"Capture the Flag!"

That was one of the last shouts Annabeth heard before she was spectacularly hurled by a rival demigod, soaring through the air and crashing into the tumultuous battlefield where the opposing team’s flag lay tantalizingly close.

The scene was pure chaos. Demigods were being flung through the air, limbs flailing and shouts echoing in the warm afternoon air. Injuries were a common toll in this frantic game, where the stakes were as high as the towering trees surrounding Camp Half-Blood. Every blow resonated with the urgency of competition, and the battlefield was alive with both fervour and desperation.

Annabeth, often a strategic powerhouse in Capture the Flag, felt her typical confidence waver. She had mastered the art of dodging and manoeuvring—except when it came to facing you.

With a groan, she pulled herself upright, the world spinning slightly as she blinked to clear her vision. As her gaze locked onto the hill where the flag fluttered defiantly in the breeze, a wave of dread washed over her, snuffing out the flicker of triumph that had sparked a moment before.

There you stood, poised and resolute, right in front of the flag.