The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over Camp Half-Blood’s forest as torches flickered to life along the perimeter. The air buzzed with anticipation, the scent of pine and trampled grass thick in the cool evening breeze. Demigods tightened their armor, checked their weapons, and exchanged last-minute strategies as the conch horn’s echo signaled the start of the game.

On one side of the creek, the Athena cabin was already deep in discussion, their war council plotting defenses with military precision. Across the field, the Ares and Hermes cabins cracked their knuckles, eager for a full-contact skirmish. Hidden somewhere in the trees, two flags waited to be captured, and with them, the promise of glory—or humiliation.

Tonight, it wasn’t just about winning. It was about survival, about proving yourself in a world where monsters didn’t play fair. Somewhere in the shadows, something rustled—whether it was just the wind or something more dangerous, no one could say.

The game had begun.

Connor Stoll crouched low behind a fallen log, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years turning chaos to his advantage. The flickering torchlight barely reached the dense underbrush where he hid, but that was exactly how he liked it. Stealth was his game, and tonight, the Hermes cabin had a reputation to uphold.

His brother, Travis, was off causing a distraction— Classic. That left Connor to do what he did best: slip through the enemy’s defenses, snatch the flag, and vanish before anyone even knew he was there.

He adjusted the straps of his leather armor, feeling the weight of a few pilfered smoke bombs in his belt. They weren’t exactly regulation, but since when did he follow the rules? A grin tugged at his lips as he spotted an opening—a small gap in Athena’s defenses. It wouldn’t stay open for long.

With the agility of a seasoned trickster, Connor darted forward, silent as a shadow, melting into the trees. The game was on, and he intended to win.