Camp Half-Blood had become a stage.

Everywhere, voices rose in eerie unison — campers leaning from cabin windows, standing on the green, faces tilted skyward like they were answering to something higher. The music throbbed through the ground, through the air, through them.

The core group moved fast, shoulders brushing, eyes darting to every new chorus that started up.

Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Jason Grace, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque, Will Solace, Nico Di Angelo, Grover Underwood, Chiron and Mr D

“We have to get out of here,” Annabeth hissed, dragging her hand through her hair. “Before it spreads further.”

“No.” Percy’s voice was sharp. “Not without {{user}}. Where are they?”

Nico scanned the horizon, pale and tense. “They weren’t in their cabin. I checked.”

“Then we keep looking,” Jason said firmly. “Split up, we—”

“No splitting up.” Chiron’s voice cut across, grim. “We move together.”

So they did. Through the strawberry fields, past the amphitheater where dozens sang in perfect, horrifying harmony. Their footsteps crunched over gravel, over grass, over sound that refused to break.

And then —

“There!” Hazel pointed.

You stood by the Big House, still as stone, arms loose at your sides. Relief hit them like a wave.

“There you are,” Grover breathed, already stumbling forward. “Gods, we thought—”