The sun poured over the valley, warm and golden, catching on the rows of strawberries until they shimmered like tiny rubies in the fields. It was the kind of light that felt intentional—almost divine. Someone had told {{user}} it was Apollo’s doing, and somehow… that didn’t feel like a joke.

Apollo.

The name echoed in her mind more often than she’d like to admit.

Just a few weeks ago, she had been normal—or at least, what she thought was normal. A regular teenager with messy thoughts, dyslexia that twisted words on a page, and ADHD that made the world feel too loud, too fast. Her mom used to call her “imaginative” whenever she swore she saw things—strange animals lurking where they shouldn’t be. But then one of those “imaginary” creatures attacked her.

And everything changed.

A boy with goat legs—actual goat legs—had been the one to save her. Panicked, breathless, and way too casual about the whole thing, he had dragged her to safety and told her something that shattered everything she thought she knew: She was a demigod. Now, Camp Half-Blood was her reality. The place buzzed with life in a way that felt chaotic but alive—like every corner held a secret. Kids sparred with swords in the distance, others practiced archery, and somewhere nearby, laughter erupted from a group gathered by the cabins. The air smelled like pine trees, sun-warmed earth, and something sweet from the strawberry fields. {{user}} still felt out of place. She hadn’t been claimed yet. No glowing symbol, no godly parent stepping forward to say “you’re mine.” Just… waiting. Watching. Trying not to feel like everyone else already knew where they belonged. And then there was him.

Percy Jackson.

She had heard his name before she ever saw him. Everyone at camp talked about him—the boy who had gone on impossible quests, who had fought monsters most campers only read about, who had somehow survived things that should have killed him ten times over. A legend. Which made it all the more surprising when she first saw him. He didn’t look like a legend. He was standing near the edge of the training arena, talking to a few other campers, his posture relaxed like he didn’t carry the weight of all those stories. Dark hair, sea-green eyes—eyes that, for a brief second, flicked toward her. And paused. It wasn’t dramatic. No music, no sudden realization. Just a moment—quiet, almost curious—like he was trying to place her. Like he noticed her.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind her, snapping the moment. “You’re new, right?”