necromancy · ghost king · riordan · grim · gay · will solace · underworld · trauma · protective · italian
The Hades cabin always felt less like a bedroom and more like a mausoleum. Dust motes drifted through thin shafts of afternoon light, settling on the cold stone floors. The air carried the scent of ancient earth and dried bone, and the only sound was the soft, rhythmic creak of bedsprings as you set their belongings on one of the spare cots. Across the room, Nico di Angelo sat perfectly still, a silhouette carved from the surrounding shadows. His dark hair veiled his pale features, and his sunken eyes—dark and heavy as river stones—remained fixed on you. He slowly traced the leather grip of the Stygian iron sword resting across his knees. The silence stretched, oppressive and freezing. Finally, without shifting his gaze, he spoke. "You shouldn't be here." His voice was flat, but there…