This has all happened before

{Camp Half-Blood, June 1st, 2006}

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Jackson. It's good to see you again."

I couldn't help but stare at the boy in front of me, bathed in the dim light of a small yellow aura. His black hair was plastered to his forehead by the rain, and his sea-green eyes flickered with understandable confusion and exhaustion. The weight of his world, quite literally, was slumped on his back in the form of a half-conscious satyr—Grover, a failed Protector at twenty-five years old.

Corvus, had been perched on Thalia's tree, his usual post for 'guard duty.' When he saw the Minotaur clambering up from the street at the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he flew straight back to me, squawking his frantic warning. Of course, in his hurry, he'd left out a crucial detail—that the monster was chasing a kid, his satyr, and a woman I could only assume was his mother.

Yet, the moment I laid eyes on the boy, something clicked. I recognized him—Percy Jackson. The same boy who had come to camp years ago, barely escaping the clutches of a Minotaur. A son of Poseidon, though that fact wouldn't be revealed until later. But I knew. I always knew. The memories came rushing back hitting me like a freight train.

I was slammed with a relentless barrage of memories, each one more intense than the last. I relived every agonizing moment—the countless deaths in those miserable dreams, the first time Percy arrived at camp, the bond I'd shared with Thalia, and then… the destruction of it all. The camp in ruins, the Titans marching forward, wiping out everything and everyone I cared about.

Through it all, something gnawed at the back of my mind, a memory that didn't sit right. It was about Luke. No, not just Luke—the figure that always lingered around him. It's brutal golden eyes, black curly hair, an unnervingly long, pointy beard… Kronos.

The figure was Kronos. He was there all along, manipulating Luke, slowly tightening his grip. And I—I'd missed it, for more than a year I'd missed it. But not this time.

The kid in front of me, Percy, was looking at me like I was insane, but I didn't have time to explain. He was here now, and things were in motion. But first, I needed to tie up a loose end.

"Go down to the farmhouse, Percy," I told him firmly. He looked like he wanted to argue, to ask more questions, but I cut him off. "You'll find your answers there. I've got to deal with something else."

Then I turned to the mother "Ma'am thank you for bringing your son to camp we'll keep him safe. Now try to find the worst smelling human you can and stay with them."

Percy and his mother hesitated, but the firmness in my voice must have convinced them. With a final goodbye, each one began to stagger down the hill, one towards the farmhouse, and the other down to the roadside a sad look on both of their faces but I couldn't console them now.

I turned my attention back to the shadows, letting them swallow me whole. The sensation was like sinking into cold water— I never got bored of doing it. Within moments, I emerged in the Hermes cabin, the usual chaos of unclaimed demigods and Hermes' kids filling every inch of space.

But tonight, I wasn't here to socialize.

The shadows around me pulsed almost like a heartbeat following my own, then I unleashed them without hesitation. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, sending every demigod in the cabin flying outside. Their startled cries filled the air, but I didn't care. My focus was singular, fixed on one person.

Luke Castellan.

He was pinned to the wall by four tendrils of shadow before he even had time to react. His eyes fluttered open, confusion quickly turning to anger as he realized who had pinned him there. But as I stepped closer, the anger in his eyes morphed into something darker—something that wasn't entirely his own.

"Kronos," I said, my voice low and dripping with venom. "Get out of Luke. Now."

For a moment, Luke and the black figure that clung to him just stared at me, then a grin spread across their faces—the same unsettling grin from the tour in Olympus. A voice echoed in my mind, cold, and ancient almost like my father's. "You picked up on it sooner than I thought, cousin," Kronos sneered, his words like a blade slicing through my thoughts.

"Cut the crap," I snapped, stepping closer, my patience wearing thin. "Get out of Luke. Now."

But Luke's grin only widened, something unsettling flashing in his eyes. "He isn't controlling me, Ozzy."

 "What are you talking about?"

Luke leaned forward as much as the tendrils would allow, his voice taking on a sinister edge. "You wouldn't understand, Ozzy. You're powerful, sure, and you've met your godly parent. But the rest of us? We're just pawns in their game. Tools for the gods to use and discard."

I could feel my jaw clenching as anger simmered beneath the surface. "And you think siding with Kronos is going to change that? The guy ate his own children, Luke!"

Luke's smile twisted into something almost grotesque. "That doesn't matter. You may have gained eyesight but you're still too blind to see the truth. The gods don't care about us. I'm taking control of my own fate."

Before I could respond, something small and dark caught my eye—a pit scorpion, crawling out from a crack in the floorboards. My instincts took over, and I summoned my spear, stabbing the creature and turning it into a puff of yellow dust.

"All demigods have a hard life, Luke," I said, my voice cold and sharp. "It comes with the genetics. But that doesn't mean you join forces with a Titan, what are you thinking!?"

Luke's grin didn't waver, but his eyes darkened with something unreadable. "You still don't get it, do you?" he sneered. "You think you're so different, so special. But you're just as much a pawn as the rest of us."

As if to punctuate his words, five more pit scorpions crawled out of the walls, their stingers gleaming menacingly. I didn't hesitate, sending out shadow spears that impaled each one before they could get close.

"Enough!" I shouted, my frustration boiling over. I pointed at Luke—no, at Kronos, who was clearly pulling the strings. "You're not winning this, Kronos. I won't let you."

But as the words left my mouth, the room shifted. The air grew thick, and the shadows seemed to recoil as if something had disturbed them. I looked back at Luke, and his smirk was now a full-blown mockery.

In an instant, Luke vanished, the tendrils of shadow dissolving into the air. I tried to follow, to sink into the shadows and track him down, but something was wrong. The shadows were suddenly unresponsive. I couldn't teleport to him.

"Damn it," I muttered, realizing too late that I'd been outmaneuvered. Kronos—or whatever part of him was inside Luke—had anticipated my move and somehow figured out a way so that I couldn't teleport to him..them.

I stood there, alone in the now-silent cabin, tendrils of shadow retreating into the floor. My mind raced, trying to piece together my next move. I had to find a way to stop Kronos before he could unleash whatever nightmare he was planning.

If before we thought that the missing bolt was a bid deal, this was a whole new league. The good thing was that I had a clue of who had the bolt.

[Greek Myth Fact: Today's fact will be about Hyperion. Hyperion was one of the Titans, son of Uranus and Gaia. He represented light, wisdom and watchfulness. Hyperion was married to his sister, Theia, and they had three children, Helios (the sun), Selene (the moon) and Eos (the dawn).

He was considered one of the four pillars that hold the heavens and the earth apart, and since his daughter was dawn, he was probably the pillar of the east. The other three pillars were his brothers Coeus (pillar of the north), Crius (pillar of the south), and Iapetus (pillar of the west). These four Titans were the ones that held their father Uranus in place, while Cronus castrated him with a sickle.]

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