The Mess Hall was a cavern of noise and light. Long tables were laden with food that appeared out of thin air, platters of barbecue, bowls of glowing fruit, and pitchers of what looked like liquid sunshine. The air buzzed with a hundred conversations, the clatter of plates, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was the sound of community. It was the sound of everything I wasn't a part of.
Juniper walked beside me, a silent, colorful shadow. As we approached the entrance, she spoke for the first time in what felt like hours, her voice soft and melodic. "We sit with our cabin mates."
Her words were a simple statement of fact, but they landed like a sentence. My gaze drifted to the head table, where the twelve Olympian symbols gleamed under the torchlight. Then it slid down to the tables below. There. A table near the front, low to the ground, with a bronze trident at its center. The Poseidon table. And sitting there, looking impossibly at ease, was Percy Jackson.
Son of a... The annoyance was a hot, familiar knot in my gut. I hated how he looked, how he belonged. He was laughing at something the boy next to him said, a real, unburdened laugh. My son had loved that laugh. He'd heard it on some stupid web series and would try to imitate it, always falling short, his own giggle a more precious, genuine sound.
My mind drifted, the chaotic noise of the hall fading into a memory. The smell of crayons. The scratch of wax on construction paper. Sonny, no older than seven, running up to me, his face alight with pride. "Dad, Dad, look!" He'd thrust a drawing into my hands. It was a scribble of a man with a black sword and a blue hat, fighting a green blob. "It's you! You're fighting a monster!" Blue. It was always his favorite color. The color of the sky, the ocean, and his hero's eyes. I'd ruffle his hair and say, "I'll always protect you, buddy." And then I'd turn back to my screen, to my roleplays, to my stupid, fictional worlds. The guilt was a physical taste in my mouth, bitter as ash.
Juniper led me to the table. The laughter died as we approached. The other Poseidon campers—two boys I didn't recognize—stared, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Percy's smile evaporated. He gave me a tight, controlled nod, a gesture that was both a greeting and a warning. The entire table was suffocating in its awkwardness. They were a family, and I was the cuckoo in the nest.
I couldn't stay here. My eyes scanned the hall, searching, searching. They landed on the table at the far end of the pavilion, the one that was overflowing with kids, a chaotic jumble of energy. The Hermes table. And then I saw him.
A brown-skinned kid, maybe twelve years old, with dark, curly hair and a familiar way of chewing on his bottom lip when he was concentrating on his food. He was listening to an older camper tell a wild story, his eyes wide with wonder.
Surprise, Manny's voice echoed in my head, but it was different this time. Not a taunt, but a statement of fact. I fixed the reality. I connected them like two radio waves, father and son. The signal is strong.
The certainty hit me like a physical blow. It was him. It was Sonny. There was no doubt, no room for question. My entire world narrowed to his face. But even through the roaring in my ears, a sliver of unease pricked at me. It was too easy. Too perfect.
But I was already moving.
The screech of my wooden stool against the stone floor was like a gunshot in the suddenly silent hall. Every head turned. I stood up, my hands clenched into fists, my eyes locked on the Hermes table.
Percy was on his feet in an instant, his hand hovering near his pocket where Riptide lay. "Ashton. Sit down." His voice was low, a clear command.
Annabeth, at the Athena table, rose simultaneously, her grey eyes sharp with alarm, her mind already racing through the tactical implications. Will Solace from the Apollo table stood, his healer's instincts kicking in. Nico di Angelo, sitting with Will, pushed his chair back, a shadow of darkness flickering around him as he assessed the threat.
And at the Hermes table, Sonny looked up, his eyes wide with fear, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. He recognised me... He seemed to know.
Ashton, stop! Manny's voice was a shriek of pure terror in my skull. What are you doing? This isn't the plan! STOP!
I ignored him. I started walking, my steps heavy and deliberate. The sea of campers parted before me, their faces a blur of shock and confusion.
"We are going home," I said, my voice flat and loud, cutting through the silence. I was looking directly at Sonny.
The boy flinched. He looked around, as if to see who I was talking to. His confusion was a dagger in my heart.
"I... I don't know you," he stammered, his voice small.
I reached the table. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed his hand, my grip tight, desperate.
The reaction was instantaneous. The entire main cast was on their feet. Percy took a step forward, his face a mask of fury. Annabeth was already moving to intercept. Will and Nico were right behind him.
Sonny—my son—yanked his hand back, trying to pull away from the crazy, scarred stranger.
And as he struggled, it happened.
A golden light, brighter than the torches, erupted from above his head. It solidified into a shimmering, holographic image: a caduceus, the winged staff with two entwined serpents. The symbol of Hermes.
Gasps echoed through the Mess Hall. A claiming. Here. Now.
The light bathed Sonny's face, and in its glow, he looked different. Older. Less like my little boy. He was a demigod. A child of Hermes.
...I wasn't his dad. Not anymore. The story had claimed him. The universe had rewritten his history, and I had been erased.
The realization broke something final inside me. All the desperation, the guilt, the hope, the rage—it all coalesced into a single, white-hot moment of impotent fury.
My hand, the one that had been holding his, flew up and then down.
The slap echoed through the stunned silence of the Mess Hall.
It wasn't hard. Not really. But it was loud. And it was wrong. So profoundly wrong.
Sonny cried out, stumbling back, his hand flying to his cheek. His eyes, now filled not with confusion but with terror and betrayal, stared at me.
The world rushed back in. Percy was lunging, Annabeth shouting my name. But all I could see was Sonny's face, the red mark already blooming on his skin. The mark I had put there.
You son of a bitch..., Manny's voice whispered in my head. "What have you done?"