centuries of isolation. Maybe she had reflected on her choices. But from what Percy had told her, Calypso hadn't entirely dismissed her past actions as unjustified. She might have her reasons — and maybe those reasons were even valid — but assuming she was harmless would be a dangerous mistake.

Was it wrong to assume all Titans were inherently dangerous? Possibly. But in Annabeth's defense, every Titan she had ever met — and she'd met quite a few — had either tried to kill her, maim her, or hurt the people she cared about the most. Unless they had been dunked in the Lethe and scrubbed of memory, caution wasn't exactly unreasonable.

But even beyond Calypso's lineage, there was something else gnawing at Annabeth's mind. The something that had been haunting her nights for months.

Tartarus.

Just the thought of it made her stomach clench and burn, as if she'd swallowed fire from the Phlegethon itself. It had been months since she and Percy had clawed their way out of that pit, yet the memories were scorched into her mind. She doubted she would ever truly forget.

She had thought she'd known suffering when she was forced to hold up the sky for hours. But if someone asked her now whether she would rather endure that again or spend even a second more in Tartarus... she'd take her chances shouldering the burden of Calypso's father.

A shiver ran through her. Sometimes she could still taste the thick, metallic tang that hung in Tartarus' air — air so toxic it seared her lungs with every breath. She could still feel the burn of her skin rejecting the very atmosphere, blisters and boils rising and bursting in waves of agony. And then, of course, there were the arai.

Annabeth had fought more monsters than she could count — she had been doing it since the day she'd run away from home as a child. And while the arai were far from the most physically dangerous creatures she had faced, they had left a mark on her psyche deeper than almost anything else.

Every time you struck one down, a curse laid upon you by an enemy — monster, god, or mortal — would come to life. Every grudge, every whispered hex, every hateful wish made against you could be dragged from the shadows and made real.

One curse, in particular, had seared itself into her memory.

She could still see remember the moment: standing back to back with Percy, cutting through arai as they closed in, each kill adding another curse to the weight on her body. And then — she remembered the instant her blade met another arai and her world went dark.

Not dim. Not hazy. Black.

Sound vanished too, as if she had been shoved deep underwater and the pressure had closed around her ears.

When she stumbled forward, her sword arm faltering, she realized Percy was gone. The thought didn't come with doubt — it came as a certainty so absolute it crushed the air from her lungs. He had left her. Abandoned her. And she would never see him again.

Her hands clawed at the darkness, desperate to find him. Everything else — the fight, the monsters, even her own safety — vanished from her thoughts. All she could think was that he wasn't there. That she needed him, and he was gone.

Then more thiughts came like a flood, unrelenting. She would die here. She would die alone, cold, unwanted, forgotten.

It was like being locked in a sensory deprivation chamber where every worst thought you had was screamed into your skull at ten times the volume — while your body burned and froze at once.

Even now, just remembering it made her breath shorten. She forced herself to open her eyes, to focus on the present, on the fact that she was no longer in Tartarus. She glanced to her right.

Percy was there.

Her chest loosened with a sharp, involuntary sigh.

Her restless nights almost always took her back to that same moment. Sometimes she replayed it exactly as it had happened. Other times, her mind twisted it — Percy walking away from her, or worse, vanishing entirely, leaving her to die alone the way the voices in her head had promised.

When she woke, the first breath she took always tasted like the air from the Pit — metallic, rancid, heavy enough to burn her lungs. For a split second, she would believe she was back there. Then her eyes would adjust to the roof of her cabin, her siblings breathing evenly in their bunks, and the terror would ebb.

It had been hard. Too many nights, she found she couldn't fall back asleep. More than once, she had slipped from her bunk and sought Percy out in the dark, some stubborn part of her needing to see him, to make sure he was still there. He always was. Sometimes she would find he'd been awake already, caught in his own nightmares, and they would sit together in silence under the moonlight.

It was on one of those nights that Percy had told her his suspicion.

He thought he knew who had cursed her that day in Tartarus.

It had surprised her — she'd faced more monsters than she could count, each capable of placing its own cruel curse. The idea of trying to match every curse to a name felt impossible. But Percy had been strangely certain about this one.

Calypso.

The name had hung in the air between them.

And in a way, it made sense. The curse's weight, the certainty of her longing for Percy mixed with the unshakable belief that he had abandoned her — it aligned perfectly with what Calypso herself might have felt. And Calypso would have had reason enough to curse her. Annabeth had been, in many ways, the reason Percy had left the island and returned to the mortal world.

She had never been sure whether to believe it. But looking at Calypso now, something in her gut shifted. She didn't know why — but the longer she watched, the stronger her feeling grew. Percy's theory might just have merit.

Her eyes lingered on Calypso, and despite everything, they softened. Try as she might, Annabeth couldn't bring herself to hate her. The curse Calypso had carried was a misery in itself. Annabeth couldn't imagine the pain of living an existence defined by endless heartbreak — of meeting someone, loving them, and then losing them, over and over again, for eternity. It would take a kind of strength Annabeth wasn't sure she possessed just to endure that without shattering completely.

She could even understand why Calypso might have resented her. Years of abandonment, isolation, and betrayal could fester into something bitter. Perhaps the bitterness had simply boiled over in a single, unguarded moment, culminating in the curse she had placed on Annabeth.

But understanding had its limits.

No matter how much she tried to rationalize it, Annabeth couldn't ignore what the curse had done to her — the damage it had carved into her mind, a wound she doubted could ever fully heal. She knew she would never truly hate Calypso. She also didn't know if forgiveness was possible.

Maybe, someday, they could reconcile. Maybe they could find some way to set aside the past. But the memory of Tartarus still clung too close, the scar too fresh, for that day to feel anywhere near.

As she kept thinking about the curse, that familiar wave of uncertainty washed over her again — the same hollow dread that always came when her mind wandered back to Tartarus. The same suffocating darkness. The same absolute certainty that Percy was gone. Her pupils widened, her breath caught, and her hand began to tremble.

Without thinking, she glanced at Percy beside her and reached for his hand, squeezing hard. He turned toward her, his eyes flashing with concern before settling into something softer — knowing. He had seen this before. He knew exactly what it was.

"It's nothing," she said quickly, before he could ask.

He didn't push. Instead, he nodded, squeezed her hand back, and leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek. The warmth of the gesture eased the tightness in her chest, the feeling ebbing just enough for her to breathe again, though the unease still lingered somewhere beneath the surface.

By the time they reached the Big House, she had managed to push most of it away; though, her hand remained in Percy's the entire walk. The familiar blue-painted walls of the Big House came into view, and ahead of them, Calypso and Chiron had paused their conversation.

Chiron stepped forward, opened the door — the old hinges creaking in protest — and gestured them inside.

"Please, sit," he said, leading them into the war room.

Annabeth slipped into her seat without thinking, eyes drifting to the doorway as the others filtered in behind her. As each person entered, she began to count — not consciously, just out of habit. It was something she had done for years. Maybe it was the Athena in her, maybe it was just instinct, but she just always tallied who shared a room with her.

Jason. Piper. Frank. Hazel. Percy. Calypso. Herself.

Six.

She frowned, blinked, and counted again, certain she had just miscalculated. But the number stayed the same. Someone was missing.

Her gaze swept the room. Jason rubbed the back of his neck. Piper's eyes were locked on Calypso. Frank and Hazel sat close together, her hand resting on his sleeve. Percy was beside her.

Leo wasn't there.

Her mind quickened. Where had he gone? It had been minutes — maybe less — since they'd all been together. Surely he couldn't have been taken so soon. Not here. Not in the middle of camp. The borders would have kept out monsters, and they all would have noticed a god arriving to whisk him away.

Annabeth's shoulders eased slightly as she reasoned it through. Leo was probably just avoiding the crowd, slipping away for a moment to himself. After everything, it made sense. Sixteen years old, fresh from his own death and return — the weight of it all must have been pressing on him. He wouldn't be eager to sit through a war room meeting right away. Most likely, he had gone to Bunker Nine.

It was better to let him have that space. Still, she couldn't help but notice that no one else in the room seemed to have realized he was missing.

When everyone had settled, silence fell over the war room — heavy and uncomfortable. Mr. D was nowhere to be seen, likely called to Olympus for some duty or other. Annabeth found herself almost relieved. His presence would have meant barbed remarks and sarcastic interruptions, and with Calypso sitting there, she doubted things needed any extra fuel.

Her gaze landed on the titaness. Calypso shifted faintly in her chair, fingers twisting together in a motion that struck Annabeth as almost human. Beside her, Chiron studied the girl with that quiet intensity Annabeth had long since learned to read as his way of weighing a person. He had lived through countless ages, trained unnumbered heroes, and heard every story of Ogygia passed down from those lucky — or unlucky — enough to reach it. Percy had told him. Others must have too.

For a moment, Annabeth wondered what Chiron thought now, looking at his half sister.

At last, Calypso cleared her throat, the faintest of concessions to the silence pressing down on them. “I suppose,” she said evenly, “I should explain how I’m here.”

Her voice was steady, measured, as though she had carefully planned out these words. “I met Leo some time ago when he… crashed on my island. I cannot say how long ago it was. Ogygia is strange with time. But we spent a considerable time together trapped on the island.”

She paused, lips pressed thin as she continued.

“But, as with all before him, Leo had a destiny. A purpose he needed to fulfill.” Her eyes swept the table now, lingering with quietly on Percy's face for just a moment before meeting the eyes of the rest of those in the room. “I assume you are the seven he spoke of, the companions he could not forsake.”

Hazel’s head dipped.

“Eventually, as history has always shown me, it was time for Leo to leave.” Calypso’s tone softened. “He swore upon the Styx that he would return.” A small laugh, not without bitterness, slipped past her lips. “I thought it a foolish vow. They all swear. None ever return.”

Her gaze lowered, the faintest shadow flickering across her expression. “I never expected him to come back. Until now.”

Annabeth studied her closely. The story was true enough. But she could tell that there were gaps left between Calypso’s words. She wasn’t lying, not exactly, but Annabeth could feel the careful trimming of details, the pieces unsaid that might have shifted how everyone else in the room understood her and Leo. Though, she assumed they were of the more... intimate kind.

Jason leaned forward slightly. “Does this mean you are no longer bound to Ogygia?”

Calypso considered him for a moment before answering. “I do not believe so. When I first stepped upon Festus, I felt something… lift. I cannot describe it well, but instinct told me the curse of Ogygia had ended.”

Annabeth’s eyebrows shot up before she could stop herself. That was impossible or at least very unlikely. Magic of that scale did not simply wane with time. Anchors like Ogygia required divine decree or immense sacrifice to unravel. The gods rarely gave freedom without extracting something in return.

“Did you feel anything being… taken from you?” Annabeth asked. All eyes turned toward her as she continued, “I don’t see why the gods would suddenly free you now, of all times. Curses aren’t usually lifted without reason. Are you sure you’re well? Perhaps they cursed you in another way in exchange for your freedom from Ogygia.”

Calypso’s lips pressed together before she answered, her tone clipped. “I do not feel different. Perhaps the gods deemed it prudent to release me after such a great conflict.” She lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “If there is a hidden cost, I am prepared to face it in exchange for freedom. Though”—and here her voice softened—“I do hope the gods would not be so cruel.”

Annabeth studied her, heart unsettled. That was the problem. The gods were always that cruel.

“So…” Piper began, her voice cutting through the silence. “What now? I mean, you’re free from your island, sure, but do you have anywhere to stay? Is there anything you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Calypso admitted. Her tone was calm but faintly uncertain. “In truth, I have no place to return to. I have been removed from the world outside Ogygia for so long that I fear I would not recognize it anymore, let alone find somewhere to live.”

It was Chiron who spoke next. “Well, you could always stay here, Calypso. If you are truly free from your curse, I see no reason why you shouldn’t remain at Camp Half-Blood until a more permanent home can be arranged.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully before turning to Annabeth. “Perhaps you could even design a new cabin for visitors Annabeth.”

Annabeth blinked a few times in suprise at the idea. So much for being finished with the cabins. Still, she had to admit the idea made sense. A guest house would be useful, and Calypso’s presence was more than enough reason to start one.

“I’d be fine with that,” she said, “though it’ll take me a few days to map out and build.”

“Not to worry,” Chiron replied with a small smile. “In the meantime, Calypso could stay in one of the rooms in the Big House.” He looked toward the titaness, waiting for her answer.

“That would be wonderful.” Calypso’s face brightened. She began to turn, as if searching for someone. “In the meantime, maybe Leo could show me around the cam—” Her words faltered, and her smile faded. She frowned, her eyes sweeping the room.

It was then Annabeth knew Calypso had realized the same thing she had noticed when they first walked in.

“Where’s Leo?”

The room grew heavier, every pair of eyes flicking toward one another as the question hung in the air.

Leo POV

Slipping away from a big group was easier than most people thought. More surprising, considering Leo had a giant bronze dragon clanking behind him, but somehow he and Festus had managed to sneak off without anyone stopping them. The only real incident was when they startled a poor Hypnos camper who’d wandered out of their cabin half-asleep. The kid blinked blearily at Festus, rubbed his eyes, and clearly decided he must be dreaming—until Festus tilted his head and let out a metallic huff of steam. That snapped the kid awake fast. He yelped and slammed the door so hard the cabin rattled.

Leo had laughed at the time, but now, stretched out on the cold metal floor of Bunker 9, the humor had drained away. No offense to his friends—or to Calypso, or Chiron—but the past twenty-four hours had been a lot. For everyone else, months had passed since the war. For him, it had all happened in the space of a day. He’d gone from dying, to waking up, to saving the world, to bringing back a literal immortal goddess to camp. No wonder his brain felt fried.

He stared up at the dim, fuzzy lights overhead and let out a long sigh, finally letting his thoughts unravel. It was all supposed to be simple. Heroic sacrifice. The Physician’s Cure brings him back. He returns with Calypso. Happily ever after.

Okay, now that he thought about it, that sounded less like a plan and more like one of those cheesy romance movies Piper swore she didn’t like—though suspiciously kept popping up on her Netflix account. Sure, it was a long shot, but hey, a guy could dream, right?

And in some ways, he’d checked the boxes.

Well, Gaea had been officially defeated. Check. 

Calypso had been rescued from her island prison. Double check.

But the happily ever after part? Yeah… not really showing up.

As leo let out another prolonged sigh he could hear festus clammering around in the bunker, he got up and decided maybe laying on the floor wasnt the best idea and instead collapsed on one of the nearby chairs. he then turned his attention back to festus who was now trying to delicately tip toe through all the projects that lay half finished on the floor of bunker 9, eventually seemingly giving up and just stomping over to his corner of the bunker he seemed to like curling up in and letting a large creak and fluttering his wings almost stretching while declaring im home.

Leo cracked a small smile. "Glad one of us feels that way."

The bunker was almost exactly the way he’d left it. Dust, bronze scraps, scattered tools. It didn’t look like his siblings had touched it in his absence. Maybe they’d been too busy mourning him.

Mourning him. That was still a weird thought.

Leo slouched deeper into the chair, feeling the air’s stillness wrap around him. The bunker was cold, silent, almost sepulchral, and for a moment he let that coldness seep into his bones.

He had saved the world. He had come back from the dead. By all rights, he should have felt something—excitement, pride, maybe even a flicker of joy. At the very least, relief. But what he felt instead was tired.

Not the good kind of tired either. Not like the all-nighter-on-the-Argo-II kind, when he’d finally fixed some impossible engine glitch. Not even the bone-deep exhaustion that came after fending off a cyclops and cobbling together weapons out of scrap. No, this was different. This was the tired of being yanked under water again and again, gasping for breath only to be shoved back under.

He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, kneading at the skin until colors flared behind them. This wasn’t what he’d pictured back on the Argo II. He remembered the rush of flying over the Atlantic after he’d been revived, the certainty he’d had in that moment, the blaze of purpose.

It had been so simple then. So clear.

Now, staring at the familiar walls of Bunker 9, all that certainty was gone.

And here he was.

Leo let his head slump forward and hit the desk with a loud thunk. For a second he hoped the impact might knock the thoughts out of his skull, but no such luck. Now he had the same thoughts—plus a headache.

And despite himself, all those thoughts kept circling back to Calypso.

It still felt unreal. She was here. He had actually done it—saved her, brought her back. The impossible quest that only half of him never believed would work had somehow worked. And now that it had… he didn’t know what to do with himself.

It was like chasing a dream for so long only to realize, once you caught it, that nothing about you had changed. You weren’t suddenly a better person, or happier, or even more motivated. You were just… you.

He sagged deeper into the chair. That was exactly how he felt. Empty.

Still, there was one silver lining. He was pretty sure Calypso at least kind of liked him. Which—shocker—meant he wasn’t completely blind and dense.

But even with that, the doubt wouldn’t leave. It gnawed at him, whispering the same thing it had whispered when he pulled away from her embrace.

What if it wasn’t real?

Sure, she had kissed him. She had run to him and hugged him with a kind of happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen directed at him before. And yeah, he didn’t doubt she cared for him—at least, not right now. But that was the problem. He couldn’t be sure how real it was, or if it would even last.

The curse of Ogygia. That had been rattling around his brain more than he wanted to admit. It said that Calypso would fall in love with any hero who washed up on her shores. Until now, he’d brushed past the wording. But the more he thought about it, the more vague he realised the wording was.

Did the curse mean the island only drew in heroes who happened to be her type? Or was she forced to love whoever appeared, no matter who they were? If it was the second… then her feelings for him weren’t hers at all.

The thought hit harder than a hammer to the gut.

Maybe he had finally found someone who loved him for who he was—only to realize none of it had been real in the first place. And even if he could somehow look past that, what then? If the curse was broken now—which, okay, seemed likely since Calypso hadn’t spontaneously combusted when she left Ogygia—would her feelings just… fade away?

Leo had seen how easily she’d slipped into life at camp, how warmly the others had welcomed her. She looked happy. Content in a way he had thought he would be, once he brought her back. What if she realized she was worth more than him? That she deserved someone better?

She had fallen for Percy once, after all.

Leo groaned as pain spiked behind his eyes. Slamming his head on the table? Not one of his top ten brightest moves. Probably not even top fifty. Across the room, Festus let out a puff of smoke that somehow managed to sound like a disappointed sigh.

"Don’t judge me," Leo mumbled, sprawled across the table like a tragic Victorian heroine — if tragic Victorian heroines wore motor oil-stained jeans and had grease in their hair.

"You're lucky," he went on. "You don't have to deal with this kind of stuff. No weird butterflies in your stomach. No wondering if someone kissed you because they actually wanted to, or because they were under some kind of magical lip-zombie spell."

Festus huffed again, a slow, warm whoosh of air. Leo was way too tired to decode it, but he figured it meant something like Yeah, well, try being made of scrap metal, buddy.

Leo sighed. "I know, I know. Not like you’ve got it easy either. Getting torn apart and rebuilt every few months probably sucks. No offense."

Festus gave a sharp puff that sounded thoroughly offended.

Leo cracked a weak smile. "Right. My bad. You're the majestic, fire-breathing deluxe model. Soaring through the skies. No emotional baggage. Just you, the clouds, and your titanium-plated joy."

Festus snorted a tiny flame that almost singed Leo's hair.

"Okay, okay!" Leo held up his hands. "You’ve got baggage. Everyone’s got baggage. Yours just comes with a built-in blowtorch."

He stared up at the ceiling.

Same old metal beams. Same old flickering lights. The bunker looked exactly like it had when he left — like his absence hadn’t meant anything. Like he hadn’t meant anything.

That thought hit harder than he wanted to admit.

Leo shut his eyes tighter.

He didn’t mind being the jokester. Getting people riled up, cracking dumb puns — that was easy. But sometimes, he wished he had someone he could actually talk to. Really talk to. Like about how he wasn’t sure if his maybe-but-not-really girlfriend liked him back. Or how he wasn’t even sure what he wanted from life anymore — or who he was supposed to be.

But nah. He knew how this worked. Leo Valdez: always the third wheel. Leo Valdez: the one who would always be alone.

Still, he had Festus. That counted for something, right?

He tried to sell himself on the thought. It didn’t totally work, but it was better than nothing.

The silence settled around him, warm and heavy, broken only by the soft whir of gears and the occasional clank from somewhere deep inside Festus. It was kind of comforting. Like the world had paused long enough for him to breathe.

His eyelids drooped. He hadn’t realized how drained he felt — emotionally, physically, whatever-else-ly.

Maybe it was the jet lag of being dead and then undead.

"Just five minutes," he mumbled.

He was out in ten seconds.

No sooner had sleep pulled him under than Leo’s eyes snapped open again.

Well. So much for rest.

He could tell instantly — this wasn’t real. Definitely one of those demigod, semi-prophetic dreams. Great. Just what he needed. He vaguely wondered if this still counted as REM sleep. Probably not.

As he looked upwards he realised that the ceiling had all but vanished. Instead, a wide stretch of pale gray sky stared back at him. Thick snow clouds drifted overhead, heavy and slow. Everything around him felt… muted. Cold. Still. Probably because it actually was quite cold.

The air bit at his skin. Thin. Dry. He sucked in a breath and winced at the sting in his chest.

Mountain air. Leo sat up — or at least, he thought he did. Dream physics were weird like that. Either way, he was standing now, boots crunching in fresh snow, a sharp wind curlung around his ankles, then sweping up the cliff face behind him.

Because, yeah — of course he was on a cliff, and it was a big one too.

He took a cautious step closer to the edge and peered down. The drop was dizzying. Just white, all the way to nothing. He figured it was around 9,000 meters high based on a rough estimate.

His body was already starting to shake. Not from fear — not yet, anyway — but from the cold that was now seeping through his jacket like it wasn’t even there. He raised his hand, just enough to spark a small flame in his palm. The warmth hit instantly, curling around his fingers, thawing the sting out of his bones.

Hopefully he hadn’t just lit his real-world self on fire again. Waking up on fire was always awkward.

He held the flame close and turned, scanning the landscape for something useful. Anything that might explain where he was or why his brain had dragged him here.

Then he saw him.

A figure, maybe ten meters away. Standing with his back turned, facing the cliff edge.

At first glance, he looked like someone out of a funeral — tall, broad, dressed in black. Maybe a tux. Or a suit. Hard to tell in the wind.

But the longer Leo looked, the more wrong it felt.

The man wasn’t moving. Not swaying with the breeze. Not shifting his weight. Just… still. It was like his senses were completely immune from the cold around him.

Then Leo noticed the scars.

Long, pale, brutal lines slashed across the man’s neck, down his arms, his hands. Dozens of them. Some thin, like scratches. Others wide and deep, like something had tried — more than once — to tear him apart.

Leo’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t look at Leo. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, staring into the clouds below. Leo didn’t say anything either. Didn’t dare.

Leo figured whatever had tried to tear this guy apart had been very committed to the job — and also, probably, very dangerous. Which was not great news. Even worse? The guy was still standing. So either he’d survived by pure grit, or he’d won.

And if he’d won… well, maybe he was looking for his next opponent.

Awesome.

Leo tensed. Not enough to make it obvious, but just enough to be ready — in case this turned into a run-for-your-life-through-a-blizzard situation. He really didn’t want to test his cardio at high altitudes.

The man turned.

Leo froze.

Up close, the scars were even worse. They crisscrossed the man's face, like something had tried to erase his features completely and only half-succeeded. The lines pulled and stretched as the guy moved, making his face look more like cracked stone than skin.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. The wind howled. Leo’s fire flickered low in his palm, barely holding on.

This guy didn’t feel like a god. Leo had met gods before — talked to them, argued with them, insulted them. This… wasn’t that.

But he didn’t feel mortal either. Or like a demigod.

He felt like something else entirely.

Then the man smiled.

Leo flinched — just slightly — because that smile wasn’t right. The way the scars pulled at the skin, how the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes… it felt kinda wrong. 

“Leo Valdez,” the man said.

His voice was low. Smooth. Calm in the way that made your instincts scream.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you.”

"Uh-huh," Leo said, stepping back slightly. "Cool that's great. you must the annual mystery guy that shows up in my dreams."

The man chuckled — a low, quiet sound that didn’t match the cold.

“No need to be defensive,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to talk.”

He relaxed his posture slightly, like he was trying to make himself look less threatening. Like he thought a change in body language could cancel out the scars and the creepily calm aura of doom.

Leo didn’t buy it.

He did a quick mental scan of his options. He didn’t know if dying in a dream was could kill you in the real, but he also really didn’t want to test the theory. If it came down to it, he figured he could try throwing a fireball at the guy’s face and launch himself off the cliff. With any luck, he’d wake up before gravity turned him into salsa.

Still, probably best not to start with arson and skydiving.

So he spoke.

“Right,” Leo said. “Because every mysterious guy who hijacks my dreams is totally here to help and never ends up trying to kill me later. That’s how this goes.”

He shuddered as Gaea’s face flashed in his memory. Yeah. Always be on guard he resolved to himself.

The man tilted his head, still smiling, and gave a small nod.

“That’s a fair point,” he said. “But I can assure you — I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, I’m here to help you.”

Leo narrowed his eyes.

“Okay. That’s officially the creepiest thing you could’ve said. Who are you?”

The man took a step forward.

Just one.

The crunch of snow under his shoes sounded too loud in the silence. Leo’s reflexes screamed at him to back up — except there was nowhere to go. He was already pressed against the cliff’s edge.

Awesome.

The man stopped, as if he knew how Leo was feeling.

“I’m just another person,” he said, “trying to figure out where I belong in all of this.”

He gestured vaguely at the sky. Or the world. Or maybe existence.

“Just like you’re doing. Right now.”

Leo’s heart thudded harder.

What was that supposed to mean?

There was no way this guy could know what he’d been thinking before he fell asleep — how that one question had been eating at him. Who am I supposed to be? Leo hadn’t said it out loud. Hadn’t even dared to journal about it.

And yet…

The man didn’t look like a god. Didn’t feel like one either — no golden aura, no ego flooding the air like a cologne overdose. But the more he spoke, the harder it became to dismiss the possibility.

“You know, Leo,” the man said quietly.

And for some reason — some stupid, irrational reason — Leo believed him. Not completely, but enough to make him second-guess everything.

He shook his head hard. Nope. No. Not doing this. Maybe the guy had charm-speak like Piper. Or dream magic. Or was just one of those people who knew exactly how to say what you needed to hear so you'd drop your guard. Leo had told himself not to trust him. That rule still applied.

Then the man said, “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

Leo blinked.

What?

His thoughts scattered like metal parts on a workshop floor.

Did… did this guy just apologize?

“You were only a boy,” the man went on, voice quieter now — tinged with something that sounded like real remorse. “Losing your mother at that age… simply because you were part of a design you never asked to be a part of.”

Leo didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

The man took another step forward, then another. And this time, Leo didn’t back away. Not because he wasn’t afraid — he was — but because something in his chest had gone still. Heavy and light at the same time.

Who is he? And why did it feel like something he hadn’t realized he was carrying just got lifted off his shoulders?

The man crouched to meet him eye to eye.

Leo hadn’t realized just how tall he was until now.

“But remember this, Leo,” the man said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Leo’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. All that came out was a shaky, barely audible squeak:

“It… it wasn’t my fault?”

He looked into the man’s eyes — and for a split second, he felt warmth wrap around him like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Not fire. Not magic.

Just comfort.

His chest tightened. His eyes burned. No. No no no — he wasn’t crying.

But he was. Just a little.

His instincts — the ones that should’ve been telling him this was a trap — had gone completely silent. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to fight anything. Not even himself.

“No, Leo,” the man said again, his voice gentler now. “It wasn’t your fault. You should know that.”

He reached out, rested a hand on Leo’s shoulder — the one that had still ached since Jason gripped it.

But now?

No pain.

Just... calm.

“Leo,” the man continued, “you are an incredible person. Of incredible fortitude.”

Leo let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“You’ve endured pain most people couldn’t imagine,” the man said. “And still, you smile. You build. You carry your friends forward. That isn’t weakness — that’s courage.”

He gave a small, crooked smile.

“Trust me. I would know what hardship feels like. I mean…” He gestured to himself. “Look at me.”

A small smile tugged at Leo’s lips before he could stop it. His shoulders eased, his hands relaxed at his sides. For once, he wasn’t trying to force the expression.

“Who are you?” he asked again. The words came out softer this time, stripped of accusation.

The man didn’t answer. Just gave him another one of those warm, frustratingly unreadable looks before continuing.

“And it is why I’ve come to you… to warn you.”

Leo blinked. Warn me?

“It pains me to say this, Leo.” The man’s expression darkened, shadows pulling across his scarred face. “But your actions have been… let’s call them unprecedented.”

Leo’s stomach tightened. His actions? What, like blowing up on Gaea? Was that what this was about?

As if he’d spoken aloud, the man gave a slow, resigned nod. “Yes. Exactly. Your actions weren’t what the Fates foresaw.”

The words hit like a hammer. The Fates.

A pit opened in Leo’s chest.

The man’s grip on his shoulder tightened, grounding him. “Leo… you should have died.”

Leo’s heart sank. Well. That’s comforting.

“And by surviving,” the man went on, voice low, “you’ve done something almost no one else has done. You’ve challenged the authority of the Fates themselves. You’ve disrupted the course of prophecy.” He paused, as though weighing the words. “Your prophecy… remains unfinished.”

Leo clenched his jaw. Of course. Just his luck.

Heat pricked at his eyes again, but this time it wasn’t sadness — it was anger.

The Fates. He’d heard about them since the beginning, since the second he found out what he was. These all-powerful weavers of destiny, the ones who supposedly held the threads of every life. And what — they’d decided he was supposed to die? Like that was their call?

His lip trembled as he bit down hard. If he was supposed to die, then what about Calypso? What about everyone else who’d been counting on him? Who gave them the right to cut people down just because it “fit the design”? Were they behind his mother’s death too?

He wanted to set the whole mountain on fire.

The man didn’t speak. He just waited, patient, like he’d expected the outburst. Only after Leo’s breathing steadied again did he finally continue.

“They will not let this stand,” he said quietly. “The Fates do not enjoy being defied. They will try to correct what you’ve undone. To force the prophecy back into alignment.”

The man rose back to his full height. Somehow, Leo hadn’t noticed it before — maybe he hadn’t wanted to — but there was something ancient about him. Not just old. Ancient. Like he had walked through centuries no mortal should survive, carried burdens no god would ever admit to bearing. His eyes held the kind of weight that came only from seeing too much.

“Leo,” he said. His voice was steady, solemn. “All those moments you felt alone. Different. Isolated while everyone else had each other.” He paused, letting the words settle like snow on the cliff. “It was never your fault.”

The ground trembled beneath Leo’s boots. A faint vibration at first, then stronger, rattling the air itself.

The man slipped a hand into his coat pocket and withdrew something small. He pressed it into Leo’s palm. Cold metal kissed his skin.

Leo opened his fingers and found a bronze coin gleaming there.

“Take this,” the man said. “If you ever wish to speak with me again, when you believe the time is right… simply wish upon the coin, and we will meet.”

Leo looked up. Despite the man’s scars — the jagged lines, the marks of countless battles — his expression was… kind. Gentle. Wise in a way that made Leo’s chest ache.

Maybe… maybe he could risk asking one thing.

“Before you go…” Leo’s voice cracked. “Can I ask you something?”

The man smiled, but it was a sad smile. The kind you gave when you already knew the answer would hurt.

“You and Calypso are something that can never last.”

The words hit like a blade sliding between his ribs.

Leo’s stomach dropped. His chest hollowed out. He knew it — hadn’t he always known it? Her curse, her fate, her island — it had always been too good to be true. But hearing it said aloud, hearing it confirmed by someone who spoke with such certainty—

The floor of the world shook harder, snow breaking and sliding beneath him. Leo staggered, lost his footing, fell onto the frozen ground.

The man’s voice carried through the tremors, calm even as the dream cracked apart. “Your friends are coming to wake you. They’ve finally noticed you were gone.”

“Wait!” Leo shouted, scrambling, reaching out. He had so many more questions. Too many.

But the man only gave that same sad smile. “Goodbye, Leo Valdez.”

The mountain vanished.

Leo jolted awake on the floor of Bunker Nine, the cold press of metal against his back. His heart hammered like it was trying to break free from his chest.

Slowly, he opened his hand.

The bronze coin gleamed there, warm against his skin.

 

Chapter 4: Friends?

Leo POV

Leo's skull throbbed like someone had stuffed a mariachi band in there and set them on extra loud mode. Seriously? Could the Fates not give him a break? First, endless Calypso flashbacks. Then, slamming his head into his desk — okay, that one was on him. But now? Demigod dream hangover?

Classic.

Groaning, he pried his body off the cold bunker floor. At some point during his heroic nap, he'd not only fallen out of his chair but also managed to fling said chair across the room . He had no memory of doing this. Dream sleepwalking, maybe? On the plus side: he hadn't set himself on fire. So, yay for small victories.

His head still spun as he raised his hand.

The coin.

He'd almost forgotten about it — almost.

At first glance, it looked bronze. But when he tilted it toward the light, the metal shimmered wrong. Not Celestial Bronze. Not Imperial Gold. Not anything he recognized. 

And whatever it was, it meant one thing: his life had just gotten even more complicated. Again.

"Figures," he muttered, stuffing down the uneasy twist in his gut.

He sighed and pushed himself up, shuffling toward the far wall where his chair had crash-landed. He was halfway there when the air filled with the sound of gears grinding and metal creaking.

The "door opening" noise turned out to be Festus, his mechanical dragon, letting out the grumpiest groan Leo had ever heard. He saw that Festus had curled himself into a corner of bunker 9 and had curled up; it seemed that Leo had not been the only one who had decided it was a good time to sleep

"Yeah, yeah," Leo said, holding up his free hand. "I know. Loud crash in the middle of your beauty sleep. Believe me, not my fault this time."

Wait—how did Festus even sleep? Leo decided not to think about it too hard. It was probably just another part of Festus's biology—or anatomy, or whatever—that he shouldn't question unless he wanted a massive headache, which was not what he needed right now.

Festus gave a puff of smoke that very clearly that interrupted his thoughts that translated to: Sure it wasn't.

Leo rubbed his temples. "Great. First cryptic dream coin, now a cranky dragon roommate. I really hope this doesn't become a regular thing."

Leo stretched as he made his way to the chair. Bad call. His back popped so loudly it sounded like the Stoll brothers had just set off illegal fireworks behind him.

By the time he finally reached the chair — a grueling trek of, what, four whole meters — he bent down with all the reluctance of a man facing his doom and shoved it upright. He wheeled it back to its proper spot, the new dents in the wall glaring at him like, Really, bro?

As he worked, his mind wouldn't shut up.

That dream.

Who was that guy? What did he mean about the prophecy being "unfinished"? And... was what he said about Calypso true?

Leo winced and shoved the last thought down hard. Nope. Not going there. Not today. That had trap written all over it — the kind of trap where some creepy ancient villain whispered sweet lies until you ended up unleashing their evil plan and getting everyone you loved killed.

And yet... he hated himself for it, but part of him believed the man. Believed the words about his mom, about being alone, about Calypso.

That was the worst part.

"Don't do anything stupid," he muttered under his breath. That had officially become his motto. Last thing he needed after taking down giants was stumbling into another cosmic mess with some shadowy nightmare boss.

But the coin...

Leo held it up again. Cold. Heavy. Too real.

If it was here, in his hand, then the dream wasn't just a dream. Whoever that scarred guy was, he wasn't just blowing smoke. He'd reached Leo. Inside Bunker Nine. Inside Camp Half-Blood.

And that? That was the scary part.

Because if the guy wasn't a god — and Leo was pretty sure he wasn't — then he had to be something else. Something powerful enough to bypass the borders, slip past all the wards, and drop a coin in Leo's hand without anyone sounding the alarm.

And right now, Camp was quiet. Too quiet.

Just then a loud knocking sounded at the door of Bunker Nine, and this time Leo was pretty sure it wasn't Festus shooting off a complaint. So much for too quiet. He dragged himself toward the door, only to hear a voice call through the layers of steel separating him from the outside world.

"Leo, are you in there?"

It was Piper. And from the sound of it, she was equal parts concerned and angry. For a second he couldn't figure out why she'd be feeling that way, but then it hit him—he had kind of vanished without saying a word after they'd all decided to walk up to the Big House. Only now was he realizing that maybe, just maybe, that hadn't been the best idea. Especially since he'd promised Jason and Piper that he wouldn't suddenly disappear again... only to pull the same stunt less than an hour later. He gulped, realizing he was probably in for another beating, and this time there might not be hugs attached. Shoving the thought of his dream aside, he slipped the coin into his pocket and focused on the more pressing problem at hand.

"No," he called back, which only made the knocking intensify. Honestly, he was surprised the door was still standing—most of his friends could probably knock it down without breaking a sweat if they really wanted to.

"LEO." Piper's voice was sharper now, dripping with enough anger to make his stomach drop. "Let us in, right now!"

Now, Leo wasn't the type to fold under pressure, or even threats of violence. But for some reason, he had the distinct feeling that the longer he left Piper standing out there, the stronger her punch was going to be when she finally got through.

"Coming!" he yelped, spinning his chair around a little too quickly. The wheels smacked into his desk with a loud crash, sending what sounded like an axle clattering to the floor. Muttering under his breath, Leo scrambled to the door, quickly unlocked it, and swung it open—

Only to find all of his friends, plus Calypso, standing there staring at him with their arms crossed.

"Uh hey gu—" He was cut off, as expected, by a punch to the gut from Piper. He doubled over, coughing. "Okay, that may have been deserved."

"I told you he'd be here," Annabeth said as she stepped into the bunker, carefully moving over a piece of celestial bronze that looked like it had been lying there for months gathering dust.

"Why'd you suddenly disappear?" Calypso asked, her voice carrying a trace of concern. "We all thought you walked with us to the Big House." She glanced at Annabeth. "Well, most of us anyway."

Leo caught the slight purse of Annabeth's lips at the remark, but what stuck out more was the way his own mouth ran before his brain could stop it. "Wow, it took you guys that long to notice I was gone?"

Instant regret hit. He saw his friends shift uncomfortably at the comment, and Calypso's face in particular fell into something close to shame.

Way to go, Valdez. Real smooth. You vanish without warning and when your friends actually come to find you, you blame them for not realizing sooner? Ten out of ten for awkward timing. He shook his head.

He forced a grin. "Guys, I'm kidding. Anyways, I just needed to fix something up for Festus. The guy was practically falling apart." 

His half-hearted attempt to lift the mood seemed to work—at least a little. A few smiles crept back into the room, and the tension loosened by a thread. But even then, Leo noticed it. The way some of his friends shifted their weight, the way they glanced past him instead of at him. Their eyes slid to the floor, the walls, anywhere but his face.

That stung more than he wanted to admit.

He wanted to believe they were just tired, still shaken from everything that had happened. But a small voice in his head whispered that maybe it was more than that. Maybe they didn't quite know how to look at him anymore.

Festus let out an annoyed metallic creak at being thrown under the bus. Leo glared at him—shut up, man, just roll with it—but the dragon turned away with exaggerated dignity, curling tighter in his corner.

"Oh," Calypso said softly seemingly oblivious to the tension filling the room. "Well, I do hope he's doing better now."

Leo gave her a half-hearted smile. The words from his dream surfaced at the worst possible time, pressing heavy in his chest. "Don't worry, sunshine. He's better than ever."

She smiled back at him. "Well, I'm glad then." Her eyes drifted around the room with a faint crease of confusion. "Where exactly are we, though?"

"Oh, we're in Bunker Nine." He gestured broadly, like he was showing off a palace. "Homey, isn't it? Found it when I first put Festus back together, and it's been pretty much my second home ever since."

Calypso tilted her head, taking in the towering stacks of scrap metal, the half-finished contraptions, and the unmistakable smell of smoke and oil that clung to the place. Her gaze lingered on the layer of dust that blanketed most of the surfaces. "This is your… home?" she asked carefully, as if she was trying not to sound rude.

"Uh—well, yeah. Kind of." Leo rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, so it’s not exactly the Hilton, but it’s got character. Lots of character. Plus, Festus loves it here."

As if on cue, Festus let out a sleepy creak from the corner. Calypso raised her eyebrows. "Is he… snoring?"

Leo opened his mouth, then closed it. "Yeah, don’t think about it too hard. Trust me. Gave myself a headache once trying to figure out how a dragon even snores."

She gave a tiny, amused smile, but it didn’t hide the fact that she still looked unconvinced as her gaze swept across the cluttered room again.

It wasn't exactly the picture of a home. And, well, she wasn't wrong. It wasn’t the best environment for anyone to live in. But in his defense, keeping the place tidy hadn't been much of a priority—not with fighting Gaea, dying for a bit, and everything else that had been eating up his schedule.

"It isn’t usually this messy," he blurted out quickly. "I promise."

Jason, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a dry scoff. "That’s a lie. It looks like this all the time. I’ve seen it."

"Thanks, Superman," Leo muttered. "Way to sell me out."

Jason smirked. "Just telling the truth, Valdez."

"Don’t listen to him," Leo said to Calypso, flashing his best grin. "He’s just jealous because my workshop has way more personality than his cabin. Bet his idea of decoration is lining up his shoes in a perfect row."

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t bother denying it, which made Percy snort. "To be fair," Percy said, "he’s got a point. Jason’s cabin is… tidy. Too tidy. You could probably eat off the floor in there."

"Exactly," Leo said, spreading his arms wide. "Now, here? Here’s where the magic happens. Dust is just proof of productivity."

Calypso raised a brow. "That’s one way to put it."

Before Leo could dig himself into a deeper hole, Percy cut in, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, anyway, uh—we wanted to ask if maybe you could show Calypso around camp, since she’s new here and you k—"

Annabeth’s elbow jabbed him hard in the ribs, and he cut off with a pained grunt. The flush that spread across both Calypso’s and Leo’s faces was not subtle.

"What Percy meant," Annabeth said firmly, shooting Percy a warning glare, "was that we think you’d be the best person to show Calypso around. The rest of us are… busy today."

Jason arched an eyebrow. "Busy doing what?"

Annabeth’s glare slid over to him next, sharper this time, and Jason suddenly seemed to decide he didn’t need to clarify his schedule after all.

"Right. Busy. Very busy," he muttered, straightening his jacket.

Percy nodded quickly, though it looked more like he was trying not to laugh. "Yeah, super busy."

The others chimed in with staggered nods and forced-sounding agreements, the most out-of-sync group response Leo had ever seen. It was so awkwardly rehearsed it almost hurt to watch.

Leo glanced between them, suspicion tugging at his grin. "You guys are the worst liars I’ve ever seen."

"Just take the hint, Valdez," Annabeth said flatly.

He glanced at Calypso, who looked a little confused, then at Piper, who answered his glare with her best who, me? expression.

Before he could say anything, Annabeth herded Percy toward the door. Piper and Hazel pulled Jason and Frank with them, all of them calling quick goodbyes as they shoved their way out. The door slammed shut behind them.

And just like that, Leo found himself standing in the middle of a messy, dust-choked bunker... with Calypso. Alone.

Suddenly, Leo felt himself clam up as he realized just how close Calypso was standing. He couldn't help but notice—well, he didn't really know how else to put it—how stunning she looked. She was still wearing the same clothes from Ogygia, and Leo had to admit she knew exactly what she was doing. The outfit fit her perfectly, almost like it had been made just for her, which it was.

And then there was the rest: the effortless shine of her hair, the way it seemed impossibly neat after everything they'd just been through, the smooth curve of her features, the—

Leo blinked hard, his face heating as the thoughts crashed into place. What are you doing, Valdez? You’re totally not enough for her, and you know it. Think about who she is—how beautiful, how talented, how far out of your league she’s always been. And you? You’re just Leo Valdez.

Besides, with the whole dream thing happening, there was no way she’d be safe if she was with him. Clearly he was caught up in something dangerous, something that had to do with someone powerful, and the last thing he wanted was to drag her into that. The thought of Calypso getting hurt because of him made his chest tighten.

And then there were those words—that man’s words—still echoing in the back of his mind like a warning he couldn’t shake.

That was the exact moment Calypso broke the silence. She tilted her head slightly, her dark almond-shaped eyes locking with his. The instant she did, all those thoughts—the doubts, the warnings, the guilt—seemed to wash out of him like a tide retreating from the shore. For a moment, he felt almost… captivated.

He didn’t know why, but it was like she could see straight through him, as if all the walls he’d built were nothing to her. And in a strange way, he felt a bit like her too—out of place, misplaced, trying to belong. Which was ridiculous, of course. He barely knew her.

Except… that wasn’t true. He had spent a lot of time with her. They had talked, laughed, shared things he didn’t even realize he’d been holding in. And somewhere along the way, he’d started to like her—more than he wanted to admit. None of that explained why it suddenly felt like she was the piece he had been missing all along, or why it was so easy to just be himself with her.

“So…” she began, amusement curling at the edges of her voice, “are you going to show me around, or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?”

Leo shook his head quickly, snapping out of his trance. A crooked smile tugged at his lips, the kind of smile he always used when he didn’t quite know what else to do. Maybe he didn’t need to overthink this, not right now. For once, maybe he could just let himself enjoy the moment—the warmth of the camp, the way Calypso’s eyes lingered on him with that quiet amusement, the fact that after everything, he was here and she was here.

“Alright,” he said, his voice carrying a playful lilt to mask the way his heart was racing, “tour guide Valdez at your service. Try not to be too impressed.”

Calypso arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll try my best.”

He gestured for her to look around, but before he could say anything clever, something curled warm and steady around his hand. Leo glanced down in disbelief—Calypso’s fingers had slipped into his, fitting there like they had always belonged.

His brain froze. Completely short-circuited. Then, as if his chest couldn’t decide what to do first, fireworks exploded somewhere behind his ribs while butterflies staged a riot in his stomach.

Don’t freak out, Valdez, he begged himself, fighting the heat that crept up the back of his neck. Don’t make it weird. Of course, that was exactly when the blush spread to his ears. He silently cursed his own traitorous body for betraying him so obviously.

"Always," she said, seemingly not noticing the state he was in. "While we're at it, let's get this place cleaned up a bit. It's filthy in here."

Leo laughed under his breath, but even as he did, the thought flickered through him: maybe the dream was just that—a dream. Who was that man in his vision to say he and Calypso couldn't work? For once, he let himself lean into the giddy warmth bubbling in his chest, a happiness he would never admit to anyone else. He let his doubts wash away.

He'd already defied fate once by surviving. Who was to say he couldn't do it again?

He wasn't exactly sure what they were right now, but in his imagination he knew exactly what he hoped they could be. He stole a glance at Calypso and saw her beaming face. What he didn't notice—probably thanks to the odd lighting of Bunker Nine—was the faint flush across her cheeks, or the way taking his hand had taken all the mental fortitude and willpower she could muster.

Hazel POV

It had been two whole days since Leo had returned to camp in the most Leo way possible—riding Festus with a Titaness in tow. At first Hazel had been shocked, even overwhelmed, but as the dust settled she realized that for the first time in months she felt... lighter.

She had tried to bury it, but the truth was that she'd carried guilt like an anchor ever since Leo's sacrifice. She hadn't stopped him, hadn't even tried, and some part of her always whispered that she should have. Piper's grief hadn't made it easier. Piper had pulled away after learning Hazel and Frank had known Leo's plan, and though Piper had later apologized for the words she'd thrown in anger—words that still rang in Hazel's ears—the sting had never fully left.

Leo had always been complicated for her. She remembered the ache of his resemblance to Sammy, how she'd let that resemblance blur her feelings, how she'd hurt him without meaning to. Then they had reconciled, settled everything between them, and he had placed one of the heaviest secrets of his life in her hands. And then he was gone.

It had broken something in her, seeing Piper sob, seeing Frank so weighed down by loss. For months she hadn't known if she could ever move past it. Frank had been her anchor during that time, sharing her grief in quiet, steady ways, but the guilt had never fully loosened. Until now.

Now, here she was, sitting on a bench at Camp Half-Blood, the summer air brushing warm against her face, smiling. The guilt wasn't gone—not completely. Sometimes it crept back, sometimes it pressed on her chest at night. But every time she saw Leo again, every time she heard his voice or caught one of his crooked grins, the weight seemed to lift a little more. And though she hadn't expected it, she found herself almost... content.

Hazel watched with quiet amusement as Jason and Frank sparred in the training yard, slashing and parrying with their respective weapons, to the awe of a small group of new campers gathered around them. It was nice, seeing them like this—so relaxed and happy. She imagined Annabeth and Percy were off somewhere together too. The last time she'd seen them, Annabeth had been rattling on about blueprints and measurements, practically drowning Percy in a flood of words as she explained how she was going to design the new guest house for the camp.

Hazel's smile lingered. Evidently, she wasn't the only one who felt lighter since Leo's return. Her friends—all of them—had seemingly been carrying their own share of guilt, their own sense of failure, and in the last few days, she'd seen those weights ease bit by bit.

As for Leo, he was exactly where anyone would expect him to be: in Bunker Nine, tinkering with some half-finished invention. From what Hazel had heard, he'd also been lending Annabeth a hand with the guest house, which explained why the construction was moving faster than expected. Hazel had always admired the children of Vulkun and the impossible things they could make with their hands, but Leo... Leo was different. He was brilliant in a way other children of Vulkun had yet to show her. The way he so effortlessly put things together and was able to learn new skills utterly amazed her.

It made her think back to a the day before, when Leo and Annabeth had ended up locked in a chess match that lasted nearly four hours. Annabeth had won handily in the end, of course, but Hazel had been floored by how well Leo, who had never played the game before, had kept up. For someone who couldn't sit still, who constantly fiddled with gears or stood to pace mid-game, he'd played with an instinctive sharpness that almost rivaled Annabeth's. Hazel was sure that given time, he could match her someday.

It had never occurred to Hazel before how well Leo and Annabeth might complement one another, but it made sense now. Both of them had the kind of minds that never stopped thinking. They seemed to bounce ideas off each other constantly with a kind of ease that was almost enviable. Hazel chuckled softly at the memory of Percy sitting nearby during that same chess match, looking utterly lost while the two of them debated concepts that probably made his head spin.

Then there was Calypso.

Hazel glanced across the bench to where the girl sat. In a metaphorical sense, Leo had brought Calypso home. Hazel hadn't spoken much to her yet, and she was just realizing that this was the first time they were truly alone together. They hadn't exchanged a word so far, both content to sit quietly and watch their friends sparring and laughing in the distance.

Even with so little interaction, Hazel found she liked Calypso well enough. She blended into camp life with surprising ease, though Hazel had noticed some lingering tension between her, Annabeth, and Percy. Hazel wasn't sure of the details—something she might ask Annabeth about later—but beyond that, Calypso carried herself with a grounded politeness, an almost startling humanity for someone who was, technically, a Titan's daughter who had been trapped on a magic island for such a long time. If Hazel hadn't known better, she might have mistaken her for just another demigod their age. Still, she couldn't help but wonder how immortals aged, or whether time felt the same to them at all.

When she glanced back, Hazel caught Calypso gazing out over camp, her expression far away, morphing with something like longing. Hazel's brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

Calypso blinked in suprise, then sighed, meeting Hazel's eyes. She didn't speak for a moment as she seemed to be absorbed in her own thoughts. "Everything's just so... different from when I was last free in the world. Almost everything I knew is gone. I feel like a stranger here."

Hazel's expression softened. Of course Calypso would feel that way. Hazel knew too well what it was to be ripped out of one world and dropped into another. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand over Calypso's, startling the goddess.

"I understand the feeling," Hazel said with a small smile. "I feel exactly the same. I'm from the past too."

Calypso's eyes widened with surprise and something like hope. "Really?"

"Yeah," Hazel replied with a small laugh. "I actually... until recently, was dead, you know?" She laughed again, shaking her head at how absurd it sounded when said out loud. "Technically, I should be dead right now, but my dad made an exception for me."

Calypso's brows drew together in confusion, then slowly lifted as realization dawned. "You're a child of Hades."

Hazel nodded. "Guilty." She gave a sheepish smile. "I think I was gone for some sixty years before I got brought back to life." She paused, thinking. She seldom let her mind wander back to her time in the Underworld—it felt distant, dreamlike, as if it had happened to someone else. Still, the gratitude of sitting here, alive, made her smile involuntarily before she quickly remembered she was still mid-conversation. "Of course, I wasn't gone nearly as long as you. You probably feel way more out of place than I do. But I get it."

"But I thought Hades was not allowed to show favor to his children," Calypso mused.

"He's not," Hazel admitted. "Technically, he's breaking a bunch of rules just by letting me stay in the living world. So... I'd appreciate it if you kept this hush-hush."

Calypso's lips curved into a small smile. "Your secret is safe with me." She paused for a moment, her gaze drifting back out toward camp, before speaking again. "It really is so different. The architecture, the culture, the technology."

"Yeah." Hazel grinned. "Like... what even are phones?"

That got a real laugh from Calypso. "Leo tried to explain them to me this morning. Safe to say, I'm still utterly bewildered. They're like... little boxes of magic that can do everything."

"RIGHT?" Hazel laughed along with her. "When I came back, they suddenly had computers, phones, the internet—"

"The... what?" Calypso tilted her head, confusion written across her face.

Hazel blinked, then shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure myself. Demigods and technology don't really mix, so I've never had much chance to explore it."

Calypso leaned in, curious now. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Hazel said, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret, "apparently when we use digital tech, it's like... setting off a beacon for monsters. Basically, it tells them our exact location. You can imagine how well that goes."

Calypso's eyes widened, thoughtful. "Fascinating. There was nothing like that in my time. Demigods didn't suddenly attract monsters just because they used a device."

Hazel shrugged again, lips curling into a wry smile. "It's weird, but we learn to live with it."

"Live with it," Calypso repeated wistfully. She hesitated, clearly weighing whether to speak, before finally asking, "How do you live with it?"

Hazel frowned at the sudden question. "Live with what?"

"Well..." Calypso trailed off, searching for the words. "How do you live so effortlessly in this new world?"

Hazel tilted her head, considering. "I don't know," she admitted with a small shrug. "I guess I've just come to terms with the way things are now. I realized I couldn't hold on to my old beliefs and outlook forever, so I learned to adapt—to see things in a new way."

Calypso gave a quiet chuckle at that, though her expression softened into something sad. For the first time in their conversation, Hazel truly saw it—just how isolated Calypso must feel.

By demigod standards, Calypso was impossibly ancient. But by Titan standards, Hazel realized, she was probably still young. She had never had the chance to grow with her kin, had been thrown into war at an age Hazel could only imagine as frighteningly young for a titan, and then cursed into isolation for thousands of years. And now, finally free, she had been cast into a world that looked nothing like the one she had once known, surrounded by people and customs utterly unfamiliar.

Hazel thought she understood, at least in part. She too had felt lost, waking in a world where everything and everyone she had once known was gone. But at least she had Nico to ground her. At least she had others who could understand a fraction of her disorientation. For Hazel, the landmarks and names of countries were still recognizable, even if altered. Calypso had nothing. No familiar faces. No familiar land. Nothing to anchor her.

The realization struck Hazel hard, and with it came a pang of remorse. She had never thought she would feel pity for a Titaness, but here it was. Calypso, despite her calm demeanor, must still feel separated from all of them. Even Leo—Hazel couldn't help noticing how much Calypso cared for him—couldn't bridge that divide completely, though he came closest of anyone. Maybe that was why they fit together. Both of them were outsiders, though in different ways.

Moved by an impulse she couldn't ignore, Hazel reached across the space between them and gently took Calypso's hand. Calypso startled, clearly surprised, her dark eyes meeting Hazel's with a flicker of vulnerability that Hazel hadn't expected.

"You're not alone," Hazel said softly.

Calypso’s posture seemed to lighten at Hazel’s words. “I do hope that to be true.”

Hazel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Remember, you’ll always have us at camp to talk with and help you.”

Calypso’s smile widened. “You’ve all been so wonderful to me. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”

Hazel shook her head. “It’s fine, really. No need to thank us—we’re just doing what we’d do for anyone. I’m sure everyone, even Annabeth”—she caught the flicker of discomfort on Calypso’s face—“yes, even Annabeth, with whatever’s going on between you two, would still be willing to help however she could.”

Then Hazel smirked, her tone shifting into something far more mischievous. “And besides, you always have Leo if you want something more than just help.”

Scandalous. She knew it. A few months ago, she never would’ve dared to say something like that, but as she’d told Calypso, she’d been learning to live in this new world and its far less prudish customs. Piper in particular had been a very effective influence on her. And it seemed the proof was in front of her—because the way Calypso’s face blossomed red was almost too perfect.

Calypso quickly averted her gaze, stammering, “What could you possibly mean by that?” Her voice was so soft it was almost cute in its shyness.

Hazel leaned back with a knowing grin. “I think we both know exactly what I mean.”

“I don’t think we do…” Calypso squeaked, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Whatever you say.” Hazel chuckled. Then, unable to resist pushing further, she added slyly, “But you’d better move fast, because I saw Leo looking at some girls in the Demeter cabin earlier.”

Calypso’s head snapped toward her, alarm etched on her face. “He has?”

Hazel burst into laughter at the horrified look. Calypso, now thoroughly unamused, stared daggers at her. Hazel tried to get her breath back between fits of laughter. “I—I’m sorry. You’re just too easy to tease!”

Calypso puffed out her cheeks, flustered but not quite angry. “So I assume what you were saying was false.”

“Of course,” Hazel said with an exaggeratedly innocent look.

Calypso scoffed. “Are you sure you aren’t a child of Athena?”

Hazel grinned. “Blame Piper.”

Hazel leaned back against the bench, still chuckling softly at the way Calypso’s cheeks remained flushed, her expression caught somewhere between indignation and embarrassment. For all her poise and grace, the Titaness was easy to fluster, and Hazel found that oddly endearing.

Her laughter ebbed into a quieter smile. She thought of Leo—of the crooked grin he wore even when he was burned or exhausted, of the way he always seemed to hold the room together with humor no matter how dire things became. She imagined Calypso balanced him in a way she hadn’t expected. She steadied him without dimming his spark that Leo shone so brightly with. She just softened edges Hazel had once believed unchangeable. And in return, Leo gave her something she seemed to crave more than anything else: belonging.

Hazel could see it in the way Calypso’s gaze always drifted toward him, how her voice softened when she spoke his name. It was the same in Leo, though he tried to play it off with his usual bravado. They fit together, imperfect but right, and for the first time in a long while Hazel felt certain that Leo had found someone who truly understood him. And as much as it surprised her, Hazel realized she was simply happy for both of them—because they deserved that kind of joy.

She glanced at Calypso again, watching the Titaness exhale, her shoulders looser now than when they’d first sat down. Hazel’s smile widened. Whatever else came of the future, she thought, she’d just made a new friend.

 

 

Notes:

Just rewrote the first three chapters and man did that take long. Anyways enjoy some more buildup.

Chapter 5: Cyclopes

Leo POV

It had been a few days since Leo had returned to camp, and honestly? Aside from the weird dream, life had been pretty good. He was holed up in Bunker Nine—hotter than usual today, since he was working with molten celestial bronze—and without any windows, all that heat just stayed trapped inside. Sure, he was immune to fire, but that didn't mean he couldn't sweat. And judging from the constant hiss of Festus's gears, his mechanical buddy wasn't appreciating it either. In fact, Festus had abandoned his usual spot and shuffled to the farthest corner away from the heat, sulking like an oversized, metal cat.

Leo had spent most of his time here, obviously. It wasn't like he had much of a social calendar when he wasn't being chased by monsters or fighting earth goddesses. But still, it was kind of nice—just working, tinkering, living the demigod life without everything exploding around him for once.

Right now, he was hammering away at a little device Annabeth had asked him to make, something to help speed up construction on the guest cabin for Calypso. He had to give her credit for that. He knew she and Calypso weren't exactly on the best terms, but she'd still taken the job anyway. Over the past few days, Leo had grown to respect Annabeth a lot more. They'd been spending a ton of time sketching out schematics and bouncing around invention ideas. It was... fun, having someone to spar with intellectually. And better yet, Annabeth had practice dealing with Percy's toned-down version of Leo's humor, so she could roll with his jokes—though she usually answered with an eye-roll instead of a laugh. Still, progress.

Leo swung his hammer down, the clang of metal ringing out as it met the glowing bronze. The warmth that filled his chest wasn't from the heat of the forge this time. He liked being useful to people, liked that feeling of trust whenever someone asked him to build something. It was like they were saying, Hey Valdez, we believe in you, and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, that always made him feel good.

He let his mind drift for a second too long and almost smashed his thumb instead of the bronze. He froze, inches away from a very painful mistake. With a shaky sigh, he set the hammer down and wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Yeah," he muttered to himself, "definitely time for a break."

Leo took a step back from his workbench, admiring his handiwork for a moment. He'd actually made a lot of progress on studying Archimedes' works, and the fact that nothing had exploded in the last few days felt like a personal record. A couple of weapons, a few spheres, and other projects were tucked safely in different corners of the bunker. The place itself had even started to look a little cleaner lately—mostly thanks to Calypso, who had made it her business to spend as much time in Bunker Nine with him as possible. She fussed about the mess constantly, muttering about "unacceptable living conditions" while she picked up tools or stacked metal in neat piles, usually after Leo had fallen asleep at the bench. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked it. It felt... nice, having her there.

She wasn't around right now—she'd gone off to spend the afternoon with Hazel—and Leo found himself smiling at the thought. Calypso had been adjusting to camp life better than he'd dared hope, and watching her get along with the others gave him a warmth that had nothing to do with fire immunity.

He turned toward the far corner of the room, where a massive metal dragon lay curled up. Festus's bronze plates glinted faintly in the bunker's dim light, his body rising and falling with mechanical hisses. Leo had worried at first that Festus might get bored cooped up in camp. He couldn't exactly let a fire-breathing dragon roam freely, not without giving the other campers a collective heart attack. So Festus had been spending most of his time here. Sure, Leo took him out every now and then for a good stretch of the wings—those flights above the clouds were some of his favorite moments, pure and quiet, like nothing else mattered. At least until the usual monster welcoming committee showed up to remind him that surviving past eighteen wasn't guaranteed.

Leo had even built Festus a special gadget to make things easier afterward—a kind of monster-dust vacuum cleaner. It wasn't his most glamorous invention, but Festus seemed happier not clanking around with monster ashes stuck in every gear.

Percy had noticed Leo's worry too. One day, completely out of the blue, he'd suggested letting Miss O'Leary, his giant hellhound, "play" with Festus now and then. Leo had been skeptical. Annabeth had been horrified. Two massive, powerful, slightly destructive creatures roughhousing together? What could possibly go wrong? But Percy had pushed, and Leo had backed him up until Annabeth finally gave in—with the condition that the playdates stay confined to the forest clearing behind Bunker Nine.

Turned out, it had been one of Percy's best ideas. Festus and Miss O'Leary hit it off instantly. Leo swore he'd never seen Festus more excited than when he was in the air, but he was wrong. Watching Festus lob a demigod-sized chew toy across the clearing and Miss O'Leary leap after it like the world's happiest puppy was... something else. The unfortunate part came afterward, when he and Percy had to clean up the mess. Angry dryads and naiads didn't appreciate "collateral damage" from dragon-dog games.

Leo finally reached Festus, resting a hand against the dragon's warm bronze chassis. The familiar hum beneath his palm steadied him.

"Yeah, buddy," he murmured. "If anyone's earned a break, it's us."

Festus gave a puff of steam, which Leo liked to think was his way of saying, Go outside, Valdez. Touch some grass.

The idea of stepping outside did sound appealing. Leo tried to remember the last time he'd seen sunlight and guessed it had been... maybe seventeen hours ago. He blinked. Okay, that could not possibly be healthy for anyone.

He sighed as Festus tucked his head back down, clearly pretending to sleep.

"How does sleeping even work for you, anyway?" Leo muttered, glaring at the curled-up dragon. "One of these days I'm gonna take you apart and use you as a case study on robot-dragon biology. Maybe I'll even write a manual."

He didn't expect Festus's head to shoot up quite so fast. The dragon's bronze eyes snapped open, and with a mechanical groan, he began uncurling, plates clicking into place. Leo froze. Alright, maybe that had come out a little more threatening than he intended.

"Kidding! I'm kidding!" Leo blurted out, raising his hands. "You know I'd never do that to you. Too much effort. Writing manuals is boring anyway, I—"

He didn't even get to finish. Whether Festus was annoyed, overtired from his playdate with Miss O'Leary, or just thought this would be funny, Leo didn't know. What he did know was that the dragon stomped forward, clamped his bronze claws onto the hem of Leo's shirt, and yanked him clean off the ground.

"Hey, put me down—"

Festus gave him a firm shake. Not enough to hurt him, but definitely enough to rattle his teeth and make the whole world spin. It felt like being a homework assignment someone was trying to shake into making sense. By the time Leo stopped feeling like a human maraca, Festus had already lumbered toward the bunker doors.

"Wait, wait, wait, don't you—"

The doors swung wide. Festus gave one last puff of steam, hoisted Leo forward, and tossed him unceremoniously outside. He landed face-first in the dirt with a grunt. By the time he scrambled to his feet, ready to make some kind of very credible threat about removing Festus's wings, the massive metal doors slammed shut in his face.

Leo brushed off the dirt, scowling at the sealed bunker. "Oh, real nice. Kick a guy out of his own workshop. Traitor."

Leo could've sworn he heard a smug hiss of steam from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, laugh it up, you overgrown toaster," he muttered, banging his fist against the steel. Festus, however, seemed perfectly content to keep him locked out. And while Leo knew the dragon would eventually let him back inside, he also knew that it depended entirely on how much beauty sleep Festus had decided he needed today.

Leo swore under his breath. He'd get that dragon back someday. Oh, he'd get him back.

Then he heard it.

A giggle.

From behind him.

And that's when it hit him — he had not, in fact, considered the possibility that someone might've just witnessed him being physically manhandled and evicted from his own bunker by his pet dragon.

He gulped.

Maybe it was just some random campers. Yeah. Campers out for a stroll in the woods, curious about his bunker. He got visitors sometimes — siblings, other Hephaestus kids checking in, asking about his projects. Totally plausible. Nothing to panic about.

Then came the snicker.

And it was a very, very familiar snicker.

Leo groaned. "Piper? Jason? Is that you guys?"

"No," said a voice that was one hundred percent Jason's. "No, it's not us."

Leo wanted to bury his face in the dirt. Maybe do what ostriches did and stick their head underground until his problems went away.

"I have to say," Piper's voice chimed in, way too amused, "when Jason said he wanted to spend time with you, I half expected we'd have to drag you out of the bunker. Evidently, I was mistaken."

Leo squeezed his eyes shut. He'd never live this down. Not in a million years. Unless...

Well. If he killed them both right here, they couldn't tell a soul, right?

Then again, there was Nico. Nico could talk to the dead. He'd definitely snitch on him. And considering Nico had been on a long assignment in the Underworld and was due back any day now, the timing would be terrible. They'd even planned to surprise Nico with Leo's whole back-from-the-dead reveal. Yeah. Murder was probably not the best option for now.

Leo let out a long breath and forced himself to turn around. He cracked one eye open, then the other.

As expected, Piper had a massive grin plastered on her face. Jason, meanwhile, was doing a spectacularly bad job of holding back laughter.

"Very classy, you two," Leo said flatly.

Leo brushed ash off his shirt as he walked toward his friends. Both of them were clearly fighting the urge to laugh, which was doing wonders for his dignity.

They were in standard camp wear, more or less. Well—Jason was. Simple jeans, a purple T-shirt that made him look like he'd just stepped out of a "responsible demigod starter pack." Piper, on the other hand, was another story.

She had on a green flannel shirt over a bright red Camp Half-Blood tee, plus a leather belt that didn't match her shoes and at least three necklaces layered over each other like she couldn't decide on just one. Somehow she'd managed to throw in a pair of silver hoop earrings too. It looked like a style disaster that had gotten lost on its way to the dumpster... and yet, because it was Piper, it worked. She looked like she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine that was specifically for people who didn't care about fashion.

Leo, by contrast, suddenly felt hyper-aware of himself. His shirt was scorched at the collar from a fire that had gotten out of hand earlier this week. His jeans were faded and patched with grease stains he hadn't gotten around to scrubbing out. He was pretty sure one of his sleeves had a suspiciously dragon-shaped singe mark. The overall effect screamed: hobo chic, but make it flammable.

"So," Jason said, finally pulling his smirk back into something more neutral. "It appears you've been evicted from your home."

Leo rolled his eyes. "Evidently," he hissed. "When I get my hands on Festus, I'll—"

"Well then!" Piper cut in, grinning, before he could finish plotting his dragon's untimely demise. "Now that you're homeless—"

"I am not homeless," Leo snapped.

"—We can maybe hang out!" Piper finished brightly, ignoring him. "It really has been a while since it was just the three of us, huh?"

Her smile faltered into a sigh, her voice softening.

"Yeah..." Leo started to agree, but then caught the look on Jason's face. Contrary to the pencil-pushing, follow-the-rules look Leo usually saw on Jason's face — or the verge-of-laughter look he'd been rocking a second ago — this was different. Jason looked... uncomfortable. Almost pained.

Leo raised an eyebrow, studying him. Jason was doing his best to smooth it over, to hide it behind that classic Roman composure. But to Leo, who'd spent enough time with him to know the micro-expressions. Jason gave the tiniest shake of his head, silently begging him not to bring it up.

"Anyways," Jason said suddenly, his voice a little too casual. "Anything you guys wanna do specifically?"

Translation: Got the memo. Don't talk about it. Just roll.

Piper perked up suddenly, like a lightbulb had gone off in her head. "We could go to the climbing wall. I've always wanted a shot at it."

She glanced at Jason, her eyes narrowing in mock challenge. Jason, to his credit, tried to keep his expression neutral, but Leo caught the flicker of a grimace before he plastered on his standard "I don't get paid enough for this" expression. Piper didn't miss it.

"And I know for sure I'm beating you," she added smugly.

Leo folded his arms, leaning back on his heels. "Really, Pipes? You do know I'll smoke you right out of the lava, right?"

Piper raised her eyebrows. "In your dreams, Valdez. You couldn't climb if your life depended on it."

"You do know I'm literally fireproof, right?"

"And how exactly is that supposed to help you climb faster?" she shot back.

Leo opened his mouth, ready to invent some counterargument involving jet propulsion and superior Hephaestus muscle power, when suddenly—

Clamp.

Jason's hands latched onto both of their ears with all the subtlety of a Roman legion storming a fortress.

"Come on, you two," he said, sounding every bit the exasperated older brother. "Stop fighting. Why don't we settle this on the climbing wall itself?"

"Ouch, Superman," Leo yelped, wriggling under Jason's grip. "Do you mind? These ears are sensitive precision instruments."

Piper winced, but she was already grinning again. "Fine. Let's do it."

Leo rubbed his ear when Jason finally released him. "Yeah, sure, why not? I've got nothing better to do than destroy you two on a glorified rock face."

They started walking together across the camp. The familiar smells of wood smoke, pine needles, and strawberry fields drifted in on the breeze. Campers were scattered around, training or lounging, and a couple of them glanced curiously at the trio as they passed — probably because Piper was still smirking like she was plotting Leo's imminent demise, Jason had his hands shoved into his pockets like a reluctant babysitter, and he was muttering to himself about "ungrateful friends" and "dragons with attitude problems."

By the time they reached the towering climbing wall, Leo tilted his head back and whistled low. The thing loomed high above them, jagged rock studded with glowing fissures, rivers of molten lava oozing down the cracks. Huge boulders occasionally shifted in the wall with a grinding sound, just to keep things interesting.

"This cannot be safe," Jason muttered, staring up at the climbing wall like it had personally offended him.

"This probably violates at least a dozen safety codes," Piper added, "and another dozen child safety laws."

Leo had to admit, they weren't wrong. Even by his safety standards—which were already scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel—this thing was a death trap. He'd built his fair share of fire hazards, sure, but at least he tried to keep the destruction to a "one-tree-on-fire" level. This climbing wall? Looked like it had the potential to burn down the entire camp... and maybe develop legs while it was at it.

Leo and Piper exchanged competitive grins. Jason, on the other hand, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I'm gonna smoke both of you," Leo said, cracking his knuckles and giving an exaggerated stretch—only to open his eyes and find they'd already started. Piper was halfway up the wall. Jason was right behind her, moving like it was an actual war drill.

"You guys could've at least given me a head start!" Leo yelled as he scrambled to catch up. "I was dead, like, three days ago! You could cut the cripple some slack!"

Piper snorted without looking back. Jason stayed focused, climbing in steady bursts.

The wall rumbled under Leo's hands, and the handhold he grabbed sank into the surface like quicksand. He yelped, snatching for another grip as a spout of lava sprayed across his back, scorching his shirt. Fireproof or not, that still stung.

"Nice try!" Leo shouted at the wall, hauling himself up a few feet.

Jason pressed his palm against a slab of rock, and Leo swore the whole section crackled with electricity. Piper hissed every time her fingers brushed the charged handholds.

"Hey! I thought we weren't using powers, Superman!" Leo yelled.

Jason didn't even look back. "We never agreed to that. And you're quite literally immune to fire."

"Fair point," Leo admitted. "But why not just fly?"

Jason grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

Above them, Piper dodged a swinging boulder and vaulted onto a ledge like she'd been training for this all her life. The wall tilted suddenly, turning a vertical climb into an angled slope. Loose gravel rained down, and Leo coughed, clinging to the nearest grip.

"Oh, come on!" he shouted at the wall, like it was a person. "Play fair!"

Piper glanced back at Jason, her eyes sparkling in that way that made Leo unsure if she was about to kiss him or push him off a cliff. "Hey, Jason... wouldn't it be great if you just let go of that ledge?"

That was his answer.

Jason's expression went blank for a split second. "Uh... sure."

He released his grip and dropped like a rock. It wasn't until he was halfway down that realisation hit, and by then it was too late. He landed with a thud that shook the entire wall.

Leo winced in sympathy. "Ouch. Ten out of ten for style, though."

He returned his attention to the only remaining threat above him and resumed climbing. Piper's grunts carried down from higher up, each one a reminder that she was closing in on victory. At this rate, she'd reach the top before he was even halfway there. Even if he doubled his pace, his body wouldn't hold out — and she could still charmspeak him like she had with Jason. He needed a plan, and it had to be good.

Then it hit him. Heat meant expansion, expansion meant force, and force meant momentum.

He pressed one palm flat against the wall and superheated the air trapped in a narrow crack just above him. In an instant, the air expanded violently, kicking loose a chunk of rock that dropped into his other hand. He hurled the stone upward, heating it as it flew so the surrounding air thinned, reducing drag and letting it sail farther. The rock lodged into a crevice high above, exactly where he needed it. Grinning, he snapped his fingers — the residual heat in the stone created a sudden updraft that rushed past him, lightening his weight for a split second.

He jumped upward, riding the brief updraft of air that propelled him far above where Piper had just been. He smiled when he heard her gasp in surprise, followed by her shout of, “STOP!” His body froze at the sound of her charmspeak — but it was too late. Momentum had already carried him high into the air, and he landed neatly at the top of the climbing wall. He shot a wide grin at the now-dumbstruck Piper, who had been only a few short meters from victory moments before.

From the top, the entire camp looked small enough to fit in his palm. Only now did he realize just how high he was — and it added yet another reason to his mental list of why this wall was probably a massive safety hazard. Still, as he looked down, a surprising calm washed over him. Being alone at the top was… oddly relaxing.

“You cheated!” Piper sputtered, snapping him back to reality and the fact that he had just won their little race — a fact he fully intended to remind her of for the next few decades.

“I did not,” he replied smugly.

“Oh, really? How do you explain suddenly flying into the air, then?” she shot back before glancing down at Jason, who was still recovering from his fall. “You didn’t have Jason help you, did you?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t, beauty queen. It was just some basic physics.”

She rolled her eyes, but then they narrowed dangerously. Leo had only a few seconds to realise what was coming.

“Leo, could you be a dear and jump down for me?” she asked with a syrupy sweetness that didn’t fool him for a second — though somehow, it still worked. Without thinking, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world, he jumped.

He landed squarely on his chest with a resounding oof. As the wind was knocked out of him, he silently offered both thanks and apologies to his body for enduring yet another round of punishment.

He heard Piper drop down to his left. Unlike him and Jason, she didn’t seem the least bit winded or sore from a fall that should have rattled every bone in her body. Must be nice, he thought sourly.

“Ugh, that was petty,” he groaned, pushing himself upright.

“Oops, did I do that?” Piper asked with mock innocence.

He smiled despite himself. For once, it really did feel like everything was fine — and maybe, for the first time in a long while, he could let his mind relax. The cold edge of the bronze coin in his pocket pressed lightly against his leg, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He almost laughed at himself for ever believing the words of some shadowy figure from a dream. Everything was going to be just fine.

Leo was about to fire back a retort when the air split with an inexplicable, massive roar in the distance. He didn’t just hear it — he felt it. The ground beneath his feet trembled as if an earthquake had just torn through Camp Half-Blood. The shock staggered him back a step, and he caught the same bewildered look on both Piper’s and Jason’s faces.

They were all thinking it. That roar, that shaking — it sounded exactly like something a monster would do. But that was impossible. The magical barriers around camp were supposed to keep monsters out.

So what could have caused it?

Leo shook the thought from his head. That didn’t matter right now — what mattered was finding out what in Hades was going on. Judging by the way Piper and Jason moved, they were on the same page. Without a word, the three of them exchanged quick nods and bolted toward the source of the sound.

Percy POV

You’d think that after two wars, Percy would be used to getting ambushed by monsters in the most random ways possible and during the most random times possible. Truth was, he wasn't, and he was starting to get tired of the whole song and dance.

The afternoon had started perfectly normal. He and Annabeth had decided to take their usual quiet time on the fringes of the camp grounds, far enough from the noise to get some peace. Annabeth had been putting the final touches on the new guest hut for Calypso, and Percy had just finished drilling some new campers on basic sword work. Both of them were exhausted and in no hurry to be anywhere else.

They hadn’t talked much since meeting up, but that was fine. Their relationship had reached a point where silence wasn’t really awkward. Walking hand in hand along the camp border, Percy felt the steady calm of her presence settle over him like a warm blanket.

That calm lasted until a shadow fell across the path—and a very large cyclops stepped into view.

It was easily four times bigger than most cyclopes Percy had fought, with scorched, tattered clothes and burn marks scored across its skin. It didn’t speak like Tyson or any of the more civil ones Percy had met; instead, it went straight for him with a swipe big enough to level a tree. Percy yanked Annabeth down with him just as the monster’s fist tore through the air above them.

The thing bellowed, shaking the ground. It swung again, shattering a nearby pine into splinters.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted over the roar. “How is this thing even here?”

She turned toward him, and the look on her face wasn’t one he wanted to see—confusion. “Maybe we accidentally walked out of the camp’s borders?”

He shook his head. “No. This is still inside camp.”

She bit her bottom lip, clearly thinking fast.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We can take it. It’s only one cyclops.”

“One very large cyclops,” she corrected, eyeing the monster as it struggled to yank its hand free from a tree trunk it had somehow tangled itself in. “Do you have Riptide?”

Percy had already pulled the pen from his pocket. One click, and the familiar weight of celestial bronze filled his hand. Annabeth’s drakon-bone sword gleamed as she drew it, both of them stepping forward to meet the charging giant.

As the cyclops thundered toward them, Percy and Annabeth moved in perfect sync—splitting at the last second. Annabeth darted right, nimble as ever, while Percy veered left. The sudden movement made the monster hesitate, its single eye swiveling between them, unsure which target to crush first.

That hesitation was all Percy needed. He lunged in low, driving Riptide into its massive foot—easily the size of a compact car—slicing clean through one of its toes. The cyclops let out a roar that rattled the trees, its gaze locking on Percy like a laser.

“Uh-oh,” Percy muttered, diving aside just as a massive fist slammed into the ground where he’d been standing. The impact shook the earth so hard he nearly lost his balance.

Before it could swing again, the cyclops bellowed in pain a second time—Annabeth must’ve gotten in behind it and carved into its back. The enraged monster abandoned swiping altogether, deciding stomping was the better option.

Unfortunately, that meant both Percy and Annabeth now had to dodge a storm of two giant, tree-trunk-sized legs trying to flatten them into demigod pancakes. Each stomp sent gusts of wind and dirt flying, forcing them back.

“Why is this cyclops so big?” Annabeth shouted, rolling out of the way of another earth-shaking step.

“I don’t know!” Percy called back, stabbing upward at its ankle as it tried to squash him. Riptide bit into the thick skin, and he yanked it free just in time to avoid being caught underfoot. Another guttural howl tore from the monster’s throat.

Percy was tired. Normally, a fight like this would’ve been a solid workout—dangerous, sure, but not exhausting. Today, though? He felt like he was running on fumes. Hours of sparring with campers earlier had already left his arms feeling heavy, and the nightmare from the night before had stolen whatever rest he’d hoped for. Every slash, every dodge felt slower, less precise than it should’ve been.

He glanced around and silently cursed. No water nearby. He could try yanking some from underground, but that would take a lot of effort—and if he mistimed it, he’d be a pancake before he could even lift his sword. Worse, he didn’t know if he had the energy to dodge after pulling a stunt like that.

Annabeth didn’t look much better. She was slightly slower than usual, and he could tell she was adjusting to her new drakon-bone sword after losing her dagger months ago. She still fought with that razor-sharp focus, but her footwork was just a fraction tighter than normal, her movements looked more weighed down than they should have been. Percy wasn’t worried about whether they could kill the thing. He was worried about how badly they’d get hurt in the process.

Backup might’ve been an option—someone had to hear the racket—but given where they were, he didn’t want to count on it. Waiting could mean losing the fight to exhaustion instead of brute force.

The cyclops must’ve gotten sick of having its feet carved into because it switched back to swiping at them. Percy stepped in to parry, Riptide flashing upward in a perfect arc—only to meet resistance. The blade bit shallowly into the monster’s thick, calloused fingers before the cyclops yanked its hand back.

Annabeth used that moment. “Percy—eyes!” she shouted.

He didn’t need more than that. She darted left, drawing the monster’s gaze, while Percy rolled right, coming up fast on its blind side. Annabeth feinted high, her sword catching the sunlight just enough to make the cyclops flinch and tilt its head. That was all the opening Percy needed—he lunged, slashing at the creature’s knee with enough force to stagger it.

The cyclops bellowed and swiped wildly, but Annabeth was already climbing up its leg like the world’s most dangerous ladder. Percy stayed low, slashing at its ankles and shins, forcing it to split its attention. Annabeth reached its shoulder and, without hesitation, drove her blade into the soft flesh right beneath its eye.

The roar was deafening. It stumbled backward, hands clutching its face. Percy seized the chance—he sprinted forward, leapt onto its thigh, and stabbed upward into its chest with all the force he had left. The blow landed deep.

A shudder ran through the monster before it dissolved into a pile of golden dust, the sound of its death cry fading on the wind. Percy dropped to the grass, panting. Annabeth landed beside him a moment later, equally winded. They met eyes, sharing a silent look.

The Fates must’ve been pulling some sick prank on them. One second they were catching their breath, the next Percy could hear the voices of Piper, Jason, and Leo cutting through the trees, all calling toward them. Footsteps pounded the dirt, and moments later the three of them emerged from a bend in the path, running hard. Clearly, they’d heard the commotion.

“Great timing, guys,” Percy muttered under his breath, then let himself flop backward onto the grass, staring at the sky. His lungs were still burning.

“What happened?” Leo demanded, his gaze flicking over both him and Annabeth. “You two look like you just ran a marathon.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Piper and Jason. “Are we sure they were fighting monsters or—”

“LEO,” Piper snapped, cutting him off before he could finish whatever smart comment was about to come out of his mouth. She turned her attention back to Percy and Annabeth. “Seriously, what happened? We heard a roar, felt the ground shaking—thought you two were in trouble.”

“Well, evidently they were,” Jason said, crouching to inspect the scene. He ran a hand over the golden dust where the Cyclops had fallen, then scanned the smashed trees and the huge cracks in the earth. “Did you guys fight a Cyclops?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah. Big one, too.” She pushed herself up, then offered Percy a hand. He took it reluctantly, letting her pull him to his feet, though she kept an arm around his waist for support.

“But…” Piper frowned, glancing around at the surrounding trees, with a confused expression growing on her face. “Aren’t we still inside camp borders?”

“Yeah,” Percy answered, still catching his breath. “This area should be under the protection of the barrier.”

“Then how did the Cyclops get through?” Annabeth’s voice was tight. She leaned down beside Jason, running her fingers over the dust like she could read the monster’s history from the ashes. “And for the record, that thing wasn’t strong enough to force its way in. Something’s off.”

Percy’s jaw clenched. “Last time anything like this happened, the barrier was failing because the Thalia's tree had been poisoned.”

“Which is exactly why,” Leo added, “I’m asking—did something happen to the Golden Fleece?”

It was a question Percy had been wondering himself. The barriers had been solid ever since they’d restored the Golden Fleece. But if someone—or something—had stolen it and poisoned Thalia’s tree again… that could explain how something as big as a Cyclops got through without setting off every magical alarm in camp.

The thought made his stomach twist. Monsters slipping through was one thing. Monsters this size? That was a whole new problem. He opened his mouth to say they should go check on the tree—

“No, the Fleece is fine,” a voice called from behind. Hazel stepped into view with Calypso at her side, both of them breathing hard like they’d been running. Percy noticed Calypso’s eyes sweep the group until they landed on one person in particular. The way her face eased when she saw Leo safe was… hard to miss.

“When we heard the noise, we thought the barrier was compromised,” Hazel continued. “I was with Calypso and Frank. We checked the tree—the Fleece is still there, nothing’s wrong.”

“Where’s Frank?” Jason asked.

“Oh, we sent him to get Chiron,” Hazel said. Then she smirked faintly. “Calypso insisted we run over here.”

Calypso gave an awkward little cough, her gaze darting away.

Annabeth crossed her arms, ignoring the comment Hazel made about Calypso. “That doesn’t make sense. The barrier wouldn’t just let something in. And if the Fleece is fine, this shouldn’t even be possible.”

Before they could debate further, Piper started, “We should probably secure the camp in case more monsters—”

She never finished.

“Watch out!” Leo’s voice cut through the air, sharp and urgent. Before anyone could react, a column of flame roared past, blasting into a skeletal warrior that had been creeping up behind them. The monster was flung back into a tree with a deafening crack, its bones blackened from the heat.

Percy turned to thank Leo for the quick save—then saw the expression on his face.

It wasn’t relief. It was shock.

Percy followed his gaze and saw why. The skeleton hadn’t missed entirely. Its jagged blade had cut into Calypso before Leo’s flames hit. She staggered, clutching her side. And dripping between her fingers wasn’t golden ichor.

It was red.

Mortal red.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Percy’s stomach dropped. This shouldn’t be possible. She was supposed to be a Titan’s daughter, a being bound by magic. And yet…

He felt a sigh escape him.

Why couldn’t the Fates let them have one peaceful year?

Notes:

Wanted to quickly rewrite the last chapter from BoO because I thought it was very undercooked.