Chapter 78 - Rumblings I

A few days had passed since Milo's return. Time moved, and the campers continued their usual day-to-day activities: rising to chores, falling to training, and gathering at the amphitheater whether it was a summons by Kratos or for their usual arts display. Beneath the surface, something had shifted. The routines remained, but their rhythm had faltered. Invisible fractures had begun to form.

Chiron noticed it first. He always did. Sitting on the porch of the Big House, the old centaur sipped his tea and watched in silence. Having guided generations of heroes, he had learned to recognize the quiet before storms.

He saw it in the way the unclaimed campers lingered together longer than usual. The children of minor gods, once scattered across cliques or resigned to invisibility, had begun to move with shared purpose. They no longer tried to blend in. Not fully. And above them all, Kratos watched like a hawk.

His patrols had grown more deliberate. He questioned counselors without provocation. He lingered near the mess hall at mealtimes, eyes scanning faces, ears tuned to the frequency of dissent. He never raised his voice, nor issued decrees. But his silence bore the weight of judgment. A wrong word at the wrong time could draw his gaze. And no one wanted that.

Then came the announcement.

Mid-morning, a Hermes counselor climbed atop a pavilion table, voice magically amplified. "Capture the Flag tonight! Teams to be chosen at sunset!"

The camp erupted in excited noise. Even with tension in the air, this was tradition. A release. But as the news spread, so too did speculation. This game wouldn't be like the others.

The campers gathered as the sun dipped lower. The western sky glowed orange, casting long shadows across the game field. Chiron stood with his front half standing on top of a rock to allow himself to raise above the campers, reiterating the rules in a calm voice: no maiming, no crossing the boundary line, and the flag must remain visible, but few truly listened. Their minds were elsewhere.

The captains were expected, Thalia and Clarisse, an ongoing one-sided rivalry.

Thalia stepped forward first. A natural leader, eyes steeled with purpose. "Hermes cabin," she called.

The Hermes kids erupted into cheers and laughter, flooding to Thalia's side. They surrounded her, slapping her back, acting like little chaotic gremlins finally set loose. A few glanced at Kratos, half expecting rebuke. None came.

Clover, the normally drowsy child of Hypnos, stepped forward. His siblings followed him, stretching, blinking, yawning but awake. Focused. It was rare to see them for the game as they usually avoided following the Hermes cabin to join in the game and instead lingered aside with the Aphrodiate cabin, doing their own thing, sleeping. Though listed as part of the Hermes cabin, everyone knew who their divine parent truly was. It was hard not to with their obvious tendencies. 

Whispers once again rose through the campers, but not in excitement but in gossip.

"Didn't think they'd bother." "Clover's actually playing?"

Clarisse was next, stomping to the center with all her usual bravado. "Athena cabin," she barked.

Annabeth hesitated. She followed, lips pressed tight, but her eyes kept sliding to Thalia, to Luke.

Thalia was about to choose her next cabin, but it seemed they chose her instead.

The Dionysus twins stood out, striding over with matching smirks and matching clothes.

All eyes turned to Mr. D.

The god reclined beneath an umbrella, sipping from his wine glass. Kratos looked at him, silent accusation in his stare.

Dionysus shrugged. "I don't interfere with my children's decisions."

That small act cracked the old pattern. What had started as a game shifted. The tradition of captains choosing cabins broke as campers stepped forward of their own will.

One by one, other cabins moved. Apollo and Demeter joined Clarisse's team. Hephaestus cabin hesitated. Their choice drew murmurs.

Join Clarisse, stand with Olympus, and pretend nothing has changed. Or cross the field and declare themselves with Thalia and what she stood for now, Lucas. Something undefined, but growing. 

They questioned how Lucas had been killed by Olympus for slaying an evil monster, saving an innocent satyr. It was the very thing they were raised to do. Yet in the gods' eyes, a demigod doing their duty was less important than a monster's bloodline.

Chiron, from the sidelines, narrowed his eyes. He watched as Hephaestus began to shift, moving to join Thalia. It wasn't formal. No banner had been raised. But something unspoken had crystallized. Kratos noticed, too. His frown deepened, jaw tight.

Only the Aphrodite campers refrained. They lounged off to the side, applying glitter or discussing outfit coordination. Their refusal to participate wasn't a protest. It was tradition. This drew a wry smile from chiron.

Chiron took it all in. His gaze lingered not on who joined whom, but on the lines forming in the dirt. This wasn't about points or pride. It was a declaration. Who believed what. Who stood with whom.

He turned toward the stables and motioned for a pair of nymphs to ready the pegasi, prepping them to fly above the field and forest to help oversee the game and keep a spare set of eyes on the fights.

Kratos' gaze flicked to the movement. Watching everything.

A breeze swept through the trees, stirring the banners. Campers took their positions. Weapons were checked. Helmets tightened. Shadows lengthened.

When the sun dipped low, the horn would sound.

The game had not yet begun.

But the camp was already at war.