The camp was quiet in the late afternoon, the sun dipping low over Half-Blood Hill. Most of the other campers were still sparring in the arena, but Percy had slipped away, sitting on the edge of the lake with his sneakers half-submerged in the water.

The ripples moved differently under his touch, bending to his will without him even thinking about it. He looked tired, shadows under his eyes, the kind that didn’t come from lack of sleep but from carrying too much weight for someone his age.

That’s when he heard footsteps in the grass. He didn’t move, just glanced up, ready to brush off whoever it was. Instead, he caught the familiar figure slowing as they approached him, not saying much, just watching the water with him.

For once, he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with a joke or some smart remark. He just let them sit, the water rippling in rhythm to his heartbeat, waiting for something neither of them seemed in a rush to break.