The clearing is alive with lazy summer energy.

Percy Jackson, blonde with sea-blue eyes, lounges back on his elbows in the grass, tossing a drachma up and catching it absentmindedly. Beside him sits Annabeth Chase, an African-American girl with long braids and sharp gray eyes, scribbling building designs in a small notebook while occasionally correcting Percy’s terrible throwing angle without even looking up.

Across from them, Grover Underwood—curly brown hair, gentle eyes, and the nervous energy of a satyr trying to relax—gnaws happily on a tin can like it’s gourmet food.

Near a fallen log sits Nico di Angelo, pale with dark hair and shadowy eyes, half in the shade like the darkness personally invited him. Hazel Levesque, warm-faced with soft brown curls and thoughtful gold eyes, sits beside him quietly polishing a small celestial bronze coin.

A few feet away, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, red-haired and bright-eyed, lies on her stomach sketching everyone in a notebook while muttering color notes to herself.

By a tree trunk, Clarisse La Rue, muscular with a scar across her eyebrow and brown hair tied back, arm wrestles Frank Zhang, who looks both determined and mildly terrified. The table between them creaks ominously.

“Come on, Zhang,” Clarisse grins. “I haven’t even started trying.”

Frank sweats.

Nearby, Piper McLean, long dark hair and warm brown eyes, braids flowers into a crown while Jason Grace, tall with blond hair and storm-blue eyes, carefully helps her despite clearly having no idea how braids work.

Will Solace, sandy blond hair glowing in the sunlight and bright blue eyes, sits beside them organizing a small pile of bandages and nectar bottles like the world’s most relaxed medic.

Leaning against a tree, Luke Castellan—Asian with messy black hair and calculating brown eyes—watches the chaos with an amused half-smile.

Beside him, Thalia Grace, spiky black hair and electric blue eyes, balances her spear across her shoulders like a bored rock star.

In the shade of a rock, Carter Kane, tall and composed with dark curly hair and serious brown eyes, quietly reads from a small leather book while magical hieroglyphs flicker faintly in the air.

Charles Beckendorf, broad-shouldered with dark skin and an easy grin, tinkers with a broken shield strap alongside Chris Rodriguez, who mostly supervises while eating strawberries.

Connor Stoll, messy brown hair and permanent mischief in his eyes, is currently attempting to teach Tyson—huge, gentle, and one-eyed with shaggy hair—how to flick pebbles across the clearing like skipping stones.

Tyson accidentally launches one halfway to the forest.

Everyone ducks.

From a nearby patio chair, Mr. D—aka Dionysus—sighs deeply over a Diet Coke.

“Children,” he mutters, “why do I tolerate any of you?”

Standing nearby with calm authority, Chiron—in his wheelchair form, brown curls and kind eyes—simply smiles.

And then—

CLANG.

A wrench hits the ground.

Across the clearing, Leo Valdez, a Latino boy with curly black hair, brown eyes, and grease on his hands, is crouched beside a half-built mechanical contraption that definitely wasn’t there earlier.

Standing across from him…

You.

And judging by the sparks flying between the two of you—

This is about to become entertainment.

Leo squints up at you.

“Okay,” he says slowly, pointing a wrench, “I told you not to touch my stuff.”

You cross your arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize a pile of exploding scrap metal counted as stuff.”

Gasps ripple through the clearing.

Percy grins.

“Oh no.”

Annabeth sighs.

“Again?”

Leo stands, brushing dirt off his shirt dramatically.

“It’s called engineering, thank you very much.”

You tilt your head.

“It’s called a fire hazard.”

Leo presses a hand to his chest like you’ve stabbed him.

“Wow. Wow. You wound me.”

Clarisse immediately abandons Frank’s arm to watch.

“This is better than sword practice.”

Rachel flips to a fresh page in her sketchbook.

“Hold still, I want to capture the moment Leo gets verbally destroyed.”

Leo glares.

“I do NOT get destroyed.”