𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋¹ || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐘 ✦

IF YOU WANT TO BE POPULAR AT CAMP HALF-BLOOD, don't come back from a mission with bad news. Word of Percy's arrival spread as soon as he walked out of the ocean. Their beach is on the North Shore of Long Island, and it's enchanted so most people can't even see it. People don't just appear on the beach unless they're demigods or gods or really, really lost pizza delivery guys. (It's happened – but that's another story.)

Anyway, that afternoon the lookout on duty was Connor Stoll from Hermes Cabin. When he spotted Percy, he got so excited he fell out of his tree. Then he blew the conch horn to signal the Camp and ran to greet him.

Connor had a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humor. He's a pretty nice guy, but you should always keep one hand on your wallet when he's around and do not, under any circumstances, give him access to shaving cream unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it.

He's got curly brown hair and is a little shorter than his brother Travis, which is the only way Percy can tell them apart. They are both so unlike his old enemy Luke it's hard to believe they're all sons of Hermes.

"Percy!" he yelled, "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?" Then he saw Percy's expression, and his smile melted. "Oh no. Poor Silena. Holy Zeus, when she finds out..."

Together they climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred meters away, people were already streaming towards them, smiling and excited.

Percy's back, they were probably thinking. He's saved the day! Maybe he brought souvenirs!

Percy stopped at the dining pavilion and waited for them. No sense rushing down there to tell them what a loser he was.

Percy gazed across the valley and tried to remember how Camp Half-Blood looked the first time he saw it. That seemed like a bajillion years ago.

From the dining pavilion, you could see pretty much everything. Hills ringed the valley. On the tallest, Half-Blood Hill, Thalia's pine tree stood with the Golden Fleece hanging from its branches, magically protecting the camp from its enemies. The guard dragon Peleus was so big now that Percy could see him from here – curled around the tree trunk, sending up smoke signals as he snored.

To Percy's right spread the woods. To his left, the canoe lake glittered and the climbing wall glowed from the lava pouring down its side. Twelve cabins – one for each Olympian god – made a horseshoe pattern around the commons area. Further south were the strawberry fields, the armory, and the four-story Big House with its sky-blue paint job and its bronze-eagle weathervane.

In some ways, the Camp hadn't changed. But you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the fields.

You could see it in the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill. There weren't as many at Camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never come back. Some had died fighting. Others – they tried not to talk about them – had gone over to the enemy. The ones who were still here were battle-hardened and weary.