Something broke. Not cracked—not bent—not strained. Broke. It started with the sky. Over Camp Half-Blood, the blue split open like torn fabric, light pouring through the wound. Over Olympus, the same rupture yawned wide, marble trembling, columns shuddering as something pulled from the other side.

Demigods vanished mid-step. Gods were ripped from their thrones. People screamed. Campers clutched each other, weapons useless against a sky that reached down and took what it wanted. The air felt wrong—heavy, buzzing, like the world itself was holding its breath.

The gods reacted first. They fled Olympus—not in retreat, but in panic—racing to Camp Half-Blood, the one place that still felt anchored. Chiron was shouting orders. Mr. D wasn’t joking. Iris messages flickered and died mid-sentence.

Then— The sky over camp opened wider. And they began to fall. Demigods first—older, younger, some screaming, some eerily silent—crashing into the grass, into the sand, into the lake. Campers ran to help, only to freeze when they saw the differences.

Wrong eyes. Wrong scars. Wrong auras. These demigods carried power that didn’t belong to them. And then came the gods.—or what used to be gods. Figures of impossible scale slammed into the earth, shaking the ground. Titans—but not as Camp Half-Blood remembered them. These wore crowns. These had once ruled Olympus in another reality. Their power felt ancient and entitled, like they’d never known defeat.

The truth unraveled in fragments. Two universes had collided. In the other world, fate had chosen differently. Titans had been the Olympians. Olympians had fallen—or never risen. Demigods had lived lives that were not theirs. Heroes and villains were swapped. Golden children were monsters. Prophecies had pointed at the wrong names.

And now— Both realities existed at once. The camp stood frozen as a Titan—one who had once been a god in another world—rose from the crater they’d made, looking around Camp Half-Blood with dawning fury.

Somewhere nearby, a demigod stared at their own hands, whispering, “This isn’t my world.” And the sky, still split open above them all, didn’t close. Because fate hadn’t finished choosing yet.