I could feel the air growing lighter—so lovely. Water mingled within the very grains of the earth; even though it wasn't nearby, I knew it would arrive soon.
Damasen walked carefully behind me as we climbed higher and higher through the cramped cave, lit only by the glow of my own power.
"Meow," Ivory chirped irritably before leaping onto Damasen's head. She curled into a ball and promptly fell asleep. Over the past few weeks, she had decided that his head made the perfect resting place—large, stable, and convenient.
We had been climbing for a while now. The higher we ascended, the more strongly Tartarus pulled at us, as if trying to reclaim us. But then, finally, we crossed the hazy threshold between Earth and the pit. I knew we had made it—the ambience was too lovely to be anything else.
"I can feel the water," I said, giddy from the overwhelming sensations. "It's behind these rocks." I reached out, pressing my hand against the damp cave wall, feeling the moisture seeping through the soil and stone.
Damasen smiled, his eyes almost shining. "We've escaped… for real."
We continued our climb, and after a while, Damasen said, "Try to rein in your aura; it's leaking a lot. I know it's not something you've had to worry about before, but your powers will only grow stronger on Earth. After all, Earth is your home."
I glanced at him, trying to grasp his meaning. Controlling my aura? Was that even possible? Summoning my powers, I watched as a cerulean glow enveloped the crimson and gold light within me, twisting into intricate patterns. I could feel the energy pulsing—but how was I supposed to stop it from spilling out?
"How do I…" I took a sharp breath, struggling against the erratic surge of magic. "How can I stop it from leaking?"
"I don't know," Damasen admitted simply.
I stared at him. He doesn't know? How is that possible? He's a giant—the son of Tartarus and Gaea. How could he not know?
"It's never been something I've had to worry about," he continued. "I just will it, and it happens."
"Just will it?" I repeated, confused. Before I could dwell on it, I felt a tug from behind the wall. "Oh… there's a small body of water back there."
"Really?" Damasen asked, intrigued.
"Oh yeah, I can feel it," I said, pleased as the sensation grew stronger the higher we climbed. "It's pure water—so maybe it's just groundwater?"
Damasen shrugged. "We should be close. How deep is groundwater on average, anyway?"
"It varies," I replied, thinking back. "I remember Annabeth mentioning that in some places the water table can be found many kilometers below the surface… so yeah, it depends."
"Well, a few kilometers is nothing, I suppose," Damasen said. I couldn't disagree. After everything we had endured, a few kilometers felt insignificant.
After another twenty minutes of climbing, the air began to change. It was fresher, crisper. A new energy filled me. We were close. And then—finally—we saw it.
A light at the end of the tunnel.
"It's here…" Damasen murmured.
We quickened our pace, eager to leave behind the cave that had served as our road to paradise.
Whush!
A gust of wind ruffled my messy raven hair as my weary feet touched the grassy ground of the forest outside the cave. It was night, and stars were twinkling overhead. A strangled chuckle escaped my lips.
Damasen looked up, a wonderful expression lighting up his face. "I can see the stars…"
Ivory, reacting to the change in the environment, mewed and rubbed her skeletal face. She glanced around in wonder before leaping from Damasen's head onto mine.
I extended my hand, and the water in the air obeyed my will—pooling around my fingers, dancing in my palm, and swirling about my body. I swung my hand around and gazed up at the sky. This was paradise. Tears welled in my eyes as an almost hysterical laugh escaped my lips, as if I were still in shock that we had finally emerged.
I could feel everything. The sky was breathtaking, and water was everywhere.
"It's everywhere!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Air, land, trees—EVERYWHERE!"
Water enveloped us, and my body began to heal just by being here.
Ivory chirped excitedly, as if she were equally delighted by our escape. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her tightly.
"We escaped," I murmured softly, embracing her. "At last, Ivory."
"Meow," she chirped, nuzzling her cheek against my neck.
The forest we entered was so peaceful—I could hear the buzzing of insects and the rustling of leaves. There was a waterfall about 300 meters to the west. No oceans were nearby, but two rivers flowed gracefully. All these beautiful sensations overwhelmed me. My body was healing… slowly, painfully healing by itself, but I was already in enough pain that I didn't mind.
"Percy, there are—" Damasen suddenly began cautiously, but I cut him off, already knowing what he meant. I had sensed it even before escaping the cave, yet the beauty of this world had taken precedence.
"I know!" I exclaimed, still riding the high of our newfound freedom. "But we're free now!" I threw my arms up, lifting Ivory with me before playfully tossing her into the air. As she rose, I caught her midair by enclosing her in a floating bubble.
Ivory meowed, blinking in surprise before bouncing excitedly inside the bubble. I laughed heartily.
We're out!
"Percy, we are surrounded," Damasen repeated, concern evident in his tone. But honestly, I wasn't worried.
"I know, man. Twelve hunters," I chuckled, spinning to face him before pointing. "There, there—four over there—and a few more over there," I said, gesturing toward each of their positions.
Damasen stared at me, then rolled his eyes. "Why am I even surprised?" he muttered exasperatedly.
Ivory's bubble bumped against my head before popping, sending her tumbling onto me. She landed with a happy chirp, as if to say, 'Again! I wanna fly! It's my destiny!'
Whizz!
Suddenly, more than a dozen arrows shot toward us, as fast as bullets. Damasen stepped forward, ready to shield us. Ivory flinched slightly on my head. My eyes narrowed.
With a casual flick of my hand, I manipulated the water vapor around them, condensing and freezing the arrows mid-flight. The moment another volley was released, I unfroze the first batch and sent them back. They clashed midair with sharp clangs, shattering on impact.
A small chuckle escaped my lips at their impulsive assault. After so long in Tartarus, these attacks were, simply put, amusing at best.
These were Hunters of Artemis—I could feel it. Yet, strangely, I didn't recognize any of them. Perhaps they were new recruits sent to investigate the disturbance in the region. Damasen had mentioned I was leaking aura.
"Get down," I called, having no intention of fighting or harming the sacred Hunters of Artemis.
For a few seconds, there was no response. Then, I caught one of the Hunters discreetly signaling to the others. Slowly, they emerged from their hiding spots.
They were clad in camouflage shirts—a futile attempt at concealment when paired with silver parkas and jeans. Each wore an elegant silver circlet on their forehead, carried the signature bow of Artemis's Hunters, and had a quiver slung over their shoulder. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"New faces," I muttered, scanning each of them. Damasen looked around as well, staying close—relaxed, but ready to engage at any moment if necessary. "I haven't seen any of you before. You must be new recruits?"
Even as I spoke, a strange unease settled over me. Something was off.
"New?" One of the Hunters—a slightly older recruit, maybe seventeen—repeated sharply. "I have been in the Hunt for three hundred years—"
I frowned, the words taking an extra second to register.
Three hundred?
That… couldn't be right.
"Since the Fourth World War—"
The air in my lungs went still.
Fourth World War?
No. That made no sense. She must be confused. Maybe she meant the Second World War? Hunters weren't great with time, after all. I knew that.
My fingers twitched, curling into a fist at my side.
"Even before the Great Indo-Atlantic Flood and the Global Thousand-Day Storm."
A cold weight settled in my gut.
Indo-Atlantic Flood? Global Thousand-Day Storm?
I had never heard of those before.
My heartbeat picked up, thudding in my ears. This isn't right. My breathing became shallower.
What happened to the world?
The thought crept in before I could stop it.
How long have I been gone?
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm, to think. Maybe she was exaggerating. Maybe she was talking nonsense. Maybe—
My mind betrayed me, shifting to a different thought, one I really didn't want to face.
Is anyone from my time still alive?
Annabeth.
Her name whispered through my mind like a ghost, sending a painful jolt through my chest.
I tried to shake it off, but it was like pulling free of quicksand—the more I struggled, the deeper I sank.
Her face. Her stormy gray eyes. The way she smiled when she figured something out before me.
She was smart. She was strong. She had to be alive.
She had to be waiting for me.
Because if she wasn't—
I swallowed hard, looking down. My entire body was tense, coiled like a spring. I barely noticed the ground trembling beneath me. I barely felt Damasen place a steadying hand on my shoulder.
I focused on keeping myself in check.
I could feel the earth amplifying me. The water—the vapor in the air—was like a constant, infinite power source. It had always been there, but I'd never noticed how much it fueled me before. It was like a cheat code.
It also made me dangerously close to losing control.
"So, stranger," the Hunter spoke again, her tone sharp. She had noticed my shift in mood—everyone had. "Who are you? Who is the Giant? And what is that on your head?"
I looked up, about to answer, only to realize the Hunters were slowly closing in, their weapons drawn, bracing for a fight.
I tried to speak. But if I opened my mouth now, my powers might explode out of me.
I felt my eyes flicker—Cerulean, Crimson, Gold.
"I am Damasen," Damasen said simply, stepping in for me. I always appreciated how he knew exactly when to step up. "And this is Ivory." He pointed to the kitten still clinging to my head.
"The boy's name is Ivory?" one of the Hunters flanking us murmured in confusion.
"Weird choice," another muttered—earning an immediate glare from their leader for their obvious stupidity.
The mistake gave me a brief moment to breathe. The slip-up was almost funny.
"Ivory is the kitten," I corrected, my voice colder than I intended.
Ivory meowed, lifting her paws as if demanding they worship her.
My lips twitched slightly at her antics.
The forest was lucky it still stood. I was barely holding myself together.
I lifted my gaze to the lead Hunter and asked, "What year is this?"
I knew I would hate the answer.
But how late was I, exactly?
A murmur spread among the Hunters as they encircled us, their whispers rippling through the ranks like uneasy wind. Their confusion was clear—not just from my question but from the way I spoke, the weight in my tone. A few of them muttered about Damasen's name. None of them had heard of him before. That wasn't surprising; only a handful of Olympians likely even remembered he existed.
"You didn't say your name," the leader demanded sharply. There was a thin edge of worry in her voice, wrapped in the mask of authority. My tone must have unsettled her, the coldness of it.
"I am Perseus," I said, locking eyes with her. My fingers stroked Ivory's fur, grounding myself. "Now… what year is it?"
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. Then, she straightened, voice clipped. "I would mind my tone if I were you."
I barely heard her. The tension in the air was suffocating, but I could tell—she was afraid. They were afraid.
That didn't matter to me.
Finally, she answered. "It's 2837."
It felt as if my heart shattered into a million pieces.
Like a thousand needles piercing every inch of my body—each one dipped in the cursed waters of the Styx.
The world blurred. The trees, the Hunters, even Damasen beside me—none of it felt real anymore.
2837.
Over eight centuries.
Everyone must be gone. Annabeth, Grover, Nico, Chiron, Thalia—
Thalia.
A flicker of hope sparked in the abyss of my thoughts. "Is Thalia still the Lieutenant of the Hunt?" I asked, voice rough. "She must still be alive—she has partial immortality."
A few of the Hunters stiffened at the mention of her name. One even gasped.
That means she's still here.
A breath of relief rushed out of me, but it felt hollow—like grasping at mist. A single tear slid down my cheek. Someone was left. Someone who might still remember me, who might still recognize the name Percy Jackson.
I turned to Damasen. He met my gaze, and in his eyes, I saw understanding. He didn't need to say anything—he knew. He knew what this meant.
That everything I had fought for was dust. That my dreams, my promises, my world—everything—had slipped through my fingers like sand.
"I failed," I whispered, barely hearing my own voice over the rain. It was strangled, broken. "I'm late… too late."
The words tasted like ash.
My knees threatened to buckle. I wanted to sink to the ground, to press my forehead against the dirt and sob.
Damasen moved without a word, pulling me into a hug. The height difference didn't matter. The sheer weight of the moment did.
He didn't try to console me, didn't offer empty words or tell me it would be okay. And I appreciated that.
Sometimes, it was enough just to have someone there.
Ivory, still perched on my shoulder, nuzzled my cheek, her tiny skeletal face a sharp contrast to her warmth.
Swish.
An arrow whistled through the air.
A mistake.
A terrible mistake.
My body moved before I could even think, my grief snapping into something more primal, something volatile.
The arrow never made it. It shattered mid-air, exploding into hundreds of shards.
The sky darkened. The earth shuddered. The storm broke.
Rain pounded down in sheets, thunder rolling through the heavens like the growl of an angry god. Gales howled through the trees, the wind lashing against the Hunters like invisible chains. The very air hummed with raw power.
The vapor, the moisture in the air—I had never realized how much it amplified me before. The entire world felt like an extension of myself, like it was mine to command.
And I was done.
"NO MOVEMENT!" My voice cracked like a whip, rolling over the clearing. My power surged, pressing down on them like a tidal wave. The Hunters buckled under the weight, dropping to their knees.
I wasn't going to hurt them. I knew that.
But they weren't going to look down on me.
Not anymore.
"No one will fucking move," I growled.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the forest in sharp relief.
Damasen's hand landed on my shoulder—a steadying weight, grounding me. Ivory meowed softly.
I exhaled, closing my eyes, and let go.
The pressure lifted.
And then I broke.
I grabbed at my hair, my head dropping as a raw, anguished scream tore from my throat.
Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain.
"It's over," I choked out. "My life is gone."
I sucked in a shuddering breath, my voice barely above a whisper.
"…Annabeth."
The storm raged on.
And for the first time in a long, long time—
I had no idea what to do.
"Impossible," I heard one of the Hunters whisper, clutching her sister's arm like a lifeline.
"So much power…" another murmured, awe creeping into her voice.
Most of them remained motionless, still shaken by the force that had pressed them into the dirt moments before. They barely breathed, as if afraid even the sound of their voices might set me off again.
I didn't care. Not about their fear. Not about their whispered words.
Not right now.
The storm had begun to fade, the rain dwindling to sporadic drops that pattered against the forest floor. My chest rose and fell in slow, ragged breaths, but the weight in my heart hadn't lessened. If anything, it had only settled deeper.
I was spent.
Physically, mentally, completely drained. But the ache inside me—the loss—it didn't go away. It sat there, a hollow pit in my chest that no amount of exhaustion could dull.
Damasen's quiet presence beside me was grounding, his massive frame unmoving, waiting for me to decide our next move. Ivory curled against my neck, her small skeletal head nuzzling my cheek in quiet comfort.
Then, I met the lead Huntress's gaze.
"Take me to Artemis."
My voice was soft—softer than I intended—but the demand in it was unmistakable.
It was the only thing that made sense. I knew nothing of this new world. There was no one I recognized, no safe place I could turn to. The Olympians had to remember what I had done for them. And Thalia—Thalia was there. A familiar face in a world that had left me behind.
At the very least, Artemis might tell me if Camp Half-Blood still stood.
"You were going to take me to her anyway," I added, my voice flat.
After all, I must have seemed like an anomaly to them. A stranger emerging from nowhere, wielding power they couldn't understand, traveling with a skeletal kitten and a giant of legend—if our roles were reversed, I'd want answers too.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
The lead Huntress held my gaze, the emotions in her silver eyes unreadable—unease, wariness, wounded pride. Fear.
When she finally broke the silence, her voice wavered, just slightly.
"We will take you to our Lady," she said. "But don't try anything funny."
I let out a slow exhale and nodded. "Let's go."
At her subtle command, the other Hunters began to shift, tension still clinging to them like mist. One by one, they lowered their bows and sheathed their weapons.
The immediate danger had passed.
But the wariness lingered.
With one last wary glance in my direction, the lead Huntress turned, stepping forward.
And with nothing left to do but follow, we set off into the forest.
"How were you people waiting for us there?" I asked. I had a hunch—it had to be my mana leaking everywhere again—but confirmation wouldn't hurt.
"Lady Artemis sensed unusual surges in the region a few days ago," one of the Hunters said stiffly, as if even speaking to me was beneath her. "So she sent us to investigate."
I nodded. Yeah, that matches. My power had probably been spilling out all over the place. At least, for once, it had actually helped rather than made things worse.
My gaze flickered to the Hunter who had spoken.
"You're a daughter of Apollo," I noted. Then, shifting my eyes to two others, I added, "And so are you two."
I wasn't sure how I knew—I just did. Their presence carried a faint warmth, something reminiscent of the sun, familiar in a way I couldn't quite put into words. It was like… sensing a signature, a whisper of their divine parent in the way their energy pulsed around them.
None of them answered. But their widened eyes were all the confirmation I needed.
Interesting.
Then, I turned my attention to the one who had been leading them—the one whose authority had spoken louder than her words.
She felt different.
Like the ocean.
Faint, but unmistakable. The way she carried herself, the way the air around her moved—it was a presence I'd know anywhere.
"You a daughter of Poseidon?" I asked as we passed a red maple tree. At least, I think it's a maple. I'm terrible with trees.
Her eyes flicked to me, sharp as a knife. "No. Triton."
Ah. That explained it.
"Fair enough," I said simply. "You've got the sea in you, though."
It wasn't strong, nothing like the way I felt the ocean when I was near my dad, but it was there. A trace of salt in the air, a whisper of tides in the way she held herself.
She didn't respond. Instead, she muttered something under her breath—something that sounded a lot like idiot men and a handful of other classic Hunter insults.
Very mature.
Most of the journey continued in relative silence.
I had tried initiating small talk here and there, but, well… they weren't called the man-hating bandwagon for nothing. Most of my attempts were met with cold indifference, leaving me with no way to learn more about this strange new world.
At some point, Ivory curled up on my shoulder and dozed off, her tiny skeletal frame rising and falling with each breath. Damasen, proving he was the smartest among us, didn't even try to start a conversation.
By the time morning rolled around, we finally reached the edge of their campsite.
The place was… interesting. Tents and trees seemed to exist in harmony, as if the forest itself had accepted their presence. Makeshift tables sat beneath the canopy, a fire pit crackled at the center, and tents—some large, some small—were scattered across the clearing. A few were nestled against the trees, while others rested plainly on the ground.
A voice called out, more mature than the Hunters who had escorted me.
"Eirene, you back?"
I turned towards the speaker, my stomach twisting in shock.
Sixteen years old. Tanned skin. Athletic build. Dirty blonde hair. Stormy gray eyes.
Phoebe.
She was alive back then…
"Phoebe," I said simply.
Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing in recognition. Around us, the other Hunters froze. Their eyes widened—shock, confusion, maybe even disbelief flashing across their faces.
Then Phoebe's gaze darted past me, landing on Damasen. Her eyes flicked up to Ivory, still curled up on my head.
And then—
"Perseus Jackson…?"
Her mouth hung slightly open. Shock bled into her voice, stiff and disbelieving. She stared at me like she was seeing a ghost.
"How…"
I exhaled slowly. "Tartarus is a weird place," I said, keeping my tone as even as possible. "Time works differently there."
Phoebe hesitated for a moment before turning sharply to Eirene—the daughter of Triton.
"Go and call Lady Artemis. Tell her it's urgent."
Eirene nodded and took off, but Phoebe didn't wait. She stepped forward, eyes scanning me as if searching for some kind of trick or illusion.
Then—
SMACK!
"Owww!" I yelped, stumbling back. Ivory, rudely jolted from her nap, let out a disgruntled hiss and leaped onto my shoulder.
"Poseidon's beard! What was that for?!"
The Hunters who had escorted me flinched. I caught two of the Apollo girls clutching each other, clearly terrified that I was about to rain hellfire on them.
Phoebe, completely unfazed, just crossed her arms. "Just making sure it's really you."
I scowled, rubbing my cheek. It still stung. Violent people, these Hunters were.
She kept staring at me, disbelief still etched into her face. "This is unbelievable," she muttered, stepping back and running a hand through her hair. "How are you even alive?"
She turned toward the Hunters who had brought me here.
"Go. Bring everyone. Now."
Her voice was sharp, commanding.
The girls immediately complied, moving with urgency—though, judging by the way they practically sprinted away, they were also eager to get as far from me as possible.
I sighed, still rubbing my cheek.
Yep. Definitely violent.
A few seconds of awkward silence.
Then, I felt it.
The air grew thick with divine energy, crackling with something ancient and powerful. The trees leaned ever so slightly, their branches bending in a direction I hadn't even looked at yet. But I already knew.
She was coming.
I turned toward the presence just before Artemis stepped into view. Phoebe followed my gaze but said nothing, still stuck in a state of disbelief. Not that I blamed her. If I were in her position, I'd be shocked too.
…The slap was still uncalled for, though.
Artemis appeared as she always did when blending in with her Hunters—somewhere between fourteen and sixteen years old, her auburn hair braided into a crown, secured by a delicate silver ornament. Her hunting attire was as silver as ever, which didn't seem like the best camouflage, but… she was the Goddess of the Hunt. If anyone could make it work, it was her.
Eirene trailed behind her, looking almost smug, like she was expecting something terrible to happen to me. She definitely already told Artemis everything.
The goddess didn't look at me immediately. Her sharp silver gaze landed on Damasen first, narrowing ever so slightly at the sight of the giant. She didn't flinch, didn't falter—just assessed. Then, her eyes finally met mine.
For the briefest fraction of a second, I saw it.
The slight widening of her eyes.
Shock.
"Perseus Jackson," she said, almost gravely. Her voice was even, but there was a weight of disbelief she didn't bother to hide. "W—How... son of Poseidon..."
Phoebe, standing just off to the side, gave her a look. A subtle but unmistakable Can you believe this piece of shit is actually alive? expression.
Ivory, still perched on my shoulder, stretched, yawned, then climbed onto my head—clearly deciding this was prime seating for what she probably considered a live reality TV show.
Within minutes, the rest of the Hunters arrived.
Some of the older ones—girls whose faces I vaguely remembered but whose names I had long since lost—murmured in recognition. The younger ones, whom I had never met before, whispered among themselves.
I caught snippets of conversation.
"That's him..."
"Perseus Jackson?"
"The hero of the great wars?"
"The tragic hero..."
…That was how I was remembered?
Well. Not inaccurate. Falling into Tartarus twice was pretty tragic.
I cleared my throat. "Uh, well," I started, shifting under the weight of fifty-plus Hunters and their immortal leader all staring at me. I pointed at the skeletal kitten still lounging on my head. "This is Ivory."
Ivory meowed in affirmation.
"And this," I gestured to Damasen, "is Damasen."
Artemis' expression barely shifted, but something in her gaze sharpened.
"Damasen…" she murmured, almost too softly to hear. "The Lydian Giant… killed by his own mother."
So, she had heard of him. That was something, at least.
Then, her silver eyes snapped back to me, glowing faintly.
Gods, was that an eye-outburst? It wasn't like she shouted or anything, but they were definitely glowing, so—yeah. Eye-outburst.
"How are you alive, Perseus Jackson?"
I hesitated for just a second.
"When I was last… well, up—during the fight against Gaea," I started, trying not to let my voice waver as old memories clawed their way back up. Annabeth. Nico. Leo. Frank. Hazel. Jason. Piper. Reyna. Their faces blurred together, but the ache remained.
"She opened the fissure beneath me and sent me to Tartarus."
"Yes, she did," Artemis said bluntly.
…Okay. A little too blunt.
No That must've been terrible? No Are you okay? Just a cold confirmation of facts? Rude.
"Continue," she said.
Only then did I notice that her bow was in her hands. Not just held idly—ready.
She was still gauging me. Watching for the slightest slip.
I sighed. "Oh, for Hades' sake—" I threw up my hands. "Fine. I swear on the River Styx that I am the real Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon and Sally Jackson, one of the heroes mentioned in the Great Prophecy and the Prophecy of Seven."
Thunder boomed overhead. Loud. Definite. True.
Artemis' grip on her bow loosened. Only slightly, but I caught it.
I personally had very little respect for River Styx Oaths. Gods like Zeus and my dad had broken them brazenly—Thalia and I were proof of that. And after my lovely little meeting with Lady Styx herself in Tartarus?
Yeah. No respect, no fear.
But hey, if it got the goddess in front of me to chill out, I wasn't complaining.
"I fell into Tartarus," I continued. "And I've been there for… two to five years, maybe? But time works differently down there, and now…" My voice cracked slightly.
I forced myself to push through it.
"Now, I found a way out. But centuries have passed up here."
I scanned the crowd. Looked past Phoebe, past the unfamiliar faces, searching for the one person I most wanted to see.
"Where's Thalia?"
Artemis stiffened. The reaction was small, but noticeable.
"She is on a minor hunt with a small party," she said, tone clipped.
I exhaled—relieved, but disappointed all at once.
"Come," she said, dismissing the rest of the Hunt with a glance before turning back to me and Damasen. "We will continue this discussion inside my tent."
She led us inside—larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, its space warped by magic. The spoils of countless battles decorated the interior: a Nemean lion's pelt draped over one side, manticore spikes lined up like trophies, the severed head of a Hydra preserved in a display case, and many more relics of conquest.
At the center of the tent stood a sturdy wooden table. Artemis took a seat on one side, her expression unreadable.
Damasen and I sat across from her.
The last time I was here… Annabeth had been kidnapped.
Everything in this place pulled my mind toward my Wise Girl.
I glanced around, trying to shake off the memories. The deep red fabric, the silver constellations embroidered across it, the delicate moon-shaped trinkets swaying gently in the air.
Around us, countless trophies from past battles were displayed—a testament to the strength of both the Hunt and their goddess.
"You should go to the camp," Artemis said, her silver eyes sharpening slightly. She had that usual confident expression—the kind that should have looked almost adorable on a fourteen-year-old, yet somehow radiated authority instead.
"The camp?" I asked, my ears perking up. Yes, I wanted to go. Chiron would be there. A familiar face. Maybe he could tell me what happened after I fell. "Where is the camp now? It can't still be in Long Island."
"No, it isn't," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're in luck. It's just a few kilometers north of here."
"A few kilometers north?" I echoed, feeling a wave of relief. Then another thought struck me.
"Wait… are we even in North America?"
Artemis offered a small, sad smile. That was all the answer I needed.
But the words she spoke next still hit me like a tidal wave.
"The world you knew is long gone," Artemis said, her voice steady as moonlight on still water. "Time has stripped away the names you once held familiar. The great continents crumbled, reshaped by war, disaster, and the passage of centuries. The world is now just land—claimed and divided by countless warring factions. The maps of old are meaningless. There are no nations, only scattered kingdoms clawing for dominance. Civilization has reset, reverting to a time before boundaries, before empires."
The words settled over me like a heavy fog.
Reality was still crashing down on me. Of course, I had already heard about the floods and catastrophes from the Hunters. But still…
I tried to process it, but it was like trying to catch the tide in my hands—no matter how hard I held on, it slipped right through.
Eight hundred years.
The world I fought for, bled for—gone.
Camp Half-Blood? Destroyed.
New York? Just ruins buried under centuries of history.
My mom… my friends…
Dust.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. There was no point in asking about them. I already knew the answer.
I forced down the rising panic and exhaled through my nose. "So what you're telling me is… I'm standing in some kind of medieval apocalypse? No modern world, no New York, no demigod summer camps—just warlords and crumbling cities?"
Artemis' gaze didn't waver. "Yes. The world has returned to a more primal state. The strong survive. The weak do not."
Ivory let out a small mew from her perch on my shoulder, pressing her tiny skeletal form against my head. Maybe she sensed my distress. Maybe she just wanted to be dramatic.
I don't really think she understood my inner turmoil… but her voice did add something to the moment.
"Well, I don't think you called the two of us in here," I said after a shallow breath, "just to tell us to go to camp."
Artemis' silver eyes sharpened.
"Only you will go to camp," she corrected, then turned to Damasen. "I have already sent a signal to Hermes. He will take you to Olympus."
"Olympus?" Damasen echoed, frowning. "May I ask why?"
Artemis lifted her chin slightly, exuding the effortless authority only a goddess could.
"You are the first Titan—or Giant, aside from the peaceful ones—to appear on Earth in the last eight hundred years. We cannot afford to take risks."
I felt my jaw tighten.
Of course. Now Olympus cares about risks.
"And what exactly will happen on Olympus?" I asked, my voice deceptively calm. Inside, I was seething. When we needed help with Titans and Giants, Olympus stayed quiet—let us fight and die. But now, when it's Damasen, suddenly they can't take risks?
Hypocrites.
"What kind of 'risk management' are we talking about?" I added, making air quotes.
Artemis' gaze flickered with irritation, but she didn't take the bait.
"Just basic oaths—swearing not to attack Olympus, not to conspire against the gods, that sort of thing."
"That doesn't seem like a big issue," Damasen said with a shrug.
I wasn't done.
"Were the peaceful Titans freed?" I asked, the memory of that promise—sworn before the gods themselves—burning in my mind.
For a moment, Artemis hesitated. It was brief, but I caught it. She froze. Like my question had hit something raw.
"Well…" she started, "Calypso managed to get out… with the help of that demigod, Leo."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"So she was rescued."
Damasen nudged me lightly, a silent warning to tread carefully.
But I was already past the point of caring.
"Not freed. Rescued." I repeated, my voice cold. "And what about the other peaceful Titans?"
Artemis' expression barely changed, but I could sense the tension in the air.
When she finally spoke, there was something guarded in her voice.
"They are…"
"Save it." The words came out sharp, cutting her off.
The storm inside me cracked open. Years of sacrifice, betrayal, and Olympus' empty promises surged to the surface.
"I bled for Olympus. I lost so much. So many friends. So many moments I can never get back. And the one promise Olympus made—the one thing they swore to do—they couldn't even keep that?"
Artemis' posture remained regal, but her expression hardened.
"You are treading dangerous ground, Perseus."
I took a step forward, my voice like the calm before a hurricane.
"Tell me, do they still shove unclaimed kids into Hermes' cabin too? Do they still let them rot there?"
Her eyes flashed. "Watch your tone."
I almost laughed.
"Why? Because I dared to question Olympus? Because I dared to expect them to keep their word?"
She didn't answer.
I took another step, my voice dropping to something dangerously close to a growl.
"Are promises this fickle to Olympus?"
A muscle in Artemis' jaw twitched, but she stayed silent.
I clenched my fists.
"I have lost everything." My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going. "I have nothing left. The world I knew is gone. And Olympus—Olympus is still playing the same old games? Still making rules for others while breaking their own?"
Artemis' face was impassive, but I wasn't fooled. There was something behind her gaze—guilt, maybe. Or something dangerously close to regret.
I turned to Damasen, gripping his massive hand, and then looked straight at Artemis. My voice was sharp as celestial bronze.
"If Olympus wants Damasen to swear oaths, then they'll come down to Earth and make them here. In front of me. Because he is my friend. And I don't trust Olympus not to screw him over, no matter what oaths he swears. If Zeus can't keep his own promises, why should he expect anyone else to?"
For a split second, silence filled the tent.
Then, with a surge of strength I didn't even know I had, I yanked Damasen forward and stormed out of the goddess's tent, dragging him with me.
Behind me, Artemis still didn't speak.
But I could feel her gaze on my back—cold and calculating, the weight of a goddess who did not take well to being defied.
I didn't give a flying fuck about her at the moment.
"We're going north," I told Damasen flatly, my anger still simmering.
I looked around the camp. Some Hunters were still around, busy with their tasks.
Honestly, I didn't care.
I was furious. I was livid.
Just as we were about to start moving, a flash of light split the air.
A middle-aged man materialized before us, dressed in jogging clothes, a tattered coat hanging loosely over his frame. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and his running shoes—complete with tiny wings—barely touched the ground. His eyes, filled with mischief, darted between Damasen and me.
Hermes.
His jaw nearly hit the floor. For a moment, he looked frozen in time. Then, composing himself with visible effort, he stuttered, "Per… Perseus?"
"In flesh and blood," I said testily, my blood still boiling from my conversation with Artemis.
Hermes winced. He wasn't stupid—he could easily put two and two together. I just left Artemis' tent, which meant my mood was most definitely her fault.
"I… uhm…" He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally settled on, "I have so many questions."
I sighed. Not in the mood.
"This is Ivory." I gestured to the skeletal cat draped lazily over my shoulder. She let out a sleepy meow in acknowledgment.
"And this is Damasen." I jabbed my elbow lightly into Damasen's side.
Hermes' gaze flickered with recognition at the name, but I didn't let him ask.
"Anything else," I said, nodding toward the goddess' tent, "discuss it with Artemis. I'm going north to camp."
I turned on my heel and walked away. No waiting for a reply. No waiting for a reaction.
Behind me, I heard Damasen scrambling to catch up.
Was my outburst at Hermes justified? Absolutely.
He was Olympus. His son was one of the most important figures in the Titan War, and yet he failed his own legacy by doing nothing.
All Olympians suck.
Even my father.
He'd forgotten his promises. They all had.
Within minutes, we left the Hunters' camp.
My aura wrapped around me like a thick cocoon, unknowingly pressing outward—keeping any lingering Hunters from even thinking about stopping me.
For nearly half an hour, the only sound was the crunch of fallen leaves under our feet.
I was in no mood to talk.
Damasen let me have my silence. Ivory, at some point, had fallen asleep. Lazy minx.
Then, finally—
"You fine?" Thud, thud, thud. For a few moments, only our footsteps filled the air. Then I spoke. "Not really. Livid, actually. Absolutely furious."
"Want to talk about it?" Damasen asked, his naturally rough voice somehow more reassuring than the sweetest words of any nymph or goddess.
Except maybe my mother. Sally Jackson.
I missed her.
So much.
How much had she grieved me? How much had I put her through?
How could I have done this to her?
To the sister I was supposed to have?
I'm such a terrible person.
And Annabeth…
How could I have done this to Annabeth?
"How…" My voice cracked. "Why… I fell… and how could I… Annabeth… Grover, Nico, my mother… how could I do this to them?"
Tears fell—slowly, painfully slowly—each one cutting through me like a blade.
I felt every single one.
My pace quickened just slightly.
Damasen remained silent. Just listening.
He probably wasn't used to dealing with someone like me. Someone who got angry at gods, who spoke to them like equals, who showed emotions on a whim. So moody—so broken.
I doubted he'd ever had to console anyone before me.
But his silence meant more than words could.
He understood my pain.
And I understood his understanding.
"And… despite everything…" I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
"Despite all of this, Olympus still can't fulfill some minimal requests? Are they really that shameless?"
I kept going.
I ranted.
Tired. Exhausted.
I survived Tartarus for what?
For this?
I have nothing.
Nada.
None.
The words echoed in my skull, repeating over and over like some cruel joke.
My fists clenched as I walked, my knuckles turning white.
How could this be it?
What was the point?
Tartarus—every drop of blood, every wound, every day I spent dragging myself through that pit—what was it all for?
To return to a world that didn't exist anymore?
To a home that was nothing but ruins?
I should've been relieved to be free. I should've been grateful for fresh air, for the sky, for the water in my veins surging like an old friend welcoming me back.
But all I could feel was emptiness.
Like I was still falling.
Like I had never really left.
The thought made my stomach twist.
Damasen stayed beside me, silent. His massive footsteps barely made a sound, even as he trudged through the forest, keeping pace with my increasingly aggressive strides.
I should've been grateful for that, too. For his presence. For his patience.
Instead, I felt like screaming.
Like letting loose a tidal wave so powerful it would flatten this entire cursed land, just so something—anything—would feel real.
Thud, thud, thud.
My footsteps were too loud in my ears. Everything was. The rustling leaves, the wind, the distant chirp of some insect I didn't recognize.
It was all wrong.
I swallowed back the burning lump in my throat and sucked in a sharp breath.
"I don't even know why I'm going to camp." My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Damasen didn't respond right away. He just let the words sit in the air, heavy between us.
"You want answers," he said finally.
I let out a bitter laugh. It came out sharper than I intended.
"Answers?" I spat. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go see what crumbs Olympus decided to leave behind for me."
Damasen exhaled through his nose. Not disapproving. Not judging.
Just listening.
I shook my head, my steps quickening.
"I should just leave," I muttered. "Go somewhere else. Find an island. Stay away from all this—" I gestured wildly at the dark forest, at the vast nothingness stretching out ahead of us. "What's the point?"
I hated how my voice cracked on the last word.
How weak I sounded.
I wasn't weak. I couldn't be.
I survived Tartarus. I survived more than any demigod in history.
And yet, right now, I felt so small.
"You could," Damasen said simply.
That made me pause.
I turned to him, blinking. "I—what?"
"You could leave," he repeated. "Find an island. Disappear. Never deal with Olympus again."
I opened my mouth, then closed it. That… wasn't the response I expected.
Damasen stopped walking. The sunlight filtering through the trees cast long shadows across his massive form.
"But would that be what you want?" he asked. His voice was calm. Unshaken. "Would that bring you peace?"
I clenched my jaw. "I don't know."
"I think you do," he said, "but you are afraid of the answer."
I tore my gaze away, staring into the darkened trees.
"I want Annabeth," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I want Grover. I want my mom. I want—"
I couldn't even finish the sentence.
Because what was the point?
Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them.
I had nothing.
No home. No camp. No future.
No one.
My chest tightened, my lungs struggling to keep up. The night air felt thick, heavy, suffocating.
I gasped, barely holding back a sob, but it was useless.
My legs shook, and before I knew it, I had sunk to my knees, fists buried in the cold earth.
"I can't do this," I whispered. My throat burned. My body trembled with something so much worse than exhaustion.
Damasen knelt beside me, his presence solid, unmoving.
He said nothing.
Because he understood.
He had lived centuries in loneliness, abandoned by his own kind.
He knew what it meant to have a fate ripped away from you.
His silence was comforting in a way words could never be.
For a long time, neither of us moved.
The moment stretched on, the trees around us indifferent to the battle raging inside me.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I inhaled sharply and wiped my face.
"I'm going to camp," I muttered.
Damasen didn't look surprised.
But as I forced myself to stand, as I brushed the dirt off my pants, I knew it wasn't because I wanted answers.
I wasn't going for closure.
I was going because I had to know.
If anything was left.
If there was anything worth staying for.
And if there wasn't—
Then maybe I really would leave.
Maybe I'd disappear.
Maybe I'd finally stop fighting for a world that had already forgotten me.
After a few hours of walking, we neared a place shrouded in divine magic. It was lovely—powerful, but not overwhelming. The air tingled with it, like a low current humming just beneath my skin.
And the sea… gods, the sea was close. I could feel it, churning restlessly just a few hundred meters from where we stood.
"We ought to be close," Damasen murmured, his fingers moving through the air as if trying to feel the magic itself. "The air is buzzing with this oddly divine energy."
"The Golden Fleece, maybe," I mused. But almost immediately, doubt crept in. Would it even still be at camp?
Thalia's tree must have been destroyed. And we weren't even in North America anymore. If the camp had been moved, then the Fleece wouldn't have had a purpose. Would they really have kept it? Would they have even been able to?
More likely, it had been stolen, lost, or simply forgotten over the centuries.
"…Or maybe not," I admitted. "I doubt it's still here."
"It feels more related to the domain of war," Damasen noted as we climbed a steep incline. The camp had to be just beyond this hill. Then, almost wryly, he added, "I can feel it—the domain I was ordered to burn."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah… so something related to war. Well, guess we'll have to wait and see."
"Halt!"
A voice rang out from below.
I looked down and spotted three kids standing near the base of the hill—probably fourteen or fifteen years old—wearing rudimentary chest plates. Two held swords, while the third clutched a spear.
They tried to look confident.
They failed spectacularly.
I could see the fear in their stances, the way their grips trembled, the slight hesitation in their eyes. Not that I blamed them—seeing Damasen approaching your camp would be enough to make most mortals turn and run.
Though, if I was being honest, I doubted my presence meant anything to them. Sensing auras wasn't exactly a skill every demigod had, and even if they could sense mine, it would take a miracle for them to recognize what they were dealing with.
Still, they weren't bad. Just… inexperienced.
"Sup," I said casually, waving a hand. "Is Chiron there?"
Startled by my greeting, all three of them visibly relaxed. They even loosened their grips on their weapons.
I grimaced internally.
That was bad. Way too bad.
If a fight broke out, these kids would get annihilated.
"Uh… yes," one of them said nervously. A raven-haired girl, her dark eyes flickering between Damasen and me. She was the one holding the spear—badly. The stance alone would make any proper spear user weep.
"Who… are you?" the second girl asked, stepping forward. Gray eyes, Camp Half-Blood shirt.
Some things never change.
Yeah. Definitely a daughter of Athena.
"State your name and business," she demanded, her tone carrying a familiar sharpness.
"Yes! Or be ready to be—" the last one, a younger boy with brown eyes, started to say, his voice high with nerves.
I cut him off. "Cut the dramatics."
Rolling my eyes, I got straight to the point. "Name's Percy Jackson. The sleeping beauty on my head is Ivory. And this guy?" I jerked my thumb at Damasen. "That's Damasen."
Their faces didn't register the names immediately.
I sighed. "Now, be a dear and call Chiron." Then, after a second, I added, "Tell him it's the last wielder of Anaklusmos."
That got their attention.
They turned to each other, whispering in frantic, messy conversation—overlapping words, hushed voices, heads close together.
Did Annabeth, Grover, and I used to do this, too?
Hunched forward, speaking too fast, talking over one another, ignoring half of what was said, but still managing to piece together a conclusion?
Damn.
At last, the three came to a decision: the gray-eyed girl would go get Chiron. Apparently, they figured that would be a smarter move than attacking an unknown enemy.
I nodded to myself. Maybe these kids weren't completely hopeless after all.
For a few seconds, awkward silence.
Then, deciding I didn't care enough to stand around like an idiot, I just sat down on the grass.
Honestly? It didn't matter where I sat anymore.
My clothes were already thoroughly ruined, and after going gods know how long without a proper bath, it wasn't like I had any standards left. No matter where I sat, I'd still be filthier than the ground itself.
It was honestly a miracle my face was still recognizable.
Phoebe had known me. So had some of the older Hunters, Artemis, Hermes.
Chiron would, too. Hopefully.
With a heavy thud, Damasen settled down beside me.
"It's been long since I sat on grass," he chuckled.
I smiled. It really had been.
Even longer for him. Way longer.
The two demigods still standing—the boy and the girl—just stared.
Wide-eyed. Speechless.
Like we were some kind of alien beings.
Understandable. I doubted they'd ever seen a Giant before.
Artemis had said Damasen was the first in the last eight centuries. His mere presence should have been enough to terrify them.
And judging by the way they were frozen in place, it clearly was.
"Yes, yes, we are very handsome," I said, looking at the two campers. "But you don't need to stare so brazenly."
Damasen choked, barely holding back a laugh.
The two campers, on the other hand, had an even funnier reaction—a mix of appalled and embarrassed. They tried to mutter excuses, but it only made the situation more hilarious.
Up on my head, Ivory stirred.
She let out a soft mew as she returned to the land of the living from her eternal nap cycle.
Blinking sleepily, she glanced around, spotted the wide-eyed demigods, and—with absolutely zero hesitation—jumped off my head and bounced toward them.
Cutely.
The two demigods flinched and immediately raised their weapons.
Ivory stopped mid-bounce, blinking at them with pure, innocent confusion.
I rolled my eyes. "She's harmless. Just curious."
And that's how, over the next five minutes, the two demigods were completely adopted as Ivory's personal worshippers.
Like, for gods' sake.
She folded them faster than Satyrs when they hear about Pan or see Artemis.
Jeez Louise.
By the time she was done, she had them petting her, feeding her snacks (definitely smuggled), and even playing catch.
Damn Ivory.
I chuckled, watching the scene unfold.
Meanwhile, Damasen sat beside me, lost in thought.
For a few seconds, there was only awkward silence.
Then, hurried hoofbeats broke the stillness.
Chiron was approaching fast, his upper body tense as he galloped toward us. The Athena kid struggled to keep up, practically sprinting to match his pace.
"Per—Percy?!" Chiron gasped, barely sparing Damasen a glance.
First one to do that, honestly.
I shrugged, a genuine smile forming as I looked at my old mentor—the trainer of heroes, the closest thing Camp Half-Blood had to a constant.
"Alive, in flesh and blood." Then, pointing at my completely ruined attire, I added, "Though, as you can see, I'm pretty filthy and not in the best condition."
I pushed myself up from the grass while Damasen stayed where he was, looking perfectly content.
In the distance, I noticed the Athena girl slowing to a stop, frowning as she watched her two friends fawning over Ivory.
After a second of hesitation, she begrudgingly reached out to pet her.
Good. Ivory folded another one.
Chiron's voice brought my attention back. "Percy…" He hesitated, then reached out, touching my head—physically checking if I was real. "How… after so long…"
I turned sharply as I felt two more presences approaching.
Phobos and Deimos.
Of course.
The two godly sons of Ares, both looking almost exactly as I remembered them. Last time I saw them, Clarisse and I had to kick their sorry asses for stealing Ares' war chariot. Real pieces of work, these two.
"Oh my," Phobos muttered, stopping short.
For a second, recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by something that almost looked like—
Fear?
Huh. Well, that's interesting.
"Perseus Jackson, how?" Deimos asked, flabbergasted.
"What are these two doing here?" I asked Chiron, ignoring the minor gods entirely. "Mr. D's shift must be over, so are they filling in for him, or is this some other complicated nonsense?"
Chiron's expression twitched. "Lord Phobos and Deimos have been… graciously sent by Lord Ares to help me 'manage' the camp."
His clipped tone told me exactly how well that was going.
"Well, that's nice," I said, throwing a sideways glance at the two gods. Poor campers.
I looked back at Chiron. "So, mind showing me somewhere to freshen up? It's been way too long since I've had a bath or a proper shower."
Chiron winced. "Yeah… let me take you to the Poseidon cabin."
His gaze finally shifted to Damasen. "What about him?"
Damasen, still lying on the grass with his eyes closed, gave a lazy wave. "I'll just rest here. Don't worry about me."
Phobos, still eyeing him warily, spoke up. "Is he… safe?"
"Yes," I said, but I gave him a sharp smile and added, "Though, if you ask nicely, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a bite."
Phobos opened his mouth, then shut it.
He decided to be the better man.
Couldn't be me.
Deimos just stared.
Shrugging, I followed Chiron as he led me through the camp.
The new Camp Half-Blood.
As we walked, Chiron gestured around, explaining the layout.
"That's the Meeting House—similar to the old Big House. Behind that is the farm area, mostly citrus since they grow well in this region."
I listened, nodding absentmindedly, but my mind was already spinning.
Camp felt… full.
There were more campers than I ever remembered. The place was bustling, crowded—so much more alive than it had been in my time.
I guess it makes sense. Camp was year-round now, and with the world divided into territories, factions, and kingdoms, demigods needed a safe place more than ever.
It was all so strange.
Chiron had tried explaining it, but honestly? I barely understood half of it.
It just felt… ridiculous.
Finally, we stopped in front of Poseidon's cabin.
"Percy, a small heads-up," Chiron said before I could step inside. "You have two siblings now. A young girl, barely six, and a boy around sixteen."
I shrugged. "Nice to know, I guess. I wouldn't mind siblings."
Chiron gave me a sad smile. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "Let's talk later in the evening. For now, rest and relax. If you get hungry, you can grab food at the dining area."
I stayed silent, my gaze drifting to something else—
A fountain.
It stood alone, a few meters away, positioned at the center of the Olympian cabins.
Water arched gracefully into the air, cascading down in mesmerizing patterns, the liquid catching the fading sunlight like shattered glass.
Beautiful.
Peaceful.
Untouched by time.
"Beautiful fountain," I murmured. I hope my life mirrors it, just a little.
Then, without another word, I stepped forward, pushed open the door to Poseidon's cabin, and entered.
"Hey, who are you?"
I turned toward the voice and saw the boy Chiron had mentioned.
Sixteen, sea-green eyes, a resemblance to Poseidon—though his reddish hair made him stand out, especially against the overwhelmingly blueish-green interior of the Poseidon cabin.
He looked me up and down, then scrunched his nose.
"Man, you are filthy. Don't you know how to bathe?"
I chuckled. "Name's Percy. You must be my half-brother. Chiron mentioned you. What's your name?"
"Linus," he said, still eyeing me warily.
I glanced around and spotted the six-year-old sister Chiron had mentioned, fast asleep on a bunk, a book covering her face.
Linus followed my gaze. "Her name is Aurora."
"Got it… Wait." I squinted at him. "Your name is Linus? Flaxen-haired?"
I pointed at his obviously red hair.
He turned slightly red himself. "Don't question it. Apparently, my hair looked more blond-ish when I was born."
"Cool, I guess."
My eyes landed on something way more important.
A Camp Half-Blood shirt.
Exactly what I needed.
I walked over to the supply area, where the shirts and pants magically replenished every week, and grabbed a fresh set.
"Gonna take a shower. Might take a while. It's been years since I last bathed."
I turned toward the bath area and started walking.
"Wait, years?" Linus called after me.
But I'd already shut the door.
The moment I turned on the water, I almost groaned in relief.
Finally.
I stood under the stream, letting the warm water wash away months—no, years—of grime. The dirt, the blood, the exhaustion—all of it melted away, swirling down the drain in murky streaks.
I barely remembered what clean felt like.
For the first few minutes, I just stood there, eyes closed, feeling the steam unclog my sinuses and the water loosen the tension in my muscles.
I scrubbed myself down at least four times, just to be sure, before finally stepping out, wrapping a towel around my waist.
A mirror hung on the wall, and for a second, I almost didn't recognize myself.
My hair, darker than ever, stuck to my forehead in damp waves. My face looked sharper, more angular than I remembered. There were new scars—ones I didn't even know I had.
And my eyes…
They looked tired.
Not just exhausted—hollow.
Like someone had taken something out of me and never bothered to put it back.
I exhaled, shaking my head. No point dwelling.
I pulled on the fresh Camp Half-Blood shirt and jeans, rubbing my fingers over the soft fabric. The familiar orange color was a weird contrast to the unfamiliar version of myself in the mirror.
At least one thing in my life hadn't changed.
With a final sigh, I stepped out of the bathroom, toweling my hair dry.
Linus was still there, sitting on his bunk, tossing a small seashell between his hands. He glanced up, gave me a once-over, and nodded in approval.
"See? Told you bathing was worth it," he said.
I snorted. "Yeah, yeah. You try going years without one and see how you like it."
"Pass," he muttered.
Aurora was still asleep, her book now resting on her stomach.
"Is she always that heavy of a sleeper?" I asked, nodding toward her.
Linus shrugged. "Pretty much. She'll wake up when she's hungry, though."
"Smart kid."
I grabbed my old, ruined shirt and looked at it for a moment before tossing it into the trash. That thing had seen too much.
Linus watched me for a second before saying, "So… where have you been?"
I paused.
Right. That question was inevitable.
"I'll tell you later," I said, stretching. "Long story. Too long."
Linus frowned but didn't push. Smart kid, too.
Just then, a loud horn blast echoed through the camp.
Dinner time.
My stomach growled on cue. I needed food. Desperately.
"C'mon," Linus said, already heading for the door. "Might as well introduce you to everyone properly."
I sighed, rolling my shoulders. Great. Socializing. Exactly what I wanted.
Still, I followed him outside, stepping into the cool evening air.
And just like that, for the first time in centuries, I was about to sit down at a Camp Half-Blood dinner.