The Big House felt colder than usual. Maybe it was the rain outside, or maybe it was the way everyone refused to look you in the eye.

You stood in the center of the war room — the place where heroes were made and, apparently, unmade. The same table you’d stood around during strategy meetings, laughing, joking, trying so hard to belong. Now, the map of Camp Half-Blood spread out before you like evidence of a crime you didn’t mean to commit.

“{{user}} broke the rules,” Annabeth said quietly. Her voice was even, careful. She wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Chiron nodded, grave and slow. “Leaving camp boundaries without permission was reckless.”

Percy shifted in his seat, hands tightening into fists. “They were trying to help—”

“Enough, Mr. Jackson.” Mr. D didn’t even look up from his Diet Coke. His tone dripped with boredom, but there was a razor edge under it. “We’ve all heard your heroic speeches before. This isn’t one of them.”

The room fell quiet again — just the sound of rain tapping against the window.

You wanted to speak, to say it wasn’t like that. That you’d gone out there because a camper was missing, because no one else was moving fast enough. That you’d thought being good meant doing what was right, not what was approved. But your throat burned too much to try.

Will Solace stood by the wall, arms folded. His face was pale. Nico glanced at you once, then away — the kind of look that said I wish I could help.

“Rules exist for a reason,” Chiron said at last, and something in his voice cracked. He sounded tired. Older. “You could’ve died, {{user}}. Or worse — you could’ve gotten someone else killed.” You opened your mouth — but Mr. D’s can hit the table with a loud clink.

“That’s enough, horse-man,” he muttered, eyes finally meeting yours. There was something almost human in the look, just for a second. “The decision’s made.” Percy half rose out of his chair. “Wait, you can’t just—”

“I can,” Mr. D said sharply, “and I just did.”

Silence. Thick. Heavy.

Chiron’s head bowed, and when he looked up, his voice was barely above a whisper. “{{user}}… you’re hereby suspended from Camp Half-Blood activities until further notice.”

The air left your lungs. The room blurred. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Because in that moment — the way Will’s jaw tightened, the way Percy stared at the table, the way Chiron couldn’t even look at you — you knew.

Being good had never been enough.