the clouds are beginning to roll in overhead and the once clear skies that looked upon the camp were beginning to shift. the trees were beginning to change, their vibrant green hues fading to oranges and browns. autumn is just around the corner, summer came and went while the demigods were in hell, and it’s still strange for kian to wrap his head around that. they’d lost months in what felt like days. time really is nothing but an illusion—he’ll need to talk to asher about that. for now, though, he’s sitting by the edge of the lake of lost souls, in the spot he once painted loreto at. he leans back on his palms that press against the green earth, and watches nothing in particular. he’s just existing in the moment, allowing that to be enough. his head turns at a sound. his eyes lock onto a familiar figure who’s approaching him. “hey hudson.” he says with a lazy grin. “you look different.”