It was 2 AM on the Argo II, the ship slicing through a sheet of moonlit waves like it owned the whole sea. The night was quiet, calm—almost too calm. You lounged on deck with Leo Valdez, who leaned against the railing like some wannabe pirate captain, sparks of mischief practically glowing in his eyes. You waved lazily at a pod of dolphins vaulting beside the ship, their silver backs catching the light. It should’ve been peaceful. It was peaceful.

Until the ocean screamed.

The water below detonated like a bomb, and a monstrous shadow exploded from the depths. A Kraken—the Kraken—shot skyward in a wall of spray and fury, bellowing loud enough to make your bones vibrate. The whole ship lurched sideways as if the sea itself wanted to throw you off.

“Uh… surprise?” Leo winced, fumbling at the console. “Forgot to turn on the radar again.”

You barely had time to shout at him before a tentacle thicker than a redwood slammed across the deck, sending ropes, crates, and a couple of unfortunate toolboxes flying. The Argo II groaned as more limbs coiled around her hull, squeezing like it was popping open a can of soda.

Cue Percy Jackson bursting topside like a sleep-deprived maniac, armor strapped over pajama pants with little tridents on them. Riptide gleamed in his hand, and for one glorious second you thought, okay, we’re saved. Then a Kraken tentacle yeeted him across the deck and straight through a hatch. The sound of him slamming into something below echoed disturbingly loud.

Annabeth was next, sharp-eyed and furious, hair sticking out at wild angles from sleep. She rolled under a swinging limb and was already shouting orders—half battle strategy, half Panic.

Meanwhile, Jason Grace was blissfully unconscious in the infirmary, healing from that whole “impaled” situation, because apparently the universe thought he’d earned a night off. Frank Zhang was manning the helm with the panic of a man trying to parallel park during rush hour while a godzilla-sized calamari tried to murder him.

Hazel, poor Hazel, hadn’t made it past the bathroom. Every lurch of the ship turned her seasickness into full-on Kraken-sickness. The muffled retching did not inspire confidence.

Then came Coach Hedge, storming out like he’d been waiting his whole life to beat up a sea monster. Piper trailed behind him, wide-eyed, half-prepped for charmspeaking and half just what the actual Hades is that?! The satyr froze at the sight of the Kraken, gripping his baseball bat like it was going to make a difference against thirty-foot tentacles.

You, meanwhile, were in a life-or-death wrestling match with Leo. He darted from button to lever to dial, muttering nonsense about “radar switches” while tentacles slammed dangerously close, ripping sails and snapping masts like twigs. You yanked at his arm, trying to drag him back from the console.