The Louisiana air was thick with warmth and the scent of rain-soaked earth as Lucas walked up the trail toward the old house he had once called home.
Elizabeth had left during their return from the Torrington household, knowing that Lucas' meeting with his father was better kept private. They had agreed to meet again in a week's time, before setting off to tour the United States.
Lucas raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the door swung open.
Steven Thorne stood there, staring. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the figure before him.
Lucas wore a tailored black suit, crisp and unblemished, the white shirt beneath gleaming softly in the morning light. His black hair had grown longer, messy strands falling over his forehead as if he had just woken up. Steven's sharp eyes caught small embroidered symbols stitched into the outfit, subtle, but definitely intentional; reminding him of the dressess Hecate once wore.
Steven let out a low whistle.
"Well, look at you," he said, stepping aside to let Lucas in. "I leave you alone for a few years, and you turn into a gentleman."
Lucas smirked faintly, stepping inside and setting his bag by the door.
"Something like that," he said.
They settled into the familiar, worn chairs of the living room, the ceiling fan overhead spinning lazy circles through the humid air.
For a while, they just sat there, savoring the silence.
Then Steven asked the question that had lingered on his mind.
"Did you make any friends?"
Lucas chuckled quietly. "A few."
He spoke of his meeting with Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth; how they had traveled together, fought together, grown into something like family. He recounted stories of narrow escapes and late-night talks under the stars.
Steven listened closely, pride flickering in his eyes, though a shadow of concern passed over his face at the mention of dangers faced. Yet even so, he was grateful. Lucas had found people to depend on.
After giving his father time to absorb it all, Lucas rose and moved to the kitchen to make tea. When he returned, he placed a cup gently before Steven before sinking back into his chair.
Steven took a sip, thoughtful.
"And the camp?" he asked at last. "I thought... maybe that would be where you stayed."
Lucas looked down into his cup for a moment.
"It wasn't suited for someone like me."
Steven did not press. He only nodded, already sensing more than was said.
Seeing the weight settle on his father's face, Lucas decided to shift the mood toward lighter things.
He began to recount the highlights of his time at Camp Half-Blood.
He spoke of Mr. D, the so-called director of the camp, a god wrapped in bitterness, punished to work at the camp unable to drink alcohol. Lucas described how Mr. D drank Diet Coke to cope, cursed under his breath in annoyance towards his father or whenever another camper disturbed him, acting like a tired uncle dragged to a family party he wanted no part of.
"He hated it there," Lucas said, almost smiling. "Being stuck. Bound by rules. You could see it in his eyes."
Steven smirked, unsurprised.
Lucas continued, telling of the trip to Olympus, how Chiron had arranged for the camp to visit during the winter solstice and taking a single elevator up to the six hundredth floor of the Empire State building.
The mountain was breathtaking, yes. Gleaming marble halls, golden spires stretching into endless sky, gardens that never wilted, waterfalls glistening in the light. The beauty was overwhelming... but so was the indulgence.
He spoke of feast halls piled with endless food, of jeweled goblets overflowing with ambrosia, of gods who laughed with the weight of thunder even when speaking of mortal suffering.
And he spoke of what struck him hardest: How before meeting Luke he met a nymph who was suffering due to pollution, who would eventually die from it, yet Poseidon was partying in the throne room.
"They could help," Lucas said, voice low. "Even without interfering. They could guide. Teach. Instead they just watch. Or worse... they ignore it."
Steven said nothing. He only listened, gaze heavy with understanding.
Sensing the mood tipping darker again, Lucas shifted, offering something lighter.
He told him about meeting a half-sibling, a young boy named Alabaster and about the absurdity of traveling with the Grey Sisters: a trio of ancient beings who should never have been allowed behind the wheel of any vehicle.
Steven laughed then, a real laugh, and Lucas smiled.
For a while, the house was filled not with silence, but with the easy, warm peace of father and son.
"How long are you planning to stay?" Steven asked, leaning back into his chair, the mug warm between his hands.
"A week," Lucas said, sipping his tea. "After that, I am planning to travel with Elizabeth. Maybe come back to camp now and then."
Steven nodded slowly. "Any place in particular you are wanting to visit?"
"Not currently." Lucas looked up from his cup, studying his father with quiet amusement. "You got a recommendation?"
Steven hummed thoughtfully, the ceiling fan spinning slow circles overhead.
"Your mother did pass a suggestion to me when you started learning magic" Steven got up, going into his study and returning with a note that Lucas found was filled simply with numbers, along with a business card for C.C.'s Spa and Resort. Placing them infront of Lucas.
Lucas leaned forward a little, interested.
"The location," pointing towards the note "And a life preserver" pointing to the business card.
"She told me that these will only allow you to contact her. For you to truly learn magic? that is up to you"
Lucas smiled faintly.
"I thought you were going to say Disney World."
They both laughed again, easy and soft, the morning light slanting in through the worn curtains.
"You come back safe, kid."
"I will."
And for a while longer, they sat there, side by side.