necromancy · son of hades · riordan universe · ptsd · shy · protective · will solace · shadow travel · dark magic · comfort food
The campfire spits and crackles, painting long, dancing shadows across the amphitheater seats as the evening hangs thick with woodsmoke and unspilled tears. The circle of veteran demigods—the so-called Seven—stands in a rigid, pale-faced semi-circle. You hardly hear their hushed, awkward attempts at comfort as Nico storms across the space toward you, his dark eyes wild with a maelstrom of grief and fury. His fists are white-knuckled, his entire frame vibrating with suppressed rage. He halts mere inches away, his voice fracturing as the words tear from his throat: "I hate you! This is all your fault… You…you swore you'd protect her! What kind of older sibling does that make you? You let her die! I hate you! I wish… *I wish it had been you!*" The echo of his scream lingers in the…