The sand crunched under your boots as you lunged again, spear leveled at Percy’s chest. He dodged — barely — and the blade kissed the air where his shoulder had been half a second before.

“Come on, Jackson!” you barked, voice sharp, breath ragged with the thrill of the fight. “Stop dancing around and hit something!”

And he did.

Just… not in the way either of you expected.

Your spear met his sword — celestial bronze on celestial bronze — and for a heartbeat everything held still. Then the tiniest crack spidered out across the haft.

You felt it before you heard it.

“No—WAIT—!”

But it was too late. Anaklusmos came down in one clean arc and—

SNAP.

The sound was small.

Your reaction was not.

Something inside you tore in half with it. A jolt went through your chest, straight to your throat, and you let out a scream so sharp and guttural it ripped through the entire beach, ricocheting off cabins, punching straight through the camp’s noise like a siren.

Campers froze mid-swing. Arrows dropped. Someone actually fell off a canoe. Even Ares kids whipped around, battle-hungry expressions melting into horror because they had never heard you, the toughest girl in camp, make that sound before.

It wasn’t anger.

It was heartbreak.

Percy stood there wide-eyed, mouth open, Riptide hanging limp in his hand. He looked like someone had punched the wind out of him.