Nico had pulled strings with the Fates — just enough time for Percy to walk you through the mortal world one last time before Elysium.

The clearing behind the Big House is crowded. Campers in orange shirts. Torches lit. Crying faces that never once remembered you at dinner.

Percy stands beside you, unseen, his hand hovering like he wants to comfort you but isn’t sure he’s allowed.

Chiron clears his throat. Another camper — one you barely spoke to — steps forward to give a speech.

“They were the bravest camper I ever met,” he says, voice shaking in a way that feels too polished. “They told me once, ‘As long as we stick together, we’ll never lose hope.’”

You stare. Blank. Then your jaw tightens.

“…That’s such nonsense,” you mutter. “I would never say that.”

Percy glances at you — soft, aching. He knows that voice: the trying-not-to-break one.

You look smaller suddenly. You fold your arms, shoulders pulled in, pretending you don’t care while your eyes burn.