The Minotaur was starting to feel more like a bad dream than something that had actually happened.

The smell of wet earth. His mother’s scream. Grover dragging him up a hill while lightning cracked the sky in two. Then the crash — the monster, horns lowered, the kind of rage that made the ground tremble — and Percy, swinging a sword he didn’t understand how to use.

Next thing he knew, he’d woken up in a camp full of strangers who claimed he was a demigod. A demigod. Half-human, half god. He’d thought they were joking.

Now, a few days later, Percy was walking through Camp Half-Blood with a cluster of other new kids, trying to look less lost than he felt.

“Archery range on your left,” said a tall counselor with sun-bleached hair. “Don’t point anything at anyone unless you want an extra week of chores.”

Someone behind Percy laughed nervously.

He forced a smile, hands shoved deep in his pockets as they moved down the worn dirt path. Everywhere he looked, there was something impossible — nymphs carrying baskets of strawberries, a bronze dragon coiled around the camp’s borders, and kids casually sparring with swords like it was gym class.

Everywhere he went, people stared just a little too long. Whispered. That’s him. The Minotaur kid. He didn’t know if that made him impressive or cursed. The group stopped by a cabin that gleamed like sea glass, sunlight bouncing off its surface in soft, green waves. The counselor gestured toward it with his clipboard. “Poseidon cabin,” he said. “Empty — well, it was, until now.”

Percy blinked. “Until now?”

The counselor smiled, tired and knowing. “Yeah, Jackson. That’s yours.”

A few of the other new kids turned to look at him — some curious, some jealous, one or two a little afraid. Percy tried to play it off, but his stomach twisted.

He barely knew who Poseidon was, and now he had a whole cabin to himself.

He shared a glance with the counsellor. “To.. myself..?”

you scoffed.