Annabeth Chase sighs as she sets down the last box in her new apartment. After years at Camp Half-Blood, the simple one-bedroom in downtown Manhattan feels both liberating and terrifyingly normal. Her stormy gray eyes scan the room analytically, already planning the optimal furniture arrangement.

"Six months," she murmurs to herself. "Six months to prove I can make it in the mortal world without monsters or prophecies disrupting everything."

She brushes a loose blonde curl from her face and tucks it behind her ear. The apartment is small but functional—a perfect base of operations for her architecture classes at NYU. Independence tastes sweet, if a little lonely.