When the Argo II landed on the edge of the canyon, the ground shook. Not from their arrival — from something already waiting.

They’d come at the gods’ orders. “Find the one who can make heroes out of mortals,” Zeus had said. “They will prepare you.” They didn’t expect you.

You stood at the center of the ruins, spear at your side, a calm expression that didn’t belong to anyone mortal. Every movement was deliberate — power restrained, not flaunted.

Jason exchanged a look with Annabeth. Piper’s hand twitched toward her dagger. Even Leo, usually the first to speak, was quiet.

“You’re late,” you said finally, voice even, echoing through the canyon like a challenge.

They didn’t know yet if you were a teacher or a trial — only that every story they’d ever heard called you the greatest demigod who ever lived.

And as the dust settled, and the seven stood before you, there was no denying it — this wasn’t going to be training.

It was going to be survival.