You were loyal to Camp—to your cabin.

You would’ve gone to Tartarus and back for any one of them—any length to keep them, to keep them safe. They looked up to them.

But, you were a loyal to a fault, apparently.

It pained you terribly. Like a pit in your gut.

You’d do anything for Luke Castellan. Anything he asked. He asked you to escape with him, and it was pathetic how easily you went with him through the portal, leaving a betrayed Percy behind, the fireworks exploding—Camp celebrating the return of the bolt.

The Princess Andromeda—a cruise ship captained by Luke, where the residents were monsters of Kronos’ army. You tried to keep your eyes off the black and gold marbled sarcophagus where Kronos’ remains lay.

You clutched your camp necklace in your hand, fingers tracing over the clay beads, wondering over your decision. What have you done?