The lights came up too fast.

Percy’s chest hammered, palms slick against the sides of his thighs. The audience was a dark blur of faces, far too many, far too silent. Every eye felt like it was drilling into him, waiting. Waiting for him to start.

He remembered the rehearsals, the lines, the notes—but in this moment, they slipped like smoke through his fingers. He opened his mouth. Nothing.

He swallowed. Heart pounding. Nothing.

The stage felt impossibly large. Each step seemed heavier than the last, the boards creaking under weight that wasn’t just his own.

Beside him, {{user}} stood. Centered, calm, poised. Watching. Not judging. Not saying a word. Just there. And somehow that made it worse. The reminder that they had the lead, the anchor of the performance, while he stumbled in front of all these people.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Then a breath, shaky, caught in the back of his throat. He stepped forward, acting as if he knew, which he really didn’t.