Field trips were supposed to be boring.

Museums full of dusty Greek pottery and faded statues were supposed to be background noise—just another day of teachers droning on while students snuck photos for social media or fell asleep standing up.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to end with the floor shaking.

The first tremor was small—barely more than a subtle vibration under your sneakers. The second one made an entire display case shatter, glass exploding across the marble floor.

Students screamed. Alarms blared. Lights flickered—

—and then everything went white.

For a terrifying heartbeat, it felt like you were falling. Weightless. Pulled through space by something ancient and powerful.

When the world came back into focus, you were no longer in the museum.

You were in a massive marble courtyard filled with towering columns, clean enough to sparkle, impossibly bright under a blue sky that didn’t look like anything found on Earth. The air tasted like sunlight and wine and magic.

Everyone from your class was gone.

Everyone except you.

And him.

A tall, broad-shouldered guy about your age stood a few feet away, rubbing the back of his head like he’d just walked out of a car crash. Leather jacket, messy dark hair, frustratingly attractive face—and the vibe of someone who’d been thrown into chaos before and wasn’t a fan of it.

“What the hell…?” he muttered, looking around.

Before either of you could speak, thunder cracked overhead. Not clouds—just sound. And then they appeared:

Gods.

Actual gods.

Hermes—laughing under his breath, winged shoes floating him an inch above the ground. Athena—helmet under one arm, eyes sharp and calculating. Artemis—bow across her shoulder, silver armor gleaming.

Jason inhaled sharply when he saw Artemis. You didn’t know why—but he did.

Her gaze went straight to him.

“Jason,” Artemis said, voice clean and cutting as a blade. “Descendant of Atalanta. Swift of foot. Sharp of mind. Born to hunt the monsters that stalk the weak.”

Jason’s brows pulled together. “My mom always said that name like it meant something.” He swallowed. “So she wasn’t just telling stories.”

Artemis smiled—a rare, small, fierce thing.

“Atalanta was my chosen. Swiftest of mortals. Fearless. And now her blood survives in you.”

Before you had time to make sense of that, Athena stepped toward you.

Her presence alone felt like gravity—heavy, ancient, commanding.

“And you,” she announced, “carry the blood of Hercules.”

You froze.

Hercules. One of the strongest beings to ever live. A demigod. A legend.

Athena lifted a hand, palm outward. You felt warmth surge through your chest—strength awakening like coiled muscle finally stretching.

“Your power will grow. As will your responsibility.”

Hermes snapped his fingers and a glowing image appeared in the sky—giant, monstrous silhouettes rising over cities. Colossal hands breaking through mountains. Creatures older than mythology waking after millennia of sleep.

Cronus was rising. And with him, the Titans.

Athena’s voice dropped lower.

“You are two of the Seven summoned to stop them.”