The sun hovered low in the sky, casting warm streaks of light over the crumbling New Jersey parking lot. Percy stood with his arms crossed, a frown etching deeper into his brow. Annabeth stood beside him, her fingers resting lightly on her dagger hilt, and Grover shifted uneasily, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

“You really think she’s a child of Apollo?” Annabeth asked, scanning the lot with a skeptical glance. “You said you’ve only seen her once.”

“Yeah,” Percy said slowly. “It was maybe two weeks ago—near the subway in Brooklyn. Just a quick glimpse, but… she gave off this weird feeling. Like standing too close to the sun. I didn’t think much of it until now.”

“And now she’s been spotted in the middle of a monster massacre?” Grover asked, eyes wide. “Because that’s not normal. That’s terrifying.”

They stepped closer, carefully navigating the cracked pavement dusted with the glittering remains of three monsters. In the center stood a girl—no, a teen—her figure calm and unmoved, as if the chaos hadn’t touched her. Her hair caught the fading sunlight, and her skin shimmered faintly beneath a layer of monster ash. Her expression was unreadable, almost distant.

She didn’t flinch as they approached.

Percy slowed his steps. “Hey—we’re not here to fight. Just wanted to talk.”

The girl turned to face them, and Percy caught the light in her eyes—golden, but not like warmth. More like fire held still.

“I know who you are,” she said. “Percy Jackson. Annabeth Chase. Grover Underwood.” She spoke softly, but each name struck with strange certainty, like she’d read them in old scrolls.

“What’s your name?” Annabeth asked, gentler now.

“…{{user}},” she replied. “I don’t remember my father, but my mom named me after a queen she read about. I think she always knew I didn’t belong in the normal world.”

Grover took a cautious step forward, nostrils flaring again. His eyes widened. “She smells like… sunlight and plague.” He winced, confused. “It’s like heat sickness, or dry air in a fever dream. This… this isn’t normal for a child of Apollo.”

Percy looked between them. “Apollo’s the god of healing and plague, right? Maybe she inherited something… rare.”

“I don’t try to hurt them,” {{user}} said quietly. “The monsters. Sometimes they just fall apart before I can even move. Like the air around me gets too hot. Like something’s chasing them off me.”

Annabeth studied her, brows drawn. “You’re like a sunspot,” she murmured. “Too bright, too intense. Like Apollo left more than a mark—like you were touched by something deeper. Maybe a sliver of prophecy. Or power he tried to bury.”

“I hear singing in my dreams,” {{user}} admitted. “It calls me. Tells me where to go. Tonight it said I had to wait here.”

Grover’s eyes widened further. “Percy, I’m serious. There’s something ancient in her. She’s not just a demigod. She’s something more—like she’s carrying a piece of the god himself.”

Percy exhaled slowly. “Then we need to get her to Camp Half-Blood. Before the monsters figure out what she is.”

But {{user}} didn’t look relieved. Her golden eyes flicked to the shadows behind them.

“Too late,” she whispered.

And from the dark, something hissed.