Lucas woke to the bustle of campers moving through their morning routines. Well, everyone except the Aphrodite cabin, who were likely still indulging in what they proudly called their "beauty sleep."
Watching them bustle about from his cabin window, Lucas decided to head to the dining pavilion early, hoping to grab a quiet meal before the crowd arrived. It was a short walk, and by the time he arrived, the pavilion was already alive with activity. Wood nymphs rushed about the kitchens, preparing breakfast for the soon-to-arrive horde of demigods.
One of them must have spotted him, because a nymph stood waiting at the counter as he approached. Without hesitation, Lucas ordered a simple stack of pancakes and made his way to the nearby bronze brazier. As tradition dictated, he offered a portion of his meal as tribute; not to the gods in general, but to Hecate specifically. He never quite understood the gods' fixation with such trivialities. They had access to finer, richer offerings in their own realms. Yet they still enjoyed the scent of Camp Half-Blood's humble food.
With that thought lingering, Lucas moved to the only table where he felt comfortable, the administrators' table. It was meant for the camp directors and honored guests, but with no one present, he figured there was no harm in a quiet breakfast before they arrived.
Of course, things rarely went as planned.
With a flash of divine energy, Mr. D appeared.
Lucas froze for half a second, eyes locking with the god's. Then, without a word, he returned to eating as if nothing had happened.
Mr. D, for his part, stared at him. He hadn't seen someone so shameless in decades. With an exasperated sigh, the god sat down, sipping his Diet Coke from a goblet while watching the dryads go about their work.
Halfway through his meal, Lucas reached for one of the enchanted goblets, ones designed to fill with any drink upon request. He asked for orange juice. What he got was water.
Frowning, he activated his Veil Sight. The enchantments were intact, but something was interfering - a divine aura clung to the goblet.
He looked up again. Mr. D was still sipping calmly, completely ignoring him.
Lucas said nothing. He simply drank the water, finished his pancakes, and stood just as the first wave of campers entered the pavilion.
"Thanks," he said quietly, leaving his empty plate at the mess station.
Outside, the morning sun filtered gently through the trees. Lucas made his way to the nearby creek.
He remembered the river nymph he had met on his way to camp; the sorrow in her voice as she spoke of the water's purity. That memory lingered.
So he made his way to a nearby creek hoping to receive the aid of the nymphs there to understand and hopefully refine a spell to help continually purify water.
A patch, not a cure.
But it was a start.
...
Lucas wandered back toward camp, his thoughts still lingering on his earlier attempt at creating a new spell. With the help of a few kind nymphs, he had begun to understand what exactly his purification magic was doing: how it affected the water, what parts of the spell structure mattered, and how to fine-tune it for better effect.
But no matter how precise he made it, the spell remained temporary. He didn't know if it was due to a lack of knowledge or simply a limit of his current power. Perhaps there was some deeper technique he hadn't uncovered yet. Still, even if the spell couldn't last forever, it could purify polluted streams for a time. And that, at least, was something.
By midday, Lucas made his way to the weapons arena. He had promised Luke he would join him, Thalia, and Annabeth for group training.
Passing through the arching gates of the arena, Lucas observed the various cabins already deep into their exercises.
At one corner, the Ares campers were locked in mock battles, though calling them "mock" felt generous. Their movements were aggressive, the strikes heavy, their mock duels more like actual combat. Blades clashed with intent, spears jabbed with ferocity. A few used maces, some fought with shields, others dual-wielded short swords. Off to the side, a handful of campers stood ready with medical supplies; likely the reason the Ares kids felt confident enough to fight like it was war.
Further along, several demigods trained with dummies. A few children of Athena moved among them, correcting stances, giving sharp but helpful criticism.
Nearby, Lucas spotted a small group of girls sitting along the viewing stands. They were watching the sparring matches, laughing and pointing, not cruelly, more amused than anything else. Judging by their polished appearances and lack of weapons, he guessed they were from the Aphrodite cabin.
He found himself mildly confused. Why come here at all if you were simply going to socialise?
Then it struck him, there really weren't many places at camp where demigods could just relax. If you weren't training, you were either playing volleyball or stuck inside your cabin.
A subtle frown crept across Lucas' face.
This was one of his ongoing frustrations with Camp Half-Blood. Yes, it was meant to prepare demigods for survival. But they were still kids. They needed something more; somewhere to just be. A space for downtime, laughter, peace.
He was so deep in thought he didn't even register Luke's approach until a firm slap on his shoulder jolted him back to the present.
"You alright?" Luke asked, stepping up beside him. "Surely training with us isn't that depressing."
Lucas smirked faintly, brushing off his thoughts. "Just a few revelations."
Luke gave him a curious look but didn't press further.
Together, they looked toward the sparring ground.
Annabeth was sparring with Thalia.
Well, trying to.
Annabeth moved with discipline, her dagger cutting the air in clean arcs. But Thalia didn't so much fight back as guide. Her spear flicked in controlled movements, intercepting every strike, redirecting each attempt. She corrected Annabeth with gestures rather than words, using the edge of her shield or the shaft of her spear to point out weaknesses and gaps.