Echoes of Olympus: The Stolen Bolt

by Asmos_Chronos

Summary:

When time begins to unravel, gods and demigods from across eras are pulled into a timeless realm. Their only hope of saving Olympus lies in reading the stories of the past, beginning with The Lightning Thief.

But as each page turns, secrets are exposed, loyalties shift, and fate itself starts to bend. And at the center of it all is Percy Jackson — a boy whose story is far from finished.

This story will look similar to Who Knows, Maybe Fate Can Change. It was the original to this but I took it down. Tags will be added as it goes and posts will be weekly with at least one chapter posted by Sunday. Also, I will be altering some things of cannon in the books. They will be bolded and underlined.

Chapter 1: The Burden of Time

Notes:

For those who have already read this, I made a slight change to the chapter regarding Frank.

The room felt impossibly vast. There were no walls, no ceiling—only a shifting void of stars and clocks, each tick stretching into infinity, each second folding over itself like fragile paper. The weight of it tugged at my chest, so heavy I could barely breathe, as if I were standing at the edge of a tidal wave. The roar of its impending collapse echoed in my ribcage.

 

Beside me, Thalia’s storm-gray eyes flickered uneasily over the rippling floor. Strands of black hair caught glints of distorted starlight, the silver streaks shining like sparks in the void. Nico looked impossibly still, almost unreal. The shadows around him clung tightly, reluctant to let him go. Pale, sharp features framed by his dark hair made him look like a specter waiting for the world to begin.

 

Then they appeared—three figures impossible in every sense. One dripped with the endless river of linear time, his silver beard flowing backward into eternity. Another rippled and looped, faces appearing and vanishing with every slow turn, like memories dancing at the edge of perception. The last was a blur of shifting light, flickering between moments as if trying to outrun the present. Chronos. Aion. Kairos. The gods of time.

 

“You’ve been summoned,” Chronos said. His low, resonant voice shook something deep in my bones. “Your timeline—your world—is fracturing. Certain events, left unchecked, will unravel everything. Mortals, gods, demigods… even the Fates themselves are at risk.”

 

My fists clenched, pressure spiking in my chest. My sea-green eyes darted between them, damp curls sticking to my forehead. “We know the stakes. Why us? Why send us back?”

 

Aion’s eyes gleamed like spinning rings, infinite in their depth. “Because you know. You have lived it. You understand the consequences. No other agents could navigate the Mist or the choices before you without tearing the threads of reality itself.”

 

Kairos stepped closer. Light bent around him like liquid, every movement warping the space itself. “And because the moment is right. You will arrive… a day after the summer solstice. Critical choices will be made. And you—Percy, Thalia, Nico—must guide them. Subtly. Carefully. Without revealing too much before the right time.”

 

I exchanged a glance with Thalia. Her storm-gray eyes cut through the warped starlight like sharpened steel. Nico’s lips curved faintly, almost a smirk, but his dark gaze was steady, deeper than the bottomless lake at Camp Half-Blood.

 

“We’re going back?” Nico asked quietly. “On purpose?”

 

“Yes,” Chronos said. “You are to intervene. To prevent catastrophe. But the choices you make… will leave shadows in places you cannot predict.”

 

Thalia’s hands flexed at her sides, leather creaking as her knuckles whitened. “Shadows?”

 

Aion’s voice softened, unbearably heavy in its gentleness. “Every interference leaves a mark. Every choice ripples. Without action, your timeline—and all that depends upon it—will fracture into chaos that cannot be mended. The cycle of time itself would break.”

 

Kairos tilted his head, firelight dancing in his eyes. “Move quickly. Move wisely. And above all… you must not speak of what comes after until the right time. The future is a river you cannot navigate openly.”

 

I swallowed hard, the pressure in my chest like a stone lodged in my ribs. “So… we go in knowing everything, but we can’t tell anyone directly?”

 

“Exactly,” Chronos said. “And know this: there will be consequences. What they are… you will not know until they unfold. The Fates insist on it.”

 

Then or perhaps then the room—or just our vision—turned black.

 

When the world finally settled, we were standing on the edge of Canoe Lake. Dawn washed the cabins in soft, pale light. Mist drifted in lazy swirls, wrapping trees and paths in a gauzy veil. Pebbles crunched beneath my boots, the briny tang of water filling my nose, sharp and cold. The air was thick with anticipation, and every ripple on the lake felt like a secret truth we weren’t meant to know.

 

Thalia shifted on the sand, leather jacket creaking as she drew her knees close. Strands of black hair fell loose across her forehead as her storm-gray eyes scanned the horizon. Nico sat cross-legged on a nearby log, fingers drumming the worn wood as shadows coiled around him like living things. His sharp features and quiet determination made him look ready for anything, even what none of us understood.

 

“We have to do this,” I finally said, voice raw beneath the weight pressing down on me. My gaze flicked to the lake, then the hazy horizon. “We don’t even have a choice in it anymore.”

 

Thalia’s storm-gray eyes pinned me like a spear. “Are you sure this will change anything? Gods don’t change, Percy. Not really. They’re immortal for a reason.”

 

Nico hummed, eyes fixed on the rippling water, as if he could see through it into a world where choices had already been made—and yet still weren’t.

 

I let out a sharp, shaky breath. “Truthfully? No. But we have to try. It’s the only chance we’ll get. And maybe—depending on how the Fates play it—we can prevent this whole mess before it even starts.”

 

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Of course, the Fates have probably already decided we’ll fail.”

 

Nico rose and pulled Thalia to her feet with surprising strength. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together.” Determination blazed in his dark eyes.

 

Thalia gave a tired but fierce nod. “He’s right. It’s a gamble. But think of the lives we could save.”

 

We started toward the cabins. Mist curled around our feet like smoky fingers. At the Big House, movement in the window caught my eye. Dionysus stood framed in shadow, his frown unusually serious, eyes following us with a weight that made my stomach twist. 

 

The Mist tightened around my ankles as if sensing my unease. The sun had just begun to brush the cabin rooftops in pale gold, but its warmth did little to ease the chill crawling along my spine.

 

Apollo. My chest tightened at the thought. Not the tempered, thoughtful god I knew after the Trials, but the arrogant version we were about to face. If we interfered would he ever become the person I had come to care for? Could this task erase that better version of him?

 

Thalia’s sharp eyes flicked toward me. Nico’s remained fixed on the horizon, unreadable as ever. Neither spoke, but their presence grounded me. I wasn’t carrying this alone.

 

I straightened, brushing my hand along the beads of my camp necklace. The chill against my skin was a reminder of choices already made and the weight of those yet to come. The Fates had promised consequences, and Dionysus’ knowing stare only confirmed they would be immediate, personal—and unrelenting.

 

We walked in silence, gravel crunching beneath our boots as the cabins loomed closer. The Mist shifted and swirled, hiding truths only we now knew. Dionysus’ gaze followed us, silent and heavy, reminding me that some threads of time could not be unraveled—even by the Time Gods.

 

Finally, I exhaled, letting tension roll off my shoulders like water. “Alright,” I muttered. “Let’s make sure we don’t screw this up.”

 

Nico smirked faintly. “Try not to get us all killed first.”

 

We passed the Big House and into sunlight spilling across the clearing. The hearth ahead was already occupied. The gods sat or slouched around it in awkward, almost human poses. Some were clearly restrained by the Fates, others simply watching. Zeus’ fingers twitched against his log. Hera’s gaze was sharp and cutting. Apollo stretched lazily, arrogance radiating like heat.

 

But it was Hades who noticed us first. His dark eyes cut through the firelight, sharp and assessing. Unlike the others, he was still—too still. That look pinned me cold. He recognized me. Not as Percy from “yesterday,” but as something more. 

 

Then his gaze shifted. Surprise at seeing me older. Caution at Nico and what that meant. And out of everyone, he lingered longest on Thalia—the daughter of Zeus who should still be a pine tree on Camp’s border.

 

Beside me, Nico stiffened, shadows curling tighter at his feet. He knew his father’s opinion of me at this time. Hades wasn’t openly hostile, but he was wary. 

 

Before he could speak, the air grew sharp with ozone as Zeus stirred. Electricity prickled against my skin. His storm-gray eyes locked on me, cautious and aggressive—until he noticed Thalia and Nico.

 

He froze.

 

His gaze lingered on Thalia, caught between disbelief and outrage. His daughter. Alive. Commanding the space around her. She stood tall under his scrutiny, posture rigid, shoulders squared, daring him to question her existence. The silver glint of her jacket aged her further, lieutenant in bearing if not in title. But the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed the truth: a child worn thin.

 

On my other side, Nico’s heritage was undeniable. The shadows clung like they belonged there. You didn’t need a claim over his head to figure it out—he was Hades’ son through and through.

 

The problem was, he shouldn’t exist. The oath between the Big Three had been ironclad: no more children. For Nico to stand here, alive and older, meant one of two things—Hades had broken his oath, or had kept him hidden.

 

And to Zeus, that meant betrayal. The same betrayal he’d tried to stamp out when the pact was fresh.

 

The air grew brittle, charged. Zeus’ fists clenched, knuckles white, storm building in his gaze.

 

“What trickery is this?”

 

The words vibrated in my chest.

 

“My daughter, alive and well. A son of Hades.” His voice cut like a blade as his eyes narrowed on Nico. The boy was a crime scene in his eyes, a reminder of broken oaths. The same reminder that the oath had cracks in it, that the gods weren’t as untouchable as they wanted to be.

 

Then Zeus’ gaze landed on me. His lip curled as he spoke my name like a curse.

 

“And you, Percy Jackson.”

 

That look—condescending, irritated, already bracing to punish—wasn’t new. But this time it made my blood boil. He was ready to tear us down before we even opened our mouths.

 

Thalia’s jaw tightened, her eyes locking onto her father’s with a defiance that practically dared him to strike. Nico didn’t say a word, but the shadows at his feet coiled tighter, restless, waiting. I felt myself leaning forward instinctively, ready to shield them both.

 

For a moment the hearthlight flared brighter, warmth pushing back against the growing static. But Zeus’ irritation only built, pulling at the edges of the sky.

 

He surged forward, muscles straining as he forced himself upright from the log he sat on. The ground trembled faintly beneath his weight. Lightning sparked at his fingertips, thin cracks of white-blue light crawling across his knuckles and up his arms. His presence pressed down on the clearing, oppressive and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

 

“I will not suffer these deceptions in silence,” he thundered, each word sharper than the last. His eyes locked on Thalia and Nico again, his fury torn between outrage and disbelief. “My daughter should not walk this earth, and Hades’ whelp should not exist.” His gaze whipped back to me, stormcloud-dark and merciless. “And you, boy, do not think of yourself beyond judgment. You stand before me older than you should be, changed by hands I do not trust. Explain this—now—or be struck where you stand.”

 

The storm above camp stirred, thunder rumbling. The gods shifted uneasily. Hera sneered, Apollo smirked finally like he was watching a play he already knew the ending to and Poseidon twitched toward his trident. The hearthfire burned brighter, straining to keep the storm contained.

 

I stepped forward, taking the weight of Zeus’ wrath squarely. The crackle of electricity pressed harder, but I didn’t flinch. If Zeus wanted someone to lay blame on, he could do it to me. Not Thalia. Not Nico. Me.

 

“You want someone to blame? Then blame me. But you don’t touch them, you don’t blame them.”

 

My voice grew stronger with every word. “Not Thalia. Not Nico. Not any of them. You don’t get to strike down kids for being born. You don’t get to call them mistakes and pretend your hands are clean.”

 

The silence that followed was suffocating. But I didn’t back down. My feet planted. The storm in my veins anchored me.

 

The other gods were watching closely now, their interest sharper, more dangerous. Some curious. Some angry. Some unreadable. But none of them interrupted.

 

Zeus’ sneer twisted into something darker, his posture coiling like a serpent ready to strike. He hadn’t expected me to throw down a gauntlet on behalf of every demigod, but I wasn’t about to let him forget it either.

 

From the corner of my eye I caught Thalia stiffen, her jaw tight, her expression unreadable but her presence solid at my side. Nico didn’t move, but the shadows around him writhed sharper, answering his pulse. Both of them knew the line I had just drawn, and both of them were ready to stand behind it.

 

The storm above rumbled louder, like Zeus himself couldn’t decide whether to laugh at me or strike me dead.

 

I held his gaze anyway.

 

“You touch any demigod,” I said, quieter now but no less sharp, “and you will face consequences you can’t even imagine.”

 

The words fell into the firelit air with a weight of their own, sharper than I intended. I hadn’t challenged him outright—not yet—but the threat was there, and he heard it. The storm above us cracked faintly, thunder rolling like distant drums.

 

For a long heartbeat, Zeus’ eyes burned into mine, measuring whether my defiance was real or bluff. The pressure in the air grew heavier, but I stood my ground.

 

The hearth crackled louder. For a moment, I thought he might unleash his fury on me. Then another voice cut across the tension like water dousing flame—

 

“Enough.”

 

The single word rolled through the firelight like a tide crashing against stone. It didn’t roar, didn’t thunder, but it carried the weight of the sea itself—impossible to ignore.

 

Zeus’ glare snapped toward him, stormlight flickering hot and furious, but Poseidon didn’t waver. His sea-green eyes locked on me. For the briefest moment, I thought I saw anger there, but it wasn’t for me. It was the kind of anger reserved for storms threatening his shores, the kind that broke ships and swallowed armies.

 

Yet beneath it… hesitation. A flicker of something almost uncertain.

 

It hit me then—he wasn’t just shielding me. He was studying me. Measuring the distance between the boy he’d last seen and the one now standing here, older, sharper, defying Zeus without flinching. The son who had once barely survived his first quests was gone, and in his place was someone he hadn’t accounted for.

 

He rose fully from his place by the hearth, and the flames dimmed as if retreating. “He is my son,” Poseidon said, voice steady, unyielding. “You will not lay a hand on him. Nor the others.”

 

The words struck final, but his gaze lingered on me. I felt it—his protection wrapped around me like salt air, but under it was something colder. Wariness. A question unspoken: What have you become while I wasn’t watching?

 

Beside me I could tell that Nico and Thalia felt it too. They both eased minutely but didn’t lower their guard.

 

The storm above rumbled back, Zeus’ fury barely contained, but Poseidon’s stance didn’t shift. For the first time since stepping into that circle, the power pressing down on me eased—not gone, but held at bay, the sea holding back the storm.

 

Across the hearth, Hades’ dark eyes narrowed. His expression stayed unreadable, but the shadows around him coiled tighter. His brother wasn’t just shielding his own son—he was shielding his. Protecting what the King would destroy if given the chance. For a flicker of a moment, I thought I saw something almost like approval—reluctant, edged in suspicion, but approval nonetheless. A shared understanding: Zeus would see us all burned. Better to stand together than fall apart.

 

Hera, of course, saw none of that. Her lip curled. “How touching,” she sneered. “The sea rushing to shelter not only his bastard child but another’s mistake and his brother’s crime. Pathetic.”

 

The firelight caught in her eyes as she leaned forward, venom thick in her words. “Do you mean to gather them all under your skirts, Poseidon? Or only the ones who should have never been born?”

 

Thunder cracked, the earth quivering beneath us as if Zeus endorsed her venom.

 

Despite Dad’s stance, the storm hadn’t broken.

 

Zeus’ knuckles tightened further at his sides, and the air sparked again, sharp enough to raise the hair on my arms. He wasn’t going to let Poseidon’s word end this. His glare flicked from me to my father, lightning sparking in his beard, and his voice came low, dangerous, the kind that promised ruin.

 

“You would dare shield him? Dare place this… defiance above the will of Olympus?”

 

The fire popped, embers flaring, but Zeus’ words were already rolling forward like the edge of a hurricane. His foot shifted, his shoulders squaring, the warning before he struck. Every god in the circle leaned forward, not to intervene, but to watch. The King was preparing to make his example.

 

Poseidon’s trident shimmered into being, water glinting across its points. For a second, I thought he might actually fight. His jaw set, the sea rising in his eyes, but hesitation lingered—protecting me weighed against the cost of open defiance.

 

I braced myself. If it came to it, I wasn’t going to move aside.

 

Then—

 

“Enough.”

 

The word was softer than Poseidon’s had been. Gentle, even. But the effect was immediate. The stormlight recoiled as if pushed back by the hearth itself.

 

Every god’s head turned.

 

Hestia hadn’t moved from her place at the hearth, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her flame still steady. But her voice carried through the clearing with an authority that made even Zeus falter. Not loud. Not forceful. Just absolute.

 

Her eyes lifted from the fire to her brothers. First to Poseidon, then to Zeus, and finally—briefly—to me. They didn’t blaze or judge, but they saw. All of it.

 

“You will not tear this council apart with your pride,” she said, her voice quiet, steady as the flame that warmed the circle. “Not here. Not now.”

 

The hearth crackled, firelight pressing back against the storm until it fully receded. For the first time since Zeus’ fury had sparked, I could breathe.

 

As the pressure eased, my tunnel vision broke—and I realized others had gathered. Demigods had emerged from their cabins, Greeks and Romans alike. The camp itself was still frozen in the past with only the original twelve cabins, but that didn’t stop them from appearing.

 

Annabeth was the first I saw. She stood rigid, storm-grey eyes sharp and calculating like her mother’s—but where Athena’s gaze was cold, Annabeth’s held something else. Disbelief. Hope. She looked like she was bracing herself, terrified that if she let go, the ground would collapse beneath her.

 

Beside her, Grover looked halfway to a panic attack, clutching his reed pipes like a lifeline. His worry was written plainly across his face, but underneath it I felt the bond between us stretching, fragile and split. One thread tied to the me who had vanished, another tied here and now. It was jarring, wrong, like a song played out of tune, and I could feel his confusion echoing my own.

 

Silena stood just outside the Aphrodite cabin, her eyes glimmering with relief. For a second, she looked like she might cry, but then her mouth tightened, frustration flickering through. She didn’t like what I’d done—challenging Zeus head-on. She didn’t need to say it; it was written in the tightness of her shoulders, the way she looked at me like I was already halfway to getting myself killed.

 

Beckendorf was with her. The sight of him was like what I imagined plunging into freezing water would feel like. Of all the people I expected to see, he hadn’t been one of them. He looked steady, as always, but the relief in his features mirrored my own. 

 

A sharp grief punched through me before I could stop it, too sudden, too strong to make sense of. I didn’t know if it was memory, fear, or something else entirely, but my throat burned with words I couldn’t say. Seeing him standing there, whole, made me want to run to him, to hold on, but all I could do was stand there and wonder if I was already grieving a future that hadn’t happened yet.

 

From Apollo’s cabin, Will stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. Shock warred with worry across his face. Beneath his disbelief was something rawer—fear of loss, the same sharp pang I’d felt the night I thought my mom was gone for good. His gaze lingered on me like I might vanish again at any second.

 

By now Chiron and Mr. D had joined us, standing near the gods, but closer to our trio.

 

But it was Hermes’ cabin that made me pause. The Stoll brothers were there, grins already flickering at the edges of their faces like they were plotting half a dozen schemes in my honor. Hell, even Racheal was there, her displeasure being known on her face about my actions. But they weren’t the ones who froze me in place.

 

Because near them stood Romans. Jason, Reyna, Octavian, and Frank.

 

The contrast was stark. The Stolls looked at me with unfiltered relief, like they’d been waiting for the world to tilt back upright. The Romans, though, were another story. They watched with a mixture of awe and suspicion, the kind of wariness drilled into them by years of discipline. Jason and Reyna in particular studied me with calculating eyes, weighing me like a variable they hadn’t accounted for. Frank lingered at the edge, uncertain, still unclaimed and caught between the pull of two legacies he didn’t yet understand. Octavian’s gaze was sharper, greedy, as though already wondering how my presence could be twisted into a prophecy or omen to suit his needs.

 

And all I could think, deep in my gut, was that none of them should be here. Not yet. Not now.

 

Before anyone could process the Romans’ presence—before the silence could break under Zeus’s storm-cloud temper—a flash of golden light sparked in the air. A folded note appeared, hot enough that the edges smoked as it landed in my hand.

 

The weight of it felt wrong. Heavy, final.

 

Thalia tensed beside me, every muscle pulled tight like she was bracing for an attack. Nico’s dark eyes narrowed, suspicion and curiosity battling across his face. The Stolls craned their necks to get a better look. Annabeth’s gaze flicked between the note and me, sharp as a knife, like she already wanted to demand what I’d gotten us into this time.

 

Even the gods had gone still.

 

And then Hera moved.

 

In a blur of gold and white, her hand darted toward the letter. “That belongs to Olympus—”

 

My father stepped in front of her before I could even blink, his trident gleaming into existence in his grasp. The sharp edge stopped a hair’s breadth from Hera’s fingers. His voice was calm, almost too calm. “Touch it, sister, and you may not like what happens.”

 

Hades’ laugh was low and humorless, shadows curling tighter around his throne. “By all means, Hera. Take something from the Fates. Let’s see how long you last.”

 

That silenced even her. Hera’s lips curled but her hand withdrew, and in the flicker of firelight I caught something else—something in the way all the gods leaned closer, wary but unwilling to challenge what the parchment represented. A weight pressed against the air, older than Olympus itself, one that even Zeus didn’t speak against.

 

I knew then, even before the words were spoken, that this wasn’t just an ordinary piece of parchment. The Fates—and the gods of time themselves—had laid their hands on this. It was their seal, their signature, the only confirmation that could force the entire pantheon to sit and listen. And it also meant that the other gods could not challenge our position as those from the future. Afterall, despite the common myths, time was established long before the Titans and the Gods who stand around us.

 

I didn’t wait for round two. My hand felt too heavy as I passed the letter into Hestia’s waiting palms. She accepted it without a word, her calm presence smoothing some of the tension. She didn’t ask why I hadn’t read it myself. She just unfolded it, and when she spoke, her voice carried like a warm hearth against the storm.

 

“ Demigods, mortals, and gods— ”

 

“Why are we mentioned last?” Zeus snapped, his complaint edging toward a whine despite the way thunder rolled in his chest.

 

I couldn’t stop myself. I rolled my eyes. Hermes caught it and smirked outright; Nico’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter in front of me.

 

Unbothered, Hestia continued. “ Due to the actions of particular people—Zeus in particular— ”

 

The king of the gods sputtered. My father snorted. Hera’s sneer deepened.

 

“ —the Fates have decided rules and ways of living must be changed. To this end, you will be reading the life of Perseus Jackson and his companions. Gods, your abilities and powers have been limited. Any intentional harm during this process will bring consequences. ”

 

A ripple spread through the group. Clarisse muttered a curse under her breath, crossing her arms. Chiron’s tail flicked against the ground with agitation. Beckendorf exhaled heavily, expression unreadable. Jason and Reyna exchanged a glance, Roman discipline holding their surprise in check, while Octavian’s eyes practically gleamed at the word consequences.

 

Hestia’s voice didn’t waver. “ You will receive a box containing Perseus Jackson’s journals, spanning his life from age twelve to twenty. Prior to reading, each mortal and demigod must introduce themselves—name, parentage if known, and age. Nothing more. A chosen god will provide context of recent events… with the exception of Dionysus. ”

 

Dionysus raised his brows, muttering, “How utterly predictable.” But his eyes flicked toward me—quick, sharp, gone before anyone else noticed. He knew that I knew that he knew. 

 

“ Finally ,” Hestia said, her tone carrying the quiet weight of inevitability. “ Let it be known: there will be a consequence so that this lesson will truly sink in. 

 

—The Fates. ”

 

She paused, squinting at the scrawl near the bottom, then added flatly, “ P.S. Do not forget to feed the demigods and mortals. It would be counterproductive. ”

 

For half a heartbeat, no one breathed. Then panic surged through me like a tidal wave, dragging me under before I could fight back. The Fates had always loved to mess with me, but this—this was a new level of cruelty. The last thing I ever expected, or wanted, was for everyone in this room to know my thoughts and feelings over the past eight years.

 

I knew exactly which journals the Fates had meant. The battered, dog-eared notebooks I’d hidden at the bottom of my camp trunk. The ones I’d filled when quests had left me raw, when nights were too long and the weight on my shoulders was too much. They weren’t written for anyone but me. Not Annabeth, not my mom—certainly not the gods. They were my way of trying to breathe when the world demanded too much. And now, thanks to the Fates, they were about to become some twisted form of public entertainment.

 

The thought made my stomach twist. Did they really want the Olympians to read about every doubt I’d ever had? Every moment I thought I’d failed? Every time I questioned whether I even deserved the title of hero? The right to live?

 

A hand landed on my shoulder, startling me before I even realized how tightly I’d been clenching my fist. Nico. His dark eyes—shadows and storms—met mine, steady and grounding in a way that only he could be. His voice was low, but it carried enough strength to cut through the panic buzzing in my chest. “Breathe, Percy.”

 

I obeyed, dragging in a shaky breath that burned its way down my throat. The air tasted sharp, like ozone before a storm. My lungs still felt too tight, but Nico’s grip kept me anchored. I forced my lips into something that might have passed for a smile if you squinted hard enough. “Thanks, Nico. Sorry. Just… a lot for first thing in the morning,” I muttered, the words only half-true.

 

The truth was, it felt like I’d been stripped bare in front of them all.

 

And of course, everyone was watching. I could feel their stares pressing down on me like weights. The younger demigods looked caught between concern and curiosity, like they weren’t sure if they should say something or keep their distance. The Romans, as usual, schooled their features into neutrality, but their discipline couldn’t hide the flickers of unease in their eyes. Jason in particular looked like he was filing this away for later.

 

The gods were harder to read. Their eyes weren’t curious—they were calculating. Judgmental. Hera’s sneer was obvious, but it was Apollo’s gaze that made my skin crawl. I could feel it on my back, sharp and assessing, like he was already dissecting me in his mind. My tension spiked, my pulse stuttering against my throat. The healer god. The one who knew how to pull people apart and put them back together. The idea of him reading what I’d written—the raw, messy things I hadn’t dared say out loud, even to him—made me want to vanish into the floor.

 

I swallowed hard and forced myself to look forward, not at him, not at anyone. Because if I let myself think too long about what was coming, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to breathe at all.

 

As if sensing the tension—or maybe just seeing it—Chiron rolled forward, then rose from his chair with the kind of calm authority that made the room pay attention whether we wanted to or not. He clapped once, sharp and deliberate, standing almost dead center among us.

 

“Alright,” he said, voice cutting clean through the silence. “Before we go any further, we should handle introductions. If not for clarity, then at least to satisfy the Fates—considering the… blunders already made.” His eyes flicked between me and Zeus, pointed but unreadable.

 

Heat crept up my neck, and I found the floor very interesting. Yeah, that one was on me.

 

No one spoke. The silence was thick, pressing, filled with every unasked question and every ounce of suspicion.

 

Predictably, it was Apollo who broke it. He stretched with a languid grace that made him look more like he was sunbathing than sitting in a room brimming with tension. His voice was warm, careless, and just a little smug. “Well, someone has to get us moving. For the record, the Master Bolt has just been returned. It is the day after the summer solstice. Happy now?”

 

Annabeth’s brows furrowed as her brain immediately kicked into overdrive. I could practically see her cataloguing details like she was filing them away in some mental cabinet. “So,” she said slowly, “we’re starting with the first quest.”

 

Clarisse barked a laugh, sharp as steel. “Figures. Jackson’s greatest hits.”

 

“Greatest disasters, more like,” I muttered before I could stop myself. Grover shot me a hurt little frown, and I winced.

 

The weight of the Fates’ letter still hung over us like a storm waiting to break. Nobody wanted to be the first to step forward, but Chiron wasn’t about to let the silence rot.

 

“I’ll begin,” he said simply. His tone was steady, but there was a caution to it, like he already feared where this road led. “I am Chiron, trainer of heroes. Son of Kronos and Philyra. Immortal.” He bowed with practiced grace, his eyes brushing mine for just a second before he stepped back.

 

Annabeth moved next. Her fingers brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face, though the gesture was more armor than nervous tic. “Annabeth Chase,” she said firmly, shoulders squared. “Daughter of Athena. Fourteen.”

 

Clarisse shoved past with all the subtlety of a battering ram. “Clarisse La Rue. Daughter of Ares. Fifteen.” Her arms crossed like she was ready to throw down with fate itself. 

 

Grover stepped forward, clutching his reed pipes like they were a lifeline. His voice wavered. “Uh… Grover Underwood. Satyr. Protector. Thirty—uh, but, you know… teenager equivalent for satyrs.” 

 

A blond boy stepped forward with a half-smile that could’ve lit up the room if the atmosphere wasn’t so suffocating. “Will Solace. Son of Apollo. Sixteen.” His tone was easy, but his eyes flicked toward his father with something tighter, more guarded.

 

Next was Silena. She didn’t need a dramatic entrance—her grace spoke for itself. “Silena Beauregard,” she said with quiet certainty. “Daughter of Aphrodite. Sixteen.” There was steel beneath her gentleness, enough to make Ares’ kids watch twice.

 

And then came the Stolls, practically tripping over each other to be heard first. “Connor Stoll. Son of Hermes. Fourteen,” one blurted.

 

“Travis Stoll. Son of Hermes. Fifteen,” the other followed up without missing a beat.

 

They grinned, but the usual mischief in their eyes was dulled, muted by the heaviness in the room. Even they knew this wasn’t the time for pranks.

 

Rachel straightened, her fiery hair catching the light, and spoke with a steady conviction that carried further than some demigods’. “Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Mortal. Sixteen.” There was no hesitation, no apology in her tone. She belonged here, and she knew it.

 

The air shifted. A ripple of discipline rolled through the group, different from the loose defiance of Half-Blood Hill. This was something harder, sharper—Legion-trained.

 

Jason Grace stepped forward first, posture perfect, voice clipped with military precision. “Jason Grace. Son of Jupiter. Sixteen.” Lightning flickered in his blue eyes, a reminder that this was no ordinary demigod. But when his gaze brushed Thalia, his words caught for half a second—just long enough to notice. He didn’t recognize her, not truly, but something in him stirred.

 

Frank Zhang followed, broad-shouldered and unsure in the shadow of Jason’s confidence. “Frank Zhang. Unclaimed. Sixteen.” His words were plain, almost apologetic, but there was a quiet solidity behind them, like stone waiting to be carved.

 

Then came Reyna. Every movement is precise, deliberate, as if she were made of command and regality itself. She didn’t step forward—she claimed the space around her. “Reyna Ramirez-Arellano. Praetor of the Twelfth Legion. Daughter of Bellona. Seventeen.” Her voice was calm steel, heavy with authority. Even the gods straightened slightly, as if acknowledging a power that wasn’t theirs.

 

And finally, Octavian. He raised his chin like he was standing before an audience only he could see. Every syllable was rehearsed, calculated, gilded with pride. “Octavian. Augur of the Twelfth Legion. Legacy of Apollo. Seventeen.” The words landed like a performance more than a truth, but he spoke them as if daring anyone to challenge him.

 

The silence that followed wasn’t just silence—it was a shift. Like the air itself had gone brittle, straining under something we weren’t supposed to see. For a moment, no one dared breathe. Then the weight of what had just been said—Romans, here, now—hit the gods like a spark to dry tinder.

 

When Jason spoke his name, Zeus’ expression tightened, sharp and calculating, but also hesitant. Hera looked ready to explode. When Reyna named Bellona, Athena’s lips pressed thin, her knuckles whitening at her side. Hades’ gaze flickered first to Nico, then toward the Romans, suspicion sharpening into something colder.

 

The air rippled with unease. Apollo’s lax grin faltered when Octavian announced himself, as though he’d bitten into something sour. Dionysus muttered about “duplication headaches” and rubbed at his temples. Even Artemis’ silver eyes hardened when they lingered on Thalia and Reyna—two kinds of loyalty that had never been meant to stand together.

 

Only then did the gods begin their introductions. Poseidon, Aphrodite, Demeter, Hephaestus, Amphitrite, Triton, Athena, Zeus, Hades, Artemis, Apollo, Hermes, Ares, Hera, Hestia, and Dionysus. Each name carried more weight than the last, echoing like rolling thunder.

 

But the words weren’t simple formalities anymore. Every god’s name felt charged, colored by the tension of what we had just witnessed. Greeks and Romans—side by side, without blades drawn. It was more than impossible. It was dangerous.

 

And when the last divine name faded into silence, every gaze—immortal and mortal alike—turned toward us. They already knew who we were, but they wanted us to say it out loud, to stamp the years on it like that would make everything undeniable.

 

I dragged a hand through my hair, sighing. “Do we really have to do this? I mean, it’s pretty obvious if you’ve been paying attention the last ten minutes. At the very least there shouldn’t be any questions after Mr. King of the Gods announced his daughter shouldn’t exist, and Nico here got outed for being alive when apparently he shouldn’t be.”

 

A few gods shifted uncomfortably. Thalia raised an eyebrow at me. Nico didn’t even blink.

 

Mr. D rolled his eyes. “Just do it, Peter Johnson. If not for the Fates, then at least for my entertainment.”

 

I muttered something that was probably not very respectful about gods and their sense of humor, then straightened reluctantly. My voice felt heavier than it should as I said, “Perseus Jackson. Son of Poseidon. Twenty.”

 

The silence that followed was worse than the speaking. Poseidon’s grip tightened on his trident. Jason froze, Reyna stiffened, and even Octavian’s practiced calm slipped for half a heartbeat. Across the circle, Clarisse’s lip curled like she wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or ticked off. Travis and Connor exchanged a quick look, one that was half awe, half disbelief.

 

Nico’s turn came with none of my hesitation. He said it like dropping a stone into deep water: “Nico di Angelo. Son of Hades. Sixteen.”

 

A ripple went through the group. Annabeth’s brows furrowed, her sharp mind already connecting dots nobody else saw. Clarisse muttered something under her breath, probably not flattering, but even she didn’t push it. Jason blinked hard, as if trying to process what Nico being alive at all actually meant.

 

And then Thalia, firm and unflinching. “Thalia Grace. Daughter of Zeus. Twenty. Lieutenant of Artemis.”

 

This time, it wasn’t Zeus’ reaction that cut the air. It was Hera’s. Her eyes snapped to Jason, then to Thalia, and then narrowed like knives toward her husband. “Twice?” she hissed. “With the same woman?”

 

The camp went dead silent. Annabeth’s hand twitched at her side, like she was debating whether to speak up or stay silent. Travis and Connor actually shut their mouths for once, eyes darting between the gods like they were watching a live disaster. The Romans exchanged sharp looks; Reyna’s composure cracked just enough to tighten her jaw, while Octavian’s eyes gleamed, calculating, like he was already composing how he’d spin this later.

 

Zeus shifted in his throne, thunder rumbling faintly overhead. “It was—complicated,” he muttered, unconvincing.

 

“Complicated,” Hera echoed, the word dripping venom. “You dishonored me once, and Olympus barely survived. Now you admit to it again? With another version of yourself?”

 

The younger demigods edged back instinctively, as though a blast radius had just been drawn in the sand. Clarisse adjusted her grip on her spear, scowling. Jason didn’t move, but his shoulders tensed like stone. Even the Stoll brothers, normally unfazed by chaos, looked pale.

 

Artemis’ eyes flicked briefly to Thalia, protective. Zeus grumbled, “Now is not the time, Hera.”

 

She leaned forward, dangerously soft. “It never is, is it?”

 

The gods sat in silence, strained by more than just us. Their divine forms flickered at the edges, uneasy at the very idea of their Greek and Roman children standing together. They were also probably aware of the potential consequences of incurring Hera’s wrath. For a god of family she was also one of the cruelest people to those that don’t fit her definition of perfect.

 

The silence stretched too long. The air felt heavy, dangerous. I knew if someone didn’t cut it, the whole place might actually implode.

 

So I cleared my throat. “Well,” I said, a little too brightly, “that was fun. But I should probably, you know, go and see if the journals the Fates mentioned are in my cabin. I would hate it if the Fates were to smite me before breakfast because I took too long.”

 

A few demigods blinked, startled at the break in tension. The corner of Annabeth’s mouth twitched—half a glare, half a reluctant smirk.

 

Nico and Thalia stood without a word. “We’ll come with you,” he said flatly, like it wasn’t up for debate. Maybe he was just tired of the gods staring at us like we were problems waiting to happen.

 

“Great,” I muttered. “Field trip it is. Because walking past the entire pantheon alone wasn’t awkward enough.”

Chapter 2: When In Doubt Vaporize Your Math Teacher

Summary:

Percy: Emotions go grr and I make it everyone's problem.

Notes:

So like sorry its been a minute since I posted. I started uni this week so its been kinda chaotic. Also, this wasn't supposed to be 20k words, but here we are. Please enjoy, but fare-warning, posts might be once everyone two weeks. We'll see.

The walk to my cabin was quiet. No one knew what to do with themselves. The gods didn’t know how to exist in a position that wasn’t in their control, and the demigods weren’t sure how to interact with their parents — bound not only by ancient laws but also by the volatility of godly tempers.

 

The air felt heavy, like one wrong word might spark a divine argument or a demigod rebellion. Even the early morning sounds of camp — the chirping insects, the faint rustle of the forest — seemed muted, swallowed by the tension.

 

I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept my head down, pretending not to notice the way everyone’s eyes darted anywhere but at each other. Thalia stalked along beside me, restless as ever, while Nico trailed a step behind, his silence darker than the shadows that clung to him.

 

Just as Thalia and Nico stepped up to my cabin door, Zeus’ voice cracked through the air like thunder.

“No child of another god shall enter another’s cabin! Especially if it is the cabin of my brother’s.”

 

We froze. Slowly, Thalia and I turned back toward the group, matching incredulous looks on our faces. Even Nico’s composure faltered, his brows knitting together in disbelief.

 

It wasn’t just us. The gods themselves looked stunned — my dad, Hermes, and Apollo especially, their expressions torn between irritation and disbelief. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if Zeus was serious or if this was some bad attempt at a joke.

 

The person who spoke up shocked everyone even more. It was Dionysus.

 

“There’s actually no such rule,” he said flatly, sounding bored already. “Not an enforced one, anyway. Most brats steer clear of cabins that aren’t theirs just to avoid bruising a god’s delicate ego, but if they’ve got permission? They’re free to wander. That’s why unclaimed kids crash in Hermes’ cabin — not because he’s dying to babysit, but because the law allows it. Any demigod could technically bunk in Poseidon’s, or Apollo’s, or even mine if it came to it. Doesn’t mean it’d be pleasant.”

 

He waved a hand vaguely toward the crowd. “Of course, common sense applies. Peter here wouldn’t exactly thrive in Athena’s or Ares’ cabin, considering the rivalries. But there’s nothing divine or binding that says Thalia and the other one can’t step inside Percy’s.”

 

Before Zeus could respond, Aphrodite’s voice slipped in, light and lilting.

“Leave them alone, nephew. Nothing is going to happen in the time it takes to grab a journal.” She arched a brow, amusement dancing at the corners of her mouth. “Dionysus is right—there’s no rule stopping them. And honestly, the more we stand around arguing, the longer this little show of yours drags on.”

 

When Zeus didn’t fire back, we took the silence as permission and slipped into the cabin before anyone could change their mind.

 

Inside, the air felt different. The faint scent of saltwater clung to the walls, and the soft glow from the seashell lamps was just as I remembered it—only quieter, emptier, like the place was still waiting to be lived in. It wasn’t the same cabin I’d grown used to in the future, not with its little touches of home and years of memories, but even stripped down, it carried a kind of familiarity.

 

Thalia let out a breath, shoulders easing for the first time all day, while Nico quietly slid into the shadowy corner like it belonged to him. For a moment, the three of us were just us again—no gods breathing down our necks, no Romans watching like hawks. Just a cabin, and a fragile sense of safety we hadn’t had since this whole mess started.

 

As Thalia sat on my bed and Nico sank deeper into the shadows in the corner, I went straight for the locked chest at the foot of my bed. It looked exactly the way I remembered from my first quest, which only made me more uneasy. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find inside—whether it would hold the same stuff I’d stashed back then or something completely different, given how scrambled everything had become.

 

The time gods had told us we’d been sent back to my first quest, but the longer I thought about it, the less that made sense. We weren’t the only ones here. The Greeks had been pulled from the days after they thought I’d died—right in the middle of the Battle of the Labyrinth—still raw and suspicious. The Romans came from the Son of Neptune, before Frank was even claimed, though somehow they already knew what I could do in a fight. It was probably moments before Frank’s claiming.

 

None of it lined up neatly. The more I tried to pull the threads straight, the more it felt like we weren’t in the past at all, but stuck in some twisted in-between. A paradox. Which kind, I had no idea. But it was one all the same.

 

When I opened the chest, I found the usual stuff I expected—spare clothes, camp gear, random junk—but sitting neatly on top were all of my journals. Every single one I’d written over the years.

 

My stomach twisted. Another reminder that wherever we were, it wasn’t just the past. By all accounts, these shouldn’t even exist yet. Maybe it was a side effect of the paradox, or maybe the Fates had yanked on a few threads for their own amusement. Only they could know.

 

I shoved the thought away before it gave me a migraine and called out, “So—do I grab all of them now, or just the first one? Saves us a trip, but… you know how nosy some people get.” I didn’t need to say names. Everyone already knew who’d be bold enough to snoop.

 

Nico stepped out of the shadows to stand beside me. “Better safe than sorry. Kairos told us not to reveal anything before it was read—even if he said it in his usual cryptic way. We should just take the first and leave the rest.”

 

Thalia, sprawled across my bed like she owned the place, tipped her head back against the headboard. “Yeah, I agree. And is it just me, or does this whole place feel… off? Like the vibes are wrong.”

 

Nico and I both exhaled at the same time, relief written all over our faces.

 

“I didn’t want to say anything,” I admitted, “but yeah. Some things are here that shouldn’t be, and some things that should be… aren’t.”

 

Nico nodded, his expression tight. “The weird part is, no one else seems to notice. Or maybe they’re just ignoring it.”

 

I froze. Nico’s words didn’t sit right, like there was a gap in the picture I couldn’t name. Someone else had picked up on it—I was sure of it—but the thought slid away before I could pin it down. For a moment, my gaze flicked toward the hearth outside the cabin, where the gods lingered, and I caught the faintest flicker of…something. A glance, maybe. A twitch of expression. I couldn’t be sure. By the time I looked again, everything was perfectly normal.

 

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I wasn’t sure.

 

I shook it off and grabbed the journal, standing up. No use thinking about it now. Walking backwards toward the door, I grinned at them. “Well, not much we can do about it. Maybe it’ll be explained later. Or I’ll just poke around myself. They said not to reveal the future, nothing about figuring out our surroundings.”

 

Nico groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Percy, don’t tempt the most ancient gods into smiting you.”

 

Thalia snickered, further lightening the mood. “But would he be Percy if he didn’t try and piss off every god he met at least once?”

 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop a grin. “Guess not.”

 

I nodded toward the door. “We should get going before the real God of Theatre decides to get impatient.” I snickered at the inside joke between me and my father.

 

Thalia tilted her head, considering. “Well, Mr. D was a made god. Who knows—maybe he got that domain from my father. They have to give up some of their power to ascend one anyway.”

 

The mention of ascension made me flinch.

 

I shook off the sudden chill and gestured toward the door. “Come on. Let’s not give anyone the excuse to start a lecture—or a lightning bolt.”

 

Thalia hopped off the bed, stretching, and Nico trailed silently behind, his shadows folding around him like a cloak. I tucked the journal under my arm, feeling its weight more real than it should, and we stepped out of the cabin.

 

By the hearth, the demigods had gathered along one side, the gods opposite them, rearranged but relaxed rather than tense. The firelight flickered across familiar faces—some curious, some smirking, and a few just quietly observing. It wasn’t the heavy, charged silence from before.

 

Thalia tilted her head, taking it all in. “Well, this is… nicer than expected,” she muttered, a hint of amusement in her voice. Nico’s shadows shifted lazily around him, as if agreeing. I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

 

Somehow, it all felt like a pause—a moment to just exist before the next storm. And in that space, Travis’ grin cut through, impossible to miss.

 

“Well, well, Percy,” he drawled, “looks like I do get to look at those journals after all.”

 

I groaned, tipping my head back, “Really, Travis? Out of everything that just happened, that’s your takeaway?” 

 

By now, we were sitting with the rest of the demigods. I took a spot near the end of one of the logs, leaving two spaces open beside me. Thalia claimed one immediately, perching on the very end like she owned it, stretching her legs just enough to look comfortable but not relaxed. Nico sat on the floor in front of me, shadows curling lightly around his form as he leaned against my legs. The faint warmth of his presence grounded me, an unspoken assurance in the midst of all the uncertainty.

 

Once we settled down, someone snorted beside me. “Travis, the last time you tried, Percy stabbed you with a pen. And it wasn’t even Riptide—it was a regular pen.”

 

I glared at Will, my face heating. “Et tu, Solace?”

 

The other campers laughed at my expense. And, like, okay, it wasn’t my proudest moment. Travis had snuck up behind me once while I was journaling, and I’d reacted… poorly. Still, did Will have to sell me out like that?

 

Chiron clapped his hands sharply from his wheelchair. “Enough. These journals aren’t going to read themselves. Percy, I presume you have the first one?”

 

I nodded, holding it up so everyone could see the cover. The journals didn’t have titles, but the little drawings usually hinted at the events inside. This one was simple—scribbled lightning bolts and Hermes’ caduceus.

 

A few people made soft noises when they saw the cover. Most of the Greek demigods recognized the symbols right away—but the gods didn’t, and the Romans definitely didn’t. To us, the caduceus wasn’t just Hermes’ symbol; it meant Luke. The son of Hermes. The one who actually stole the Master Bolt. Just thinking about it made the journal feel heavier in my hands than it should’ve. Poor Hermes was going to be wrecked when he found out the truth.

 

My suspicion that the gods were in the dark was confirmed when Apollo nudged Hermes. “See? The cover’s The Lightning Thief. The bolt, the caduceus—it all lines up.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And honestly, it made sense. To them, the story matched the symbol. They didn’t know yet.

 

I nudged Nico to sit up straighter and slid out from behind him, handing the notebook off to Chiron. No way was I going to struggle through reading it myself, and I wasn’t ready for just anyone to crack open the first chapter either.

 

I’d barely sat back down when Beckendorf frowned at me. “Hey, Percy. About your journals—how’d you even write them? Isn’t your dyslexia worse than everyone else’s?”

 

A bunch of heads turned my way, a few campers nodding along. Annabeth leaned in with that look that said she was already halfway through solving the mystery. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve seen you struggle with reading. But writing? How’d you manage that?”

 

Grover grinned, twirling one of his pipes. “I thought putting words on paper was supposed to be, you know… a recipe for disaster with you?”

 

Thalia whistled low, arms crossed. “No kidding. I’ve read some of your notes before—they looked like battle maps more than words.”

 

I dragged my hands down my face. “You guys are about to read me baring my soul, and this is the time you all pick to grill me on handwriting?”

 

They all just motioned at me to keep talking. Even Clarisse looked interested.

 

“Fine.” I dropped my hands and smirked. “Guess I’ve gotta throw Will under the bus.”

 

Will groaned immediately. “Don’t.”

 

“Too late,” I said cheerfully. “So here’s the deal: Apollo gives his kids these special glasses that cancel out dyslexia. When I was writing, I’d borrow a pair—usually from Will, sometimes from one of the younger campers. Pop ’em on, and suddenly the words made sense. It wasn’t perfect, but hey—better than exploding my paper in frustration.”

 

Thalia snorted. “You’re telling me your big secret was magic eyewear. That is so on-brand.”

 

Nico arched an eyebrow. “Borrowed, or stolen?”

 

“Borrowed,” I said, grinning. “Mostly. Sometimes I just forgot to give them back right away. Details.”

 

A couple of campers leaned forward like I’d just revealed the key to the universe. For a second, the whole room felt lighter, less like we were sitting in front of a firing squad of gods.

 

Of course, the gods had to chime in. Hermes side-eyed his brother. “Glasses, Apollo? Really? A bit much, don’t you think?”

 

Athena scoffed. “Always looking for shortcuts. Honestly, what’s wrong with teaching them discipline?”

 

Zeus actually let out a short laugh, thunder rolling faintly above us. “The sun god playing favorites again. Must be a day ending in ‘Y.’”

 

Apollo held up his hands, grinning like he’d been caught red-handed. “Hey, it’s not spoiling. It’s helping. You try watching your kids bash their heads against a page for hours.”

 

It must be worse when you’re the God of Knowledge too, I thought absent mindedly.

 

“Better than watching them whine about cereal,” Hades muttered dryly, which earned him a glare from Demeter.

 

Dionysus took a swig from his Diet Coke and said, “At least his kids can read their own camp reports. Half the time I ignore yours anyway.”

 

Poseidon smirked at me. “Enjoy it while you can, Percy. Don’t get used to divine cheat codes.”

 

I shrugged. “Hey, if it works, it works. Besides, you’re all about to see the result of those miracle glasses. So, you’re welcome.”

 

Grover could only shoot me a concerned glance. He knew how private I actually liked to be.

 

From her spot near the hearth, Hestia coughed lightly to catch our attention. “Before we begin,” she said gently, “why doesn’t everyone get comfortable? The children may wish to sit with their friends… or with their parent. This could be a chance for us to get to know one another better.” 

 

Zeus’s frown deepened, thunder grumbling faintly above. “The Ancient Law is clear, sister. We do not meddle in the lives of our children—and that includes interacting with them.”

 

Hestia’s smile softened, but it didn’t waver. “Zeus, it was the Fates themselves who brought us here. We’ll be sharing this space for some time. Interaction will happen, whether you forbid it or not. There’s no need to make it colder than it already is.”

 

Most of the gods seemed to side with her. Some even looked… almost excited to sit with their kids. Which, honestly, was hilarious, considering it wasn’t that long ago I nearly got vaporized for suggesting they should actually claim us. Funny how fast attitudes change when time decides to do loop-de-loops.

 

Of course, not every god looked thrilled about the idea. Hera in particular was glaring like she was already plotting which one of us she could throw off Olympus next—probably Jason or Thalia. A few of the others didn’t look too keen either. Artemis had that frosty, distant expression that said “don’t even think about it,” Athena looked like she was tolerating Annabeth more than welcoming her, and Ares just seemed vaguely uncomfortable about the whole thing. Even Hades had that strained, uneasy air, though with him it felt more complicated than outright disapproval. If I remember correctly, Nico’s relationship with Uncle was pretty rocky after he got out of the Hotel, so his hesitation was understandable.

 

My own family was its own mess. Triton’s glare made it pretty clear what he thought of me. Amphitrite, though—her expression was cool, unreadable. I’d always assumed she hated me, and nothing about the way she carried herself from beside Dad made me think otherwise.

 

I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of Zeus letting out a long, resigned sigh. “Very well,” he said at last, voice edged with thunder. “As you wish.” He flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture, like he was granting us permission to continue.

 

On our side, a lot of us exchanged uncertain glances, like we needed confirmation that this was actually allowed—that we could sit near, maybe even talk to, our parents. For most of us, that had been impossible for decades. A few faces even twisted bitterly, like it stung that it took the Fates themselves to force this chance.

 

After a moment of silent reassurance, demigods began to move, slow and tentative, toward the gods. At the same time, Aphrodite gave a flick of her fingers, and the rough logs shimmered into sleek, color-coordinated couches—elegant, dramatic, perfectly her. She never missed a chance to make a scene.

 

“For convenience,” she purred, her voice dripping with charm, “I’d like each god to move to your designated color. Hermes, Apollo, you’re together. Chiron, you can sit next to Dionysus’ couch. Athena and Artemis, likewise. And Hephaestus—” her smile sharpened—“you’re with me.”

 

Across the firepit, Ares’ jaw tightened, and something passed between him and Hephaestus. No words, just a look heavy enough to make me glance away. Everyone knew the story about Aphrodite’s “affair,” but from the way the three of them shifted, it felt messier than that. Older. Complicated. Definitely not something I should be sticking my nose into.

 

The demigods hesitated mid-step, waiting for the gods to settle into their new places on the couches.

 

Once they had, the Stolls were the first to break the silence, slipping onto either side of Hermes like magnets snapping into place. Their father grinned and threw an arm around both of them, tugging them close without hesitation. For a moment, it was easy to forget the tension in the room—Hermes looked just as delighted to be with his sons now as he would be years from now.

 

Unlike the Stoll brothers, Annabeth was hesitant as she crossed the hearth toward her couch. She lingered in front of Athena, shifting awkwardly until her mom gave her the barest approving nod. Annabeth sat, closer to Artemis than to her own mother. The distance between them wasn’t just physical—it was deliberate, cautious. Still, it was something. I felt a twist in my chest watching it. Even in the future, things between them stayed strained, especially after the whole Arachne mess.

 

Next, Grover caught my eye. He was giving me that questioning look, tilting his head toward my dad. Made sense—unlike the others, Nico, Thalia, and I hadn’t budged from our spots on the new couch. Somehow, I had a feeling Aphrodite knew we wouldn’t move. Probably did.

 

I shook my head at him, gesturing helplessly toward the sea-green couch—my father’s spot. The same couch where Amphitrite and Triton were already sitting, the latter shooting me a low, glowering glare. Grover blinked as if noticing them for the first time, then shrugged and plopped down next to Mr. D.

 

I caught Triton’s glare and pretended not to notice, though something told me he already had me pegged.

 

Then my eyes shifted to Dad’s; he was already watching me. His expression was… weird. Confused, expectant, maybe even a little hurt. And yeah, that stung, but not enough to make me forget. Things between us were still complicated—too raw. For him, it hadn’t been that long since he’d looked me in the eye and called me a mistake. He wasn’t about to call me over, and I wasn’t about to pretend like that didn’t happen. Besides, the last thing I needed was to stir up more tension with the other two sea gods sitting right there.

 

Beckendoff was sitting with Hephaestus and Aphrodite. He seemed pretty content between the two of them. 

 

Just as Aphrodite predicted, Nico and Thalia didn't move from their spots. Nico was still leaning against my legs in front of me and Thalia was sitting beside me. 

 

The only real difference was who was sitting next to Thalia. Jason had slid in beside her, relief written all over his face. He finally had his sister back, and it didn’t seem to matter that she looked older than she should’ve. To him, she was still his sister.

 

Thalia, though… She looked like she was about to cry. And honestly, who could blame her? She was looking at her baby brother—the one she’d already lost twice—and now here he was, solid and alive, sitting right beside her like nothing had happened. I caught the way her hand hovered, like she wanted to reach out but didn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t vanish if she touched him.

 

I forced myself to look away, like I was giving them privacy. They deserved that. I knew what it was like to want a family so badly and then have them ripped away. Watching Thalia get even a piece of hers back—it felt like something I shouldn’t ruin by staring too long.

 

That’s when I noticed Frank, standing off to the side like he wasn’t sure he was allowed near anyone. Heat curled in my chest. I’d seen this before. I wasn’t about to let it slide again.

 

“Hey, Ares,” I called, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Maybe try claiming your kids sometime. It’s not like we asked to be here.”

 

The Greeks barely twitched—this was just me being me. But the Romans? They stiffened like I’d just thrown a grenade. Reyna’s shoulders locked. Jason froze in his spot beside Thalia. Octavian looked like he’d been waiting for this his whole life.

 

Ares exploded to his feet, fists clenched. “You little—”

 

I tilted my head, calm, deliberate. “Really? You want to test the Fates? Be my guest.”

 

That stopped him cold. For all his temper, even Ares wasn’t reckless enough to challenge them outright.

 

Before the silence could drag on, Zeus’ voice boomed across the room. “He’s right, Ares. Sit down. And claim your son. We will be here long enough.”

 

Every jaw in the room dropped—including mine, though I covered it quick. Zeus defending me? That didn’t happen. Which meant only one thing: he had an angle. He always did.

 

“Of course you’d take his side,” Hera spat, her voice sharp enough to slice through the air. She didn’t rise, though the tension in her frame said she wanted to. Her eyes burned into Zeus. “Anything to excuse yourself. Anything to justify your tryst with their mother.” She jabbed a finger toward Jason and Thalia, her tone dripping with venom.

 

Jason stiffened. Thalia’s jaw clenched so hard I thought she’d crack a tooth.

 

A muscle in Zeus’ jaw twitched, and the air around him seemed to hum with static. “Do not mistake me, Hera,” he said, thunder rolling under his words. “This is not about my past. Not about your grievances. The boy speaks truth, and I will not see another ignored simply to feed your spite. Ares’—Mars’—son will not sit unclaimed while we deliberate.”

 

But Hera wasn’t finished. She never was. Her voice cut across the firelight, brittle and sharp. “You expect us to welcome these children as if they are not the by-products of betrayal?” She swept her hand toward us—me, Thalia, Jason, even the Aphrodite kids. Like she could damn us all with a gesture.

 

The hearth went dead quiet. Even the fire seemed to shrink back. No one wanted to breathe too loud when the Queen of the Gods was this close to losing it.

 

Zeus rose, towering over her, the room buzzing faintly with ozone. “Enough, Hera,” he said, each word a warning crack of thunder. “If you want to tear at old wounds, you will do it later. Not here. Not in front of the half-mortals.”

 

Hera’s scowl could’ve curdled nectar, but she looked away, her silence sharp as a blade. Zeus lowered himself back onto his couch, though the storm in his eyes hadn’t gone anywhere.

 

Then—smack. Something clipped the back of my head. “Ow!” I twisted around, ready to glare someone into dust, only to find Reyna sitting next to me, one eyebrow arched like she’d been waiting for me to notice.

 

“What was that for?” I muttered, rubbing my skull.

 

Her smirk was way too satisfied. “For taunting a war god like it was nothing.” She leaned in, her voice dropping so only I could hear. “So—a Greek, huh?”

 

Heat crept up my neck. “Yeah. Can’t tell you why I was in New Rome, though. Spoilers.” Reyna snorted, like she wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or impressed.

 

By then the room was shifting back toward calm. Will had claimed a spot beside Connor, with Apollo casually positioning himself as a wall between his kid and Octavian. Probably smart. Even Will’s bottomless patience would hit a breaking point if he had to sit next to Octavian for more than two minutes.

 

Frank was still staring wide-eyed at the hologram of Mars’ symbol above his head, only for it to flicker into Ares’ before disappearing. Clarisse, Silena, and Frank arranged themselves near Ares like they were testing a minefield—slow, cautious, ready to jump at the first explosion.

 

Chiron finally cracked open the journal. He squinted at the first line before sighing, long and dramatic, and giving me a look that screamed why me.

 

“Really, Percy?” he said. “‘I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher’?”

 

Clarisse immediately jumped on the opportunity to make fun of me, even if it was only to remove her own tension from sitting near her father.  “Really Prissy? Couldn’t do math so you vaporized them instead?” 

 

Poseidon’s jaw twitched at the insult, but didn’t intervene.

 

Connor and Travis didn't even give me a chance to respond, “Yeah Perce how do you vaporize someone? Let alone on ‘accident’?”

 

My face was on fire once again and Annabeth wasn’t helping me by adding, “Typical, Percy. Can’t handle pre-algebra, so you vaporize the teacher. Efficient… if you want to get expelled.” Her gray eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Not that I’m surprised. This is you who we are talking about.”

 

Apollo’s eyes narrowed at the teasing. He probably could hear the undertone of what the comment was for itself. 

 

Nico only patted my calf in solidarity which wasn’t much as his shoulders were spasming in laughter. Hades’ stare hardened, though his lips twitched with something that could almost be amusement.

 

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

 

In offence the gods scoffed as if the notion was ridiculous. “To be fair, none of us do.” Selina confirmed, shrugging, furthering the gods' frowns and disapproval. 

 

Zeus’ nostrils flared, lightning crackling faintly in irritation. Mind you, after his conversation with Hera, anything at this point would.

 

“If you’re reading this because … my advice is:”

 

“Get down! Percy is giving advice!” Nico shouted, dramatically covering his head.

 

With an exaggerated pout I whined, “Hey!” The rest of the demigods are laughing at me, with the exception of Octavian.

“See! And this is why Romans are better, particularly me, as the Legacy of Apollo!” Reyna, Jason and myself snorted.

 

Grover jumped in, “Percy’s plans usually work… just not always as planned.”

 

Annabeth nodded. “True. Without him, we probably wouldn’t have gotten Master Bolt back.”

 

Mr. D rolled his eyes. “Children, if you keep this up, we’ll never finish.”

 

“close this book right now… and try to lead a normal life.”

 

With a shake of her head Athena rebutted, “While it may seem like a good idea, that wouldn’t work. You would have to acknowledge that they were lying to you in the first place. Then, it would only be a matter of time before monsters realized it as well.”

 

I nodded in agreement, “You’re right. I wrote this during the school year following getting the Lightning Bolt. I never got around to changing it because I felt that it was a good representation of what I had learned over time.” 

 

“Besides, normal is borrring…” Aphrodite purred out, a flirtatious wink being sent in my direction. 

 

I let a slow, casual smirk curl across my face, tilting my head toward Hermes. “Normal is boring, a little chaos does keep things interesting.” My voice dipped just enough to catch his attention.

 

Hermes grin sharpened, that signature spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Ohhh… I like him,” he said, leaning back with that easy confidence only he could carry.

 

Dad’s gaze flicked toward me, subtle warning in the tremor beneath my feet. Triton rolled his eyes. Apollo sighed, half-smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Being a half-blood… It’s scary” 

 

Various Greeks nodded, “Check and double check” Travis added, shrugging.

 

“Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.”

 

The lighthearted atmosphere dropped and in its place was a tense silence that was only cut by Nico’s bitter laugh. “Too true.” The other demigods shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to anger their godly parents, but also not being able to deny his statement. Artemis’ silver gaze was cold, her silence sharper than words, but there was also a note of understanding, while Hera only scoffed softly, uncaring.

 

“If you’re a normal kid… and they’ll come for you.”

 

Hephaestus raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “Sounds like you speak from experience,” he said, calm but sharp like his blades.

 

I shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of… encounters.”

 

“True, you do have a knack for trouble.” Annabeth agreed.

 

Travis snorted, elbowing Connor. “Understatement of the century. Remember the bus? Or the se—”

 

Thalia cut him off, raising her voice slightly, “That would be a spoiler Travis.”

 

I shrugged. “Comes with the territory—demigod, big three, all that.”

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

“But you didn’t warn me!” Travis exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

 

Connor agreed. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

 

I grinned. “Heads-up? Come on, where’s the fun in that?”

 

Silena rolled her eyes, muttering, “Some of us would like to survive for once.”

 

Annabeth smirked from the side. “And some of us like watching you squirm.”

 

The Romans exchanged looks with the Greeks, subtle tension beneath their calm. Jason raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “You lot really do attract trouble, don’t you?”

 

Octavian’s grin was sharp, assessing. “Sounds about right for you Greeks, after all, look at the difference between our establishments.”

 

Unbeknownst to Octavian, Apollo bristled at the indirect insult to him. He was the one afterall that built Clamp Half-Blood.

 

Hera scoffed. “Mortal arrogance,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed.

 

“My name is Percy Jackson.” 

 

“No! It’s Pedro Johan!” Travis shouted, pointing at me.

 

“Nah, it’s Perry Johanssen, obviously.” Gover added.

 

The other Greek demigods turn to look at Mr. D expectantly. He sighed, exasperation plain on his face, “You all know it’s Peter Johnson.”

 

“I’m twelve years old…troubled kids in upstate New York…Am I a troubled kid?”

 

Thalia frowned at me, considering, but shrugged.

 

“Yes, Seaweed Brain, you are, in fact, a ‘troubled kid,’” Annabeth teased, smiling. The nickname made my stomach twist—an uneasy feeling I couldn’t shake. Aphrodite giggled, eyes glinting with amusement.

 

“Yes, Prissy.” Clarisse mocked.

 

 “Never met someone with a better knack for finding trouble—and ending up in my infirmary.” Will added solemnly.

 

Grover glanced at me, sensing my discomfort through our empathy link. He stayed silent.

 

I pouted. “Yeah, I know I have an odd talent for trouble—but it finds me, I don’t look for it.”

 

“Yeah. You could say that.”

 

“See, even you agree!” Jason laughed.

 

I groaned half-heartedly.

 

“I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it,”

 

Concerned looks came from around the room, but Chiron spoke gently. “Percy… that’s not something to dismiss so lightly.”

 

I gave him a small smile. “I know. Joking about it makes it easier to handle. Honestly, you were there—you saw what happened.”

 

“but things really started…—twenty-eight mental-case kids”

 

Grover shook his head firmly. “Percy, you are not a mental case.” Thalia and Annabeth nodded. I could only shrug.

 

Poseidon’s brow drew together, concern flickering. Amphitrite’s gaze softened briefly, acknowledging something beyond my reputation.

 

“and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.”

 

Annabeth and Athena let out soft, satisfied sighs at the mention of the museum, clearly enchanted by the thought of its exhibits and history. Hades and Dad groaned in unison, “Sounds boring.” They looked at each and smirked.

 

Travis, meanwhile, threw up his arms and shuddered dramatically. “Sounds like torture!”

 

Thalia rolled her eyes, smirking at his theatrics. “Come on, it’s not that bad. You just don’t appreciate culture.”

 

Grover shuffled nervously. “I… I was there, but things didn’t go smoothly.”

 

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like an adventure.”

 

Reyna smiled faintly. “More like a warning about what could happen when Percy tags along.”

 

Octavian, ever critical, frowned and adjusted his robes. “A museum? Really? You call that a threat?”

 

Dionysus snorted, swirling his coke as if it was a wine glass. “Depends—does it involve wine, screaming, or monsters? Otherwise, boring.”

 

Even Athena’s lips twitched at his comment, though she quickly masked it with a stern glare.

 

Chiron cuckold lowly, “I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.”

 

Travis slumped on the couch, one hand on his forehead. “Oh no, I think I’m turning into Aquaman!” Hermes patted him, trying not to laugh.

 

Then Hermes leapt dramatically. “Quick! Someone got him ambrosia!”

 

Demeter muttered, half to herself, “Maybe more cereal… that should fix him.”

 

Hades groaned, cutting her off. “Enough with the cereal!”—his tone carried the weight of someone who’d heard that line one too many times in the past century alone.

 

Nico shuddered at the very mention of it, glancing at his father. Hades gave him a brief, exasperated look, and Nico just nodded in silent agreement, the unspoken “never again” hanging between them.

 

Dad grinned proudly at me.

 

Athena gasped as if she was scandalised. “Boy, it is a privilege to be able to learn! You should be grateful.”

 

I shrugged half-heartedly, “Well, ADHD and dyslexia make it difficult to sit still, let alone read. I mean I literally needed magical glasses to write this.” 

 

“But Mr. Brunner… jacket, which always smelled like coffee.”

 

Silena looked at me curiously. “Is Mr. Brunner who I think he is?”

 

I smirked. “Spoilers.” A collective groan went up from around the camp.

 

Grover and I exchanged an amused glance, knowing she was right—but enjoying the moment as everyone else had to wait for confirmation.

 

“You wouldn’t think he’d cool”

 

Chiron merely looked at me bemused. I winced, shooting him an apologetic glance. 

 

“but he told stories and jokes… teacher whose class didn’t put me to sleep.”

 

Apollo snorted, a wicked grin spreading across his face, eyes glinting with mischief. He tilted his head subtly toward Chiron, as if daring confirmation that Mr. Brunner had been his first student. I couldn’t have denied him even if I wanted to, so I gave a gentle nod.

 

I wasn’t surprised he figured it out quickly, he was after the God of Knowledge, even if it was a lesser known fact. 

 

“I hoped the trip would… Boy, was I wrong.”

 

Poseidon’s expression darkened, a shadow passing through his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to carry that expectation, Percy,” he said quietly, his voice like the pull of the undertow.

 

I met his gaze, forcing a half-smile. “Yeah, well… it kind of comes with the package, doesn’t it?”

 

His jaw tightened but he let it go.

 

“See, bad things… Revolutionary War cannon.”

 

“Oh man, kid, how did you set off a cannon?” Hermes barked, laughing with his sons.

 

I summoned a little wind—Travis and Connor toppled off the couch. My face burned.

 

“Better question, why was it loaded?” Frank asked.

 

Annabeth groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Only you, Seaweed Brain.”

 

I remained silent.

 

“I wasn’t aiming… class took an unplanned swim.”

 

Everyone laughed, except Zeus and Hera, who looked like humor was beneath them. Amphitrite smirked faintly, Triton muttered something under his breath, his face looked as though he swallowed a jellyfish.

 

“You know, now that I think about it, it probably was a shark telling me what to do,” I mused aloud, half serious, half joking.

 

Poseidon let out a booming laugh, the sound rolling through the room like the crash of a wave. “Yes, it probably was. Most sharks are pretty playful—mischievous even. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if one nudged you toward trouble just for the fun of it.”

 

I smiled despite myself. For a moment, it felt less like gods and demigods—just a father and son sharing a private joke.

 

Amphitrite’s eyes flicked between us, her expression unreadable. Triton’s scowl deepened.

 

“And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.”

 

“No, we want more!” Hermes whined dramatically.

 

“Yeah! What Dad said, we need to know more about your field trips!” Connor cheered.

 

“This trip, I was determined to be good.”

 

Annabeth shook her head, lips twitching into a knowing smirk. “Not gonna happen, Seaweed Brain.”

 

Beside Annabeth, Athena’s expression soured, as if the words themselves tasted wrong—her daughter bantering with a son of Poseidon was clearly not something she approved of.

 

“You jinxed it,” Will teased lightly.

 

Grover glanced at me, quietly reminding me he—and Chiron—knew how badly that trip had unraveled.

 

“All the way in… with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.”

 

At the mention of the sandwich, Aphrodite, Silena, Reyna, and Apollo all looked vaguely ill. Demter  shook her head. “Ugh, what a waste of grain. That…that is an offense to agriculture itself!” She waved a hand in the air as if trying to physically block the thought.

 

Nico, perhaps just to contradict Demter, let out a thoughtful hum. “I wonder how that would taste?”

 

I nudged his shoulder with my knee. “I wouldn’t recommend it. I was forced to eat one once and almost threw up.”

 

Demeter summoned a box of cereal. “This is why you should eat more cereal.”

 

Apollo and Aphrodite both made gagging sounds, while Ares’ eyes lit up, clearly amused by my discomfort. I glared at him.

 

Grover’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean you were forced to eat one? When did this happen?” Chiron nodded in agreement, clearly wanting the same answer.

 

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It was years ago. She was planning something for Grover—worse than her usual tricks. I was already on probation after a fight, so…I made a bet with her.”

 

The Hermes kids leaned forward, eager for details, but I shook my head firmly. Some stories didn’t need to be dug up. Will looked at me with concern, his brow furrowed as if he could already tell there was more to this story.

 

Dad’s glare snapped at Grover; the sea in his eyes churned. Grover kept his gaze fixed anywhere but on Dad. Apparently, the hearth was suddenly fascinating.

 

“Grover was an easy… like every step hurt him,”

 

“Wow, thank you Percy, such a flattering description of me.” Grover groaned.

 

“Anytime, G-man. Although, for fair warning, most of my descriptions of people come off as vaguely or flat out offensive.” I grinned at Grover who sighed, resigned by my shenanigans. 

 

“Because sometimes, when I watched him without him noticing, his walk almost seemed more like that of a dancer in ill-fitting pointe shoes.”

 

Annabeth blinked, “That’s a pretty accurate description.”

 

Apollo tilted his head, considering. “Yes… that level of attention could be very useful. Although how much you notice interests me,” he added with a faint smirk, eyes glinting with thought.

 

Triton’s gaze flicked toward me, cool and measured. “Typical,” he muttered, his tone carrying just a hint of dismissal. “Always in the spotlight, aren’t you?”

 

“Just paying attention,” I shrugged.

 

“But don’t let that fool you. You should’ve seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.”

 

“Really, Grover?” Thalia sighed, exasperated, shaking her head.

 

Silena smirked, covering her mouth to hide a laugh. “I almost want to see that for myself.”

 

Reyna raised an eyebrow, clearly amused despite herself. “That would’ve been… entertaining.”

 

Octavian’s lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “Incredible,” he muttered dryly, though his tone betrayed little emotion.

 

Chiron simply shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “I think some things never change.”

 

“Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was… headmaster had threatened me with death”

 

“What?! Percy, what do you mean he threatened you?” Dad roared, the ground trembling to match his shock.

 

“Nothing, Dad, it wasn’t that bad. I was being dramatic,” I reassured him, noticing the demigods shooting curious glances my way.

 

“Hey Percy, what were you on probation for?” Hermes grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

I smirked, teasingly, letting a little charm slip into my voice. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Hermes blinked, then spluttered, cheeks flushing. Aphrodite winked knowingly, clearly amused by my audacity.

 

Apollo stiffened, golden eyes flicking toward me. He couldn’t see the charm under my shirt, but the connection hummed faintly—enough to make his usual smirk falter and a subtle flush creep across his cheeks. He looked annoyed by my attention being on his half-brother. Artemis looked at him incredulously.

 

“by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.”

 

Dad let out a sigh of relief.

 

Jason leaned forward, curiosity written all over his face. “No seriously, dude, what did you do to get probation? Was it just your general troublemaker stuff?”

 

My face flamed crimson. Aphrodite made a soft, appreciative noise at my blush. I curled my knees to my chest and muttered, “I may or may not have walked in on him and the secretary… starting to go at it in his office.”

 

The room went quiet for a heartbeat before a few suppressed snickers emerged. Ares seemed more amused by my discomfort than the story itself.

 

I quickly defended myself. “It wasn’t the walking in that was the problem, it was because he was married! And had three kids!”

 

Hera’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. Zeus shifted away from his wife subtly. 

 

Her glare caused us demigods to stop laughing, her ire being a good reminder of what we were the result of. Thalia and Jason looked the most uncomfortable. 

 

““I’m going to kill her,” I mumbled.”

 

“Do it!” Nico and Clarisse cheered, trying to lighten the mood. 

 

They looked at each other before snickering. Hades looked almost relieved at seeing his son interact with others.

 

“Grover tried to calm me down. “It’s okay. I like peanut butter.””

 

“But in your hair?” Annabeth pointed out. Grover shrugged helplessly.

 

“He dodged another piece of Nancy’s… blamed if anything happens.””

 

“Pretty sure I would’ve gotten blamed anyway. He had it out for me,” I muttered. Reyna patted my knee sympathetically.

 

“Looking back… mess I was about to get myself into.”

 

Grover shuddered, still unsettled by what happened. I couldn’t blame him—Ms. Dodds still gave me all the creeps.

 

“Mr. Brunner led the museum tour… survived for two thousand, three thousand years.”

 

“Older than that, boy,” Zeus pointed out smugly. 

 

I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything about his superiority complex.

 

“He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall… say, because it was kind of interesting,”

 

“You were listening, Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth teased, a hint of disbelief in her tone.

 

From my angle, Thalia glared at her, stormy eyes narrowing. My chest tightened—Annabeth doubting me hurt more than most people. It was always hard hearing people think that just because I wasn’t academically smart, I was dumb. But coming from Annabeth, it cut deeper. She was one of the people I always wanted to believe in me so when she didn’t, it stung twice as hard.

 

To my shock, it wasn’t Grover or even Thalia who came to my defense. It was Clarisse.

 

“Are you kidding me?” she snapped, glaring around the circle. “Manic here has saved all your butts more times than I can count. Battle plans, last-second calls, leading quests. He’s better at strategy than half of you self-proclaimed geniuses.”

 

The room went still. Annabeth’s lips parted, caught off guard. Jason frowned, unsure whether to step in to mediate. Ares looked at his daughter weirdly.

 

“but everybody around me was talking,… Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.”

 

Suddenly, Nico and Thalia sat straighter, drawing odd looks. 

 

“Mrs. Dodds was this little… teacher had a nervous breakdown.”

 

Now it was Hades’ turn. His hand tightened against the arm of his obsidian couch, knuckles pale, shadows curling faintly at his fingertips. His eyes bored into me, wide and troubled, as if he had pieced together a truth no one else had. Recognition flickered there, followed swiftly by something darker—guilt, maybe, or dread.

 

The silence pressed heavy between us until I gave the smallest nod, confirming what he feared. His face tightened, and he looked away, jaw set as though he couldn’t quite bear to meet my eyes again.

 

Nico also reacted. He quickly stood up and gestured his head for Reyna to move over before inserting himself beside me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and moved me so that I was leaning against him. 

 

The other Demigods and Gods looked at us oddly, but decided to not say anything. It probably had something to do with the glare Nico was sending out. 

 

“From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn.”

 

Will snorted good naturedly, “Nope, I’m pretty sure that’s Nico.”

 

“She would point her crooked… answers out of old math workbooks until midnight,”

 

“Is that even legal?” Rachel questioned absentmindedly.

 

I shrugged, “Probably not.”

 

Jason glanced between her and me, his brow furrowed, while Hazel and Frank exchanged uneasy looks. Grover, though, had gone rigid beside Mr D. Chiron’s expression darkened, ancient wariness flickering across his usually calm features.

 

Annabeth, meanwhile, had that sharp glint in her eyes, the one that meant she’d already started fitting the pieces together. Recognition hovered at the edges of her gaze, her lips pressing into a line as if she didn’t like the answer she was reaching.

 

“I told Grover I didn’t… “You’re absolutely right.””

 

That didn’t help the tension. If anything, it sharpened, more defined now. Now it was confirmed that this ‘Ms. Dodds’ wasn’t human.

 

Beside me, Nico’s arm tightened instinctively around my shoulders, his grip firm like he was trying to anchor me in place. The sudden pressure should’ve been comforting, but instead a wave of unease washed over me, sharp and disorienting. My chest constricted, panic sparking low in my stomach. It wasn’t mine—or at least, not entirely. The words on the page pulsed in my head, and for a fleeting moment it felt like I was right back in that classroom, every instinct screaming danger.

 

Nico noticed the shift instantly, dragging me closer until I was half on top of him, his jaw clenched as if daring anyone to question it.

 

Poseidon growled low, the air thickening. The knowledge that a monster had been sent after me so early made the room taste like salt and storm. It seems he wasn’t aware of the ones before that.

 

“Mr. Brunner kept talking… said, “Will you shut up?” It came out louder than I meant it to.”

 

That broke the tension. A couple of campers snickered, and Hermes outright barked a laugh. Ares smirked. Even Apollo grinned despite himself, “It’s like his default setting.”

 

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but there was the tiniest twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Grover let out a nervous bleat-laugh.

 

For a moment, the heavy atmosphere cracked, replaced by the familiar chaos that always seemed to follow me.

 

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

 

For some unexplainable reason, my cheeks burned hotter than ever, and a tight knot of anxiety twisted in my chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment. It was like my body remembered every ounce of dread I’d felt back then.

 

“The whole group laughed… this picture represents?”

 

“5 drachma says he doesn’t know it!” Clarisse called out, a shark-like grin on her face.

 

“5 drachma says he does!” Thalia retaliated, a confident grin on her face. Or at least I assumed there was, considering I could barely see from my position against Nico. 

 

Wanting to add onto the chaos, Hermes added onto the bet, “New bet, 10 drachma that it’s one of Herkules!’ I scowled at the mention of him. 

 

“10 drachma that it’s one about Kronos eating his kids. It’s always that one.” Apollo challenged while shuddering dramatically. He had a glint in his eyes, as if he knew for sure that it was. 

 

He probably used his prophetic ability.

 

“I looked at the carving,... Kronos eating his kids, right?””

 

Suddenly, the wave of embarrassment drained from me, replaced by a rush of relief. Glancing around and seeing no one else affected, the truth hit me: the consequence. I would have to relive every feeling in the journal, as if I was reliving it. A faint shiver ran through me at the realization. Nico raised an eyebrow. Not wanting to explain it yet, I simply shook my head.

 

As if my senses were freed from my internal monologue, I caught the tail end of Thalia’s boisterous cheer. “—you owe me 5 drachma!”

 

Clarisse groaned, muttering under her breath as she fished out the coins and tossed them in Thalia’s direction. She snickered when a couple clinked off Thalia’s chest, earning a mock glare in return.

 

Hermes sighed theatrically, reaching into his satchel and tossing ten drachma toward Apollo. “Fine, fine, you win! Kronos it is!”

 

Apollo caught the coins effortlessly, his grin sharp and triumphant. “I told you! Always a dark family drama. Besides, I have a feeling Hercules would’ve been too simple for you.” He shot Hermes a pointed look, eyes sparkling with mischief—and for a moment, a flirtatious wink toward me.

 

The Romans exchanged confused glances—Jason’s brow furrowed, Reyna tilted her head, and Frank muttered, “Do they… always act like this?” Jason reached over his sister and poked me, his expression silently demanding an explanation.

 

I shrugged. “Apollo and Hermes have always been… more dramatic, I guess. That’s my impression.”

 

Aphrodite leaned forward, a sly grin on her lips. “Have much experience with them, do you?”

 

I refused to meet her gaze, knowing exactly who she meant and who’d I see if I looked at her. I played it off, smirking lightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Dad stared at me as if he was trying to decipher a particularly hard puzzle. 

 

““Yes,” Mr. Brunner said… Kronos was the king god,”

 

A low rumble of thunder rolled through the sky, shadows flickering across the hearth as the clouds outside churned and darkened. Zeus’s voice cracked over the storm, sharp and indignant. “King god? How dare—”

 

Chiron’s calm hand rose. “Now, now, Zeus,” he said, voice steady, carrying that quiet authority only he could manage. “No need to stir tempests over a misunderstanding. I’ve taken care of it.”

 

“and —”... “Titan,” I corrected myself.”

 

“Better. Don’t make that mistake again, boy,” he said, his eyes narrowing in a quiet, threatening glare.

 

I flinched slightly, but before I could respond, Dad’s own gaze bore into him, sharp and heavy. “Do not speak to my son that way, brother,” Poseidon growled, his voice low and rumbling like the ocean in a storm. There was more in it than anger—an undercurrent of guilt.

 

“And...he didn’t trust his kids… “and the gods won.””

 

The gods paused, godsmaked. Athena tilted her head incredulously. “You just summarized one of the biggest wars in our history… in how many words?”

 

Chiron, ever precise, tapped a hoof against the floor as he counted. “Seventy-eight,” he said, a hint of finality in his voice. “He summarized it in seventy-eight words.”

 

The room buzzed with disbelief and quiet amusement.

 

“Some snickers from… excellent question, does this matter in real life?””

 

“Not really sure why that’s funny, but you do you, I guess,” Connor snarked.

 

“Busted,” Connor drawled, in time with his brother.

 

Poseidon furrowed his brow, his gaze sweeping to Chiron with a mixture of impatience and concern. “And how was Percy supposed to answer that question?”

 

“I wasn’t expecting perfection,” Chiron said. “Just gauging his understanding—and preparing him for a future I cannot speak of.” He shot Zeus with an irritated look.

 

““Busted,” Grover muttered.”

 

“Oh no, I think like a goat!” Connor flopped dramatically, collapsing onto Will so that his head ended up resting in his lap.

 

Grover let out an exaggerated, annoyed bleat, though the grin tugging at his lips gave away his amusement.

 

The other demigods couldn’t help but laugh at the theatrics.

 

““Shut up,” Nancy hissed… He had radar ears.”

 

“Not quite, Percy. He has horse ears, obviously,” Nico pointed out sagely, his tone carrying that quiet, almost imperious confidence he always seemed to have.

 

Will furrowed his brow, leaning forward. “His upper half is human, though,” he countered, clearly invested in the accuracy of the details.

 

Nico waved him off dismissively, arching on brow. “Details,” he said, as if Will’s objection were trivial in the grand scheme of things.

 

I smirked at the exchange. It was always funny how differently the campers saw the world—Nico with his dry humor, Will with his careful reasoning, and me, caught somewhere in the middle, just trying not to laugh too loudly. A nice change of pace from what we were forced to adapt to in the future.

 

I pushed the thought away.

 

“I thought about his question… Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?””

 

Hera made an offended noise. “And how is that a ‘happy note,’ as you put it?”

 

Chiron shrugged nonchalantly, “It was a happy note because he was defeated.”

 

Hades wrinkled his nose, and shuddered as if he could still feel the inner lining of Kronos stomach, “Just be glad that you didn’t have to experience it.”

 

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

 

“That’s because they are,” Artemis announced regally. The guys protested with squawks. She gestured at Thalia, as if to say, see? Thalia nodded sagely, only to be smacked, lovingly, by Jason in mock offense. 

 

“Grover and I were… knew that was coming.”

 

“Ooo, Percy’s in trouble,” Rachel sing-songed, grinning wickedly at my expense.

 

I rolled my eyes and waved for Chiron to continue reading before anyone else piled on.

 

“I told Grover to keep… thousand years old and had seen everything.”

 

“Not quite, Mr. Jackson. I’m old, yes—but not that old,” Chiron corrected patiently.

 

“I know that now,” I shot back, matching his tone, “but at the time I didn’t even realize you were past fifty.”

 

Dad let out a snort of laughter, a proud grin tugging at his face at my quick wit.

 

““You must learn the answer… And how your studies apply to it.””

 

“Well, I know how important the things you taught me are now. That seems to be a theme with me.” I grinned at Chiron. 

 

““Oh.”... I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.”

 

“And for good reason, Perry,” Mr. D said, his tone dry as ever, though his gaze lingered too long, sharp in a way that didn’t match his usual apathy. It flickered, gone and back again, leaving my stomach tight.

 

Under me, Nico shifted slightly, brushing my shoulder as if anchoring me. He’d noticed my tension but remained quiet, dark eyes fixed on Mr. D with a faint crease of suspicion. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

 

“I mean, sure, it was kind of cool… and their mother, and what god they worshipped.”

 

“Oh man, that would be so cool! Why couldn’t my teachers be like that?” Travis exclaimed while flailing. 

 

Thalia smirked teasingly, “Yeah Percy, how come you get the cool teacher?”

 

“For some reason, I’d always been unusually good at naming people tied to the sea and the sun. Not something I thought about much—just a knack, like the names were already on the tip of my tongue.”

 

At that, both Poseidon and Apollo preened at the mention, their egos inflating in unison.

 

Poseidon’s eyes gleamed as he leaned back, waves rippling faintly around his form. “See that, Zeus? Even my son senses the tides better than most mortals sense the wind. Talent clearly runs in the blood.” His grin carried just the right amount of pride—and challenge.

 

Apollo lounged lazily, tilting his head with a smirk. “Sea and sun,” he said, voice smooth as honey. “Funny how no one ever pairs ‘sea and messenger,’ huh?” A subtle twinkle in his eye dared Hermes to argue.

 

Triton’s arms crossed, jaw tight, lips curling in a sharp line. “Or,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word, “he’s simply following what he knows. Stick to your depths, little brother.” The word ‘little’ cut like a trident through the tension.

 

I tilted my head, a slow grin tugging at my lips. “Funny… coming from someone whose main talent is being salty. Seems some things do run in families.” The smirk was met with a faint flicker of annoyance from Triton—and a barely restrained chuckle from Poseidon.

 

The campers snorted, even a few gods smirked, while Triton’s scowl deepened.

 

“However, outside of that strange phenomenon, Mr. Brunner expected… much less spell them correctly.”

 

Apollo leaned forward, unusually serious. “Dyslexia doesn’t mean you’re lesser. It means your mind is built differently.”

 

Chiron shifted, guilt flickering. “I never wished for you to feel lesser, Percy. If I gave that impression, I am sorry. My intent was to prepare you.”

 

“I mumbled something… at this girl’s funeral.”

 

“I was.” He confirmed.

 

“He told me to go outside… wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.”

 

Hestia’s tone, soft yet unwavering, carried across the room like the warmth of a hearth. “You two must cease using mortals as outlets for your quarrels. Their suffering is not ours to magnify.” Her fingers stirred the fire beside her, and the flames danced higher, casting a light that made her presence feel immovable.

 

Poseidon shifted, a faint ripple running along the edges of his form, eyes lowering in mild embarrassment. Even a god of the sea could feel the quiet weight of Hestia’s reprimand.

 

Zeus straightened, jaw taut, voice sharp as thunder. “Mortals should know their place. Our actions are not at fault for their hardships!” But even as he spoke, Hestia’s quiet gaze held him still, the flicker of guilt betraying his usual certainty.

 

“Nobody else seemed to notice… Dodds wasn’t seeing a thing.”

 

Hermes, ever the restless one, threw up his hands, voice bright and chaotic. “Not every kleptomaniac child is mine! And if they were, they’d have already succeeded.” He grinned, eyes darting around the room, eager to deflect tension with humor.

 

Will’s sharp voice cut in, deliberate and clear. “Except when it involves Percy. The children of Hermes still haven’t managed to rob him yet.” His smirk hinted at a private amusement, calculated and precise.

 

Hermes’ mouth fell open, disbelief etched across his face. “Wait… you mean the kids haven’t been able to pickpocket him?”

 

Connor shook his head, “That’s not true, the younger ones have!”

 

Clarisse barked a laugh, booming and blunt. “One, you just admitted the little ones are better thieves. Two, Percy only lets them. Always stuff they need… or Riptide. And that comes right back.”

 

Both Connor and Travis looked at me, eyes narrowed. I raised my hands in mock surrender. “I plead the fifth.” 

 

“Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain… loser freaks who couldn’t make it elsewhere.”

 

“You’re not loser freaks,” Annabeth said firmly, her tone sharp enough to cut through any protest. She leaned forward a little, as if daring me to argue with her.

 

Grover glanced at me, eyes soft with that knowing look. He wasn’t just reacting—he was backing her up, reassuring me in the way only he could.

 

I wanted to believe them. Really, I did. But all I could manage was a helpless shrug, the words sticking in my throat.

 

Across the room, Dad bristled at that, his hand tightening slightly as though my lack of confidence was a personal insult to him. Triton and Amphitrite exchanged a glance—less angered than he was, but both considering me with a new weight in their eyes, as if re-evaluating the step-son and step-brother they had long dismissed.

 

““Detention?” Grover… lay off me sometimes. I mean—I’m not a genius.””

 

Beckendorf grinned, his voice landing with the weight of steel striking steel. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a Kelp-head.” The jab was sharp, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed his intent—he was only trying to lift the mood.

 

I stuck my tongue out at him, ever the mature twenty-year-old.

 

“Grover didn’t say anything… I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.”

 

Multiple people gave incredulous glances.

 

I rolled my eyes. “Guys, I’m fine. This was almost a decade ago.” Dad looked ready to argue. “For me, at least.”

 

“Percy, as a son of the sea, your metabolism is higher. You must consume enough nutrients,” Dad said sternly.

 

Jason smirked. “So basically, Percy’s a bottomless pit with an excuse.”

 

Laughter rippled through the group, though Dad remained unamused.

 

“I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue… I wouldn’t be able to stand that sad look she’d give me.”

 

Ares threw back his head and laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “Wow, you really are a mama’s boy. Tell me, are you such a pathetic failure that you have to cling to the scraps of love from your mortal mother?” He spat the word like venom, as though it burned his tongue.

 

The insult cut deep, and before I realized it, I was on my feet, fists clenched. The air around me shifted—winds howling through the pavilion, rattling torches. The cabins were also starting to shake. Out on Long Island Sound, the sea churned violently, a hurricane beginning to claw its way into existence.

 

“So what if I am?” My voice cracked like a tidal wave breaking free. “At least I can say with certainty that my parents love me. Can you? Is that why you’re such a—”

 

“Enough, Perseus!” Dad’s voice rang out, deep and commanding. His trident gleamed faintly, summoning authority. The storm collapsed instantly—the sea eased, the winds dropped, torches steadied. My chest heaved.

 

Clarisse stared, wide-eyed, stunned that I had stood up to her father in that way. Ares sneered. “Always hiding behind daddy’s wave, huh?”

 

“Enough Ares, the boy is beneath you.” Hera chastised.

 

I would never understand why Mars wasn’t the dominant counterpart between the two. At least he was strategic and had a good sense of humour.

 

“Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base… making it look like a motorized café table.”

 

Haepestus' eyes lit up at the mention of his invention. From beside him Beckendorf looked like he wanted to examine and make his own version of the wheelchair.

 

“I was about to unwrap my sandwich… and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover’s lap.”

 

The room erupted instantly. Annabeth sat bolt upright, eyes flashing murderously. “She did what?”

 

Beside her, I felt my own blood boil as the memory resurfaced. “Bitch,” I muttered, fists tightening at my sides. My own anger was being amplified by the curse of the book. I could feel myself starting to summon a storm.

 

Thalia shot to her feet, sparks snapping at her knuckles, lightning dancing across them. “What the hell—? I’m going to kill her.”

 

Grover’s face flushed scarlet, ears twitching nervously as he tried to shrink into his seat. “Guys, it’s fine—” he started, though his voice cracked with embarrassment.

 

“It’s not fine!” Annabeth snapped, slamming her hand down.

 

The gods stirred uneasily, the scent of ozone in the air from Thalia’s temper mixing with the salt of the sea from me.

 

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

 

Aphrodite and Silena both let out noises of disgust at the description, their faces scrunching as though the very image offended them.

 

“I would say she needed a makeover,” Aphrodite scoffed, somehow still managing to sound elegant, “but honestly, I don’t think she deserves one. Her behavior is atrocious.”

 

Grover hummed in agreement. “And unfortunately, Percy’s weirdly accurate descriptions strike again.”

 

Reyna’s gasp was sharp. “Wait—you mean she actually looked like that? Like he wasn’t being dramatic?”

 

Grover only shook his head, resigned. Annabeth sighed and added, “Unfortunately, he’s rarely wrong when it comes to describing things.”

 

From his spot on the couch, Apollo piped up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Have you always done that?”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Done what? Aggravate people and gods? Because if that’s it, then yes.”

 

He let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head as if testing me. “No, I meant… have you always been this perceptive?”

 

I paused, weighing my words. This wasn’t the same Apollo who’d gone through his trials or tried to be a better parent—this one was vain, sharp, prone to snapping—but I felt that familiar, subtle pull between us, that echo of the bond we’d share in the future. “From what I’ve been told… yes.”

 

He hummed, leaning back, eyes glinting just a fraction longer than necessary, as if he already knew something I didn’t.

 

“I tried to stay cool… But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.”

 

Dad looked at me. “That wouldn’t have worked, Percy. The sea doesn’t like to be restrained, and neither do your emotions if they aren’t matured. There’s a reason I’m considered both the most ill- and mild-tempered god.”

 

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck and flexing my fingers slightly—small tics from years of managing the temper I’d once struggled to control. “Yeah, I learned that the hard way. I’ve gotten better with time, but… something’s causing my emotions to fluctuate more than usual. I just need to confirm a few things before we discuss it—and figure out the proper measures.”

 

Nico gave me a concerned look, nudging my shoulder. I brushed him off, but took his hand, twirling his rings between my fingers to keep myself grounded. 

 

“I don’t remember touching her… —like it grabbed her—””

 

Grover and the other Greek demigods groaned. “How did we miss who your godly parent was for so long? It was obvious!”

 

“Hindsight’s 20/20, didn’t you know?” Jason teased, clearly amused.

 

“I didn’t know what they were talking about… Mrs. Dodds turned on me.”

 

The simmering anger inside me melted into a low, persistent annoyance. I leaned into Nico, twirling a ring between my fingers, jaw tightening. The smallest noises—the scrape of a chair, Rachel’s shudder, even Thalia’s faint hum—grated on my patience more than they should have.

 

“Like, I know she’s not human, but gods, that woman creeps me out,” Rachel said, shivering.

 

“Trust me, she’s even worse in person,” Annabeth replied with a small smirk, a vindictive glee in her eyes at Rachel’s discomfort. 

 

It hit me—both Rachel and Annabeth had a crush on me. I really should deal with that during a break. 

 

Athena’s brow lifted in interest. “You’ve met her?”

 

Annabeth gave a half-shrug, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. “Let’s just say… spoilers.”

 

“There was a triumphant fire in her eyes…“A month erasing workbooks.””

 

“No! Never guess your punishment!” Hermes declared with mock severity, wagging a finger like he was scolding a child.

 

“He’s right, it’s—” Connor started, only for me to cut him off with a groan.

 

“Rule twenty-six: ‘One must never guess their punishment.’ Right after, ‘Never prank a child of Hephaestus with explosives.’” I shot the twins a pointed look. 

 

I would know—I was the one who had to help clean up the forge after they decided to try it. The same forge I promised never to step foot in again unless it was to talk to someone.

 

Connor and Travis traded grins, clearly unrepentant. Beckendorf glared at them at the reminder of that ‘little prank.’

 

Hermes blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “You memorized the list? My boy, I think I’m tearing up,” he declared dramatically, clutching his chest like I’d just recited the Iliad.

 

I slumped back against Nico with a groan. “Don’t make it weird, Hermes. It’s survival, not admiration.”

 

Poseidon shot me a sidelong glance, as if saying, of all the legacies you could’ve picked up… it had to be Hermes’ rules.

 

Triton let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Really? Him? Of all people, you memorized his rules?” 

 

Looks like his one-sided rivalry against the other messenger god wasn’t a new one when I had met him.

 

“That wasn’t the right thing to say… “Wait!” Grover yelped. “It was me. I pushed her.””

 

Poseidon gave Grover a reconsidering look, as if his attempt to help me had nudged him into a slightly better light. My dad had never been overly impressed with Grover—back then, all he saw was a skittish satyr who hadn’t exactly kept me out of danger. But he wasn’t cruel about it; he was protective. And in that moment, something in his expression shifted, the barest flicker of approval, like he was silently acknowledging that maybe Grover wasn’t the worst companion for his son after all.

 

“Thanks man for trying. But I don’t think it was gonna work regardless cause that woman has it out for me.”

 

Hades tensed at my use of present tense. From his spot he gave me a hard look as if expecting me to take it back. 

 

Nico snorted, shifting. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

 

“I stared at him, stunned… “Honey,” Mrs. Dodds barked at me. “Now.” Her look made my skin crawl, my body bracing instinctively for a fight.”

 

I could feel myself tense once again, that same prickle of foreboding crawling under my skin. It was stupid, really—I knew what was about to happen, knew it worked out fine in the end. But the curse —my body— didn’t care. It was like it was bracing for a fight anyway, muscle memory dragging me back into the moment.

 

From the corner of my eye, I caught Dionysus squinting at me, his bored mask slipping just enough to betray curiosity. From his own couch, Apollo tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that told me he’d noticed too. Neither said anything, but the weight of their attention pressed against me, as if they were quietly filing away the fact that my reaction almost exactly matched the story. They probably figured out the consequence. 

 

“Nancy Bobofit smirked. I gave her my deluxe I’ll-kill-you-later stare.”

 

Octavian rolled his eyes, voice dripping with disdain. “There’s no way your glare is that intimidating. Look at you—you don’t even have scars, your skin’s practically unblemished, and you look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

 

Ares stayed silent, smartly. With what had just gone down—and considering who his girlfriend was—opening his mouth would’ve looked like he was agreeing. And Aphrodite? Yeah, she might’ve been the goddess of beauty, but she wasn’t someone you wanted to insult by accident. She had a sweet, motherly side, sure, but she also knew exactly how to twist hearts into weapons, and started wars because she was bored. Holding grudges was basically her favorite pastime. Out of all the gods, she was the last one I wanted ticked off at me.

 

However, despite myself, his words hit. It’s not like he was wrong—I wasn’t exactly the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered hero people expected from a son of Poseidon. I was five-ten, which was the median between both of my parents, my hair stopped at my shoulders with a grey streak through my bangs from the River of Syx. I’m lean, which is good for quests and swinging Riptide. My frame itself was more neutral, not leaning masculine, but also not feminine. Not exactly poster-boy material—but it had gotten me this far.

 

I tilted my head, crossing the room. I made sure Octavian had no choice but to look up at me. “You really want to test that theory?” My voice dropped, cool and sharp. “Did you forget what happened the first time we met?”

 

His face flushed, clearly burned by the memory. He tried to speak, stammering, “Yes, well, you—”

 

I cut him off, letting a thread of siren-song coil into my words, smooth and deliberate. “Ah, ah. No spoilers. We wouldn’t want to make the Fates mad, would we?”

 

Octavian froze, caught between indignation and something he couldn’t name. Beside him, Apollo shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking toward me and quickly away. The expression on his face was a mix of embarrassment over his own legacy and… something else that I couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, name in the fear of getting my hopes up. 

 

As I moved to sit back down beside Nico, a hand caught mine and tugged me gently but firmly in another direction. I blinked, then realized it was Dad. I gave him a questioning look. His sea-green eyes fixed on me, steady as a riptide. “Stay with me for this part, Percy,” he said, voice low but leaving no room for argument.

 

I nodded. At some point, Amphitrite had shifted toward the end of the couch, leaving an open spot. I hesitated, not sure if I was really meant to sit there, until she gave a small, graceful motion with her hand—gentle, but not exactly warm—inviting me to take the space.

 

My throat went dry. Swallowing hard, I lowered myself onto the cushion, careful to keep a respectful distance from both of them.

 

“Then I turned to face… How’d she get there so fast?”

 

A couple people sucked in sharp breaths, and it hit me like a punch. That familiar dread clawed its way up my chest, my body tightening on instinct, ready for something that wasn’t coming. Dad slid an arm around me, pulling me into his side, and I let him. Normally that would’ve been enough to shake it off, but the tension didn’t ease. The curse was still there, buzzing under my skin, reminding me it wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Apollo shift, his expression tightening just a little, and Dionysus was watching me like he already knew the exact reason. I pretended not to notice, but I knew they had figured it out for sure.

 

“I have moments like that …ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things…. I wasn’t so sure.”

 

When the line about my brain “falling asleep” came up, a couple gods shifted. Artemis frowned. “That’s not your brain shutting off. It’s instinct—like when animals freeze before bolting. Your body’s getting ready to react.”

 

A sharp crack—the pop of a Diet Coke. Dionysus muttered, “Or maybe it’s just his head protecting itself from things he’s not ready for. Brains do that, you know.”

 

“I went after Mrs. Dodds… notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.”

 

Before anyone could comment, Chiron’s calm voice cut through. “I was aware of what was happening to Percy. I merely didn’t want to draw suspicion from the mortals. The Mist wasn’t reacting as it normally would have around him.”

 

Dad shifted me slightly so I could meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow, silently prompting an explanation. With a slow, reluctant nod—my nerves still buzzing—I admitted, “It’s true. The Mist has always reacted strangely around me. Sometimes it works, but more often than not, it doesn’t… in my favor.”

 

Those who had been on quests with me exchanged knowing glances.

 

“I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds… But apparently that wasn’t the plan.”

 

I let out a snort of bitter amusement. “It’s never that simple with monsters, is it?”

Thalia hummed in agreement, sliding a little closer to Nico. “You know it. The life of a demigod is never one that is in our favour.”

The gods shifted in their seats, and for the first time, the usual flickers of amusement and pride were muted.

 

“I followed her deeper into… She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.”

 

The air in the throne room dropped to a biting chill. Recognition flickered across divine faces, but my dad’s reaction was the sharpest. He went rigid beside me, then surged up like a tidal wave about to break.

 

“You dare send one of your Furies after my son? With no cause!” Poseidon’s roar shook the cabins, his eyes locked on Hades.

 

Hades, however, did not stand up. His hands tightened on the armrests of his couch, but his voice was steady, threaded with regret. “No. I had only sent Alecto to watch him, as I normally would with any of your children—or my own. I don’t know why she attacked. I explicitly told her not to.”

 

At the mention of watching one another’s children, Zeus cut in indignantly, lightning sparking in his beard. “We have Ancient Laws for a reason! We are not to interfere with the lives of our children.”

 

But Poseidon cut him off, his voice like crashing waves. “Yes, which is why we watch for one another. For all purposes, we are not interfering with our own. And you have no room to talk, brother. You are the reason we need this system in the first place. Not only have you attacked other children, you have directly caused harm to your own. Do not forget whose arrogance led to young Thalia being struck down.” He took a sharp breath, squaring his shoulders as the storm rose higher.

 

“With that in mind, must I point out that I am the only brother who has not attacked or provoked either of your children, even when it is my right?” His gaze swept between Zeus and Hades, dark and furious. “Do not test me on this.”

 

The air trembled with his fury, and I knew if I didn’t stop him, the entire room might drown in his storm. But I couldn’t do it alone—not with the curse tying my tongue in moments like these. I glanced at Nico, and he was already looking back at me. We nodded once, decisively, and stepped forward together.

 

“Dad,” I said firmly, forcing steadiness into my voice, “it wasn’t his fault. Hades didn’t order the attack—he just wanted me to be watched. Alecto went off-script. He’s not the enemy here.”

 

Nico’s voice followed mine, quiet but unyielding, like stone grinding against stone. “He’s telling the truth. My father wouldn’t lie about this.”

 

Poseidon’s storm-glare wavered, some of the fury ebbing as he looked between us. For a moment, the tidal wave receded.

 

A ripple passed through the shadows at the foot of Hades’ couch. His expression was unreadable—but when his gaze met ours, there was a flicker of something else. His voice was low, deliberate. “Thank you.” The words were simple but they conveyed more in the silence than any others would have.

 

But Nico wasn’t finished. His eyes darkened, his tone sharp enough to cut. “And maybe instead of accusing the one brother who actually tries to follow the rules, you should ask why the Ancient Laws get broken so often in the first place.” His gaze slid directly to Zeus, shadows curling at his feet.

 

I stepped in again, the words burning in my chest. “Yeah, if we’re going to talk about interfering with kids—how about we start with the one who’s made a habit of it? Hades wasn’t the cause of a prophecy that nearly—”

 

“Percy.” Nico’s interruption was sharp, his voice cutting through mine like a blade. His eyes were cold and steady on me, shadows shifting like warning whispers. “We can’t talk about that. Not right now.”

 

Before I could argue, Thalia’s voice rang out from her spot on the couch, sharp as thunder. “He’s right. Drop it, Seaweed Brain.” Her eyes, electric and stormy, flicked toward Zeus, her voice lowering but not losing its edge. “Some of us already know exactly what he means. And the rest of you should be asking yourselves why it’s always the kids paying the price for your secrets and misdeeds.”

 

The silence that followed was suffocating. The other gods shifted uneasily, their gazes darting between us as if they could feel something vast and dangerous lurking just outside their reach. They didn’t know what—but they knew it was there.

 

Zeus’s jaw tightened, a crack of lightning flashing faintly in his eyes. Chiron, for all his calm, seemed older than ever, his silence heavy with understanding. They knew. The others only sensed shadows and silence, and that was enough to unnerve them.

 

And for the first time, it wasn’t the gods holding all the answers—it was us. 

 

The silence left behind was thick, almost suffocating. No one dared to look directly at Zeus, and even the crackle of the hearth seemed to falter under the weight of what had just been said.

It was Hestia who finally moved. She rose from her place at the fire, her presence small yet undeniable, and the warmth that radiated from her cut through the sharp chill still hanging in the air.

“This is not the time to let tempers rule,” she said softly, but the gentleness in her tone held more authority than a shout ever could. “We have all spoken enough—for now. What you all need is a moment to breathe, to gather yourselves, and to remember the ties that bind you.” Her eyes, calm and steady, swept the room before settling back on the flames.

 

She turned her head slightly, and though her voice remained quiet, it carried to every corner of the space. “The morning has stretched on, and still no one has eaten. Eat and rest; let the embers cool before we stir them again.”

 

I shook my head gently at her suggestion, earning a few curious looks. “With respect, Lady Hestia, I would ask that we finish the chapter first. Only three pages remain, and we’ll need a longer pause afterward.” My tone came out steadier, more formal than usual—enough to make a couple of campers blink. But with Hestia, I couldn’t bring myself to be anything less.

 

She studied me for a moment, as if she already knew the real reason I didn’t want to stop—the adrenaline still thrumming through me, the unease I couldn’t voice. Then she inclined her head, a quiet nod of assent.

 

“Alright, we’ll finish the chapter, but before we continue reading everyone please sit back down.”

 

Before I could move, Dad threw his arm over my shoulder, drawing my body closer to his as he guided me back to his couch.  

 

Once all of us sat back down, Thalia and Nico shot me a look as if asking whether I was okay. I only shrugged—not wanting to get into it, but also not having it in me to lie.

 

The silence in the space was all-consuming, everyone unsure how to step into a moment that wasn’t really theirs to relive. Chiron cleared his throat softly, the sound cutting through the tension just enough. He opened the journal with deliberate care, letting the current page fall open to reveal the familiar scrawl I knew would be there.

 

My dread only worsened.

 

“Even without the noise, I would’ve been nervous. It’s weird being alone with a teacher was always weird. I'd learned from experience that some of them—especially the ones in charge of “troubled kids”—could be harsher than anyone else noticed.”

 

The silence was so thick you could’ve heard a pin drop. Before anyone could say anything, I cut in. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it—and this was years ago. Even for the gods.”

 

Most of the room backed off, but Dad, Will, Thalia, Nico, Mr. D, and Apollo only looked more determined, like they weren’t about to let me dodge the conversation that easily.

 

They stayed silent, like they were waiting for a better moment to bring it up.

 

“But it was especially odd with Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it...”

 

“Knowing Alecto, she probably did,” Hades said, his voice low and measured, carrying that quiet weight that made him such an efficient ruler. There was a sharp edge of wry amusement in his tone. He leaned back slightly, fingers brushing the armrest, as if the chaos around him barely registered.

 

Dad grunted in response, his stormy eyes scanning Hades for any hint of threat, before he pulled me closer. I ended up draped against his side, shoulder pressed into him, feeling some of the tension seep out of my chest—well, mostly.

 

I noticed Apollo shift in his seat, eyebrows raised, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he appreciated Hades’ dry humor. Aphrodite gave a subtle nod, the faintest curl of her lips betraying a mixture of amusement and approval. Nico’s shadow flickered across the floor like a warning, but his eyes softened slightly, acknowledging Hades’ quiet competence.

 

For a moment, the room felt smaller, the weight of the gods’ attention heavy but strangely easier to bear. And in that sliver of calm, I let myself breathe—just a little.

 

““You’ve been giving us problems, honey,” she said. I did the safe thing. I said, “Yes, ma’am.””

 

Connor broke the lingering tension with a grin. “Damn, Percy doing the safe thing? The world must be ending.” He flopped against Will’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

This time, Will didn’t take it as gently. He huffed, giving Connor a firm shove, sending him tumbling into a heap on the floor. Connor groaned, sprawled out, but didn’t seem particularly offended—just another day of chaos at the hearth.

 

He didn’t even bother getting up and simply remained sprawled on the ground at his father's feet.

Silena and Renya looked at him in disgust over the idea of him just laying on the ground. 

 

“She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. “Did you really think you would get away with it?” The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.”

 

I felt myself shift again, uneasy, as if I needed as much space as possible between myself and the lingering—but nonexistent—threat. Triton’s gaze flicked toward me, cautious and reluctant, like he wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure if it was his place. Amphitrite, on the other hand, gave me a soft, steady look, her concern quiet but genuine, like she just wanted to make sure I was okay.

 

Clarisse hummed, smirking. “And perceptive Percy strikes again.”

 

Grover bleated in agreement. “Yeah, he noticed her odd behavior before any of us did. It was actually him that made Mr. Brunner and me start keeping a closer eye on her.”

 

From across the room, Athena’s eyes lingered on me with that sharp, calculating look she always had—like she was cataloging everything, weighing whether my instincts had merit. I muttered under my breath, half-grin, half-grimace, “Great. Thanks for the reminder I’m still the one catching all the weirdness first.”

 

“She’s a teacher at Yancy, I thought nervously. It’s not like she’s going to hurt me.”

 

The mood dropped again at the reminder of my previous experience with teachers, this time shaper at the confirmation that I had been at the very least physically hurt by one. 

 

Fear clawed from my stomach to my throat. I pressed closer into Dad’s side, hoping he could somehow block it.

 

Amphitrite’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a quiet, steadying presence. It somewhat shocked me that she was comforting me.

 

 Dad’s arm tightened around me, firm and protective. I felt rather than saw the others—Annabeth’s watchful gaze, Apollo’s narrowed eyes, Will’s quiet steadiness, Reyna and Jason alert but restrained, Silena and Chiron offering small, silent support—all of them sensing without intruding.

 

Then, almost imperceptibly, a thread of calm wove through my mind, forced and subtle, like someone reaching in and tugging gently at the edges of my panic. Dionysus’ influence, I realized, coaxing my pulse into steadier rhythm. Not peace, exactly, but enough to let me breathe.

 

It wasn’t comfort exactly, but it was enough to let me exist in the fear without it consuming me. The fear wasn’t even real, it was the consequence, I had made peace with my past ages ago. 

 

“I said, “I’ll—I’ll try harder, ma’am.”... I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“I still don’t understand how anyone thought you were the one who stole the Master Bolt. You didn’t even know the first thing about being a demigod when you got to camp,” Silena muttered, shaking her head.

 

Annabeth snorted. “That’s because the gods are paranoid. They’d rather cling to their pride than admit to reason.”

 

Her words hung in the air, sharp but true, and more than a few gods shifted uncomfortably at the bluntness. It was even worse because they couldn't argue nor retaliate against us.

 

The Romans still looked uncomfortable about our lack of decorum towards the Gods but less so than before. 

 

“All I could think of was that the teachers must’ve found the illegal stash of candy I’d been selling out of my dorm room.”

 

At that, most of the demigods snickered, the Stoll brothers outright cheering me on.

 

“Nice, Percy! Make that dough!” Rachel called, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips.

 

I stuck my tongue out at her. “Says the rich girl.”

 

She only shrugged, unbothered, and from the corner of my eye I caught Annabeth scowling.

 

“Or maybe they’d realized I got my essay…Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.”

 

Annabeth sighed, resigned. “Really, Perce?”

 

Athena’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. “Of course. The son of Poseidon chooses to cheat rather than read a book.”

 

I just shrugged, undeterred. “What? My dyslexia was a nightmare on a good day, and my English teacher didn’t exactly believe in ADHD or dyslexia.”

 

Chiron frowned. “It was written clearly in your IEP. I knew, even before I was certain you were a demigod.”

 

“Yeah, well, most teachers who dealt with ‘troublemakers’ ignored it. Said it was just an excuse to act out.” I lifted my hands, making air quotes with a grimace.

 

“Exactly!” Travis piped up, throwing an arm around the back of the couch. “Half our teachers thought we were just lazy, too.”

 

“Or assumed we were pranking when we really weren’t.” Connor added with mock offense from his position on the floor. “‘Not our fault they couldn’t tell the difference.”

 

A ripple of laughter cut the tension, but Apollo’s face stayed serious. “That’s negligence. Kids deserve better than to be dismissed like that.”

 

Will nodded firmly beside him. “Percy’s right. It happens more than it should—and it leaves scars.” His gaze softened as it fell on me, clearly knowing I didn’t mean just learning struggles.

 

““Well?” she demanded… “Your time is up,” she hissed."

 

“Well, she didn’t leave you much time to answer,” Clarisse muttered off-handedly.

 

From beside her, Ares leaned forward, eyes lighting up with interest. He was probably thrilled at the idea of me nearly getting my ass kicked by a Fury—or maybe it was just the promise of a fight in general. Most likely both, now that I thought about it.

 

Clarisse smirked at the thought, clearly siding with her dad, even if subconsciously. “Bet she would’ve handed you your ass, too.”

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

 

Grover’s ears twitched as he looked between Nico and the others. His voice came softer, steadier, carrying more weight than usual. “Nobody’s making light of what Percy’s been through. We’re laughing because he survived it. Because even when gods and monsters tried to break him, he stood back up. That’s what matters.” He paused, then glanced at Ares with a pointed look. “And let’s not forget—he’s already proven himself against someone way higher on the food chain than a Fury.”

 

Ares bristled, but Grover didn’t flinch, his quiet confidence settling the room. Nico’s shoulders eased, his eyes flicking toward me with something like reluctant reassurance.

 

“Then the weirdest thing happened… about to slice me to ribbons.”

 

Everyone—with the exception of Hera, Zeus, Athena, and Ares—sucked in a breath, like her description finally nailed down what had been hanging over us back in that museum.

 

I froze, a shiver running up my back before I could stop it. Something about her description scratched at the edges of my brain, like a half-remembered nightmare I couldn’t place. It was right there, just out of reach, and the harder I tried to pin it down the more it slipped away. It was an odd feeling when I knew who and what she was.

 

Dad’s arm tightened around me, steady and solid, while Amphitrite’s gaze flicked toward me, sharp with concern. I didn’t look at either of them—I wasn’t sure I could handle the worry I’d find in their eyes.

 

 “That’s when it hit me like a brick to the face—Mrs. Dodds wasn’t just some cranky math teacher with a bad attitude. She was a Fury. One of those nightmare monsters Mom used to drill into my head with bedtime mythology, the kind I’d laughed off as fairy tales.”

 

When Chiron read the last part, a rush of recognition slammed into me. The fog of uncertainty that had been clinging to my memory finally cleared, and in its place came the same bone-deep fear I’d felt years ago—the terrifying realization that if a Fury was real, then so were all the other monsters from the stories Mom had forced me to learn.

 

The room went dead silent. A couple of demigods gawked at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. Chiron’s brows rose, not just surprised but almost impressed, while Annabeth’s lips parted like she couldn’t believe I’d pieced it together.

 

Grover was looking at me in shock, “But you didn’t know what Mrs. Dodds was, you kept asking me what she was before we came to camp.” He pointed out, Annabeth nodding her own spot. 

 

I shrugged, “To be honest with you Grover, I was trying to determine if you would confess or if you would continue to tell me that I was crazy. Also, I was kind of in denial about the entire situation because of what it would inevitably mean.”

 

Apollo let out a low whistle. “Well, look at you, kid. Not bad for someone who was supposed to be flying blind.”

 

Athena’s eyes narrowed, cool and sharp, clearly reevaluating me. “Interesting. You were never meant to make that connection.”

 

“Then I realized what that actually meant; that maybe the monsters I saw as a kid weren’t my imagination and that right now I actively had an angry Fury in front of me.”

 

The tension in the room thickened, the mention of my past encounters before Yancy clearly putting everyone on edge.

 

Dad’s voice cut through it, low and measured, the question on everyone’s mind: “Percy… what monsters?”

 

I shook my head, keeping my tone even. “I can’t answer that—not yet. But it’ll probably come up sooner or later.”

 

A few of the demigods exchanged wide-eyed glances, curiosity mingling with unease. Annabeth’s brow furrowed, while the Stoll brothers muttered under their breath, disbelief written across their faces. Will shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting toward me, as if he could already feel the story’s weight. Apollo gave a tight-lipped whistle, and even Nico leaned back slightly, shadows flickering across his face like warning signs.

 

“Then things got even stranger… he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.”

 

Octavian snorted, a mocking chuff leaking through his mouth. “A pen? What’s that going to do?”

 

I smirked, though my nerves were twisting inside me. My emotions were all over the place—anger, fear, frustration, and something I couldn’t quite name—and it made every movement feel both heavy and urgent. I shifted out from Dad’s side, stopping about three feet away, sliding Riptide from my pocket. The sword came free, uncapped, tip hovering an inch from the hollow of his throat.

 

The room held its breath. Even the gods leaned in, sensing the danger, while I fought to steady myself.

 

Apollo stepped forward, his presence calm, radiating authority without aggression. “Percy,” he said, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder, “enough.” The touch wasn’t restraining—it was grounding. “You don’t have to prove anything like this. Let your actions speak without hurting anyone.”

 

I blinked at him, torn between relief and irritation. My heart was still hammering, my emotions raw and scattered, but I felt a strange steadiness creeping in under his touch. He wasn’t taking Octavian’s side; he was just keeping the peace, protecting his legacy and guiding me through my own chaos.

 

Octavian froze, unsettled, eyes darting between me and the god. I let Riptide lower, though the edge in my glare didn’t fade. Apollo’s hand lingered a moment longer before lifting.

 

We both went back to our seats. 

 

However before I sat back down I recapped Riptide and tossed it to Triton. “Hey, can you keep this with you for the moment? I don’t trust myself right now not to pull it out again.”

 

Triton only looked at me consideringly before nodding and pocketing the pen. I knew I could get it if I really wanted to but it being in the possession of a Sea God should slow it down. I also needed to be sure it wouldn’t have just been handed back to me or in my reach.

 

Dada threw his arm around me and leaned into the back of the couch. 

 

“Mrs. Dodds lunged at me. With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash and graze my cheek, a sharp, burning sting slicing across my skin.”

 

At the same time, the familiar, burning sting flared across my cheek, just like the first time. Only this time, I had the time to actually brush my fingers against it. When I looked down, my fingertips came away slick with blood.

 

I hissed sharply, the sudden pain drawing the attention of everyone around me. Heads turned, eyes wide, and I could feel their stares boring into me. For a moment, the room went quiet, heavy with tension. Even the demigods—who’d seen plenty of chaos—looked momentarily caught off guard.

 

“Percy?” someone—maybe Annabeth, though it all blurred in my adrenaline—asked softly, concern threading her voice. Grover leaned forward, nostrils flaring, ready to react if anything else happened. Apollo’s gaze, calm yet sharp, flicked between me and the source of the wound, clearly assessing the situation and my emotional state at once.

 

I swallowed, forcing myself to stay upright, even as the heat of the sting throbbed against my skin. “I’m fine,” I muttered, though my voice was tighter than I intended. My hands shook slightly as I wiped at the blood, cursing under my breath.

 

Then, before I even had time to register what was happening, a firm but gentle hand moved mine from my cheek, tilting my face so the cut was fully exposed.

 

Apollo crouched in front of me, his expression calm but intent, golden eyes narrowing as he examined the injury with the precision of someone who’d patched up countless kids before me. But when he actually focused on the mark, something shifted—his eyes widened ever so slightly.

 

“Percy, your cut is tin—”

 

“Exactly where it was described in the story, yeah.” I cut him off quickly, sharper than I meant. I already knew what he was going to say, and the last thing I wanted was everyone else dwelling on it.

 

I pulled his hand away and covered the cut myself, the sting almost grounding compared to the storm twisting inside me. Apollo froze, his hand hanging in the air for a moment longer, a faint crease in his brow. Frustration flickered there—more than that, protectiveness—but he didn’t push back.

 

When I finally forced myself to look up, I caught the room’s reaction in flashes. Annabeth’s scowl had vanished, her lips pressed tight with something closer to worry. Grover bleated softly, his grip tightening around his reed pipes. Nico’s eyes darkened, shadows curling at the edges of his expression. Even Dionysus looked more sober than usual, the faint pull of his power still steadying the chaos in my chest.

 

And then there were Octavian and Hera, both wearing the same smug expression, like my pain was just another point for their side.

 

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to bring it up before I was sure, but… it looks like the first consequence of this is that I’ll be reliving my past. Feelings. Injuries. All of it. Since we started reading my head’s been a mess.”

 

The words hung in the air like lead, heavy and suffocating.

 

Dad’s arm tightened around me almost instantly, pulling me closer into his side as though sheer proximity could shield me from what was happening. The sea in his eyes churned with barely contained worry, and I felt the low rumble of his power press against the edges of the room like a warning to anyone who might dare make light of this. Amphitrite, seated on my other side, leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp but filled with steady, maternal concern. One of her hands brushed lightly against my arm, grounding, as though reminding me I wasn’t facing this alone.

 

Across the room, the demigods shifted uneasily. Most had been on quests themselves, but they knew how many more I’d survived compared to any of them. That reality seemed to land all at once. The way their eyes flicked over me—worried, tense, uncertain—made it clear they weren’t just anxious about what was happening. They were afraid of what else I might be forced to relive.

 

Apollo still crouched nearby, golden eyes fixed on me with a depth of frustration and grief I couldn’t bear to meet for long. A healer’s gaze. A protector of youth who hated being made to watch as one of his charges was dragged back into old wounds. His jaw tightened.

 

Thalia reacted sharper than most. Her fists were balled white-knuckled in her lap, storm-grey eyes sparking with anger. She looked like she wanted to leap across the room and strike at the source of the pain, except there wasn’t one. The restraint only made her tremble with the weight of it.

 

Nico’s shadows curled tighter at his feet, as though trying to swallow the chair he sat in. His face had gone pale, too pale, the memory of Tartarus flickering raw behind his eyes. He knew better than anyone what kinds of scars could rip open again. His voice came out low, almost too quiet to catch, but it burned with fury. “That’s not fair. He’s already lived it.”

 

The silence that followed was heavier than before, pressing on all of us. Between my father’s protective grip, Amphitrite’s steady presence, and the stares of everyone else, I almost felt pinned in place.

 

Then another note appeared, this time in Zeus’ hand. He jumped at the unexpected addition, causing some of the demigods to chuckle nervously and the gods to outright laugh at him, even if a little hysterically.

 

He cleared his throat before reading out. 

 

“The first thread is revealed. Thalia, Daughter of Zeus. Nico, Son of Hades. Perseus, Child of the Sea. Each of you will face a consequence that belongs to you alone.

 

The other two will remain hidden until the moment arrives. Know this—none will be fatal, but none will be without cost.

 

Perseus will feel every wound and fear from his past as though it were new. Pain will return, but death will not take him.

 

The threads are set. The weave cannot be undone.

 

—The Fates”

 

The silence was tense, and I felt the insistent urge to break it if not for my own sanity. “Well hey, at least I won’t die, that’s good, right?”

 

Grover bleated at me. “Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all.” He subconsciously echoed the same words he’d said when I made that joke about the socks fitting me all those years ago.

 

I tilted my head and snorted. “No it isn’t, but there’s really not much we can do about it, so I’m looking on the bright side.”

 

Artemis’s silver gaze fixed on me, sharp yet softened by something almost protective. “You make light of pain too easily, Perseus. It is not something to treat as a joke.” Her voice lowered just a fraction, gentler. “But I suppose… after all you’ve endured, laughter may feel like the only shield you have left.”

 

Hephaestus rumbled from his seat, sparks flickering faintly at his beard as he leaned forward. “The boy’s not wrong, though. You can’t change the forge once the metal’s in it. Might as well brace yourself and see what comes out the other side.”

 

Amphitrite’s hand brushed lightly against mine, her voice quiet but firm. “Just because you’ve survived worse doesn’t mean you should have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, child. Don’t carry it alone.”

 

I nodded and glanced at Chiron, urging him to keep going. “Looks like the cut won’t heal until it happens in the book. And honestly? I’d rather push through it than sit here feeling like my nerves are strung tighter than a bowstring.”

 

However, unlike what I expected, Apollo didn’t move away. Instead, he shifted down to sit on the floor right in front of me, his back resting against the couch. A moment later, Will dropped beside him, leaning casually against his dad—but still very much in my line of sight, right in front of Dad.

 

I nudged Will with my foot, raising a brow. He only shrugged. “Just because you bounce back doesn’t mean we don’t keep an eye on you, Jackson.”

 

Before I could make a smart remark, Dad’s arm tightened subtly around my shoulders, holding me a little closer. Instinctively, I glanced up at him—just in time to catch the fleeting look of approval he sent Will’s way. It was quiet, unspoken, but undeniable.

 

I urged Chiron to continue reading before anything else could be said. I really wanted to stop feeling so tense and the cut was still bleeding. 

 

“With a yelp… bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.”

 

“Yeah, no, that’s definitely Chiron. He’s the one who handed you Riptide before your first quest.”

 

Travis said it almost offhandedly, like it was just a casual reminder, but the way his grin tugged at the corners of his mouth told me what he was really doing—trying to keep the mood light, to drag us all back from the edge of tension. Or another argument. 

 

“Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes… My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.”

 

“Don’t drop the sword!” Dad shouted while tugging me closer, almost to the point of me just being on top of his chest. The other demigods were nodding aggressively.

 

I struggled, trying to get some space between us but gave up when he simply drew me even closer. Giving up I merely muttered. “Dad I’m right here it was fine.”

 

I may have been acting nonchalant but I was secretly glad he was holding me.

 

“Once again, I’m right here and fine.” I pointed out, my words slightly muffled due to my face being smothered by Dad’s chest.

 

“She snarled, “Die, honey!”... my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.”

 

“Of course—the natural thing to do is swing a sword, not cower, run, or scream!” Connor pointed out, his voice edging on hysterical.

 

Athena inclined her head, though it was reluctant. “Well, he is a demigod. Regardless of his parentage, it should be natural for him—and for all of you—to react that way.”

 

Reyna’s voice cut in, calm and measured. “Not necessarily. Romans undergo extensive training from a young age to prepare us for the Legion. At the Wolf House, Lupa herself decides who is strong enough to continue. Only then do we receive the kind of training that makes reacting with a weapon second nature.”

 

Jason nodded, his tone less formal, more personal. “Yeah. Reyna’s right. I went through it myself—it wasn’t instinct at first. You get shaped into it. Without that, most of us probably would’ve panicked just like anyone else.”

 

The Roman demigods murmured their agreement, myself included, while the Greek campers shifted uneasily, clearly distressed by the contrast to Camp Half-Blood.

 

Zeus’s gaze lingered on me, contemplative—probably because I’d sided with the Romans despite being Greek. Across the room, Athena’s mouth tightened, visibly displeased at being corrected by a Roman.

 

“The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss!”

 

There was a beat of silence before Hades finally spluttered, his composure slipping. “You killed Alecto in one swing?”

 

At my side, Dad stiffened, his voice coming out formal and tight. “You sound angry, brother. Were you perhaps hoping for a different outcome?”

 

The tension sharpened instantly, the weight of the room pressing in. Even I knew Poseidon speaking like that was bad news.

 

Hades blinked, clearly startled by the edge in his brother’s tone. He opened his mouth to reply—then winced suddenly, jerking as if he’d been stung. Across the room, Thalia sat with her arms folded, her expression far too innocent to be genuine.

 

Hades shot her a look, muttered under his breath, then shook his head sharply, tone rushing to smooth things over. “No, no, of course not. I was merely surprised. That he managed it in one stroke. Even the greatest of heroes have struggled against a Fury. And this was Alecto—the most relentless of the three sisters. To cut her down so cleanly… that is no small feat.”

 

A ripple of reactions moved through the room. Some campers gawked like I’d just sprouted wings, Will gave a low whistle, Jason muttered something about it being “very Roman.” Nico, though, only looked at me with quiet pride and amusement; he was well aware of the feud between me and Alecto. The shadows shifted steadily around his feet.

 

“Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle… as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. ”

 

I shivered as that old, unwelcome sensation of being watched crept back over me, the adrenaline draining from my body in a rush. My strength faltered, and I slumped against Dad’s side.

 

He said nothing, only rubbed a steady hand along my arm, grounding me. But I was startled when a second hand rested lightly against my back.

 

It was Amphitrite. Her touch was calm, her palm moving in slow, deliberate circles along my shoulders, but her gaze held something more than comfort. She studied me with quiet intensity, the concern clear, but beneath it a searching kind of protectiveness—as if she was trying to understand every hidden wound I carried. I offered her a faint smile, grateful for her presence even as the weight of her attention pressed deeper than I expected.

 

“I was alone… Nobody was there but me. My hands were still trembling. The myths were real. But a sliver of doubt krept up my spin. Had I imagined the whole thing?”

 

My hands were trembling, so I folded them against my sides, hiding them from view.

 

As if he could feel it, Will rested a hand on my calf, his thumb drawing slow, steady circles. The grounding touch loosened the knot in my chest, and I shot him a grateful nod.

 

Then Artemis’s voice cut through the quiet. “You need to learn to trust your instincts, child. All of you must. You will not survive otherwise.”

 

The room shifted. Everyone—except Hera and Apollo—looked at her like she’d just said something unthinkable. Honestly, I wasn’t much better. Artemis had barely tolerated me until the whole holding-up-the-sky incident, and now she was… advising me? For the others, it was probably worse. Artemis wasn’t exactly known for giving guys anything other than glares and threats.

 

Noticing the incredulous looks, she continued, calm but firm. “While I am a protector of women, I am also a protector of children. All children. That includes every one of you, no matter your age.” Her silver gaze landed directly on Nico and me.

 

“My myths—though often warnings against men—are also warnings against harming the innocent. I am not blind to the fact that women can be just as cruel. This is why Apollo is guardian of young men. He is my counterpart.”

 

That explained why he wasn’t surprised.

 

“I went back outside. It had started to rain. A tingling sensation flooded against my cheek, reminding me of the claw raking against it earlier. But when I touched it, there was nothing. It made me think my lunch was contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.”

 

At the same time of Chiron reading it, the same feeling returned, but this time I knew what it was from, the rain was healing me. I brushed my fingers against my cheek, the injury was gone. 

 

Glancing around, it seemed most people looked relieved at my injury being healed. 

 

“Grover was sitting by the fountain, a… she said, “I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt.””

 

Silena spoke up, “Who?”

 

Chiron and I snorted and he read out. “I said, “Who?””

 

This caused all of the demigods to laugh, officially breaking the tense atmosphere.

 

“No! Now I’m thinking like Kelp-Head.” I smiled at her sweetly.

 

“Hey, there are worse things. You could be thinking like Delilah over here.” I jerked my chin toward Mr. D, catching almost everyone off guard.

 

The room froze for a beat before laughter burst out again, louder this time. Even Chiron tried and failed to hide a smile behind his hand.

 

Mr. D scowled from his seat, swirling his Diet Coke. “Yes, yes, very amusing, Payton. Let’s all mock the god who decides whether or not this little camp of yours continues to exist.”

 

“See?” I spread my hands, grinning. “Case in point.”

 

The laughter doubled. From across the room, Hermes shot me a sly, approving look — the kind only someone who’d spent centuries watching Mr. D butcher names could give.

 

““Our teacher. Duh!”... I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, “Who?””

 

All of the Greeks groaned while Grover bleated in embarrassment, his face reddening until he looked more goat than ever. The reaction earned him puzzled looks from the gods and the Romans.

 

“Grover can’t lie to save his life. He can act, sure, but if you actually ask him to lie, you’re doomed.” Beckendorf explained, grinning good-naturedly.

 

That grin didn’t stop Dad from leveling Grover with a sharp glare. Grover squirmed under the weight of it, tugging at his shirt collar nervously.

 

I quickly nudged Dad, leaning close to whisper, “Don’t be hard on him, Dad. It’s not his fault. There was a lot going on back then — not just with the Bolt going missing, but… what happened at the museum too.”

 

He held my gaze for a long moment, his stormy eyes softening just slightly before he gave a stiff nod of acquiescence.

 

Grover let out a relieved bleat, and I pretended not to notice.

 

Across the fire, Jason shifted, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. I caught him watching Poseidon — really watching him — as if committing the moment to memory. He didn’t say anything, but I didn’t miss the flicker of something in his gaze: maybe surprise, maybe envy, maybe the quiet acknowledgment of seeing a god actually listen to his child.

 

“But he paused first, and he wouldn’t look at me, so I thought he was messing with me. “Not funny, man,” I told him. “This is serious.” Thunder boomed overhead.”

 

Hestia let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible yet heavy enough to draw attention. Her expression softened with disappointment, not anger, but it was the kind that stung far worse. It was clear the reminder of Zeus’s temper and how it spilled onto mortals sat poorly with her.

 

Across the firelight, Zeus shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening. For once, the King of the Gods said nothing, though the silence pressed louder than thunder.

 

It seemed even he wasn’t immune to a sister’s disappointment.

 

“I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under… my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson.””

 

Hearing that, Triton growled, his voice low and sharp. “The sword belongs to the sea. You had no right to withhold it from him—or to keep it from the sea.”

 

Before his anger could swell, Poseidon lifted a hand, a gentle smile curving his mouth. “Peace, my son. It was I who entrusted the blade to Chiron. I wanted it kept safe until Percy found his way to camp. And I trust Chiron had his reasons for waiting.”

 

At that, Chiron nodded. “I did, I didn’t know how much he knew and I wanted to try and delay Percy being blamed for the missing Bolt as long as possible. I knew that he was most likely Poseidon’s son, I saw his cheek being healed and as proven, he was. 

 

Beside me, Amphitrite’s hand stilled against my back, her voice quiet but edged with concern. “Even so, he was left vulnerable. Without that blade, without knowing who he was… the risks were far too great.” Her gaze lingered on me, sharp with worry before softening, as though the thought of how easily things might have gone wrong weighed on her more than she wanted to admit.

 

I had a feeling she wasn’t going to like my entrance into camp.

 

“I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn’t even realized… He stared at me blankly. “Who?””

 

Travis let out a low whistle. “Now, Chiron… Chiron can lie.”

 

A ripple of agreement ran through the Greeks, campers grinning at each other like they’d just uncovered a shared secret.

 

Clarisse snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, but he couldn’t change the subject smoothly to save his life.”

 

That earned a round of chuckles. Even a few of the gods looked faintly amused.

 

Chiron’s brows drew together in a dignified frown, but there was the faintest upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t deny it, which only made the laughter grow louder.

 

““The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher.”... never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?””

 

Annabeth made a thoughtful noise, her brows furrowing. “Did the Mist really create an entire person? There’s no way it could sustain a full illusion for that long.” She spoke half to herself, but loud enough for the rest of us to catch.

 

Chiron paused, marking the page before gently closing the journal. “No, the Mist alone couldn’t manage that. I had a daughter of Athena on standby. We knew Mrs. Dodds was a monster—Grover alerted me, after all—but we couldn’t risk drawing suspicion too soon. The Mist simply shifted everyone’s memories, making them believe Mrs. Kerr had been there all along. According to the mist, she joined us officially after the first teacher’s… ah, breakdown.”

 

At the mention of one of her children, Athena’s lips curved in quiet pride, her eyes glinting as though the praise were hers as much as her daughter’s.

 

Notes:

Honestly the reading has kinda become a side plot at this rate, but oh well.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Echoes of Olympus