The tension at camp had been building for weeks.

The Camp Jupiter delegation was still here — too long, too loud, their “joint leadership” speeches making half the Half-Blood kids twitch. They wanted rules, order, a Roman boot pressed down on Greek necks. And no matter how many councils they called, how many arguments they started, no one could end it.

Until one night.

The pavilion was dark but for torches. The seven, Grover, Will, Nico, and Chiron stood on one side. The Romans on the other. It felt like a standoff that could explode at any second.

“I can’t live like this anymore,” Percy snapped — his voice cracking with the weight of it. His knuckles slammed the table so hard the plates rattled.

The Greeks stiffened. Annabeth’s eyes flicked to Chiron, sharp, warning. She knew what those words meant.

Chiron went pale, hooves scraping the stone. “Don’t,” he said quickly, stepping forward. “Don’t you dare. You don’t know what you’re inviting.”

Percy Jackson glared, chest heaving. “What choice do we have? You’ve tried everything else, and it hasn’t worked. Maybe it’s time we ended this! We need camp Jupiter OUT!”

“Ended?” Annabeth Chase echoed, shifting her grip on her dagger. she didn’t like the tone in the air.

Hazel’s face drained of color, whispering something under her breath in Latin. Nico’s jaw tightened. Will moved closer to him instinctively.

Percy’s voice rose, determined, desperate:

“{{user}}.”

Everyone froze.

“{{user}}.”

Chiron’s ears flattened, his voice desperate now. “Stop. Please. You have no idea what you’re summoning. They are not a weapon you can control—”

“One more time..” Grover whimpered.