(Lied to u it’s not only the HOO I just said that because it was getting nothing when it was camp half blood)

The forest path was too quiet.

Leaves crunched under boots as the heroes strayed further from camp — Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Jason Grace, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Will Solace, Nico Di Angelo, Grover Underwood, Chiron, and even Mr. D (grumbling at being dragged along). Behind them, the faint echoes of laughter and music still carried through the trees. Camp Half-Blood sounded… festive. Too festive.

“Prank day,” Leo muttered, hands shoved into his pockets. His voice was light, but his eyes darted nervously. “Has to be. They’ve done this before. Right? Like, mass sing-alongs?”

Annabeth shook her head, her brow furrowed. “Not like this. It’s too… coordinated.”

Grover’s hooves clicked faster against the stones. “Yeah, satyrs don’t sing in perfect harmony by accident.”

Still, they pressed on, lantern light bobbing ahead of them. The group stayed close — shoulders brushing, hands brushing sword hilts — the silence between them heavier than the night air.

Then they saw you.

Standing just off the path, framed in the glow of the lantern. Still, poised, as though you’d been waiting for them.

Relief flickered first. A familiar face in the shadows.

But something in the air shifted.

Your smile was soft. Too soft. And the way you stood, lithe and relaxed, didn’t match the tension all around. Like you were at ease in a way none of them could be.

Nico’s breath caught. Percy’s grip tightened on Riptide. Hazel whispered, “Oh, thank the gods—” before choking herself silent.

No one spoke after that.

But together, wordlessly, they all came to the same decision.

They stepped forward.

Slowly. Carefully.

“They’re not even in on the so called ‘infection’, right? They’re too stubborn.” Leo murmured

“It.. it’s not an infection..” Piper whimpered, as if more trying to convince herself.