You’d been at Camp Half-Blood for months now— long enough that everyone had stopped asking.

At first it had been just like Percy: arriving confused, attacked by monsters, dragged through the border with nothing but adrenaline and fear clinging to you.

The other campers whispered about you the way they whispered about him when he first arrived. Maybe they’re important. Maybe they’re meant for something. Maybe their parent is a big one.

And for a while… you believed it. You kept waiting for the sky to crack open or the sea to glow or an iris rainbow to shimmer above your head— any sign, any flash of godly acknowledgment. But Percy was claimed in days.

You? Days turned into weeks. Weeks stretched into months. Nothing happened. People stopped whispering. Stopped guessing. Stopped caring.

You became “unclaimed.” A word that felt like a bruise. Campfires came and went. Quests came and went. Heroes rose and fell. And you stayed exactly where you started: no cabin, no destiny, no explanation. Just a kid nobody’s god wanted.