Somewhere between sunrise and sanity was when Jason realized his words weren’t his own.

He’d opened his mouth to say “morning,” but what came out was— 🎵 “The light is breaking, the light is breaking through…” 🎵

And Percy answered. Automatically. 🎵 “The tide is rising, gods, what do we do?” 🎵

They froze. The campfire still smoked from last night. The forest around them was silent. But their voices—their voices wouldn’t stop.

Hazel tried to ask what was happening, but it bled into song. Frank’s protest turned into a shouted chorus. Grover covered his mouth with both hands, but the melody slipped out anyway, muffled but still there.

Within minutes, the clearing was alive with frantic harmonies, overlapping lyrics, Nico’s voice sharp with fury as he spat, 🎵 “This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong!” 🎵

Will tried to steady him, but he was singing too, words trembling even as he reached for Nico’s arm. Annabeth’s voice cracked mid-line, breaking on the edge of panic. Piper’s rose higher, urgent, desperate.

{{user}} stood in the middle of it, heart racing, trying to force silence—any silence—but every thought came out musical. A verse, a rhyme, a plea.

The forest listened.

Their voices tangled into a chorus none of them meant to make, carrying through the trees like a beacon. It didn’t matter how scared they were, how much they wanted to shut up—Apollo’s curse had its claws in them.

And no one knew if it was ever going to let go.