Percy thinks you’re training — until he sees the scorch marks.

Lightning traces your arms like veins of white fire. The ground around you is blackened, smoking, as if you’ve been calling the storm down on purpose. Percy stops dead. He remembers your last argument with your parent — how you came back silent, eyes wet, pretending nothing happened. How you brushed him off when he tried to help. But this… this isn’t pretending.

You tilt your head back toward the sky, waiting for an answer that clearly isn’t coming. A flash flickers across your face, showing every emotion you’ve been pretending not to feel. Percy swallows hard. He knows what it’s like to need a god who can’t show up.