Camp always felt different at night — the warm lanterns glowing along the cabins, the wind sliding through the trees like it carried secrets from Olympus.

You stood at the edge of the forest, watching the treetops sway. The breeze tugged at your clothes like it knew you by name, like it recognized something in you that the rest of the world kept missing.

People came and went in this place. Quests. Prophecies. Disasters. Triumphs. But you? You felt like someone caught in the middle — pushed forward, pulled back, never quite in control of which way your life tilted next.

Chiron walked Percy through the cabins like a gentle, steady guide. “And over here—oh.” He paused.

Percy followed his eyes. You were sitting by the campfire pit, staring up at the sky like you were waiting for a sign.

Chiron’s voice lowered. “That demigod… the wind has always followed them. Sometimes I fear it knows their path long before they do.”