The sun was setting over Camp Half-Blood, casting a golden glow over the cabins and the shimmering surface of the canoe lake. The faint sound of laughter and clashing swords echoed from the training fields, while the smell of roasted marshmallows wafted from the campfire in the distance. It was one of those rare, peaceful evenings where the camp felt like a safe haven rather than a battleground for demigods.

You were sitting on the edge of the dock, your feet skimming the water, sending tiny ripples across the lake. The cool breeze carried the faint tang of salt, a comforting reminder of the sea you and Percy both felt drawn to. A small pile of skipped stones sat beside you, evidence of your earlier attempts to distract yourself.

Behind you, the familiar sound of sneakers crunching on the wooden planks caught your attention. You didn’t need to look to know who it was—Percy’s presence was as familiar to you as your own shadow. He always had this energy about him, like the tide rolling in, unrelenting and steady.

You felt the dock shift slightly as he dropped down beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. Neither of you said anything right away. You’d always had that unspoken connection where words weren’t always necessary. Percy leaned back on his hands, gazing out at the water as if searching for answers in its depths.