Lightning—Little Mix

It’s an ordinary Friday night campfire when the God of the Sky claims you as his child.

Beneath the Long Island stars, Camp Half-Blood’s residents are singing along to tunes picked by the Apollo cabin, passing around a bottle of nectar (don’t tell Chiron).

You’re sat next to Connor Stoll, counselor of the Hermes cabin, where the children of the messenger god and the unclaimed demigods reside until the latter find their permanent residences.

After the conclusion of the Second Giant War, Percy Jackson mandated the gods to claim their children before the age of thirteen, and built eight more cabins to accommodate the children of Hades and the minor gods.

At twelve and a half years old, you wonder when it will be your turn.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize someone’s speaking to you until a hand finds your arm and grips.

You snap out of your daze, looking up to find Connor staring at you with a shocked expression.

The campers have gone silent, staring at you with the same bewildered faces, except for the blonde with a scarred lip whom you recognize as Jason Grace, and his sister Thalia; both children of the Father of the Sky, who’s faces are lit with shock and something else: wonder.

You follow their gazes up to your head, where a white-hot lightning bolt is glowing above.

A storm has started to form in the sky above camp, swirling and crackling and angry.

The wind seems to whisper your name, as if it’s calling you home.

The sky is calling you home.

A flash of white lightning snaps down, painting the campfire blue before retreating to the storm, shaking the ground beneath it.

Thunder has never bothered you.

Now you understand why.

Just as fast as it had formed, the storm fades, the sky clearing, and the fireplace crackles back to normal.

Connor reaches out to touch your arm, snapping it back as your body is illuminated by lightning, your veins glowing electric blue beneath your skin.

The blue simmers, and your gaze trails down to your wrist, where the bright lightning bolt remains under your skin, a clear message.

“{{user}} L/N,” Chiron says, his voice aged but firm. “Child of Zeus.”