Chapter 18 – The Girl in the Tree and the Gods Who Watch
There are days when the world changes so quietly that no one notices.
And then there are days like today.
The sky over Camp Half-Blood shimmered with a light too pure for sunlight. The air was electric. Not the usual Camp static from Clarisse testing shock-spears again, but something older. Deeper. A pulse from the gods themselves.
And at the base of the hill, where Thalia's tree had stood for years as a silent guardian, the impossible happened.
The tree breathed.
No one saw it at first. A flicker of green in the bark. A twitch of leaves. The humming glow of the Golden Fleece draped over the branches intensified, soaking into the core of the tree like nectar into thirsty roots.
Then the bark cracked.
Annabeth dropped her plate in the middle of the dining pavilion. Grover froze mid-bite of tin can.
And on the hill, vines curled inward.
Bark split.
And a hand—pale, trembling, and very much human—burst free.
"By the gods," Grover whispered.
"Thalia," Annabeth breathed, already running.
Percy was just a step behind her.
Luke appeared like he'd been summoned by fate itself, sprinting across the camp with wide eyes, his usual smugness wiped clean.
I was there too. At the edge of the training ring, leaning against a practice dummy I had knocked over during my morning warm-up. I didn't move right away. Didn't charge up the hill.
Because I knew who was finally waking up.
The second we returned with the Fleece, I knew this would happen.
I have to refrain from saying future knowledge.
Because all of Olympus was watching now.
I could feel it. Like my veins were being counted.
I jogged after them, heart pounding. The moment was big. Bigger than any monster fight or prophecy whisper. This wasn't a ripple in fate.
This was a tsunami.
Thalia Grace was back.
Annabeth reached her first, helping pull Thalia's disoriented body fully free of the wood. She was covered in glowing sap and bits of bark, but unmistakably alive.
Black punk jacket, streaked eyeliner smudged across her cheeks, electric blue eyes flickering as if waking from being a magical tree is an everyday occurance.
Grover teared up instantly. "You're alive! You're—you're you!"
Thalia coughed, gasped, then grinned with that feral confidence that made you instinctively check for your wallet. "Yeah," she said. "And you're all old."
Annabeth tackled her into a hug. "I missed you, you idiot!"
Luke slowed to a walk, stopping just short of them. He opened his mouth to speak.
Thalia looked up at him.
And something unreadable passed between them.
"Luke," she said softly.
He smiled. "Still got your combat boots."
She looked down at them. "Huh. Guess death doesn't mess with fashion."
They hugged, too. Less sobbing. More solid. Like warriors reuniting.
Percy stepped forward, cautious. "I'm—uh—"
"Percy," she said. "I heard your name. A lot."
He blinked. "You… did?"
She pointed upward. "I was a tree, not dead. Heard everything. You talk a lot."
Percy flushed. "Right. Yeah. Fair."
I gave a lazy wave. "Sup. I'm Lionel. Clarisse's cooler, handsomer, and more violent twin brother."
Thalia blinked. "I remember you. You look different??"
"Only physically," I said. "Mentally I'm about twelve distinct war gods trapped in a demigod body."
She snorted. "Same old you."
Annabeth gave me a death glare. "Don't encourage him or he will turn into your worst nightmare."
We helped Thalia stand. She stumbled but recovered quickly, brushing sap off her jacket.
"Where are we?" she asked. "Is this still Camp Half-Blood? It feels… weird."
"Because it is weird," I muttered.
Luke cleared his throat. "Things have changed. Come on. You'll want to see it for yourself."
We gave her the tour.
The archery range now had a "fear-based challenge mode," courtesy of Phobos. You had to shoot while being taunted by illusions of your worst nightmare. Grover tried once, saw a satyr tax audit, and cried.
The forge had been upgraded by Deimos. "To instill dread," he said, casually lighting a fire pit that burned in reverse, pulling heat into itself. He also added iron spikes to all the aprons. "Keeps people alert."
The arena? Now ran on a rotating schedule of full-contact, blindfolded, 3-on-1 matches.
"Against each other?" Thalia asked.
"Nope," I said cheerfully. "Against Phobos' fear constructs. Yesterday I fought a talking mirror that screamed my insecurities while punching me in the kidney."
She gave me a horrified look.
"It was a good Wednesday."
Clarisse wasn't there.
She'd been avoiding everyone since the return trip. Still mad that Percy was involved. Mad that her role had been overshadowed. Probably mad that Thalia had just appeared out of a tree like a walking "better chosen one" candidate.
Not that Thalia looked thrilled about any of it.
She listened. Nodded. Kept things short. You could tell she was processing. Scanning.
Even the gods knew this was a big moment.
Literally.
I looked to the sky a few times. Felt it. Watching. Waiting. The strings were taut. I imagined Zeus somewhere in Olympus getting scolded by Hera.
And I didn't say a word.
Not about the prophecy.
Not about how the gods had been laser-focused on Percy as the child of the Big Three.
Because now?
There were two of them.
Two demigods of the Big Three. Born to Zeus and Poseidon. Both powerful. Both flawed. Both game-changers.
And no one knew which would bring salvation… or destruction.
But I know. Bits and pieces of the story still elude me. Like where's my transmigration gift of perfect recall.
Life just got more dangerous and I'm ready to surf this tsunami of a prophecy into victory.
Back in the Big House, Dionysus was exactly where you'd expect him: in a pool chair, in swim trunks and sunglasses, sipping a Coke while watching reruns of a telenovela called La Reina del Sur.
"Hey," Percy said, standing awkwardly near the door. "So. Uh. Thalia's back."
Dionysus didn't look up. "Great. Add another brat to the insurance list."
"She's kind of a big deal," I said.
"She's kind of not my problem," he replied, sipping loudly. "Also, Phobos and Deimos are your counselors now. They're doing a wonderful job. Have you seen the new obstacle course? It electrocutes you if you hesitate."
Annabeth folded her arms. "That's not safe."
"Neither is life."
I looked around. "Where is Phobos anyway?"
"Last I checked," Dionysus said, "he was in the woods screaming at a mirror of himself because he found it 'too inspiring.'"
"And Deimos?"
"Organizing an underground beauty pageant for the Aphrodite cabin."
"…Why?"
"Morale."
Thalia rubbed her temples. "The gods left you in charge?"
"Dad did some convincing and I already showed you guys the Styx contract of fairness between cabins. No favouritism."
"He did say that," Grover muttered.
"I like this satyr. Just some physical conditioning and war can turn him into a strong soldier."
That night, the camp was unusually quiet.
Even the Hermes cabin, usually chaos incarnate, had simmered down. Kids whispered about Thalia. About what this meant.
In the Ares cabin, Clarisse sat alone on her bunk, sharpening her spear until sparks flew.
In the Poseidon cabin, Percy stared at the ceiling, Fleece safe and sound on a stand nearby.
In the Zeus cabin—newly reopened for the first time in years—Thalia unpacked a single duffel bag and stared out the window at the stars.
And in the grass near the forest, I stood alone, chains in hand.
Swing.
Pull.
Twist.
Breathe.
I already know what is coming.
And I need to prepare myself for it
And as I trained, sparks dancing around my feet—
The sky cracked.