[Third Person’s PoV]

Lucian stood silently atop the roof of the Big House, arms crossed, his gaze distant and unfocused. His eyes followed the familiar figure of Annabeth as she walked beyond the borders of Camp Half-Blood, her pace steady and purposeful. Just beyond the magical threshold that protected the campgrounds, her father stood waiting. His stance was anxious, yet hopeful—shoulders tight, arms slightly open as if bracing himself for a long-awaited reunion.

As Annabeth reached him, he enveloped her in a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. From a distance, it was obvious to anyone watching that he missed her dearly. There was no hesitation in his movements, no awkwardness in his affection—only a father’s love on full display.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Lucian’s lips, tinged with amusement. It wasn’t at the sight of their reunion, per se, but at Annabeth’s stiff reaction. She stood awkwardly in her father’s arms, clearly unsure of what to do, her body language betraying a lack of familiarity with such affection. For someone as composed and tactical as Annabeth, the simple act of receiving a hug seemed to be more disorienting than facing a charging drakon.

She was saved from further discomfort when her father finally let her go, quickly taking her bags from her hands and leading her toward the car. The two walked off side by side, exchanging a few words that Lucian couldn’t hear from where he stood. Soon, the car drove off, disappearing past the tree line and into the distance.

Even after the car vanished from sight, Lucian remained where he was, unmoving, his gaze still fixed on the empty road. Around the camp, the remaining campers who had no homes to return to wandered aimlessly, looking for ways to keep busy, to distract themselves from the quiet that always came with the end of summer. It was a familiar stillness—the kind that made you think too much, remember too much.

Lucian’s mind drifted, already constructing a plan, piecing together objectives, running through contingencies. Just as a solid idea began to form, a sudden gust of wind stirred behind him.

He turned his head, sensing her presence before she fully arrived. Thalia was descending gracefully from above, the wind itself acting as her cradle, responding to her will and easing her descent. Her boots touched the rooftop with barely a sound as she came to stand beside him.

“Are you going to be busy?” she asked, one brow raised in question, her voice casual.

“In a bit, yeah. I’ve got something in the works,” Lucian replied, glancing her way. “Why?”

Thalia exhaled, a sigh of disappointment escaping her lips. “Nevermind. I was hoping to spar.”

“That’s it?” he asked, turning fully to face her now, his gaze sharp and questioning. He knew Thalia well enough to sense when there was more beneath the surface.

She met his look for a moment before shaking her head. “Not really. I mean, yes—but also no. The others… they’re losing motivation. Capture the Flag isn’t hitting the same anymore. Every time we play, the end result’s obvious. They know they can’t beat you, Lucian. They’ve stopped trying. They’re just going through the motions now.”

Lucian tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “So you want us to brainstorm new ideas?”

“I was thinking we could. But if you’re busy, then forget it,” she said, already stepping back as if ready to leave it all behind.

Lucian, however, stopped her with a thoughtful suggestion. “We could try switching up the teams. Mix things up a bit. Maybe that’ll give everyone a better shot—keep things interesting.”

Thalia shook her head. “That won’t work. Even with different teams, the second someone ends up on the opposing side of you, they’ll just give up again. The problem isn’t just about balance—it’s perception. We need to come up with something that levels the playing field. Something strategic. Something that doesn’t revolve around raw strength alone.”

She gave him a pointed look then, crossing her arms. “We’ll talk more later. Go do what you need to do.”

Before he could respond, she leaned in and pressed a brief, deliberate kiss to his lips—a fleeting touch, soft and firm all at once. Without another word, she turned on her heel, jumping off the rooftop with practiced ease, her hands tucked casually into her back pockets as she walked off, disappearing into the camp.

Lucian remained still for a moment longer, watching her departure. A faint shadow of a smile played at the edge of his mouth, but it was gone just as quickly. The wind shifted around him again, darker this time—cool and whispering.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, swallowed by the shadows.

…

Lucian walked up the rocky pathway, hands in his sweater pockets, a large black hood over his head as he followed the trail before him.

He kicked a rock with disinterest, and when he reached the end of the trail, he lowered his hood softly and fixed his messy hair before gazing up at the building in front of him with a faint smile.

A neon sign hung high above, its letters grayed out in the daylight. Lucian barely glanced at it before walking inside. Immediately, he was greeted by grey stone statues, each frozen in realistic expressions of horror and dread.

“Hello?” Lucian called out, wandering through the maze of eerie decor. His voice echoed off the walls, lingering in the still air.

He waited a few seconds, about to call out again when a feminine voice rang through the air, “I’m coming! Hold your pegasus, I’m on my way!”

Lucian smiled as he heard the rapid patter of footsteps approaching.

Then Medusa strolled in—her pink, luscious hair trailing behind her voluptuous form. Casual clothing hugged her figure, and glasses perched perfectly on her nose. “I swear, if my lunch gets burnt, I’ll turn you to sto— Lucian!?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Yo! Miss me?” he said with a wink.

Medusa blinked rapidly, trying to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. “Well I’ll be. Look who decided to drop by and pay me a visit~” she teased, walking over and wrapping him in a warm embrace.

“How have you been? It’s been, what—close to two months since we last saw each other?” she chuckled.

“I’m fine, Aunty Em. And you? Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Lucian replied, his voice muffled slightly in her arms.

Medusa released him with a smile, clearly pleased by the nickname. “I’ve been good. Come, come. I’m just about finished making lunch. Though next time, send a message ahead so I can cook more.”

“Aww, but that would’ve ruined the surprise,” Lucian said, following her as she led him away from the front of the shop.

“Anyway, what brings you back so soon? Something the matter?” she asked, glancing back curiously.

“Soon? Like you said—it’s been two months. I was starting to feel guilty for not visiting sooner. Didn’t want you thinking I was breaking my promise to come by,” he said, scratching his cheek with a sheepish grin.

Medusa guided him to the table and pulled out a chair near the head of it, where a plate and cutlery were already set. She gestured for him to sit, smirking. “I think you’re forgetting something, Lucian. I’ve existed for thousands of years. A month or two? In the grand scheme of things, it goes by in a blink.”

Lucian sat down with a small thank you as she walked to grab another set of plates and laid them out before him.

“Honestly, a whole year could’ve passed and I wouldn’t have minded. Still, I appreciate you dropping by… though I notice the others aren’t with you this time.” She tapped his head lightly before heading into the kitchen, her voice still audible as they kept talking.

“Summer camp practically just ended. Annabeth and Percy both went home. I didn’t really tell anyone I was coming here—this was more of a solo trip,” Lucian said, leaning back in his chair as the air filled with the pleasant aroma of Medusa’s cooking.

“I see. I take it that means your mission—or quest, or whatever it was—was a success?” she asked from the kitchen, her tone light and cheerful.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to put it… What you’re about to hear is straight from one of the pages of the heroic tales of the Legend of Lucian!” he boasted shamelessly.

“Oh? That sounds interesting. Wait till I’m done in here—I want to hear it over lunch. A tale and a feast are rare treats around here,” she replied with a teasing edge.

She let out a scoff and added, “And just to clarify—how much of this ‘tale’ is going to be exaggerated?”

“Let’s just say… you’re going to have a hard time telling what’s exaggerated and what’s not,” Lucian said proudly, closing his eyes and relaxing into his seat. A wide grin carved itself into his face as he waited.

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