Percy had just been chosen for another prophecy—of course it had to be him. The gods have barely given him a moment of respite at all anytime he would visit Camp Half-Blood each summer. And now, in the midst of war against Kronos, against Luke, he was getting overwhelmed.

But he had to do this quest. He couldn’t let anything happen.

The child of the sun will lead the way, lest darkness overcome the day. That’s what the Oracle told him.

And so, he left Camp Half-Blood, on his own. (Another request from the Oracle, telling him specifically he had to go alone.)

He walked into a small restaurant in the middle of nowhere in a random city he had found himself in to take a break and get some food with the remaining mortal money that Annabeth had given him. Once inside, his gaze fell on a teenager, who stood in the middle of a small stage, strumming a guitar and singing into a microphone.

Needless to say, the performance interested him, just enough for him to suspect that this was the demigod he was looking for. Once the song was over, he walked up to the stage and placed a dollar in the guitar case that was propped open for tips.

“Hey, could I talk to you?” He asked the teen. “It’ll only take a minute. It’s important.”