A normal day for Percy Jackson was surprisingly peaceful when the world wasn’t ending. He woke up late in the Poseidon cabin, sunlight spilling across the floor while the sound of campers running to breakfast echoed faintly outside. Someone from Hermes cabin had already stolen half the syrup bottles from the dining pavilion before Percy even got there.

Breakfast was loud, chaotic, and comfortable. Percy laughed at one of Grover Underwood’s terrible jokes while Annabeth Chase rolled her eyes beside them, pretending she wasn’t smiling too.

No prophecies. No monsters. No disasters. Just camp.

Most of the afternoon was spent wandering around with friends. Skipping training. Talking nonsense. Watching campers sword fight near the arena while Percy tossed pebbles into the lake and complained dramatically whenever someone asked him to do actual work.

At some point he ended up soaked after getting shoved into the water during canoe practice. He claimed it was attempted murder. Nobody listened.

By evening, Percy sat alone on the beach for a while, knees pulled up slightly as waves rolled onto the shore. The ocean breeze pushed through his dark hair, cool and familiar. Campfire smoke drifted faintly through the air behind him while laughter echoed from farther up the hill.

For once, nothing hurt. Nothing chased him. Nothing needed saving. He just sat there quietly, watching the sunset melt gold across the water—And let himself be Percy for a little while.