The truth settles over the Princess Andromeda like a suffocating fog.

No more pretending. No more polished decks or fake hospitality. The ship feels different now—alive in the wrong way, humming with something ancient and patient.

You stand with Percy and Tyson at your sides, facing Luke.

The air between you is tight, coiled. Kronos’s presence lingers like a pressure headache, like the world itself is listening. Luke looks thinner than Percy remembers. Harder. His eyes burn with something that isn’t quite madness yet—but it’s close.

Percy’s hands are shaking. Tyson stays close, confused but ready, massive shoulders squared like he can physically block destiny if he needs to.

You try to speak up, saying Thalia wouldn’t want this. And then?

“YOU DIDNT KNOW THALIA!” he snaps, pointing at you like the accusation alone is a weapon. “You didn’t see what she went through. You didn’t watch the gods use her and throw her away.”

The name hits like a punch.