The sun was setting behind the trees, painting the sky in soft gold and pink as you stood at the edge of the forest, breath heavy from trying — and failing — again. The grass beneath your feet had scorch marks from the last attempt gone wrong. A flicker of frustration burned in your chest.

Percy stood a few feet in front of you, arms crossed but his face soft, patient in that way only Percy could be. His sword, Riptide, was sheathed at his side for once. He wasn’t here to fight. He was here for you.

“You’re overthinking again,” he said, giving you that crooked grin. “You’re a child of Hades. You’ve got more power in your pinky than most of us have in our whole bodies.”

Behind him, Annabeth leaned casually against a tree, arms folded, eyes sharp but kind. “He’s right. Powers don’t just show up because we want them to. They show up when we need them. Stop forcing it.”

“But what if it never works? What if I really am the one Hades regrets?” You didn’t mean for it to slip out, but it did. And for the first time, Percy’s smile faltered.

He stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder — grounding, steady. “Hey. Don’t talk like that. Gods don’t make mistakes. People don’t make mistakes when they pick who to fight for.”

Annabeth spoke next, softer now. “We didn’t stay because we thought you’d succeed. We stayed because you deserve people who believe in you even when you think you’re failing.”

Percy squeezed your shoulder. “You’re not a failure. You’re just getting started.”