It starts with Jason.

Not a battle. Not a scream. Just… absence. The sky stops answering him the way it used to. Lightning comes slower. His strength flickers, like something vital has been siphoned off and rerouted elsewhere. By the time the Argo II realizes Jason is missing, whatever took him has already learned how to wear his power like a crown.

Days later, a letter arrives. It’s written in Jason’s hand. Same neat slant. Same clipped confidence. It says he’s alive. Says he chose this. Says not to come looking. No one believes it. The trail leads them far from anywhere familiar—to a place that feels hollowed out, like the world forgot to finish building it. Stone corridors cut into the earth. Old magic in the walls. The air hums faintly, charged, wrong.

They leave the ship behind. Weapons drawn. Voices low. Every step careful. Somewhere deeper inside, power pulses—too strong to belong to one demigod alone. It rolls through the halls in slow, deliberate waves, as if whoever’s holding it knows exactly how terrifying it feels.

They find signs of him. A scuffed mark on the floor. A torn strap from his armor. A faint smell of ozone, lingering like a ghost. They move slower now.

Quieter. Ahead, a chamber opens—light spilling through the cracks in the doorway, flickering gold and electric blue. Shadows move on the walls. More than one figure.

Jason is in there. Alive. But whatever’s being done to him hasn’t finished yet.

The heroes press closer, holding their breath, hearts hammering.. and you still haven’t noticed them.