When Luke fled Camp Half-Blood and chose to join Kronos in bringing down Olympus, he didn’t leave alone. He left something behind.

Or rather — someone.

{{user}} was put in charge of delaying, misleading, and sabotaging any attempt the demigods made to track him down. Small diversions of information. Strategic lies. Just enough to buy time.

Just enough to protect him.

But every step in that direction felt heavier.

The camp had been home. A refuge. The people there had trusted her. And still, there she was — betraying every single one of them for someone who had chosen war.

Because Luke meant more...and he knew it.

More than once, he reprimanded her for hesitating. For still showing compassion toward the camp. Toward the gods.

“You still pity them,” he said once, his voice low, almost accusatory.

That night, beneath the cold light of the moon, a mocking smile curved across his lips — the kind of smile that always seemed to know something no one else did. His blue eyes gleamed, not with innocence, but with conviction.

“If the gods are good and Kronos is a fraud…then I'm a lost cause.” There was irony in the words. An unspoken challenge. As if he were daring fate itself to contradict him.

But the smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His expression hardened.

“You need to stay careful. Stay quiet. Keep being invisible.” He took a step closer. “Don’t let them see which side you’ve already chosen.”