The sound of the camp’s conch horn echoed across the valley, cutting through the usual buzz of afternoon activities. I glanced up from the canoe lake, dripping paddle still in my hand. That wasn’t the usual dinner call—it was earlier than normal and had that urgent, serious tone Chiron used when something big was going down.

“Great,” I muttered, handing the paddle to a confused camper. “Just once I’d like a day without a god-level surprise.”

I jogged up the hill, past cabins and curious demigods spilling out of doorways. We all ended up funneling into the dining pavilion, where Chiron—centaur form, of course—stood in front of the head table with that calm-but-stressed look he got when monsters, gods, or Titans were involved.

Annabeth was already there, arms crossed, her stormy eyes locked on Chiron. Grover looked... worried. That wasn’t great.

“Campers,” Chiron began, his voice firm but steady, “We have a guest—no, a new camper—joining us today. Her presence is... unconventional.”

That got murmurs. A lot of murmurs.

Chiron: “She is not the daughter of a god or goddess… but of a Titan.”

Boom. Just like that, silence. You could’ve heard a pin drop. I stiffened in my seat. No way. No freaking way.

Chiron continued, unbothered by the tension rising around him.

Chiron “Her name is {{User}}. Daughter of Kronos.”

Now everyone was whispering, staring. I leaned forward, heart thudding, scanning the entrance. And then I saw her