Camp Half-Blood was still a lot.
The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows of the Hades cabin, making the shadows on the walls twist like living things. It wasn’t bad, exactly—just... different. The Underworld was predictable. Quiet. Down there, you knew where you stood. Up here, everything felt alive and unpredictable.
Even the air smelled weird—fresh, like pine trees and sea salt.
I sat up and stretched, blinking sleepily as I glanced around the cabin. It was cavernous and dark, with black marble walls and torches flickering ominously in their sconces. At least it felt familiar.
The quiet didn’t last long.
“You’ve got to talk to him,” Henry—the satyr who’d brought me here—insisted as he ushered me out of the cabin.
“Talk to who?” I asked, clutching my stuffed bunny as we crossed the campgrounds. I wasn’t ready for crowds yet, but Henry had decided I didn’t get a say.
“Percy Jackson,” he said, like it was obvious. “The kid you freaked out in the Underworld.”
My stomach twisted. Percy. That name again. I still wasn’t convinced we were related, but something about the way he’d looked at me—like I was the answer to some long-lost prayer—made it impossible to forget him.
“I don’t know,” I muttered, dragging my feet. “What if he’s... wrong?”
Henry snorted. “He’s never wrong about this kind of stuff. Just talk to him. You’ll feel better.”
I spotted Percy by the canoe lake. He was sitting on the edge of the dock, skipping rocks across the water.
The satyr nudged me. “Go.”
With a deep breath, I made my way over, my boots crunching on the gravel. Percy looked up as I approached, his green eyes wide with surprise. For a second, he just stared at me, like he wasn’t sure if I was real.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. He stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh, found Camp Half-Blood.”
“Yeah.” I paused, unsure what to say next. “Nice place. Not as gloomy as my usual.”
Percy cracked a small smile. “That’s good.”
We stood there in silence for a moment, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Percy spoke.
“Do you... remember anything?”
I looked away, my chest tightening. “No. I mean, maybe? There are these little flashes, but it’s like looking at an old photo you can’t place. It doesn’t feel real.”
His shoulders sagged, and I hated the way he looked at me—like he was mourning something he’d already lost.
“But,” I added quickly, “I’m here now. So... maybe that counts for something?”
Percy smiled, a real one this time. “Yeah. It counts.”
Adjusting to camp was harder than I thought it’d be.
For one thing, everyone stared at me. It wasn’t like I was the only child of Hades—apparently, Nico di Angelo had been around for a while—but there was something about me that made people uneasy. Maybe it was my quietness, or the way the shadows seemed to follow me everywhere.
Or maybe it was the fact that I carried a stuffed bunny everywhere.
“What’s with the toy?” a blonde kid from the Apollo cabin asked as we trained in the arena.
“It’s none of your business,” I shot back, clutching the bunny tighter.
Percy was quick to step in, planting himself between me and the Apollo kid. “Leave her alone,” he said firmly, his green eyes flashing.
The other kid backed off, muttering something about “weird Hades kids,” and I turned to Percy with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t need you to fight my battles,” I said, though I was secretly grateful.
“I wasn’t fighting,” he replied with a shrug. “Just... helping.”
Over the next few days, Percy became a constant presence in my life. He introduced me to his friends, Annabeth and Grover, who seemed cautiously curious about me. Annabeth was sharp and skeptical, always watching me like I was a puzzle she hadn’t solved yet. Grover was more laid-back, though he still flinched whenever I walked too close to him.
But Percy? Percy treated me like I belonged, even when I wasn’t sure I did.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said one afternoon as we sat by the campfire.
“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Because you’re my sister,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I didn’t respond right away. I wasn’t sure I believed him—not yet. But for the first time, I didn’t push the idea away.
Maybe, just maybe, he was right.
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