The field is silent.

Camp Half-Blood on one side, Camp Jupiter on the other— two armies staring each other down, weapons drawn, shields raised, waiting for someone to breathe wrong.

Jason’s jaw is tight. Percy’s fingers twitch near Riptide. Frank shifts nervously as Hazel whispers for him to stay calm. Annabeth and Reyna trade unreadable looks—calculation, tension, fear.

A single spark would set the whole world on fire.

The wind moves. Metal creaks. Someone shouts something they’ll regret.

And suddenly it feels like the gods themselves are holding their breath, waiting to see who strikes first.