Chapter 1 – The Screams in the Dark
The night air over Camp Half‑Blood was cool, still, and deceptively peaceful. A crescent moon hovered above the treetops like a watchful eye, silvering the cabins and the strawberry fields. Most campers slept — exhausted from training, lessons, or simply existing in a world where monsters never really stayed gone.
Will Solace should have been asleep too. He’d spent most of the day in the infirmary. But exhaustion didn’t matter much when you were listening for something. For someone.
For Nico.
Ever since Nico di Angelo had been dragged out of Tartarus — half‑conscious, half‑alive, and shaking so violently Will feared he’d shatter — the son of Hades had barely spoken. Not to Chiron. Not to Percy or Annabeth. Not to anyone.
Except Will. Occasionally. Barely.
Will tried not to be hurt by the distance. Gods knew Nico had been through something impossible. The shadows clung to him in ways they never had before, coiling around his ankles, twitching over his arms like restless snakes. He moved like someone whose soul hadn’t quite made it all the way back.
And at night… At night Nico didn’t sleep. Or worse — he did.
Will was closing the infirmary shutters when he heard it.
A scream.
Sharp. Raw. Torn straight from someone’s lungs.
Will’s heart stopped. He knew that voice.
Another scream followed — louder, more frantic, echoing across the cabins — and Will didn’t even bother grabbing a jacket. He sprinted out the infirmary door and across the moonlit commons, sand crunching under his feet.
“Nico,” he muttered, breath uneven, legs burning as he ran.
Cabin 13 loomed ahead, black marble glowing faintly in the moonlight like bones under water. The torches outside flickered wildly, reacting to the darkness boiling inside.
The third scream nearly made Will stumble.
This one wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even a scream, really. It was choking — as if Nico couldn’t breathe.
Will shoved the door open.
The cabin was freezing. Frost coated the floor. The air smelled like iron and shadows. Candles that had been burning earlier had snuffed themselves out, leaving only a faint violet glow from the runes etched into the walls.
“Nico?” Will whispered.
At first, he saw nothing. Just darkness shifting like smoke.
Then he heard it — ragged gasps coming from the far corner. Will crossed the room so fast he nearly tripped on one of the skull‑shaped sconces.
Nico was curled on the floor, back pressed against his bed frame, fingers clutching his hair. Shadows surged from beneath him like living things, clawing at the marble, trying to pull him downward.
His eyes were squeezed shut. He wasn’t awake — not really. And he was shaking so violently the bones of his wrists looked like they might snap.
“Nonono— stay away— I can’t— gods, Will— don’t—” Nico choked on the words, half in Italian, half in English, all terror.
Will dropped to his knees beside him.
“Hey, hey—it’s me,” he said softly, but urgency cracked through the gentleness. “Nico, it’s Will. You’re safe. You’re at camp. It’s not Tartarus. You’re not there anymore.”
Nico didn’t hear him. His breath hitched, short, shallow, too fast. A panic attack — a bad one. And the shadows reacted, thrashing harder, lashing at Will like bitter cold wind.
Will reached out, ignoring the sting, and grabbed Nico’s hands.
They were freezing. Numb. Dead‑cold.
“Nico,” Will said again, voice steady now, a healer’s voice. A boyfriend’s voice. Someone-who-was-not-leaving’s voice. “Listen to me. I’m right here.”
Nico jerked, eyes snapping open — but the black void in them wasn’t from this world. Will saw Tartarus reflected there. Endless chasms. Screaming ghouls. The last thing Nico had seen.
“Will?” Nico whispered — but it didn’t sound like him. It sounded like a ghost.
“Yeah,” Will breathed, relief breaking through him like sunlight. “Yeah, I’m here.”
Nico tried to pull away — maybe out of shame, maybe because the shadows demanded it — but Will tightened his grip.
“No,” Will said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere. Not back there. Not into the shadows. Stay with me.”
Nico’s breathing hitched. Then broke. Then the first sob escaped him — raw and painful.
The shadows shuddered… Then slowly receded.
Will eased closer until he was next to Nico, their knees touching, hands still intertwined. Nico leaned forward — barely — like his body was giving up on resisting. His forehead brushed Will’s shoulder.
Will’s heart nearly shattered.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Will whispered into Nico’s hair. “Not tonight. Not until you’re ready. I just… I need you to breathe.”
Nico didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened around Will’s like he was anchoring himself to the world with that one point of contact.
They stayed like that for minutes — or maybe hours. Time didn’t matter in the dark.
Eventually Nico whispered, voice barely audible:
“I didn’t think I’d make it back.”
Will closed his eyes. He wanted to say I knew you would, but lying felt wrong.
So instead he said the truth.
“You did. You fought your way back. And I’m here. I’m not leaving, okay? Not tonight. Not ever.”
Nico exhaled shakily.
The cabin warmed. The shadows quieted. And for the first time since Tartarus, Nico let himself rest — leaning fully into Will, trusting him to hold the weight.
Will did.
