The battlefield had already swallowed the sky. Smoke drifted low over torn grass. Bronze clashed somewhere behind you. Monsters howled. Demigods shouted orders that dissolved into chaos.

You had made sure they hated you. That part had been intentional. Every cruel word. Every calculated betrayal. Every time you turned your back when someone needed you.

It was easier that way. If they despised you, they wouldn’t try to save you. If they feared you, they wouldn’t look close enough to see how badly you were breaking apart inside.

You’d sabotaged yourself so thoroughly that the villain role fit like armor now. Cold. Heavy. Protective.

You cut down another opponent and turned.. and nearly collided with him. Chiron. Not in his wheelchair. In his true form. Tall. Steady. Immovable.

For a moment the battle seemed to bend around you both, noise dulling at the edges like the world understood this wasn’t something to interrupt.

He didn’t raise a weapon. He didn’t charge. He just looked at you. And gods, that was worse. There was no hatred in his expression. No fury. Only grief.

You scoffed lightly, adjusting your grip on your blade as if you were unimpressed. But your hands were shaking. He spoke—voice steady, deep, painfully familiar. Begging you to stop. To come back. To tell them you hadn’t meant to fall this far. That redemption was still possible. That the camp would listen if you let them.

That he would stand beside you. You let out a humorless breath.

“I’m not the child you once knew.” You say. The words felt sharp enough to cut.

He studied you for a long moment. Then he nodded, slow and grave. “No,” he said quietly. “That child would see you and run.”

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking. It was honest. And it hit harder than any blade ever could. Because you remembered that child. Bright-eyed. Trusting. Standing at his side in the Big House while he corrected your stance with gentle hands. Laughing at campfire songs. Believing in heroes.

That child would look at who you’d become and be terrified.

Your throat tightened. Around you, the battle roared back to life. But between you and Chiron, there was only silence. And the unbearable weight of who you used to be.