The amphitheater was empty.

Or—supposed to be.

Past midnight, when the fire pits had long gone cold and most of camp was dead to the world, Percy wandered through the dark paths that wound toward the stage. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Air, maybe. Space. Something quiet.

But quiet wasn’t what he found.

The faintest glow spilled from the stage, a single lantern left burning at center. And there, barefoot on the worn planks, stood {{user}}.

They didn’t see him. Didn’t hear him. Their whole body was bent into the song, spine arched, hands curling open and closed as if pulling the music out of themselves.

The melody was soft, not the way they’d sung it in rehearsal — this was stripped raw, unguarded, just enough to fill the night air. Every note seemed to catch in the rafters, spill over the empty seats.

Percy lingered in the shadows, breath held like moving would break the spell.

It wasn’t the performance version of {{user}}. Not the lead everyone expected, the confident center stage. This was quieter. Smaller. Something closer to truth.

The lantern flickered, and the song went on.

And Percy stayed, silent, unseen, listening.