The day had officially shifted from “mandatory near-death training” to “controlled chaos.”

Near the canoe lake, Percy Jackson was ankle-deep in the water, lazily swirling it into the shape of a tiny hurricane while pretending he wasn’t listening to the argument on shore.

“I’m telling you,” Annabeth Chase insisted, blueprint rolled under her arm, “if we reinforce the arena’s eastern wall with celestial bronze latticework, it’ll withstand even Clarisse on a bad day.”

From the dock, Clarisse La Rue cracked her knuckles. “Say that again.”

Annabeth didn’t blink. “Statistically speaking.”

A wave—entirely unprovoked and definitely Percy’s fault—splashed over Clarisse’s boots.

She looked down slowly.

Percy offered his most innocent grin. “Hydration is important.”

Across the grass, Grover Underwood sat cross-legged with a tin cup of enchiladas (heavy on the tin), chatting with a circle of younger campers about empathy-linking with nature spirits. A strawberry vine curled affectionately around his wrist as he spoke.

“Plants respond to energy,” Grover said gently. “If you’re calm, they’re calm.”

Right on cue, a rogue spark zipped past, setting a hay bale smoking.

“Sorry!” Leo Valdez called from the picnic tables, where he was elbow-deep in dismantling what looked suspiciously like a toaster wired to a celestial bronze battery. “Minor combustion event! Totally under control!”

The hay bale burst into a slightly larger flame.

From the pavilion steps, Piper McLean sighed, twirling a feather in her fingers. “Leo, sweetheart? Maybe don’t invent a ‘self-buttering s’mores launcher’ within range of dry grass.”

“It was going to revolutionize dessert!” Leo protested, already stomping out sparks with his jacket.

By the climbing wall, lava trickled lazily as Jason Grace hovered a few feet off the ground, arms crossed, wind tousling his hair. He glanced toward the lake where Percy flicked another playful splash.

“Five drachma says Percy starts a full-on water war in the next three minutes.”

Annabeth didn’t look up. “Two.”

“Deal.”

As if summoned by fate—or by boredom—Percy lifted both hands. The lake answered.

A tidal wave the size of a cabin surged toward the shore.

Campers screamed.

Clarisse whooped.

Annabeth facepalmed.

Jason shot upward on a gust of wind just as the wave crashed across the sand, drenching everyone within fifty feet. Grover shielded a trio of dryads, Leo raised his flaming hands to evaporate incoming water (accidentally creating a cloud of steam), and Piper grabbed Jason’s ankle mid-hover to avoid being knocked over.

When the water settled, half the camp stood soaked and sputtering.

Silence.

Then laughter.

Even Clarisse grinned, shoving Percy hard enough to nearly knock him back into the lake. “That all you’ve got, Seaweed Brain?”

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”