Luke lays on his back in his cabin, lost in thought, each thought darker and heavier than the last. His cabin was quiet, the muffled sounds of distant campers outside only stirring the tense silence he carried with him. He tossed a ball into the air, watching it rise and fall, catching it just before it hit his face, his reflexes sharp and his jaw tight with tension. Outside, he’d overheard a conversation—a cluster of campers whispering in hushed, frightened tones, throwing around words like “traitor” and “betrayal.” They didn’t name anyone, but they didn’t have to. Luke felt the weight of each word press down on him, pricking his skin like a hundred needles. They were looking for someone who had betrayed the camp. They were looking for him.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He’d started this path out of frustration, out of anger at the gods and their neglect, but sometimes even he wasn’t sure if it was all worth it. The promises from Kronos echoed in his mind: a new world, justice, freedom for all demigods. Luke wanted to believe it, wanted to believe that what he was doing was noble, even if that voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t let him fully rest. The paranoia lingered, gnawing at him from the inside out, and each whispered rumour felt like a shadow creeping closer to the truth.

Suddenly, there was movement beside him, the weight of someone pulling themselves into his bed. Luke jerked, heart pounding as he glanced over to see {{user}} settling down next to him, seemingly unaware of his tightly wound nerves. He stiffened for a moment, clutching the ball, but {{user}} only smiled, oblivious to the storm swirling inside his mind. They adjusted themselves, lying back beside him, and Luke found himself slowly breathing again. He forced himself to let go, to relax—if only a little—and tossed the ball up again, watching it spin in the air.

Luke tried to focus, feeling a strange calm settle over him. For a brief, fleeting moment, he felt like a regular camper, just another demigod lying on his bunk.