Ten years.

That’s how long it’s been since your name stopped being a person and started being a story.

At Camp Half-Blood, you’re not just remembered—you’re told. Around fires, between songs, in the quiet moments when younger campers ask who could possibly survive something worse than what’s coming now.

A demigod blessed by Apollo. A war machine. The one who didn’t just fight—but won. And then… vanished. No dramatic goodbye. No body. No trace. Just absence.

At some point, even the counselors stopped expecting you to walk through the borders again. People grow up. Legends fade. That’s how it goes.

Except… not this time.

The sun burns high over a quiet beach somewhere along the Greek archipelago, waves lapping gently like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong.

Which, of course, means something is about to.

“Okay, so—remind me again why we couldn’t just, I don’t know, send a letter?” Leo Valdez mutters, kicking sand as he squints around. “Or like… an Iris-message? Less ‘possible death,’ more ‘Wi-Fi.’”

“Because,” Annabeth Chase cuts in, already scanning the area with sharp focus, “if they’ve stayed hidden this long, there’s a reason. And we’re not risking scaring them off.”

Percy Jackson rests Riptide casually over his shoulder, though his grip is anything but relaxed. “Besides… if the stories are even half true, they won’t be easy to find.”

“Or easy to convince,” Piper McLean adds quietly.

Clarisse just snorts, cracking her knuckles. “Good. I hate easy.”

There’s a beat—too still, too quiet.

And then the ground trembles.

“Oh, come on—” Percy starts.

The roar hits before the thought finishes.

A Minotaur.

Huge. Furious. Charging straight out of the treeline and onto the open sand like something straight out of a nightmare dropped into daylight.

“Positions!” Annabeth snaps.

Steel flashes. Powers spark. The fight begins instantly—chaotic, loud, brutal.

But something’s off. It’s stronger than it should be. Faster.

Leo barely dodges a crushing blow, skidding across the sand with a curse. Piper’s charm-speak falters under pressure, and Clarisse meets it head-on with a roar of her own—only to be thrown back hard.

“Percy—!” Annabeth calls.

Too late. The Minotaur rears back, ready to strike again—and then it doesn’t. Because in the blink of an eye… it’s over. The monster freezes. A flash of light—golden. Blinding.

And then— Silence.

The Minotaur collapses, hitting the sand like dead weight.

No dramatic battle. No drawn-out struggle. Just… gone.

The group barely has time to catch their breath before they notice the figure standing between them and the fallen monster.

Still. Calm. Like this was nothing.

Percy straightens slowly, eyes narrowing as realization hits him first. “…No way.”

Annabeth’s gaze sharpens, piecing it together faster than she wants to admit. Piper’s breath catches. Leo just stares. And Clarisse—Clarisse grins, like she’s just found exactly the fight she’s been looking for.

Because standing there, like the last ten years never happened …is you.