They did not speak for a long time.
The rain had swallowed the mansion's smoldering remains behind them. Green flames still danced in the cracks of Lucas's memory, and the scent of smoke clung faintly to their clothes, despite the distance they had put between themselves and the ruins.
They had made camp nearby, inside an old smelting plant, Richmond Ironworks. The only sounds were the dripping of water and the distant sirens most likely on their way to the mansion.
Thalia broke the silence first.
"Hal should've been honored for what he did," she said softly, poking at the fire. "Not locked away like some cursed thing."
Luke's hands were tight around his knees, knuckles white.
"They punished him for saving someone," he muttered. "Turned him into a warning for the rest of us. And all those kids who came after..."
He trailed off.
Lucas sat still, staring into the fire.
"You okay?" Luke asked.
Lucas did not answer right away. The flames flickered in his eyes as he let the quiet stretch before speaking.
"I agree with you," he said. "But be careful who you say that to in the future."
Luke frowned. "What do you mean?"
Thalia looked over, alert.
"Camp Half-Blood is under the gods' protection," Lucas said. "Their gaze is stronger there. They will hear you."
Luke scoffed. "So what, we just smile and nod?"
"Yes," Lucas said simply. "You think I'm not angry? I am. But until you can challenge Olympus… you play the fool. Or you suffer like Hal."
Silence.
Thalia's gaze lowered. Something flickered behind her eyes. Not doubt. Not fear.
Understanding.
Luke exhaled sharply but said nothing more. He had no rebuttal.
And in that moment, the silence settled like a truth between them.
Lucas felt it shift inside him. Something subtle. Something final.
The potion settled.
Five years he had walked this path.
From the moment he picked up the Fool's card at age eight, to the weeks of theory, the training, the battlefields and conversations where each word meant something more.
Now, at thirteen, the sequence had digested fully. The second step complete. He understood the truth behind a Harlequin:
Observe the audience - Read the room. The Harlequin's power lies not in control, but in insight, when to act, when to feign, when to fall silent. Always watch.
Madness - The Harlequin wears a smile not as deception, but as defiance. In grief, in fear, in chaos, they grin. Not to mock, but to endure. Their joy is armor, their laughter a mask worn until truth can be spoken.
Lucas did not say anything aloud.
He simply watched the fire.
And smiled.
...
The smelting station still held the scent of ash and rust. Their fire from the night before had burned down to cold embers, but none of them moved to rekindle it. Morning had brought more than daylight. It had brought silence. The kind that lingered.
Lucas had not touched the new card in his pocket.
There isn't time, and no safety.
But deep down, he knew.
Sequence Eight had settled.
The Harlequin had become part of him, not in power alone, but in truth.
To endure while smiling. To speak through silence. To observe, even when mocked.
It was no longer something he wore. It was something he lived.
Lucas stood near one of the side passages, scanning the ground for dry wood when he heard it.
A clatter.
Faint.
He raised a hand.
Luke and Thalia immediately froze.
Another sound. A muffled breath. A scuffle against gravel.
Lucas moved first, following the noise past a twisted ladder and a rusted scaffold. Luke and Thalia trailed behind him, weapons ready but lowered.
The sound led to a sheet of corrugated iron half-buried in old bricks and debris. Something was behind it. Breathing.
Luke crouched down and gently lifted the sheet.
A blur of motion exploded from beneath.
A small figure, no taller than Lukes chest, burst from the hiding place with a cry and a hammer raised high.
Luke caught the blur just in time, blocking the strike with his forearm.
"Whoa, hey!" he barked, stumbling back.
The girl froze.
Tangled blonde hair. Wild eyes. Dirt-streaked face. She clutched the hammer like it was the only thing she had left.
Thalia blinked. "A kid?"
Lucas knelt beside her slowly, holding out his hands.
"You're alright," he said gently. "We mean no harm."
She didn't speak.
Just stared at them, shaking slightly.
Lucas looked into her eyes.
Sharp. Alert. Not just afraid. Guarded.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"…Annabeth," she said finally. Her voice was hoarse but steady. "Who are you?"
"I'm Lucas. This is Luke. That's Thalia."
Luke stepped forward slowly, rubbing his arm. "You've got good instincts. Nearly brained me."
Annabeth lowered the hammer just slightly. "I thought you were like them."
"Like who?" Thalia asked.
"…The monsters."
They all exchanged a glance. Then Luke crouched down to her level.
"Hey," he said. "You're a demigod, right?"
She didn't answer, but she didn't deny it either.
"Us too," Luke added. "Same blood. Same nightmares. And if you want… you can come with us."
Annabeth hesitated.
Then, in the smallest voice: "Will you take me home?"
Luke's expression softened.
"If thats what you want, sure. I promise," he said.
She shook her head quickly, fear flickering in her eyes.
Luke understood. "That's fine. You can join us instead. We'll be a better family than the one you had."
Annabeth looked between them one last time.
Then she nodded.
Lucas leaned in toward Thalia and murmured, "Luke really has a way with women. Feeling jealous?"
Thalia gave him a flat look and rolled her eyes before stepping forward toward Annabeth.
"I'm Thalia," she said simply.
Lucas smiled. Following behind. "Lucas, welcome to our little family of misfits"
"A hammer isn't fit for a young girl, why don't you try this"
Luke handed Annabeth a celestial bronze dagger, Hal's dagger.
Lucas, noticing reached for his side finding it empty, turning to lock eyes with Luke giving him an exhausted look, receiving only one of amusement.
Thalia muttered under her breath how childish they both are.
For the first time, Annabeth smiled too. Just a little.
But it was enough.