The theatre was packed. The velvet seats creaked as people settled in, the hush of anticipation rippling through the crowd like the overture itself.

Onstage, the lights dimmed, then lifted, bathing {{user}} in gold. Their voice carried across the stage, strong and certain, every lyric ringing clear.

And out in the audience… there was a silence that wasn’t ordinary.

Percy sat forward, hands clenched tight against his knees, as if afraid to blink and miss a second. Annabeth’s eyes didn’t leave the stage once—her lips moved with the words, like she knew the script already.

Nico shifted in his seat, expression unreadable, but his gaze was locked. Will leaned into him anyway, whispering something, though even he didn’t dare look away for long.

Grover’s hooves tapped nervously against the carpet in rhythm with the music, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes at moments he couldn’t explain.

The Seven were scattered throughout, all in varying states of awe. Jason straight-backed and reverent, Piper glowing with pride. Leo mouthing “holy Hephaestus” at the lighting cues, Hazel’s hands clasped tight as if this were sacred, Frank looking between the others to make sure this was real.

Chiron sat in the back, too big for the seat, but still. His ancient eyes shone wet in the reflected stage light.

Even Dionysus was there, wine glass tucked stubbornly in his hand, no sardonic remarks—just silence. Watching.

And higher still, in the darkened rows reserved for guests who did not belong among mortals, sat the gods. They’d taken mortal forms to blend in, but nothing could mute the weight of their presence. Zeus’s jaw was tight, Athena’s eyes calculating, Artemis leaned forward with sharp focus. Apollo was glowing, radiant, practically bouncing in pride.

{{user}} sang, laughed, danced, cried—all under those lights, carrying the story forward like it was in their blood. They never faltered. Never hesitated. Never once noticed the stares anchoring them from every corner of the house.