LUKE CASTELLAN

The Hermes Cabin had never been quiet.

It didn't matter what time of day it was.

Morning, afternoon, midnight.

Someone was always awake.

Someone was always talking.

Someone was always arguing, laughing, stealing snacks, throwing socks, losing belongings, finding belongings that didn't belong to them in the first place, or somehow causing enough chaos to wake the entire cabin.

The building itself seemed incapable of silence.

When you first arrived at Camp Half-Blood, overwhelmed, exhausted, and completely unsure where you belonged, the Hermes Cabin had taken you in without question.

Like it always did.

Unclaimed campers came and went constantly.

Some stayed for days.

Some for weeks.

Others for months.

Nobody knew how long they'd remain there.

Nobody knew when their godly parent would finally acknowledge them.

All they could do was wait.

And for a while, that had been your reality too.

Waiting.

Training.

Learning.

Trying to survive.

Trying to figure out where you fit into a world that suddenly made far less sense than it had before.

The Hermes Cabin wasn't perfect.

Far from it.

There was never enough space.

Never enough privacy.

Never enough beds.

Yet somehow it became familiar.

The crowded atmosphere.

The constant noise.

The feeling that no matter what happened, there was always somebody nearby.

It became normal.

Comfortable, even.

And somewhere along the way, Luke Castellan became part of that comfort.

Everyone looked up to Luke.

That much was obvious.

Older campers respected him.

Younger campers admired him.

New arrivals trusted him almost immediately.

He had a way of making people feel seen.

Making them feel important.

Making them feel like they mattered.

For unclaimed campers especially, Luke often became the closest thing to stability available.

He understood what waiting felt like.

Understood what uncertainty felt like.

Even when he joked around or smiled, there was always a quiet understanding behind it.

As though he remembered exactly what it was like to be standing where you stood.

Which was probably why he made such an effort to look after everyone.

Now, however, things had changed.

The claiming had happened the night before.

One moment the campfire had been proceeding normally.

The next, a glowing symbol had appeared above your head.

The unmistakable sign of divine recognition.

The confirmation every unclaimed camper secretly hoped for.

By morning, everyone knew.

Congratulations had followed.

Questions.

Speculation.

Excitement.

Plans for your transfer to your new cabin.

The entire camp seemed eager to celebrate.

Which left you spending most of the afternoon gathering your belongings.

It turned out you owned more things than expected.

Most of them had somehow become scattered throughout the cabin over time.

A shirt hidden beneath a bunk.

A notebook stuffed into a drawer.

Several weapons.

A collection of random items that you honestly couldn't remember acquiring.

The process was taking longer than anticipated.

Around you, the cabin remained unusually calm.

Most campers were outside enjoying the afternoon.

A few remained inside, though even they seemed occupied with their own activities.

The atmosphere felt different today.

Not bad.

Just different.

Like the end of something.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating floating dust particles and casting warm patches of gold across the wooden floor.

The familiar scent of cedar filled the room.

A breeze drifted through an open window.

Somewhere outside, laughter echoed across camp.

You were kneeling beside your bed, sorting through belongings, when the cabin door opened.

The sound barely registered at first.

Footsteps followed.

Steady.

Unhurried.

There was no need to look up immediately.

You recognized them.

Luke had a distinct way of moving.

Confident without being arrogant.

Relaxed without appearing careless.

A moment later, he stopped nearby.

Silence lingered.

Not awkward silence.

The comfortable kind.

The kind that existed between people who had spent enough time around each other to stop feeling the need to constantly fill every moment with conversation.

Eventually, Luke spoke.

"So you're leaving, huh?"

His voice carried its usual easy warmth.

But there was something else beneath it.

Something quieter.

You looked up.

Luke stood beside one of the nearby bunks.

One hand rested casually against a bedpost.

Sunlight caught in his sandy blond hair, and for once, the familiar smile on his face seemed slightly smaller than usual.

Not gone.

Just subdued.

His blue eyes drifted toward the partially packed bags.

Then back toward you.

"I'm gonna miss having you around."

The admission came simply.

No dramatic delivery.

No attempt to make the moment heavier than it needed to be.

Just honesty.

And somehow that made it hit harder.

Luke let out a small breath through his nose.

A laugh without much humor behind it.

"Gods."

He shook his head slightly.

"I sound pathetic."

The smile returned briefly.

Only briefly.

Then it faded again.

"You know, when new campers show up, I always tell myself not to get attached."

His gaze wandered toward the crowded rows of bunks.

The countless beds that had housed dozens upon dozens of campers over the years.

"Never works."

Another small laugh.

"Not once."

Outside, the sounds of camp carried faintly through the open windows.

A sword striking a shield.

Someone shouting.

The distant roar of the climbing wall.

Life continued normally beyond the cabin walls.

Inside, though, everything felt strangely still.

Luke pushed away from the bedpost.

His attention shifted around the room.

"This place is gonna feel weird without you."

The statement wasn't dramatic.

Just matter-of-fact.

He moved toward a nearby bunk before sitting down.

The mattress creaked beneath his weight.

"You know what the funny part is?"

A pause.

"Half the time I couldn't even tell whether you were actually listening whenever I talked."

His grin returned slightly.

"But somehow you always remembered everything."

The expression softened.

"You'd be surprised how rare that is."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence settled naturally between the two of you.

Luke never seemed uncomfortable with silence.

Most people rushed to fill empty spaces in conversations.

Luke rarely did.

Maybe that was part of why people trusted him so easily.

He never forced anything.

Eventually, his gaze drifted toward the ceiling.

The weathered wooden beams overhead had seen years of campers come and go.

Years of stories.

Years of friendships.

Years of goodbyes.

"You know," he said quietly, "everybody talks about getting claimed like it's the finish line."

His voice remained thoughtful.

"But honestly?"

He shrugged.

"It's more like the starting line."

The words lingered in the air.

Luke lowered his gaze again.

"Now you get to figure out what comes next."

His expression became unreadable for a second.

Something distant flickering behind his eyes.

Gone almost immediately.

"So congratulations."

The smile returned.

Genuine this time.

"Seriously."

A pause.

"You earned it."

The cabin door opened somewhere behind him.

A few campers entered.

Loud.

Laughing.

Arguing about something completely ridiculous.

The noise instantly disrupted the atmosphere.

One of them tripped over a bag.

Another immediately blamed someone else.

Within seconds, chaos resumed.

Normal Hermes Cabin behavior.

Luke rolled his eyes.

"There it is."

He gestured vaguely toward the commotion.

"The natural order of things."

One camper accidentally knocked over a chair.

Another started laughing.

A third demanded compensation.

Luke watched the scene unfold.

Then shook his head.

"Yeah."

A small smile appeared.

"You'll definitely miss this place."

The statement was clearly a joke.

Mostly.

A familiar warmth settled over the cabin despite the growing noise.

The kind of warmth that came from being surrounded by people who had shared part of your life.

Even if only for a little while.

Luke stood once more.

The conversation seemed to be reaching its natural conclusion.

Not because either of you wanted it to.

Simply because some moments eventually did.

He glanced toward the packed bags.

Toward the door.

Toward the future waiting outside.

Then back toward you.

For a brief moment, the confident older camper everyone admired seemed younger somehow.

Less like a camp legend.

More like a person.

A person who cared.

A person who would genuinely notice your absence.

His hand landed lightly on your shoulder.

A simple gesture.

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing overly emotional.

Just real.

"You'll do great."

The certainty in his voice left no room for doubt.

Luke always had that effect.

Making things sound possible.

Making people believe in themselves, even when they weren't sure how.

His hand dropped back to his side.

The smile returned fully now.

The familiar Luke grin.

Easy.

Charismatic.

Comforting.

"But."

The word stretched slightly.

"If your new cabin turns out boring—"

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"You're always welcome back here."

Immediately, someone across the room shouted.

"No they're not! We don't have enough beds!"

Luke pointed at the camper without looking.

"Nobody asked you."

Laughter erupted from somewhere nearby.

The tension finally broke.

The heaviness of the moment eased.

Luke shook his head, smiling despite himself.

Then he looked back at you one final time.

The sadness remained.

Not overwhelming.

Not dramatic.

Just there.

Honest.

Because for all the excitement that came with finally being claimed, one thing remained true.

The Hermes Cabin had been your first home at Camp Half-Blood.

And Luke had been part of that home.

No matter where you moved next, neither of those things would change.

"Don't be a stranger, alright?"

His voice was lighter now.

But the sincerity never disappeared.

Not even for a second.