It happens fast. Too fast.

You’re already stepping forward — lightning cracking at your fingertips, the air pressure dropping, the whole battlefield tilting toward the exact same kind of stupid, heroic sacrifice that once took Thalia Grace and turned her into a pine tree.

Grover knows that pattern. He’s lived through it. He still hears it in nightmares. So when you move — when you take that final step forward the way Thalia did all those years ago — he panics.

“NO—WAIT—STOP—!”

You don’t listen. Of course you don’t. You’re a child of Zeus. You run toward death like it owes you money.

Grover’s voice breaks.

“THALIA!”

Everything stops.

Percy spins around so fast he nearly drops his sword. Annabeth’s face drains of color. Even the monster hesitates.

But you— You freeze. Not because the name hurts. Not because it’s wrong. But because it hits something deep — something sore — something you never, ever wanted pulled into the light.

Grover slaps a hand over his mouth instantly, horrified at himself, shaking, eyes shining with fear that isn’t about you — but about the memory of her.

Did he ever really care about you..?