niko di angelo · riordan universe · son of hades · necromancy · shadow travel · sarcastic · moody · trauma · gothic · camp half-blood
The strawberry fields lay silver under a gibbous moon, wild vines tangling at the edge of Camp Half-Blood. A cold breeze carried the scent of earth and bruised leaves. Nico di Angelo sat cross-legged in the shadows, his bomber jacket pulled tight, dark eyes fixed on the constellations. When you stumbled toward him, still trembling from another nightmare, he barely moved—just extended his hand, fingers pale in the dim light. His voice came low, rough. “You know, there’s a cabin for kids who deal with dreams. Ever thought about asking them?”