The forest was quieter than the celebration behind you—but not peaceful.

Fireworks cracked in the distance, flashes of color bleeding through the trees, laughter echoing like it belonged to another world entirely. Here, the air felt heavier. Charged. Like something rotten was finally being dragged into the open.

Luke stood between the trees, arms crossed, face half-lit by torchlight. When he saw you, he smiled like nothing had changed.

That hurt more than anything else.

“So,” he said lightly. “You heard.”

You didn’t bother pretending. “You accused Thalia.”

His smile faltered. Just a fraction. “I stated a possibility.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your heart was pounding, not with fear—with fury. “You planted doubt. You know she would never steal Zeus’s bolt. Not for power. Not for ego. Not for anything.”

Luke exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his scar. “You’re blinded,” he said. “By love.”

You laughed—sharp, incredulous. “And you’re lying to yourself if you think this is about justice.”

That’s when he stopped pretending.

“Kronos is waking up,” Luke said quietly. “The Olympians are weak. Hypocrites. They use us, discard us. You know that. We lived that.”

“Yes,” you said. “But Kronos is worse.”

Luke’s eyes hardened. “Change always costs blood.”

“Not this kind,” you shot back. “You want to replace one tyrant with the Titan who ate his own children.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then Luke did the unthinkable.

“I need Thalia,” he said. “Her power. Her bloodline. And she’d listen to you.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You want me,” you whispered, “to betray her.”

“No,” Luke said quickly. “To save her. Zeus will never forgive her strength. She’s a weapon to him. But with Kronos—”

“With Kronos she’s expendable,” you cut in. “Just like the rest of us.”

Luke stepped closer, voice urgent now. “Think about Half-Blood Hill. Think about what she did for you. She would burn Olympus for you if you asked.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t,” you said, tears stinging your eyes. “Because I love her.”

Luke’s expression twisted—anger, grief, desperation colliding. “You owe me.”

You shook your head. “No. I trusted you.”

The words landed like a blade.

“You were my brother,” you continued, voice breaking now. “Ours. You taught Annabeth how to fight. You watched Percy learn who he was. You stood with Thalia on that hill. And now you’re asking me to lead her into the arms of a monster who would kill her the moment she outlived her usefulness.”

Luke’s jaw clenched.

“You’re choosing them,” he said bitterly.

“I’m choosing what’s right,” you replied. “And I’m choosing her.”

A boom of thunder rolled overhead—too close, too sudden to be coincidence.

You felt it before you heard it.

Electricity in the air.

“Then don’t get in my way,” Luke warned.

You stepped back, heart shattered, voice steady despite it all. “If you come for her,” you said, “you’ll have to go through me first.”

Luke turned away without another word, disappearing into the trees like the brother you knew had already become a ghost.

You stood there shaking, fireworks still bursting behind you, celebration mocking the truth you now carried.

Thalia was laughing somewhere back at camp—alive, victorious, free.

And you knew one thing with terrifying certainty:

You would die before letting Luke—or Kronos—take her.