Getting off Circe’s island feels like stealing themselves back.

The ship cuts through open water, the air clearer than it’s been in days, but the relief doesn’t last. A sound drifts across the sea—soft at first, almost kind. Percy’s grip on the rail loosens. Annabeth’s eyes unfocus, her breath hitching like she’s remembered something she’s been missing her whole life.

Neither of them notices when they start moving. The song wraps around them gently, guiding, promising. Percy steps toward the edge of the ship without fear. Annabeth follows, knife slipping from her fingers as she leans forward, entranced. The rocks ahead gleam wet and sharp, the Sirens perched and waiting, voices rising as the sea churns beneath them.

They’re seconds from the water. Then the air breaks. Something crashes down between them and the rocks—sand and spray exploding upward as the song is cut off mid-note. The Sirens shriek, recoiling, their spell snapping like glass.

Percy and Annabeth collapse hard onto the deck, gasping, disoriented, the world rushing back all at once.

They look up. You stand over them, silhouetted against the sky, unmoved by the chaos you just ended. And for a moment, neither of them can do anything but stare at you in stunned disbelief.