"The Chosen Companions"
"Hey, Jackson, looks like you're finally getting used to camp," said a blond boy as he approached with a confident smile.
Percy looked up. He had just left the dining area and was heading toward the place where Chiron had told him to meet—where he would choose who would accompany him on his first quest. The boy's friendly tone made him pause for a moment, but not enough to let his guard down.
Ever since he had arrived at Camp Half-Blood and been assigned to the Hermes cabin, that boy—Luke Castellan—had been the first to approach him. Friendly, charismatic, with that natural charm that made people gravitate toward him. The kind of person who knew exactly how to win others over.
And precisely because of that, Percy couldn't quite trust him.
He had learned quickly that, in this place, respect was earned by breaking a few bones, not by smiling. He had proven it himself after several run-ins with the Ares kids, which ended with one of them in the infirmary and most of their bones fractured… in self-defense, of course.
Luke, however, was different. Everyone respected him, even the more aggressive campers. That meant he was strong, influential… or both. And with people like that, Percy always saw more than they showed.
As the blond walked closer, Percy caught something behind that smile—a calculating look. It wasn't mere disinterest but something deeper. Contempt. He had seen it before, in his teacher Miraak: that cold, distant expression that hid arrogance beneath a polite façade.
So no, he wasn't buying that smile.
"Hey, if you keep treating me like that, you'll hurt my feelings," Luke said in a light, teasing tone. "I'm only trying to be your friend."
"Friend?" Percy muttered, raising an eyebrow.
For a brief second, he wondered if maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he'd gotten so used to being on guard that he saw enemies where there weren't any.
He shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks," he replied, before quickening his pace.
Luke watched him go, his smile slowly fading. In its place, a more serious, genuine expression appeared as his eyes followed the son of Poseidon's back.
…
"Well then, Percy," said Chiron in a solemn tone, pacing in a slow circle around him. "It's your duty to choose your companions. Every mission outside camp is dangerous, and the rules state that three campers must go together. They'll be your team. You must trust them, and they must trust you. Choose wisely; danger lurks at every corner once you leave these borders."
The centaur stopped in front of him, waiting.
Around Percy, a group of the camp's best fighters stood in a loose circle, their faces full of barely contained excitement. Some smiled, others crossed their arms pretending to be calm, but all of them shared the same expectation: to be chosen. The thrill of adventure hung in the air, along with the chance to prove their worth to their divine parents—even if only to be noticed once.
Percy studied them one by one. He recognized some faces, others not so much. All were warriors, sons and daughters of gods with unique talents. And yet, few inspired real trust. Truth be told, Percy hadn't been particularly sociable since arriving. He hadn't found much to like about this place so far.
Among them, Annabeth stood tall and steady, her gray eyes locked on him with determination. There was something in her gaze that said "choose me" without a single word.
Percy let out a small grimace. They'd had their fair share of clashes since his arrival—arguments about strategy, training methods, even ways of thinking. If there was one thing he couldn't deny, it was that the daughter of Athena was brilliant.
Though, to be honest, she was also unbearably arrogant and knew exactly how to get under his skin.
Even so, among everyone present, she was the most logical choice.
Finally, he pointed in her direction.
"Annabeth."
She barely contained the urge to jump for joy, limiting herself to a composed smile. For a moment, Percy couldn't help but think she looked… kind of pretty.
Chiron nodded approvingly.
"A good choice. Annabeth has proven herself to be intelligent and strategic when the situation demands it."
Percy nodded silently, though deep down, something told him that this choice would bring both help… and headaches.
"And now, Percy, your second choice," Chiron prompted.
The boy glanced around.
"Do I have to choose one of the people here?" he asked neutrally.
Chiron blinked, a bit confused by the question.
…
Elsewhere in the camp, where the stables stood, an unpleasant smell hung thick in the air. There, amid piles of straw and manure, a young satyr worked with visible disgust.
Grover tried to maintain his composure as he shoveled the droppings left behind by the winged horses trotting freely across the fields. A few smaller foals played nearby, kicking up dust and… other things.
Grover sighed. "And to think I studied so hard for this…" he muttered with resignation.
When Percy arrived, he found him talking to one of the winged horses as if the creature were his only confidant. Then Grover went back to work, wearing an expression of pure suffering.
The son of Poseidon approached, frowning at the smell.
"Looks like you've got a lot of work."
Grover turned around and forced a smile. "And this is just one day's worth."
Percy raised an eyebrow as he looked at the massive pile. "I can see that…"
There was a brief silence. Grover lowered his gaze, uneasy. Ever since what had happened before, he hadn't known how to behave around Percy. Every time they were together, something dangerous seemed to happen.
"I thought you wouldn't want to see me," Grover said quietly, glancing at him. "After all, you seem to avoid me every time I get close." The satyr tightened his grip on the shovel but didn't stop working, continuing to load the wheelbarrow.
"I won't lie to you," Percy said, his tone steady and sincere. "I held a bit of a grudge. I thought you were my friend because you wanted to be, not because it was part of some mission."
Grover looked at him, startled, unsure what to say. "Percy, no… I mean, yeah, it was a mission to stay close to you, but no one told me I had to be your friend. That was my choice. I—"
Percy raised a hand to stop him.
"It's fine. Maybe I lumped everyone in camp together. I assumed everyone had some hidden agenda… and that ended up including you."
His voice was calm, but there was a quiet honesty in it that was hard to ignore.
"Well, I guess it's better to have someone familiar than a complete stranger," he added.
Grover frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Percy gave him a faint smile, that restrained one that always seemed to hide more than it revealed.
"Hope you've packed plenty of clothes."
Grover stared at him wide-eyed, not quite understanding—until it clicked.
"What? No! Don't tell me—!"
Percy just kept smiling.
Yet behind that smile was something else. His gaze shifted—serious, deep, analytical—the look of someone who observed and evaluated every detail, every reaction.
It was an expression Grover would never understand, one that only a student of Miraak could possess.
"You must be the one who keeps control over everything. Even if others believe they have it, when your blade pierces their hearts, they'll realize they were just pawns in your game."
The words of his master echoed in Percy's mind as he silently assessed each of his choices.
…
"Hey, Jackson."
Percy stopped at the sound of the voice and rolled his eyes in clear annoyance. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
When he turned, he found Luke Castellan standing there, wearing his usual calm smile.
"What is it? You here to complain because I didn't pick you?" Percy asked flatly, not bothering to hide his impatience.
"Of course not," Luke replied evenly. "Though, to be honest, I was hoping to be chosen. Still, your choices weren't bad."
Percy regarded him in silence for a moment. Part of him wanted to stay on guard, but another part wondered if he was overreacting. After all, Luke hadn't done anything truly suspicious… he just had that look. The one Percy had learned to recognize—the look of someone who calculated more than they let on.
Even so, his friendly demeanor seemed genuine, and for a moment Percy felt a flicker of guilt for distrusting him so much.
"Well… Grover's my friend, after all. And you yourself said Annabeth's the best strategist," Percy said, lowering his defenses slightly.
"She is," Luke agreed with a nod. "Don't worry, I get it. Really." Then, softening his tone, he added, "Just one thing—I've known Annabeth for a long time, so… take care of her, all right? In return, I'll give you this."
From his bag, Luke pulled out a rectangular box and handed it to Percy. The boy took it with curiosity and opened it.
Inside was a pair of sneakers—surprisingly modern and well-kept. When he lifted them out, small silver wings unfolded from the sides, fluttering lightly as if alive.
"My father gave them to me," Luke explained with restrained pride. "They let you fly. But you're a son of Poseidon, and… the sky isn't really your element. Maybe Grover could make better use of them."
Percy arched an eyebrow as he examined the shoes, then glanced at Luke again, watching the delicate wings flap softly.
"It's just a little help for your quest," Luke added with a kind smile. "After all, it's important to have every advantage you can."
Percy studied him silently for a few more seconds, trying to read what lay behind that perfect expression. Finally, he nodded.
"I see. Then I'll accept them."
Luke's smile widened slightly. "Glad to hear it. Good luck, Jackson."
As the son of Hermes walked away, Percy continued to watch him quietly. There was something about that boy that didn't quite fit… something hidden beneath his easy smile and polite words.
But for now, he said nothing.