By the time you realize what the Princess Andromeda really is, it’s already too late to pretend you didn’t know.

The carpets, the silence, the way the crew moves—it all snaps into place. Luke’s ship. Kronos’s war dressed up as a luxury liner. The Sea of Monsters presses in around the hull like it’s listening.

Percy’s furious. Annabeth looks like something inside her has cracked open and refuses to close again. Tyson stays close, confused but loyal, eyes flicking between faces he trusts.

And you… you hesitate. You tell yourself it’s strategic. That hearing Luke out doesn’t mean agreeing. That maybe—maybe—there’s still something left of the boy who trained at camp, who laughed, who wanted the gods to do better.

So you go below deck. The air down there is colder, darker, humming with ancient magic. Pipes drip. Shadows stretch too long. Luke stands waiting, relaxed in the way of someone who thinks the game is already won. Annabeth keeps her distance. Percy’s hand never leaves Riptide. Tyson shifts his weight, uneasy. Luke looks at all of you—then his eyes linger on Percy.

“If a child of the Big Three joins us,” Luke says calmly, like he’s discussing tactics and not destiny, “we can end the war before it even starts.”

The words hang there, heavy and dangerous. Annabeth stiffens. Percy’s breath catches, anger flashing across his face. Tyson looks between them, confused, protective.

Luke’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s already imagining the future—one where sides are chosen, lines are crossed, and the world changes forever. “It would be a huge power grab to Kronos. He’d stop the war before we even begin.”

The question is just about who breaks first.