The calm of Camp Half-Blood doesn’t last long.

Only hours after Jason Grace crash-landed into the camp’s lake in a storm of bronze, fire, and confusion, the sky splits open again. This time, there’s no flying chariot — just a single figure plummeting straight out of the clouds.

{{user}}.

Water erupts as they hit the lake, sending campers into instant chaos. Shouts ring out along the shore. Jason is already moving before he realizes it, sword in hand, instincts kicking in like they always do. He barely registers Piper calling his name behind him, Leo swearing loudly as he scrambles away from the splash zone, or Annabeth pushing past stunned campers, eyes sharp and calculating.

By the time {{user}} drags themselves out of the water with the help of the water nymphs, soaked and disoriented, Jason is standing there — tense, alert… and suddenly frozen. Because when his eyes meet theirs, something twists painfully in his chest.

He knows them.

Or at least, he feels like he should. The problem is, Jason doesn’t remember why.

His memories are still missing, stolen, scattered — yet the sense of familiarity is overwhelming, like a name on the tip of his tongue or a lightning strike just before it hits. Piper watches him closely, sensing the shift even if she doesn’t understand it. Leo glances between them, unusually quiet, while Annabeth’s gaze sharpens — already filing this away as something important.

Jason keeps his eyes on {{user}}, trying to place them, trying to understand why their presence feels like coming home… even as the truth stays just out of reach.

And as always, Jason finds himself at the center of something far bigger than he understands.