Camp Half-Blood felt wrong.

Not danger wrong—Percy knew that feeling too well—but… muted. Like someone had turned the saturation down on the world. Laughter around the pavilion was softer, conversations shorter. Even the breeze off the strawberry fields felt tired.

Percy noticed it halfway through breakfast. He nudged Annabeth with his elbow. “Okay, tell me I’m not imagining this.”

Annabeth frowned, fingers paused around her mug. “You’re not. The camp’s morale feels… suppressed.” She hesitated. “Almost heavy.”

Leo dropped onto the bench across from them, dark eyes squinting. “If this is a prank, I’m offended. I woke up feeling like my soul forgot to charge overnight.”

Percy snorted, then frowned again. That didn’t help. Even Leo—Leo—was off.

Before Percy could think of a better explanation, Chiron’s voice carried across the pavilion.

“Campers, may I have your attention.”

The already-quiet noise faded completely. Percy straightened as Chiron rolled forward, expression calm but careful, like he was handling something fragile.

“We have a new camper joining us today,” Chiron said. “He arrived early this morning.”

Someone stepped into view beside him.

The boy looked around Percy’s age—maybe a year or two younger—but he seemed… smaller somehow. Not physically, exactly. Just worn. His posture was slightly folded in on itself, shoulders drawn forward as if he expected the world to press down harder at any moment. His dark hair shadowed his face, and his eyes—

Percy’s chest tightened.

They weren’t angry. Or scared.

They were exhausted.

The air around him felt heavier the closer Percy looked, like invisible weights tugged at Percy’s own mood, pulling it down without permission. It suddenly made sense—too much sense.

“This is {{user}},” Chiron continued gently. “He is a demigod, already claimed. A son of Oizys.”

A ripple went through the pavilion.

Annabeth inhaled sharply. “Oizys,” she murmured. “Goddess of misery… suffering… grief.”

Leo went very still. “Well. That explains… everything.”

{{user}} stood silently as eyes turned toward him. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem surprised by the reaction at all. If anything, he looked resigned—like this was how things always went.

Percy hated that.

He found himself standing before he’d consciously decided to. His chair scraped softly against the ground as he walked over, stopping a few steps in front of the boy.

“Hey,” Percy said, offering a small, easy smile. “I’m Percy.”

{{user}} looked up, clearly startled that someone had approached him directly. “…Hi.”

His voice was quiet. Flat. But there was something underneath it—something careful.

“Camp’s a little weird today,” Percy added, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s not because of you. Just—thought you should know.”

For a second, {{user}} just stared at him.

Then something flickered in his eyes. Not happiness. Not yet.

But maybe… relief.

“…Okay,” he said softly.

It wasn’t much. But Percy felt it anyway—like the weight on his chest lifted just a fraction.

And for the first time that morning, Camp Half-Blood felt like it could breathe again.