The fire cracked in the center of the amphitheater, warm light painting the edges of the group in gold. Laughter bounced off the trees — the kind that didn’t sound cruel, not exactly, but still made the air sting.

Percy sat near the middle, a half-smirk tugging at his mouth as he leaned closer to the others. His words were low, sharp around the edges, spilling stories that used to mean something softer. Each one had once been a memory — late nights sneaking out of the cabins, whispered jokes, trust — now twisted, reshaped into something everyone could laugh at.

Annabeth shook her head, trying to hide her grin. Grover gave a small, uncomfortable chuckle. The others — new campers mostly — were eating it up, leaning forward like this was just another campfire story.

They didn’t notice you standing in the shadows behind the half-wall of the amphitheater, just outside the circle of light.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak.

You just stood there — arms crossed, face unreadable — listening as your name turned into something bitter on his tongue.

The same boy who once defended you from every whisper now made a game of them. And every laugh that followed carved a little deeper.

The fire crackled again, sparks catching on the wind. No one looked back.