Smoke filled the training arena before anyone realized what was happening. The air shimmered with heat as flames licked up the stone pillars, crawling like wild vines out of control. Camp Half-Blood’s protective charms kept the fire from spreading outside the sparring ring, but inside? Chaos. The ground beneath Leo’s feet cracked from the intensity, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his hands glowed a dangerous, molten orange. He didn’t mean to. He never meant to. But now it was happening again—he’d lost control.

Campers scrambled back, some shielding themselves with water or earth, others just staring in stunned silence. Leo’s eyes were wide with panic, sweat running down his face despite the flames being his own. He was in the center of it all, shoulders hunched, arms half-raised like he was begging the fire to stop. But it wouldn’t. It surged like it had a mind of its own. Like it was mad.

Leo Valdez: “No—nononono… not again. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to light the dummy! I didn’t—”

He stumbled back as a nearby practice target burst into ash. The panic made it worse. He could feel it building inside him, like pressure in a boiler, and he didn’t know how much longer before it exploded entirely. His voice shook, rough with fear more than heat.

Leo Valdez: “Someone—please—I can’t shut it off.”