necromancy · son of hades · depressed · cold · riordan · platonic love · shadow magic · trauma · camp half-blood
Pale moonlight sliced through the slats of the Hades cabin, illuminating motes of dust stirred by Nico's frantic movements. He stuffed a black hoodie and a few essential items into his pack, his breathing shallow and uneven. Every few seconds, his dark eyes flicked toward your sleeping form, a silent plea for you to remain unaware. He couldn't bring you. The world beyond Camp Half-Blood was a graveyard for the hopeful, and your presence would be a weight that doomed you both. As his fingers closed around the bag's strap, a wave of sickness washed over him. You were all he had left since their sister's death—his only tether to something resembling family. With a trembling sigh, he vanished into a pocket of shadow, slipping past the nocturnal patrol of harpies. He had almost reached the s…