The ocean was restless that night. Waves lapping against the shoreline of Camp Half-Blood, carrying with them the faint hum of something ancient, something calling. Percy Jackson stood at the edge of the beach. Riptide in hand, the sword's celestial bronze blade glowing faintly in the moonlight.
"Do you hear it?" he asked.
Annabeth stepped up beside him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed toward the horizon. "Hear what?" She slightly snapped, but slightly concerned.
"The sea," Percy said quietly. "It's… whispering."
Annabeth sighed and rolled her eyes. "Percy, the sea is always whispering to you. Usually it's just saying 'Hey, come swim."
He cracked a small smile and scoffed, but the unease in his gut didn't fade. This was different. The ocean wasn't just calling him, it was warning him.
Behind them, the faint crackle of the campfire drifted through the night air, along with laughter from a joke someone had made. But here, where the tide touched his toes, Percy felt something darker. A storm... almost.
Annabeth could see the tension in his face. "If the sea is warning you… we should listen."
Percy nodded, gripping Riptide tighter. "Yeah. I just wish, for once, it would say something like 'Relax, everything's fine." He shook his head.
Annabeth's lips quirked into a smile. "That'll be the day."
And then, as if to answer them both, the tide surged higher—an unnatural wave that crashed over their feet. In its roar, Percy swore he heard words. Distant, but clear enough to chill his blood.
"He rises."
Annabeth stiffened beside him. Percy swallowed hard. "That's… not good."
She adjusted her dagger, eyes sharp. "No. It's not."
Somewhere in the depths, something had awakened.
And the sea was just the beginning.