The last canoe slid into the lake just as the sun dipped behind the trees.

Camp Half-Blood always felt strange at the end of summer—too quiet, like a place holding its breath. The cabins stood half-empty, doors shut, laughter fading down the hill with every departing camper. The air still smelled like sunscreen and smoke from the final campfire, but the energy was gone, packed up and taken home along with duffel bags and promises to write.

Nico stood at the edge of the path, hands shoved into the pockets of his black jacket, watching until the water stilled again. The lake reflected the sky in streaks of orange and gold, and for once, even the shadows felt subdued.

“Everyone always leaves,” Nico said quietly.

Will stepped up beside him, warm shoulder brushing his. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But some of us stick around. Lucky you.”

Nico huffed. “Lucky.”

They were two of the ones who stayed—year-round campers by choice rather than necessity. Will because the infirmary never really slept. Nico because Camp Half-Blood had become the closest thing to home he trusted. Most days, that was enough.

Today, though, Will had other plans.

“Come on,” Will said, lacing their fingers together. “If camp’s going to be this empty, we might as well escape it.”

Nico glanced over, suspicious. “Escape how?”

Will grinned. “Field trip. Into the city.”

An hour later, Nico was standing on a subway platform, staring at a glowing map like it might bite him.

“It moves underground,” Nico said flatly. “On purpose.”

“Yes,” Will replied, delighted. “Public transportation.”

“It’s loud.”

“Yes.”

“And why is everyone staring at glowing rectangles?”

Will laughed, gently nudging him onto the train as the doors slid shut with a hiss. “Phones. You’ll get used to it. Probably.”

The city hit Nico all at once when they surfaced—noise, motion, light. Screens flashed ads that changed every few seconds. Cars honked. People moved fast, confident, like they knew exactly where they were going. Nico felt small, out of time, like he’d stepped sideways into a future he hadn’t been warned about.

He stuck close to Will.

“Okay,” Will said, adopting his unofficial tour-guide voice, “rule one: if someone’s wearing a mascot costume and asks for money, you do not make eye contact.”

Nico blinked. “Why would anyone dress like that?”

“For capitalism,” Will said solemnly.

They walked past street vendors, music blasting from somewhere unseen, the smell of fried food curling through the air. Nico paused every few steps, taking things in—the way people dressed, the sheer variety, the confidence of it all.

“What’s that?” Nico asked, pointing to a café window.

Will glanced over. “Bubble tea.”

“Why are there… balls in it?”

Will shrugged. “Fun?”

Nico eyed it suspiciously but didn’t protest when Will bought two. He poked at the straw, then took a cautious sip.

“…Huh,” Nico admitted.