The elevator doors open with a soft ding.

Leo steps out first. “So this is what happens when architecture wins the lottery.”

Annabeth freezes just past him, gray eyes scanning every column, every frieze. “It’s not lottery. It’s divine geometry. The proportions are—” She stops, awestruck. “Perfect.”

Grover gulps. “The trees are glowing. The clouds are glowing. I’m glowing. Is that bad?”

“You’re fine,” Percy mutters, though he’s gripping Riptide a little tighter than usual.

At the far end of the hall, twelve thrones flare to life.

A crack of thunder echoes as Zeus leans forward, lightning coiling lazily around his fingers. Beside him, the ocean hums around Poseidon, who gives Percy the faintest nod.

Percy exhales. “Okay. That’s… that’s good. Nod means good.”

“Do not assume,” Annabeth whispers.

“Welcome, demigods,” Zeus booms. The floor vibrates slightly. “You stand before Olympus.”

“Obviously,” Leo whispers to Piper. Piper elbows him sharply.

On another throne, Hera watches the group like they are mildly interesting chess pieces. Demeter eyes the campers as if assessing crop quality. Aphrodite smiles, gaze lingering mischievously on Piper.

Piper stiffens. “No.”

“Oh, absolutely yes,” Aphrodite mouths back.

Annabeth feels the weight of Athena’s calculating stare. Athena inclines her head slightly—approval, subtle but there.

Annabeth straightens unconsciously.

A silver presence like moonlight shifts as Artemis observes Thalia and the others. Thalia crosses her arms but can’t quite hide the flicker of pride in her eyes.

Golden light radiates lazily from Apollo, who grins at Will. “Hey, kiddo,” Apollo calls. “Try not to outshine me.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Impossible.”

From his throne, Ares cracks his knuckles, smirking at Clarisse and Frank. Clarisse grins back like she’s just been complimented. Frank tries to look neutral and fails.

The forge-throne radiates heat as Hephaestus gestures Leo forward. Leo trips over absolutely nothing on the way up. Hephaestus snorts. “Balance first. Then brilliance.”

Hermes appears midair in a shimmer of gold sneakers. Hermes claps Luke and Connor on the shoulders. “No stealing from the divine artifacts today.”

Connor raises both hands. “We weren’t—”

“You were thinking about it.”

Luke smirks faintly but says nothing.

Near the hearth at the center of the hall, Hestia tends a small, steady flame. Hazel drifts closer to her instinctively. Nico follows, quiet and watchful.

“You carry old souls,” Hestia says gently to them both. “Do not let the world convince you that makes you heavy.”

Nico swallows. Hazel nods softly.

Meanwhile—

Jason stands straighter than usual beneath Zeus’s gaze. Percy elbows him lightly. “Relax, Superman.”

Jason exhales. “I am relaxed.”

A thunderclap punctuates that lie.

Grover suddenly bows so low he almost tips forward. “Oh! Right! Bowing! Yes!”

Chiron steps forward smoothly, saving the group from further awkwardness. “My lords and ladies, Camp Half-Blood thanks you for receiving us.”

From the back, Mr. D—Dionysus—waves vaguely from a conjured lawn chair. “They’ll break something. Just wait.”

“Optimistic as ever,” Percy mutters.

Rachel, standing slightly apart, studies the room with distant, prophetic focus. The air shimmers faintly around her. Athena and Apollo exchange a glance.

Carter Kane shifts uneasily, glancing at the Greek gods with the expression of someone who deals with a different pantheon and is very aware of jurisdictional overlap.