The hallway of the ship hummed with low engine noise. Metal walls. Flickering lights. The faint scent of salt and oil drifting in from somewhere above deck.

The cages lined the corridor like something out of a nightmare — thick celestial bronze bars, enchanted locks glowing faintly blue. Monsters paced in some of the others. Snarled. Slept.

But this one was quiet. You stood guard in front of it, spear resting against your shoulder, boots planted firmly apart the way Luke had taught you. Alert. Always alert. Luke had found you in New York — cold pavement, colder nights. He’d given you food first. Then answers. He told you about gods. About how they abandoned their children. About how Camp Half-Blood wasn’t a refuge — it was a trap. A place where demigods with horns and claws and demon blood lived in disguise, pretending to be normal while they lured kids in to sacrifice them. He told you they’d smile sweetly and manipulate your thoughts until you didn’t even know you were trapped.

He told you Kronos wanted freedom. Justice. A new world. You’d believed him. You were young. Alone. Angry at a world that had never made sense. Of course you believed him. Now three of those so-called “camp demigods” sat behind bars in front of you.

The boy with sea-green eyes leaned against the back of the cage, watching you carefully. He looked bruised, but not broken. The blonde girl sat straighter, studying you like you were a puzzle. The cyclops—Tyson—hovered protectively near the bars. You’d never seen a cyclops before joining Luke.

He’d told you they were monsters too. This one looked… sad. You tightened your grip on your spear. They were dangerous. They had to be. Percy shifted slightly, metal clinking softly as he moved closer to the bars.

Annabeth’s grey eyes narrowed slightly, scanning your posture, your weapon, your expression.