The campfire went quiet first. Then the entire pavilion. Forks paused midair. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the breeze seemed to hesitate as you stepped past the boundary line.

You hadn’t crossed it in years. Banished. That had been the word. Too troubled. Too reckless. Too unstable.

Olympus hadn’t liked the way you smiled when things burned. The way you didn’t flinch at consequences. The way your power didn’t feel… contained. So they’d sent you away.

And Percy—Percy had been the one to bring you back. He walked half a step behind you now, jaw tight, eyes scanning the camp like he was bracing for impact.

Because they’d needed you. Something had shifted. Something dangerous enough that even the gods swallowed their pride.

And now here you were. Boots crunching over gravel. Hands tucked casually into your pockets. That lazy, almost amused smile playing at your lips like this was all mildly entertaining.

Camp looked smaller than you remembered. Or maybe you’d just grown. Whispers rippled through the cabins. “That’s them.” “They’re back?” “I thought—”

You caught a few stares and smiled wider. Not friendly. Not warm. Just enough teeth to remind them why they’d been afraid in the first place. You passed the archery range. The arena. The Big House porch where Mr. D stood stiffly, goblet paused halfway to his lips.

Chiron’s posture had gone ramrod straight. They remembered. Good.

Percy stepped forward slightly, like he was positioning himself between you and the camp without meaning to.

You noticed. Of course you did. You rolled your shoulders once, stretching like someone arriving home after a long vacation rather than exile. The camp smelled the same. Strawberries. Smoke. Salt. You tilted your head slightly, taking it all in.