The Trials of Camp Half-Blood

Ghosts of the Past

I've woken up in some pretty weird situations before—underwater, dangling off cliffs, even surrounded by monsters—but waking up in a silent camp with the weight of someone watching? That's a whole new level of creepy.

Morning came quietly.

 Too quietly.

None of us had spoken much the night before. After Luke showed up with his I'm-totally-not-a-killer vibe, the whole camp was on edge. Clarisse stayed on guard most of the night, Annabeth tinkered with our traps, and I... well, I did my best to sleep with one eye open. Trust me, it's harder than it sounds.

The first rays of light cut through the trees, casting long shadows over our camp. I stretched, trying to shake off the weird feeling that had been crawling up my spine since last night. Something was off.

Great, I'm up. Let's get this nightmare started.

I went to check my pack—food, water, weapons, the usual essentials. That's when I saw it. A folded piece of parchment tucked beneath my spare shirt. It hadn't been there the night before, which meant someone had slipped it into my bag while we slept. My stomach did a flip as I opened the note, the handwriting unmistakable.

The note read:
"The past is not dead."

Four words, scrawled in handwriting I knew all too well. It was Luke's.

Oh, great. Because nothing says 'good morning' like cryptic death threats from your old buddy.

Annabeth must've heard me mumbling because she looked up from the traps, eyebrow raised.

Annabeth: What's that?

I hesitated, crumpling the note in my fist. Annabeth didn't need to see it. Not yet, anyway.

Me: Just... nothing. Checking my gear.

I wasn't lying. Not really. But I didn't want to throw around accusations before I was sure. Still, that note wasn't a coincidence. Luke's handwriting, those words—it all connected to what I already knew about him.

See, here's the thing about Luke Castellan. He wasn't always the enemy. He used to be one of us, a counselor at Camp Half-Blood, a son of Hermes who was supposed to lead his cabin. Until he betrayed us. The memories hit me hard, like waves crashing over my head.

Flashback:
We were on a quest, just like any other. I still trusted Luke back then. He was older, smarter, and had this cool big-brother vibe. He always looked out for me, or at least, I thought he did.

But then came the betrayal—the moment he sided with Kronos and turned his back on Camp Half-Blood. He wasn't just mad at the gods; he hated them. All of them. He hated what they'd done to him, to all of us. The abandonment, the broken promises. Luke had carried that anger with him for years, and when he finally snapped, it was like a dam breaking.

I still remembered the look in his eyes, cold and determined, when he handed me over to Kronos like a pawn.

Luke: They've abandoned us, Percy. We're just weapons to them. Tools. I'm done playing their game.

I shook the memory away, my fingers tightening around the note. Luke's past had always been haunting him, and now it was haunting me too. He had always been able to blend in, act like he was one of us, even when he was plotting something else entirely.

Now here he was again, acting like he wasn't up to anything, but that note... it felt like a warning. Or a threat.

 So, Luke's still got issues. Big surprise.

I stood, pocketing the crumpled note as I glanced over at the others. Clarisse was sharpening her spear, her face set in a permanent scowl, while Valeria from Aphrodite was fiddling with her hair, probably still wondering how she ended up here. Annabeth was watching me, eyes sharp as ever.

Annabeth: Percy, are you okay? You've been acting weird since last night.

I couldn't hide it from her forever. Annabeth was too smart for that. She always knew when something was up.

Me: I just... I'm thinking about Luke.

Her expression tightened. Annabeth had been close to Luke once—closer than I ever was. She probably still felt conflicted about everything that had happened between them. Part of me wanted to tell her about the note, but another part of me didn't want to stir the pot just yet. We had enough trust issues without me accusing Luke outright.

Annabeth: You think he's behind the disappearances?

I shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Me: I don't know. But I wouldn't be surprised. The guy's got more baggage than a Hermes delivery service.

Annabeth didn't smile at my joke. If anything, she just looked more worried.

Annabeth: We'll keep an eye on him.... but we have bigger problems.. the trials could kill us too.

She was right, of course. But that didn't make it any easier. With Luke creeping around, leaving cryptic messages in my pack, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get worse.

We spent the rest of the morning in silence, packing up camp and preparing to move deeper into the woods. I kept my eyes on Luke whenever I could, watching for any slip-up. But he was annoyingly good at pretending everything was normal. That's what made him dangerous. He wasn't the kind of guy who'd lose his cool or make mistakes easily.

The note in my pocket burned like a weight I couldn't ignore. The past is not dead. Those words echoed in my mind, over and over again, until I could almost hear Luke saying them out loud.

We were being hunted, that much was clear. But by who? And why? If Luke was behind this, what was his endgame? Was he just trying to mess with us, or was he planning something bigger?

My gut told me it was the latter. Luke didn't do things halfway. If he was involved, he wasn't just out for revenge—he was playing the long game, and we were all caught in the middle of it.

Well, this just keeps getting better.

But as we marched deeper into the woods, one thing was for sure: if Luke was playing a game, I was going to beat him at it. And this time, I wasn't going to let him slip away.