May was ending. June was almost here.
Anyone who knew how stories worked would tell you that was the problem.
Percy Jackson was about to get kicked out of another school, about to have his world turned upside down, about to learn he was a demigod.
Chiron said he'd be returning to Yancy Academy.
I knew exactly what that meant.
Percy Jackson was about to arrive.
The camp felt different because of it.
Not louder. Not quieter. Just…tense. Like the air before a thunderstorm, when everything holds its breath.
I'd been at Camp Half-Blood for just over three weeks now. Long enough to stop feeling like an intruder. Not long enough to feel like I belonged.
Long enough to notice patterns. Which meant the next few days mattered.
Training
As usual the day started with training- The arena was crowded that morning. Word had spread that Luke and I were sparring, and apparently, that was enough to draw a crowd these days.
I didn't blame them. A mere 3 weeks ago, I'd been a complete novice. Now...not so much.
"Ready?" Luke asked, taking his stance across from me.
I hefted my greatsword, feeling its familiar weight. The blade Beckendorf had forged, the one everyone else had rejected as too heavy, too unwieldy. In my hands, it felt like an extension of my arm.
"Always," I said.
We'd been doing this for nearly every day now. Every morning, Luke would meet me at the arena, and we'd drill. Strikes, blocks, footwork, combinations. He was still better— much better—but the gap was closing.
Luke moved first, his blade flowing through the air in a series of testing strikes. I blocked with the flat of my greatsword, deflecting rather than trying to match his speed.
That was the key I'd learned. I couldn't fight like Luke. He was water—fluid, precise, elegant. I was stone—heavy, powerful, inevitable.
Our blades met with a clang that echoed across the arena. Luke's eyes widened slightly as the impact jarred his arms.
"You're getting stronger," he observed, circling me. "A lot stronger."
I pressed forward, swinging the greatsword in a wide arc. Luke dodged backward, but I could see him measuring the distance, respecting the reach.
"Faster too," he added. "But you're still overcommitting."
He was right. I put everything into that swing, and for a moment, I was completely open. Luke's practice blade tapped my ribs.
"Dead," he said.
I nodded, resetting. "Again."
We went through the sequence once more. This time, I held back slightly on the swing, keeping my guard up. Better.
Luke smiled. "Learning. Good."
We traded blows for several more minutes. Each exchange taught me something new. Where to put my weight. How to read his movements. When to press and when to give ground.
I was improving. Rapidly. Ten times faster than I should have been.
Mahadev's gift at work.
"Your turn," Luke said, gesturing for me to attack.
I moved forward, greatsword raised. An overhead strike—Luke sidestepped. A horizontal slash—he ducked. A thrust—he parried.
But each time, I was forcing him to move, to react, to respect the weight behind my strikes.
"Not bad," he said. "You're still rough around the edges, but—"
I swung again, and this time, Luke blocked instead of dodging.
Bad idea.
The impact drove him backward, his feet leaving furrows in the dirt. His arms shook from the force, and I saw genuine surprise in his eyes.
"Okay," he said, shaking out his arms. "Note to self: don't block the giant sword."
The watching campers laughed. I grinned.
Then Luke came at me for real. ...Okay. Maybe half real .
His blade was a blur, striking high and low, left and right. I blocked desperately, using the greatsword's reach to keep him at bay. But he was relentless, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next.
My arms were burning. My breath coming hard. He was going to wear me down, force an opening, and—
Luke's blade came in fast, aiming for my chest. I couldn't bring my greatsword around in time.
Instinct took over.
My left hand blazed with golden-red fire.
A dagger manifested—short, wicked, made of solidified flame and light.
I blocked Luke's strike with it.
The arena went dead silent.
Luke froze, staring at the fire dagger in my hand. His practice sword was pressed against it, and where they met, sparks flew.
"What," Luke said slowly, "is that?"
I looked at my hand, at the weapon I'd created. It was already starting to fade, the flames flickering, the light dimming. Maybe five seconds total before it dissolved entirely.
But I'd done it. Created a weapon from nothing but fire and will.
"I... I don't know," I admitted. "I just... needed something, and it was there."
The dagger dissolved completely, returning to smoke and embers.
Luke lowered his sword, a complicated expression on his face. Pride, concern, and something else I couldn't quite read.
"Show me again," he said.
I tried. Focused on that same feeling, that same need. My hand heated, flames gathering, and—
Another dagger formed. This one lasted maybe three seconds before guttering out.
"Incredible," Luke breathed. "You can create weapons?"
"Small ones," I said, breathing hard, already feeling the drain. "And not for long. But yeah."
Around us, the crowd erupted into whispers.
"Did you see that?!"
"He made a WEAPON out of FIRE!"
"What kind of power—"
"Definitely not normal," Annabeth's voice cut through the noise. She was in the front row, notebook already out, scribbling furiously. "Has to be Big Three. That's not normal demigod ability."
I met her eyes across the arena. She gave me a knowing look, like this confirmed everything she'd suspected.
If only she knew.
"That's enough for today," Chiron's voice called out. I hadn't even noticed him arrive, wheelchair form positioned at the arena's edge. "Excellent work, both of you. Luke, a word?"
As the crowd dispersed, I caught Chiron watching me with that analytical gaze of his. Not suspicious, exactly, but... thoughtful.
Like he was trying to fit puzzle pieces together and finding they didn't quite match.
The Forge
I found Beckendorf at his usual spot, hunched over the main forge, completely absorbed in whatever he was crafting.
"Hey, Charles."
He looked up, face breaking into a grin. "Aditya! Heard you put on quite a show this morning."
"News travels fast."
"Always does." He set down his hammer, moving to where my greatsword leaned against the wall. "How's she holding up?"
"Perfect," I said honestly. "Not a single problem."
He ran his hands along the blade, checking for stress fractures, testing the edge. "Good. That's good. You're taking care of her."
"Her?"
"All good weapons are female," Beckendorf said seriously. "They're beautiful, dangerous, and demand respect."
I laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
He handed the sword back to me, then studied my face. "You okay? You seem... tense."
Was I that obvious?
"Just a feeling," I said. "Like something's about to happen."
Beckendorf nodded slowly. "Yeah. Camp's been weird lately. More monsters at the borders. Chiron leaving. Everyone's on edge."
"He mentioned a potential demigod," I said carefully. "At some school?"
"Yancy Academy." Beckendorf returned to his forge, picking up his hammer. "Could be another Big Three kid, if the rumors are true. Powerful enough to attract serious attention."
Another Big Three kid. Except Percy was actually Poseidon's son, and I was... well, definitely not.
"That would complicate things," I said.
"Wouldn't it though?" Beckendorf glanced at me. "Two forbidden children in the same camp? Zeus would lose his mind."
If only you knew, I thought.
We fell into comfortable silence, Beckendorf working while I watched. There was something soothing about the rhythm of his hammer, the glow of the forge, the smell of hot metal.
"You ever think about what you'd do?" I asked suddenly. "If something big happened? A war, or—"
"Fight," Beckendorf said simply. "That's what we do, isn't it? We're demigods. Fighting is in our blood."
"Even if the odds were bad?"
"Especially then." He looked at me seriously. "That's when heroes are made, Aditya. Not in easy victories, but in impossible fights. When you stand up anyway, even knowing you might lose."
I thought about that. About the eagle's words.
"What if the hero breaks?" I asked quietly.
Beckendorf paused mid-strike, then continued his work. "Then they weren't really a hero to begin with. Or they were, and something broke them. Tragedy either way."
He set down his hammer, turning to face me fully.
"You've been different since the eagle fight," he observed. "Quieter. More watchful. What did it say to you?"
I stiffened. "Just dying curses. I told you."
"Luke said the same thing." Beckendorf's eyes were steady. "But I know a lie when I hear one. Whatever it said, it's been eating at you."
For a moment, I considered telling him. The warning. The suspicion. The paranoia that had been growing ever since.
But what could I say? That a dying monster warned me about heroes with scars? That I was watching everyone, trying to figure out who would betray us when titans woke?
"It's nothing," I said finally. "Just... trying to stay alert. After something like that, you realize how fast things can go wrong."
Beckendorf studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. But if you ever need to talk..." He gestured around the forge. "I'm usually here."
"Thanks, Charles."
As I left the forge, I couldn't shake the feeling that Beckendorf knew more than he was saying. That maybe he'd seen the same things I had, noticed the same warning signs.
Or maybe I was just seeing threats everywhere now.
Chiron's Announcement
Dinner was unusually tense that night. Word had spread that Chiron was making an announcement, and everyone was speculating about what it could mean.
The Stoll brothers were taking bets on whether it was a new quest. The Ares cabin was hoping for war games. The Athena cabin was theorizing about prophecies.
Only a few of us knew the truth.
After the meal offerings, after everyone had eaten, Chiron stood—his full centaur form, impressive and commanding.
"Campers," he began, his voice carrying across the pavilion. "I have an announcement. For the next few days, I'll be away from camp on urgent business."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"There's a potential demigod who needs our help," Chiron continued. "A young student who's been having... difficulties. I need to assess the situation personally."
"Another demigod?" someone called out. "Is it true they might be Big Three?"
Chiron's expression remained neutral. "I cannot say for certain."
More whispers. Excited speculation. Two Big Three children in the same summer? That would be unprecedented.
"In my absence," Chiron said, raising his voice slightly, "Luke Castellan will be in charge as senior counselor. Any problems, any concerns, you bring them to him."
Luke stood, nodding seriously. Every inch the responsible leader.
"Additionally," Chiron's eyes found me across the pavilion, " The Ares Cabin and Aditya will assist Luke with camp security. After recent events, I believe we need enhanced vigilance at our borders."
Everyone turned to look at me. I tried not to squirm under the attention.
"The barriers are strong," Chiron continued. "But we've seen increased monster activity. Stay alert. Stay safe. And remember—we protect each other here. That's what makes us a family."
As Chiron dismissed everyone, I felt the weight of his words. Enhanced vigilance at our borders. He was giving me permission, responsibility, to watch over the camp.
Did he know? Did he suspect something was coming?
Or was I reading too much into everything?
The Watch
I found Luke in the Hermes cabin after dinner, helping the younger kids with their evening routine.
"Hey," I said from the doorway. "Got a minute?"
He looked up, excusing himself from a debate about whose turn it was for top bunk. We stepped outside into the cool night air.
"What's up?" Luke asked.
"The border patrol thing Chiron mentioned," I said. "I will do it full time, for the next few days."
Luke's eyebrows rose. "Full time? That's a lot. You'd be out there alone, watching for threats, sleeping rough—"
"I know," I interrupted. "But something feels off. More monsters than usual. Chiron leaving right when a potentially powerful demigod is about to arrive. It's a vulnerable moment."
Luke studied me in the dim light. "You really think something's coming?"
"I think someone needs to be ready if it does."
He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. You're right—we need someone out there. But not completely alone. I'll have people rotate through, bring you supplies, spell you for rest breaks."
"Luke, I don't need—"
"Yes, you do." His voice was firm. "You're strong, Aditya, but you're not invincible. We work as a team here."
I wanted to argue, but the concern in his eyes stopped me. He genuinely cared. About the camp, about the campers, about me.
The hero's scar hides a deeper wound.
Looking at Luke now—responsible, caring, heroic—I couldn't reconcile that with any kind of betrayal. Whatever the eagle had meant, it couldn't be about him.
Could it?
"Okay," I said. "Team effort."
Luke smiled, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. When do you want to start?"
"Tommorow. As soon as Chiron leaves tomorrow, I'll head to the border."
"Then get some rest first. You'll need your strength."
As I walked back to the Big House, I couldn't shake the feeling that Luke was watching me. Not suspiciously, exactly, but... carefully.
Like he was trying to figure me out as much as I was trying to figure him out.
The Watch Begins
Chiron left at dawn, wheelchair form rolling down the hill toward the camp van. I watched from my window as he departed, a knot of tension in my stomach.
Yancy Academy he'd said
Which meant he was going where Percy was.
I spent the morning gathering supplies—water, dried food, a bedroll, my bow and quiver. The greatsword was already strapped across my back, a constant weight I'd grown used to.
"You look like you're going to war," Beckendorf observed, finding me at the armory.
"Just being prepared," I said.
He handed me something—a small bronze disk, intricately engraved. "Take this. It's a signal flare. If you need help, crush it. It'll send up a light visible from anywhere in camp."
I turned it over in my hands. "Thanks."
"Don't be stupid out there," he said seriously. "If something big comes, you call for backup. Promise me."
"I promise."
It was a lie, and I think we both knew it. If something came, if there was a threat to the camp, I'd do whatever it took to stop it.
Even if that meant standing alone.
By midday, I was at the border, setting up a basic camp in the shadow of Thalia's tree. The pine's presence was comforting—powerful, protective, a reminder that heroes could become something greater than themselves.
Even in sacrifice.
I spent the afternoon patrolling, walking the boundary, checking for weak points. The barriers were strong, shimmering faintly in the air when I focused on them. Chiron's magic, reinforced by the tree, keeping monsters at bay.
But barriers could be broken. Overwhelmed. Breached.
I needed to be ready.
As the sun set, I practiced in the ember glow of dusk. Summoning the fire daggers, holding them as long as I could. Three seconds. Five. Once, for almost eight seconds, before the drain became too much.
I could create them faster now. More reliably. But they still cost energy, still required focus.
Not a primary weapon. A surprise. A last resort.
Night fell, and I sat with my back against Thalia's tree, greatsword across my lap, watching the forest.
Somewhere out there, Percy Jackson was at Yancy Academy, probably getting into trouble he didn't understand. Probably seeing things he couldn't explain.
Soon, he'd come here. And everything would change.
I pushed the thought away and kept watch.
Restless
The second day was harder.
No sleep. Just brief periods of rest, always listening, always alert. Luke sent the Stoll brothers with fresh supplies and a rotation offer, but I waved them off.
"I'm fine," I told them. "Just keeping an eye out."
Travis looked at me like I was crazy. "Dude, you've been out here for like thirty hours straight."
"I'm fine," I repeated.
They left, but I could see them glancing back, concerned.
Maybe I was overdoing it. Maybe the paranoia was getting to me. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming, that I needed to be here, needed to be ready.
I practiced more with the fire weapons. Tried creating a short sword which failed . A spear i couldnt even muster the required energy. The longer the weapon, the more drain.
I wondered if, with enough practice, I could maintain them indefinitely. Or create something bigger. The armor was proof I could solidify fire into something permanent.
But that required rage, required desperation. The weapons needed calm, focus, control.
Different techniques for different needs.
By evening, I was exhausted. Not physically—Parvati's blessing kept my stamina high—but mentally. The constant vigilance, the endless watching, was wearing me down.
I was starting to see threats in every shadow, hear monsters in every rustling leaf.
"Get it together," I muttered to myself. "You're losing it."
But I couldn't let my guard down. Not now. Not when—
A sound.
Distant. Faint. But definitely there.
An engine. Car on the road beyond camp's borders.
My head snapped up, body going tense.
That road wasn't used much. Mostly just supply runs and the occasional cab dropping off new campers.
At this hour? In the dark?
I stood, hand moving to my greatsword.
Probably nothing. Just late-night traffic.
But the knot in my stomach said otherwise.
I strained my ears, listening.
The engine was raoring which meant the car was moving fast. Too fast. And behind them...
Was that... screaming?
The Storm Breaks
I didn't make a conscious decision to move. One moment I was near the tree, the next I was running through the forest toward the road.
Every instinct screamed that this was it. This was what I'd been waiting for.
Someone important is coming.
The trees whipped past as I ran, branches catching at my clothes. I burst through the undergrowth onto a proper tarmac road, following the sound.
Closer now. Definitely an engine. Definitely moving fast.
And behind them... roars. Howls. The unmistakable sounds of monsters giving chase.
I pushed myself faster, armor already starting to manifest, golden light bleeding through my skin.
Through the trees ahead, I saw lights. Headlights, swerving wildly.
Someone was in trouble.
Someone was coming to camp.
And they were bringing hell with them.
I reached the road just as a beat-up blue Camaro came screaming around the corner, engine roaring, tires squealing.
And behind it...
My blood went cold.
Not one monster.
Dozens.
An entire army.
I had seconds to decide. Let them pass and hope they reached camp. Or—
My eyes met those of the driver—a woman, terrified, desperate.
In the back seat, two boys. One my age, messy black hair, sea-green eyes wide with fear. The other with curly hair and a scared, oddly animal-like face.
Percy Jackson.
I'd found him.
Or rather, he'd found me.
And he'd brought an army of monsters straight to Camp Half-Blood's doorstep.
The armor exploded into full manifestation, golden light flooding the road. My greatsword blazed to life in my hands.
Three seconds until the car reached me. Three seconds to decide.
I'd already decided.
I planted my feet in the middle of the road and raised my sword.
"Not today," I said to the darkness. "Not on my watch."
The car screamed past me.
The monsters arrived.
And the night erupted into violence.
END OF CHAPTER 6