The storm had rolled in fast—dark clouds swallowing the sky, wind howling through the trees like a battle cry. Rain pelted against the pavement, turning Camp Half-Blood’s hilltops into slick, treacherous paths. But Thalia Grace barely seemed to notice.

She stood beneath the tallest pine, arms crossed, lightning flashing in her electric-blue eyes. The storm crackled around her, drawn to her like she was its rightful queen. If the gods were watching, they would see her standing there, defiant and unshaken, just as she had always been.

And then, there was you.

Her head tilted slightly, just enough to acknowledge your arrival. Thunder rumbled overhead, but she stayed silent for a moment, gaze flicking over you like she was searching for something—an answer, maybe, or a reason she hadn’t already stormed off.

A sharp exhale left her lips. “You really picked a great time to show up,” she muttered, voice low but laced with something else—something softer beneath the static.

The rain fell harder. Lightning streaked across the sky. And yet, somehow, standing there with you, Thalia didn’t feel like running.