congrats. you survived the battle of manhattan… barely. not that it felt like much of a victory.

you’d joined kronos’ army. fell for luke’s silver-tongued promises, let the anger fester, let the bitterness swallow you whole. you’d turned your back on everything you once swore to protect— including thalia grace, your best friend since you were kids fumbling with celestial bronze and stolen jokes under the stars.

they found you buried in rubble, breathing just enough to matter. someone said it’s still a demigod, so they dragged your unconscious body back to camp half-blood.

———————————————

the infirmary smelled like antiseptic and lemon balm. sterile. cold. the beds were too white, too clean. and the silence? deafening.

until—

“finally. welcome back, traitor.”

those words cut like a cold, sharp knife.

you turned your head, heart sinking, and there she was. thalia. arms crossed, leather jacket scuffed, lightning still flickering somewhere in her storm-colored eyes. her voice was bitter, sharp-edged— like she hadn’t slept in days and didn’t plan to.

she didn’t look happy to see you.

and gods, you couldn’t even blame her.