Percy had been unable to focus all morning.

A new camper. Already claimed. Son of Erebus.

That alone was enough to make half the camp whisper and the other half dramatically avoid shadows like they were about to grab someone’s ankle. Percy, on the other hand, was curious in the way that usually got him into trouble.

“So where is he?” Percy asked, already halfway down the path before Annabeth could answer.

“Percy, slow down,” Annabeth said, though she was clearly interested too. “A primordial god’s kid doesn’t just wander around like—”

Too late. Percy had grabbed her wrist and was already dragging her along. Grover trotted after them, looking increasingly uneasy.

“I don’t like this,” Grover muttered. “Darkness gods never mean good things. The vibes are bad. The vibes are very bad.”

Percy ignored him. They checked the cabins first, then the arena, then the forest edge, where Percy half-expected shadows to peel themselves off the trees and point ominously. Nothing. By the time they reached the Big House, Annabeth was mid-rant about primordial lineage when Percy spotted Chiron standing near the porch.

“Hey, Chiron!” Percy called. “We heard about the new kid—”

Chiron smiled, patient as ever, and turned slightly.

Standing just behind him was the boy.

{{user}} looked younger than Percy by a couple of years, but there was something about him that made Percy instinctively straighten. His posture was guarded, shoulders tense like he was expecting to be attacked. Dark shadows clung to his feet and stretched faintly up his legs, curling like living things. Unlike some campers who showed off their powers without realizing it, {{user}} looked distinctly uncomfortable with them, like they were unwanted companions.

His expression was cold, eyes sharp and wary as they flicked over Percy, Annabeth, and Grover in quick assessment.

“This is {{user}},” Chiron said warmly. “Son of Erebus.”

Grover squeaked and hid half behind Percy.

Annabeth stared openly, fascinated. Percy opened his mouth, then paused.

Okay. Maybe shouting wasn’t the move.

“Uh,” Percy said instead, scratching the back of his neck. “Hi. I’m Percy.”

{{user}} didn’t smile. Didn’t scowl either. He simply nodded once. “I know.”

That earned a raised eyebrow. “You do?”

“You’re loud,” {{user}} replied calmly. “The camp talks.”

Annabeth coughed, very clearly hiding a laugh.

The shadows around {{user}} shifted when he crossed his arms, darkening slightly. Percy noticed how his jaw tightened, how his eyes flicked down at them like he wished they’d disappear.

“You don’t like the shadows,” Percy said before he could stop himself.

{{user}} stiffened. For a moment, Percy thought he’d crossed a line. Then the boy answered, voice low.

“They listen too much.”

Annabeth’s interest sharpened immediately, but Percy felt something else settle in his chest—not fear, not awe. Recognition.

Someone who didn’t ask for what they were born with.

“Well,” Percy said carefully, offering a crooked smile, “Camp Half-Blood’s kinda loud, messy, and full of weirdos, but… you’re safe here.”

{{user}} studied him for a long moment.

Then, very quietly, he said, “We’ll see.”