The forest was thicker here — not just with trees, but with weight.

Even the air seemed to hesitate. No birds. No wind. Just the crunch of their boots and the sound of Grover’s anxious breathing.

Percy slowed first. He didn’t know why — only that the shadows were… different. Like the world had stopped to listen.

Annabeth was ahead, map half-unrolled, mumbling to herself. “There should be an entrance somewhere near here. A crossing point — or a boundary line. If Hades really is hiding something, we’ll find—”

“Wait,” Percy cut in.

She turned, brows drawn. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Just lifted a hand, tilting his head slightly. The woods had gone utterly still, as if they’d stepped off the edge of something living.

Grover’s voice was small. “You guys feel that, right?”

The satyr’s ears twitched, nose scrunching up. “It smells like… stone. And fire. And—” He blinked hard. “Like someone’s already been there.”

Percy stepped forward before he could stop himself. That’s when he saw you.

You stood just a few feet away, half-shadowed by the dying light. There was something off about you — not wrong, just out of place, like a word that didn’t belong in a sentence but changed its meaning entirely.

Your eyes were calm. Too calm. And your expression — not cruel, not kind, just… knowing.

Annabeth caught the movement and froze beside him. “Who—”

“I don’t know,” Percy murmured, barely breathing the words.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. Just tilted your head, watching them like you’d been expecting this exact moment for a long, long time.

Something deep in Percy’s gut twisted — that quiet, ancient warning that always came before monsters or gods or choices that couldn’t be undone.

Grover whispered, “Guys… I think they know something.”

Percy nodded slowly. His hand fell to the hilt of Riptide — not to draw it, but to remind himself it was there. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think they know exactly how to get to Hadestown.”