The first time you stepped past the borders of Camp Half-Blood, the world seemed to hum differently. The barrier shimmered faintly behind you like heat rising off asphalt, but everything inside was alive — the clatter of swords, laughter echoing from the cabins, the distant neigh of a pegasus. You were new here, another name on Chiron’s endless list of demigods pulled in from a world that didn’t want to believe in gods or monsters.

What set you apart wasn’t just your divine parentage — Poseidon’s mark carried its own weight — but the fact that you’d begun seeing things. Not dreams, not daydreams. Visions. Images that flashed and burned behind your eyes when the world went still — things that hadn’t happened yet, or things that were happening somewhere else.

That was rare. Too rare.

When you arrived, Luke Castellan was the first to greet you. He wore the kind of easy grin that made everyone else relax a little. He offered to show you around — the cabins, the armory, the dining pavilion, the strawberry fields. You noticed how everyone greeted him like an old friend, even if there was a shadow behind his eyes that most didn’t see.

As he led you toward the cabins, he talked easily — about how the Hermes cabin took in newcomers, how training could get rough, how the forest wasn’t a place to wander at night. You nodded, trying to keep up, when suddenly the air around you went silent.

It hit without warning.

A wave of dizziness. The ground rippled. The world shifted. For a heartbeat you weren’t at camp anymore — you saw fire, splintered wood, a golden flash, and a voice whispering your name from beneath the ocean. Then it was gone.

When you blinked, Luke was gripping your shoulder, his expression tense. He didn’t ask what you’d seen. He didn’t need to. There was something in his eyes — concern, curiosity, something sharper hiding beneath — before he forced his usual smirk back into place.

“Guess we’ll have to add ‘visions’ to your list of talents,” he said lightly, but his tone wasn’t really joking.

Over the next few days, the camp began to feel almost normal. You trained, ate with the other campers, learned to control the way your power reacted to water. That’s when you met Nico di Angelo.

He didn’t talk much, but somehow the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. He’d sit with you at the edge of the lake sometimes, skipping stones in silence. You talked about strange dreams, about what it felt like to never really belong. He didn’t say much, but he listened. And the more time you spent near him, the more your chest tightened in ways you didn’t understand.

One afternoon, during capture the flag, you found yourselves side by side again. When monsters came from the trees, the two of you fought together without even needing to speak — the shadows and the water moving in tandem like they had always known each other.

Afterward, when everyone was celebrating, you saw Luke watching from a distance. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He began to seek you out more often after that. Offering extra training sessions. Sparring matches that lasted longer than they needed to. Late-night conversations by the campfire about how unfair the gods could be, how mortals were always the ones left to clean up their messes. There was something magnetic about him — like he was trying to pull you into his orbit.

But underneath that charm, there was something else building — something dangerous. The way he looked at you lingered too long. The way his words softened when he said your name. It was like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to protect you or burn the whole world down for you.

The visions kept coming. Some clearer now — Nico standing in darkness, Luke surrounded by stormlight, and a voice again, deep and echoing: The sea remembers its own.

Then, one night, another vision tore through you. You saw the camp in flames, the Hermes cabin shattered, and Luke standing at the center, a golden blade in hand. His expression was full of pain — and resolve. You saw yourself there too, water swirling at your feet, Nico shouting something you could