(Guys this might be one of my best 😜😜)

The summoning works. That’s the worst part.

The circle is still warm beneath your feet, symbols fading, the air humming with something ancient and impatient. Whatever you dragged into the world is gone—for now. The evil spirit has retreated, pushed back just far enough to breathe.

Not destroyed. Delayed. Grover is the first to feel it. His hands shake, eyes darting, panic rising because the magic isn’t settling. Annabeth’s already pacing, muttering through possibilities, tearing the ritual apart piece by piece, realizing the truth faster than she wants to admit.

Percy stands still. Too still. The thing you summoned didn’t want blood at random. It wanted meaning. A sacrifice that would hurt. Something that would break the balance permanently so the evil could never return.

Someone has to give up the thing that matters most. Annabeth looks at Percy. Percy looks at Annabeth. Neither of them say it, but it’s there—terrible and obvious and mutual. Grover’s gaze drifts to you, horror dawning as his chest tightens. He shakes his head, whispering denials to himself, hooves scraping the ground like he can back away from fate.

Annabeth matters most to Percy. Percy matters most to Annabeth. And you matter most to Grover.

You stay quiet. The air grows colder. The ground trembles faintly. Whatever you summoned is coming back to collect. Or it’s the evil spirit coming back to kill.

And the worst part is this: no matter what choice is made, it will be the right one. And someone won’t walk away.