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Percy Jackson had been gone from Camp Half-Blood for eleven days.
Eleven days of monsters.
Eleven days of sleeping in places that smelled like wet socks, old pizza, and monster dust.
Eleven days of people asking him if he was Percy Jackson, followed by either screaming, running, or trying to kill him.
So when Percy finally stumbled through the camp’s borders and saw the familiar strawberry fields stretching toward the cabins, he made himself one promise.
He was going to do absolutely nothing.
No quests.
No monsters.
No prophecies.
No saving the world.
He was going to sleep for approximately three days.
Maybe four.
Then he’d wake up, eat blue pancakes, and spend the rest of the summer doing absolutely nothing productive.
It was a beautiful plan.
Naturally, it lasted about six minutes.
“Welcome back, Percy.”
Percy looked toward the Big House.
Chiron stood on the porch, his expression far too serious for someone who had just watched Percy arrive looking like he’d been dragged through Tartarus backward.
“Hey, Chiron.”
The centaur smiled.
“You look exhausted.”
“Thanks.”
“That was not intended as a compliment.”
“I know.”
Percy dropped his backpack beside the porch.
He was already halfway through imagining his bed when Chiron said, “There is something we need to discuss.”
Percy stared at him.
“No.”
Chiron blinked.
“I haven’t said what it is.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Percy—”
“Whatever it is, I vote no.”
Chiron sighed.
“There have been some incidents while you were away.”
Percy closed his eyes.
Of course there had.
“What kind of incidents?”
“Several campers have reported hearing voices outside their cabins at night.”
Percy opened one eye.
“Voices?”
“Yes.”
“Like monsters?”
“We don’t believe so.”
“Ghosts?”
“Not exactly.”
“Cursed woodland creatures?”
“No.”
“Evil nymphs?”
“Percy.”
“I’m brainstorming.”
Chiron gave him the look.
Percy knew the look.
It was the same look adults gave him whenever they had already decided he was going to get involved.
“How many campers?”
“Four so far.”
“And?”
“They’ve all been found wandering near the edge of the woods.”
Percy’s exhaustion suddenly felt less important.
“Anyone hurt?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll check it out.”
“No, you won’t.”
The voice came from behind him.
Percy turned.
Dionysus sat on the porch, a can of Diet Coke in one hand and an expression of profound irritation on his face.
Percy hadn’t even noticed him there.
“Mr. D.”
“Jackson.”
“I can handle it.”
“I am sure you can.”
Percy waited.
Dionysus took a sip.
“That doesn’t mean you will.”
Percy frowned.
“It’s just some weird voice in the woods.”
“And you have been gone for eleven days.”
“I’ve handled worse.”
Dionysus lowered his can.
“Handling worse isn’t the same thing as being okay.”
Percy went quiet.
Chiron glanced between them.
Percy looked away.
“I’ll be careful.”
“No.”
“Mr. D—”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“You’re seriously grounding me?”
“I am not your father.”
“Then stop acting like it.”
Dionysus raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. Consider yourself banned from investigating mysterious voices in the woods until tomorrow.”
Percy stared at him.
“That is literally the same thing.”
“Good. We’re making progress.”
Percy groaned.
He hated when adults made sense.
“Fine.”
Dionysus returned to his Diet Coke.
“Excellent.”
Percy picked up his backpack.
“I hate this camp.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, well. I hate you.”
“Get some sleep, Jackson.”
Percy walked away before Dionysus could see him smile.
⸻
By midnight, Percy was awake.
Of course he was.
He’d spent the first few hours trying to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes his brain reminded him about everything that had happened on the quest.
So eventually he’d given up.
He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of the Poseidon cabin, when he heard something outside.
A rustle.
Then footsteps.
Percy sat up.
He waited.
There.
Footsteps again.
He grabbed his sword and quietly stepped outside.
A small figure was moving between the cabins.
Percy frowned.
He recognized the kid.
One of the younger campers.
They were heading toward the woods.
Alone.
Percy followed.
He kept his distance until they reached the tree line.
“Hey.”
The camper froze.
Percy lowered his sword.
“It’s okay.”
The kid turned around.
Their face was pale.
“Percy?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“So are you.”
The camper swallowed.
“I heard it again.”
“Heard what?”
“The voice.”
Percy glanced toward the woods.
“What does it say?”
The camper shook their head.
“It doesn’t say anything.”
“That doesn’t really help.”
“It calls me.”
Percy frowned.
“How?”
The camper looked toward the trees.
“Like someone whispering my name.”
The wind moved through the branches.
Percy felt a strange pull in the air.
Not magical in the way monsters were.
Something quieter.
Something sad.
“Stay here,” Percy said.
The camper grabbed his sleeve.
“Don’t go.”
Percy looked at them.
“I’ll be right back.”
He gave them his best reassuring smile.
“Promise.”
Then he stepped into the woods.
The deeper he went, the stronger the feeling became.
The voice wasn’t calling him.
Not yet.
But Percy could feel it.
A tug beneath the earth.
A whisper carried through water.
He followed the sound until the trees opened onto a small stream.
Moonlight shimmered across the surface.
And sitting beside the water was a girl.
Or something that looked like one.
Her hair floated around her face despite the lack of wind, and her skin seemed almost translucent.
She looked up.
“Oh.”
Percy stopped.
The spirit stared at him.
“You came.”
Percy lowered his sword.
“You’ve been calling the campers.”
Her expression fell.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The spirit looked down at the water.
“I wanted someone to visit.”
Percy blinked.
“That was it?”
“I was lonely.”
Percy didn’t know what to say to that.
The spirit traced a finger through the stream.
“I used to have people here. They would sit beside the river. They would throw stones into the water. They would talk.”
She smiled sadly.
“Then they stopped.”
Percy sat down.
“You could’ve just asked.”
The spirit gave him a look.
“Would anyone have listened?”
Percy thought about that.
Probably not.
The spirit looked at him.
“You understand.”
Percy stared at the river.
“Yeah.”
He understood.
More than he wanted to.
People were always asking Percy to come.
To fight.
To save.
To lead.
To go on quests.
But sometimes nobody asked whether he wanted to.
Nobody asked if he was tired.
Sometimes being needed was just another way of being alone.
“You can’t keep calling the campers,” Percy said.
“I know.”
“They’re scared.”
“I know.”
“But…”
The spirit looked at him.
Percy shrugged.
“I get it.”
The spirit’s eyes softened.
“You are lonely too.”
Percy gave a small laugh.
“Sometimes.”
“You are a hero.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You must be important.”
Percy looked at the water.
“That’s not always the same thing.”
The spirit was silent.
Percy picked up a small stone and tossed it into the stream.
Plop.
The spirit watched the ripples.
“You could visit,” she said.
Percy smiled.
“Maybe.”
“But you will leave.”
“Yeah.”
“You will forget.”
Percy looked at her.
“No.”
The spirit tilted her head.
“Why?”
“Because I know what it’s like when everyone forgets you.”
She smiled.
“Then I will stop calling them.”
“Thanks.”
Percy stood.
“I’ll talk to Chiron. We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can have visitors during the day. Somewhere safe.”
“You would do that?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Percy shrugged.
“Because somebody should.”
The spirit smiled.
“Thank you, Percy Jackson.”
Percy took a step toward the path.
“Don’t mention it.”
Behind him, the river began to glow faintly.
For the first time, it felt peaceful.
⸻
When Percy returned to camp, he expected to be alone.
Instead, Dionysus was sitting outside the Big House.
Waiting.
Percy stopped.
Dionysus looked at him.
“You’re late.”
Percy glanced toward the sky.
“It’s like two in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“You were waiting?”
“No.”
Percy raised an eyebrow.
Dionysus sighed.
“I was enjoying the moonlight.”
“Sure.”
Dionysus held out a can.
Percy stared at it.
Diet Coke.
“You want this?”
“Take it.”
Percy accepted the can.
Then he sat beside him.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
Percy opened the drink.
The familiar hiss of carbonation broke the silence.
“Are you angry?”
Dionysus didn’t look at him.
“No.”
“Why not?”
A pause.
“Because you came back.”
Percy stared at the can in his hands.
Something tightened in his chest.
“Oh.”
Dionysus finally looked at him.
“You are remarkably determined to prove that you can survive anything.”
Percy didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to.”
Percy swallowed.
“Sometimes…”
His voice came out quieter than he expected.
“Sometimes I don’t want to be the person everyone expects me to be.”
Dionysus said nothing.
Percy stared at the ground.
“I don’t want to be the hero. I don’t want to be the guy everyone sends when something goes wrong.”
He laughed weakly.
“Sometimes I just want to be Percy.”
Dionysus took a sip of his own drink.
“Then be Percy.”
Percy looked at him.
“That easy?”
“No.”
Dionysus’s expression softened.
“But it can be that simple.”
Percy looked toward the cabins.
Most of the camp was asleep.
The lights in the windows were dark.
For once, nobody was calling his name.
Nobody needed saving.
Nobody was asking him to go anywhere.
Dionysus spoke again.
“You don’t have to prove your worth every second of every day.”
Percy looked down.
“Yeah.”
“Rest.”
Percy nodded.
“Okay.”
And for once, he meant it.
⸻
Percy woke to birds singing.
For several seconds, he had no idea where he was.
Then he felt the grass beneath him.
The campfire was nothing more than a pile of warm embers.
Around him, several younger campers were asleep.
Someone had apparently decided that sitting around the fire had been a better idea than going back to their cabins.
Percy slowly sat up.
A blanket slid from his shoulders.
He stared at it.
It was old.
A little scratchy.
And smelled faintly like camp laundry detergent.
Percy smiled.
He looked toward the Big House.
Dionysus was nowhere to be seen.
Of course.
Percy pulled the blanket around himself.
The camp was beginning to wake.
Soon there would be breakfast.
Training.
Arguments.
Cabin chores.
Probably some kind of disaster.
But for now, there was only the quiet morning.
Percy took a slow breath.
Maybe peace didn’t mean escaping everything.
Maybe it didn’t mean making the monsters disappear forever.
Maybe peace was something smaller.
A can of Diet Coke.
A blanket around his shoulders.
Someone waiting for him to come home.
Maybe peace was simply having somewhere safe to return to.
Percy smiled.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t in a hurry to leave.