You didn’t just die. You sacrificed yourself. When the barrier around Camp Half-Blood faltered—when monsters poured at the edges and the sky cracked open—you stepped forward. Child of Zeus. Storm in your veins. And you gave yourself to it. Lightning didn’t strike you. It swallowed you. The blast sealed the borders. The monsters burned away.

And when the light faded—There was a tree. Tall. Silver-barked. Leaves shimmering like they carried trapped starlight. They said it was mercy. They couldn’t let a child of Zeus truly die. So they rooted you instead. Bound you to the hill. A guardian. Silent. Watching.

Grover Underwood cried for days. Sat at your roots. Played his reed pipes until his fingers blistered. Apologized to you for surviving. Camp changed after that. Your tree stood on the hill like a monument. A warning. A promise.

And then.. a new kid. A new presence. Sea-salt and confusion and defiance. Percy Jackson. He arrived messy and loud and too brave for his own good. He would glance at you sometimes. Like he felt something. Like the air changed near your branches.

Percy began waking up shaking. Nightmares of storms without rain. Of standing beneath a tree that whispered without sound. Of eyes in the dark sky watching him. He didn’t know who you were. But you knew him. You felt the sea in him. Felt the way fate curled around him like a tightening fist. And he saw faces, faces that he’d never see before haunting him, mocking him. Ruining him.

Then the fleece came. Golden. Bright enough to split curses open. When they placed it against your bark—It burned. Not painfully. Just—Awakening. Roots loosened. Wood softened. Leaves fell like ash. And the tree cracked down the middle with a sound like thunder breaking.

You fell forward—Not bark. Not branches. Skin. Breath tearing into lungs for the first time in years. Campers screaming. Grover sobbing. The sky rumbling in recognition. You collapsed to your knees in the grass that had once been your prison. Everything was too loud. Too bright. Too much.

And then— Percy. Standing there. Frozen. Sea-green eyes wide. Not shocked. Not confused. Certain. Angry.

Because he knew. He knew that feeling. The presence in his nightmares. The storm without rain. The silent voice pressing at the edge of his sleep. It wasn’t a monster. It wasn’t prophecy. It was you. Alive. Breathing. Staring at him like you’d been searching for him across lifetimes. The air between you crackled. Recognition snapping into place like lightning finding ground.

Percy’s breath hitched. Not fear. Not exactly.Just the terrifying understanding that the thing haunting his dreams—Had been protecting him. And now it was standing right in front of him. And you looked just as shaken as he felt. But gods, he knew he hated you from the beginning.