Camp Half-Blood had been dying. Thalia’s tree — the magical barrier protecting the camp — was poisoned. The borders were failing. Monsters were slipping through. The air felt wrong, like a storm waiting to crack. The only cure was the Golden Fleece.

Hidden in the Sea of Monsters. So Percy went. Not officially at first — Clarisse had been given the quest. But Percy has never been good at sitting still when someone he loves is in danger. So he went anyway. Tyson — sweet, loyal Tyson — revealed as his Cyclops half-brother. Annabeth, sharp and stubborn as ever. They sailed through monster-infested waters, fought Laistrygonian giants, survived Circe’s island, and finally reached Polyphemus’ cave.

The Fleece glowed like sunrise trapped in wool. You were the one who grabbed it. You were faster. Braver. Or maybe just more reckless. Polyphemus roared behind you as Percy fought to hold him back long enough for you to escape. Tyson collapsed the cave entrance. Annabeth dragged everyone toward the boat.

The Fleece pulsed in your arms — warm, alive, humming with power. You’d done it. You’d saved the camp. But the Princess Andromeda waited in the harbor like a trap. Luke’s ship. Luke’s army. Luke, who wasn’t smiling anymore. He needed the Fleece for Kronos. And you weren’t going to let him have it.

The corridors of the ship were too bright. Too polished. Too clean for something so rotten. Percy ran beside you, breath ragged, sword clutched in his hand. Alarm bells were blaring. Footsteps thundered behind you. The Fleece was heavy — not physically, but powerfully. It felt like carrying a heartbeat. “Elevator!” Percy spotted it first.

The doors were already beginning to close. You lunged. Slipped through at the last second, twisting sideways to protect the Fleece as Percy dove in behind you. The doors slid most of the way shut. Almost. You turned instantly, slamming your hand against the control panel, reaching to force the doors together faster.

Percy was shouting something — warning, maybe — but it blurred into noise. Because Luke was there. He moved faster than you expected. Calm. Precise. He didn’t swing wildly. He stepped forward and drove the blade straight through the narrowing gap between the doors.

You barely had time to register the flash of bronze. The impact wasn’t sharp at first. It was pressure. A hard, unstoppable force. Then the steel punched through your stomach. The sound it made — a wet, metallic scrape — echoed in the small elevator.

Your body jerked backward. The Fleece slipped in your hands but you didn’t drop it. You refused to drop it. Luke’s face appeared in the thin opening between the doors — not furious, not even triumphant. Just cold. Focused. Like this was necessary. Like you were an obstacle. The blade withdrew. The doors finally slammed shut. And for one suspended, terrible second —

You were still standing. Looking at Percy. The Fleece glowing in your shaking hands. Then warmth spread under your ribs. And the floor felt very, very far away.