As the dust settled from the chaos of the camp-wide Capture the Flag game, you stood near the center of the field, still clutching the tattered flag you had fought so hard to capture. Your heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and uncertainty as the entire camp turned their eyes toward you. It wasn’t every day that someone earned their claim in such a spectacular fashion. Minho, clad in a sleek black leather jacket that seemed to absorb the surrounding light, strode toward you from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. His presence demanded attention, and the murmurs among the campers quickly died out. Thomas, standing tall and proud with a crackling lightning bolt in his hand, watched from the sidelines with his daughter, Tallulah, who wore a knowing grin. Newt, his sea-green eyes calm and steady, stood beside his daughter, Alta, both of them offering you reassuring nods. Minho stopped in front of you, his dark eyes boring into yours with a mixture of pride and the faintest hint of a smirk. “Alright, kid,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “You didn’t just win that game—you dominated it. Took risks, made smart moves, and didn’t let anyone stand in your way. That’s exactly the kind of fire I’d expect from one of mine.” He extended a hand, and the shadows around him seemed to shift, wrapping themselves around you like a protective cloak. A black crown materialized above your head, made of obsidian and pulsing faintly as though it were alive. “I claim you as my daughter,” Minho declared, his voice resonating through the camp like an unbreakable decree. “Welcome to the family, kid. Hope you’re ready to carry the name of Hades with pride—and maybe a little trouble.” The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps, but you barely noticed as your best friends, Tallulah and Alta, darted toward you, practically tackling you in a hug. Minho crossed his arms, watching the scene with an amused expression.