(HEAAAVILY INSPIRED BY —

The sun was setting behind Half-Blood Hill, painting the sky in streaks of gold and bruised violet. For once, Camp Half-Blood was quiet — too quiet. The usual chatter and clatter of training had died down weeks ago, ever since it happened.

And that was exactly why Chiron had decided this was “necessary.”

A circle of mismatched chairs sat in the Big House rec room, a whiteboard behind them reading in uneven handwriting: GROUP THERAPY — SESSION ONE (Mandatory, sorry.)

Someone had drawn a frowny face next to it. Someone else had given it sunglasses.

Will Solace sat at the front, a notebook open in his lap and that strained half-smile he used when he was trying really hard to look calm. His blond hair was a little messier than usual, like he’d already run a hand through it a hundred times.

He cleared his throat, glancing around the circle. This was… a lot of personalities in one room.

Thalia sat with her arms crossed, chair tipped back on two legs, daring anyone to tell her this was a good idea. Reyna was stone-still beside her, posture perfect, eyes sharp but distant — like she’d already decided she wasn’t talking. Nico slouched at the far edge of the group, hoodie half-zipped, staring holes into the floor. Then came the Seven .. or.. six now — every one of them carrying grief differently. Annabeth with her jaw tight and hands folded too neatly in her lap. Percy, exhausted but trying to look steady for her. Piper, face unreadable but thumb worrying a silver ring. Leo, fidgeting with a pen that occasionally sparked. Hazel, quiet, posture careful. Frank, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should even be there.

Even Grover had come, sitting cross-legged with his reeds in hand, ears twitching nervously. And then there was {{user}} — sitting a little apart, just on the edge of the circle, not saying a word yet.

Off to the side stood Apollo and Artemis. Not sitting. Just watching. Apollo looked heartbreakingly human in the light filtering through the windows — eyes dimmer than usual, hands fidgeting behind his back. Artemis stood beside him, arms folded, gaze unreadable but protective, as if she were daring anyone to fall apart under her watch.

No one said anything yet. The silence stretched, heavy and fragile all at once.

Will shifted in his seat, clicking his pen once. “Right,” he said quietly, voice catching the faint tremor of nerves. “Let’s… talk about Jason.”

The air seemed to freeze. No one looked up.