They didn’t recruit you because they liked you.

You realize it halfway through the quest. At first, you’d brushed it off—the looks, the way conversations stopped when you walked up, how plans were made around you instead of with you. You told yourself it was stress. The world was ending. People were tense.

But it keeps happening. Jason’s jaw tightens every time you speak. Annabeth watches you like a puzzle she already decided she doesn’t trust. Piper’s sympathy feels practiced. Leo avoids your eyes altogether.

Even Percy—especially Percy—keeps glancing at you with something sharp and unreadable, like he’s measuring the distance between what you are and what he needs you to be.

That’s when it clicks. They didn’t take you on this quest because you belonged here. They took you because you had something. You feel it in the air when they finally stop walking. The group turns, forming a loose half-circle without meaning to. No weapons drawn. No hostility.

Just expectation. Annabeth clears her throat. Jason looks away. Percy meets your eyes, expression tight.

“We need it now,” he says quietly. “The thing you’ve been carrying.”

Your stomach drops. Not are you okay. Not thank you. Not even please.

Just confirmation of what you already knew. They were never staring at you with distrust. They were waiting.