Chapter Text
Warm lights illuminate the small bar. Purple curtains decorate the walls, dressed beside beautiful carvings of the Gods. Only a few customers linger, leaving Nico and his circle of friends.
Frank lets out a long groan and sinks heavily in his seat. He runs a hand through his hair, the bags apparent beneath his eyes. A nice peach aroma permeates from his chalice. “No more kids.”
“What, really?” Percy looks crushed. “But your kids are so cute.”
“You say that when you don’t have one daughter clogging the toilet with gold, and then you have to fix it but you can’t because your other daughter’s turned into a goldfish and you don’t know if she’s lost down the pipes or not,” Frank rambles. He props his head with the palms of his hands, genuinely exhausted.
“Well if you’re serious, I could do it for you.” A smirk curls against Leo’s lips. He downs his fourth shot (immediately, the enchanted glass fills with another shot of tequila) and somehow conjures a pair of celestial bronze scissors. “Snip, snip.”
Frank stares at him. “You are not coming anywhere near me with your disgusting manbun.”
“Hey, hey, hey—” Leo waves his hands, fidgety as usual. “For the record, my hair is gorgeous. Easy, breezy, Leo-girl. It makes me look hot! Plus—I haven’t had the time to cut it because I’ve been hard at work.”
“Does that mean you haven’t had time to bathe, either? I can see the stench coming off of you.” Percy pinches his nose for emphasis and looks back to Frank. Makes hand motions. “So when you say gold, do you mean gold, or sh—”
“Percy.” Nico reels the trio back in with his voice, irritated. “Can we get back to why you called us here?”
It’s amazing how after fifteen years Percy’s smile can still send Nico’s heart running. The way Percy’s lips spread from cheek-to-cheek, happy creases apparent at the corners of his eyes. Nico’s…baggage with Percy isn’t necessarily in a romantic sense anymore, but their history makes it hard for Nico to not feel a bit anxious around him.
Nico takes a moment to absorb the men around him. It’s only been a few months since he’s seen Percy. Whether Nico is paying visits to Camp Halfblood or Jupiter, he always manages to run into the old hero. Frank is a constant presence in Nico’s life—he makes sure to visit both his sister and brother-in-law at least once a week and play with his nieces. His brother-in-law is tired and ragged, but extremely happy as a stay-at-home dad. Percy’s arm is full of tic marks from his time with the Legion. Leo is the large anomaly—constantly traveling with Calypso around the world doing who-knows-what.
Part of Nico wonders if he himself has aged well. He keeps tabs on all of his old friends, but most of his time is spent being an ambassador between Olympus and the Underworld on behalf of his father.
“Annabeth and I got together with Chiron and Lupa. And Magnus.” Percy slouches against his seat, the smile still on his face. “We want to build a new camp.”
Silence. Everyone else blinks, exchanging looks with one another.
“Is that even…possible?” Frank’s eyebrows furrow and he waves his hands. “Camp Jupiter and Camp Halfblood have always been around. I don’t think that you can just—you know. Build a new one.”
“It was also tradition that Greek and Roman demigods weren’t supposed to interact. And that gods didn’t have to claim their kids.” Percy waves his hand dismissively. “We changed that. Annabeth and I spoke. We’re thinking about putting it in the Midwest. It’s hard enough for unclaimed demigods to try and make it to the coast. People have died. Kids have died. It’s not fair.”
There’s no doubt in Nico’s mind that Percy’s thoughts are on Thalia. How close she was to Camp Halfblood before ultimately meeting her death. She’s alive today because of Zeus’s blessing and because of the Huntresses—but not everyone is that lucky.
If he thinks hard of enough, Nico can think of all demigods that died too soon because they couldn’t make it to a safe haven or because they didn’t know they were a demigod. The deafened heartbeats make his chest ache.
“It’s a good idea,” he decides. “Percy and Annabeth saved me. But almost at the cost of Annabeth’s life. We need to make it easier to save demigods. Not harder.”
Percy seems pleased with Nico’s answer. Leo and Frank both look contemplative, but neither disagree.
“Yeah, but the Midwest?” Leo snorts. “I’m from Texas. Ain’t exactly rainbows and sunshine down there.”
“Yeah,” Percy blissfully agrees. “It’s crappy down there. That’s why they need a camp. To meet in the middle.”
“I don’t think the gods are going to be happy with you trying to change…politics again.” Frank’s eyebrows mesh together doubtfully and he flashes a look of concern towards Percy. “You’re not exactly on their good side. Like…ever.”
“My dad likes me. That’s all that matters.” Percy flashes a grin. “Besides, I already have a name.”
His friends lean forward with anticipation, eyes glued to the Son of Poseidon.
Percy raises his head proudly. “Camp Jupiblood.”
*
The rest of the night devolved into everyone yelling at Percy for the stupid name. Between Leo and Percy, it didn’t get much better. (“What about Camp Halfiter?” “Uh’no,” Leo slurs after the fifth shot hits him, “Camp Seven, because we saved the world?” “That’s a little arrogant, don’t you think?” Frank grimaces.)
“We settled on Camp Demigod,” Percy announces the next day at the principia. He rubs his temples, still nursing a hangover.
Their setup reminds Nico of Mount Olympus. A child representing each god in a U-Shape formation. Nico sees Percy with Piper to his left and Annabeth to the right. Reyna to the right of Annabeth, then Hazel and Frank. Katie Gardner and Will. (Will catches him staring. After all these years, staring Will in the face still makes Nico anxious and he has to look away.) A few new faces make the hair on Nico’s forearms stand erect, but he chooses to ignore the feeling in his gut.
For a moment, his gaze fixes on Thalia. Her posture is coarse and demeanor is regal. A true Child of Zeus as the Lieutenant to Artemis’s Huntresses.
The back of Nico’s throat dries and his hand curls on the top of his jeans. Thalia, Percy, Hazel, and himself. At least one child from each of the Big Three is here.
“Good,” Magnus Chase—a newer face to Nico—says slowly. “Because Camp Jupiblood was stupid.”
“You’re right,” Alex Fiero quips. “Camp Midgard actually sounded better than that.”
“Thanks.” Chase looks awfully proud of himself.
“No way. Camp Midgard isn’t…all-encompassing enough.” Percy wrinkles his nose.
“Midgard. The realm of humans.” Fiero arches an eyebrow. “Pretty all-encompassing in my opinion.”
“There are nine realms,” Sam al-Abbas insists. “Midgard covers everyone who lives here.”
“Please let’s not get into another argument about this,” Annabeth intervenes. She groans, brushing a hand over Reyna’s, and tosses her head back. “Seaweed Brain worked really hard on Camp Jupiblood. It was painful to watch. I’d rather not go back to the drawing board.”
Thalia chuckles to herself, loud enough or Nico to hear. “What a dumbass.”
“I still liked Camp McHotstuff,” Leo grumbles.
“Yeah, no. Camp Demigod works.” Percy’s demeanor sobers in a way that Nico hasn’t seen since the Battle for Olympus. It’s calm. Steady. “The main purpose of this camp is to create another safe haven for halfbloods like us. A fair one.” He looks across the room. “Over a decade ago, when all I knew was Camp Halfblood—I didn’t think I could make it past eighteen.”
Percy pauses and extends a look to Chase and Fiero.
He continues. “And then I made it to eighteen and found out that death doesn’t mean the end of training and saving the world. Some of us die too young trying to make it out alive. Or not even knowing why we had to die in the first place.”
When Magnus Chase frowns, his expression looks much like Annabeth’s.
The mood is grim. Nico’s gaze falls to his beloved sister, who too looks tired from years of age.
“Not only that, but I found out that if I was born Roman, I could live safe life. Get married. Have kids.” Percy looks to Piper, gaze soft. “And actually be happy. I could still die, but I wouldn’t be living every day wondering if tomorrow would be my last fight.”
“So what do you propose?” Thalia asks.
“We build another camp. All inclusive,” Percy says. He grins mischievously. “We’ve already made a deal with the gods that every child has to be claimed by thirteen. They’re a little…selective with that rule, but that just means we keep trying. We make it easier to find demigods and bring them to safety. So no kid has to die too young ever again.”
Looking around the room, there isn’t one face opposed to the idea. A bit of pride swells in Nico. He’d never tell Percy, but he’s elated to be one of the first people informed of this idea. Nico remembers sitting at his father’s feet, when Hades didn’t have a permanent seat with the twelve Olympians. He remembers that even when his father’s views were taken into account, he still felt like an outsider.
Annabeth reveals the blueprints to the new camp. Nico can see the inspirations drawn from Halfblood and Jupiter. Cabins are aligned in Haflblood’s Greek Omega. The principia is to be three stories tall: a floor for Greek, Norse, and Roman demigods each.
“The plan is for the elevator to link to Hotel Valhalla,” Annabeth explains. She strokes her chin, eyebrows knitting together. Magnus flashes a smile in her direction. “I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.”
“Percy and I can work on integrating both camps,” Reyna says. She views the blueprints over her lover’s shoulders. “This could be a hub for all demigods. We should figure out safe transportation between all three camps and the hotel.”
“Leave it to us.” Connor Stoll winks. Both he and Travis poke Leo in the ribs from either side. “We’ll put Leo to work.”
Leo, on his third cup of black coffee, grins from ear-to-ear and fist bumps the pair. “Consider me working.”
Nico decides not to mention the pair of scissors he sees in Travis’s hands—which are dangerously close to Leo’s greasy manbun.
“What about camp directors? Or…praetors?” Frank asks. “Who’s going to be leading this camp?”
“Well…us, I hoped.” Percy pauses from his ministrations. His hands are folded together, lips pressed tightly. For a moment, he looks reluctant to go on. His gaze travels the room—pausing on Nico for just a moment too long—and he finally speaks again. “I really want to get Jason back.”
The name pulses in Nico’s ears. He feels his cheeks flush with sanguine—and hopes no one notices. Beneath the table, he rattles his fingers against his knee, nervous.
Again—hoping no one notices.
Then a second thought occurs to him. He’s not quite sure why he’s nervous.
“Oh, Jason,” Magnus says. He looks around the room, oblivious. “I remember him. Why isn’t he at the meeting?”
At first, Nico examines the expressions of his comrades, hoping someone can offer a good explanation. His gaze ends at Thalia, but even she doesn’t have an answer.
“I’m always busy,” she offers. Her lips twist into a grimace. “Honestly, I thought I’d see him here.”
“He’s not dead, is he?” Reyna’s gaze falls to Nico, eyes wide. Everyone’s does.
Hazel and he exchange looks. Nico contemplates the question—heavily.
“He’s not dead,” he confirms. He shoves his anxiety down in the pit of his heart, commanding it to still. “But that doesn’t mean I know where he is.”
No one thinks much of it. Everyone’s been busy with their own lives. Frank and Hazel are retired, safely raising a family in New Rome and occasionally shadowtraveling between Vancouver and New Orleans. They try to keep tabs and mentor young campers.
Annabeth is busy with her own architecture firm, occasionally travelling to and from the Bermuda triangle to rescue more demigods. Nico knows that in the last few years as praetor, Percy is trying to leave the camp in good hands. Getting ahold of Leo seems impossible, as he seems to enjoy travelling the world, with Piper as the occasional partner in crime.
Nico knows he’s the prime example of Missing in Action. He prefers being Hades’ ambassador, shadowtraveling from camp-to-camp and from Underworld to Mount Olympus.
(He thinks back to a month ago, when he attended a godly meeting in Hades’ place. It was an unsettling power move on his father’s part. Zeus’s gaze still sends chills up Nico’s spine—harsh and judgmental. Somber. Nico’s hands curl into fists. Something about the way Zeus stared at him has made Nico’s blood boil since.)
“Let’s put a comma on that thought and keep going,” Magnus says. If he notices the confusion in the room, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he looks back to Percy and Annabeth curiously. “When are we setting this plan in motion?”
*
Percy pulls Nico aside after the meeting. “Take a walk with me?”
Nico looks to his sister and brother-in-law. Hazel flashes him a smile and kissing him on the cheek. “Don’t be late for dinner.”
Thalia and Reyna meet them outside the principia. Although Reyna hasn’t been a praetor in years, she still looks noble as she carries herself. She and Thalia banter, but quickly stop when they see Nico arrive.
They walk through the fields of Camp Jupiter, and Nico takes in the scenary.
The Temple of Pluto catches his eye, precious gems and bones apparent from the far distance. Ever since the war, more people had paid their respects to those who’d lost their lives. It’d be a full century soon since the last time Pluto had a child. Nico has a feeling that the next Child of Hades—Greek or Roman—would have an easier time transitioning to their world. He’d make sure of it.
“Right after the war, Jason planned on coming back and forth between the camps to make things better,” Percy begins. “The Senate wanted to elect him as the Pontiac Mass Effect.”
“Pontifex Maximus,” Reyna interjects. She shoots a look to Percy, very much giving a, ‘I will stab you if you mispronounce that again’ look.
“I remember that.” Nico thinks back to what feels like years ago.
“Jason promised Kym that he would honor her at both camps. And make sure she gets an action figure. Distributing the funds is tough.” Percy sighs, his mouth curling into a grimace. “I remember that my father wasn’t too happy with that.”
“You have to admit: we’ve gotten a bit more forward with the gods.” Thalia smirks and nudges Nico approvingly. “I heard you attended a meeting in Hades’ place last month.”
Reyna and Percy pause, both looking at Nico like he’d grown a second head.
“Believe me, I only watched.” Nico wrinkles his nose. “Consider it the longest six hours of my life. Hearing the gods bicker back and forth about menial things.”
Such as, ‘Hephaestus, I’m pleased that you named The Cloud after me, but why can’t I have my own account?’ Or, ‘Thank you, husband! Tinder is a wonderful thing in my domain!’
Nico shudders.
“Jason was going to be an ambassador like yourself. For both the camps and Mount Olympus,” Percy says. Their group stops—and it’s only then that Nico realizes that they’re in front of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. “But it suddenly wasn’t a thing anymore.”
“What happened?” Nico asks. He remembers post-war being happy that Jason had found his way.
But the next year for fifteen-year-old Nico had been spent as Head Counselor for the Hades Cabin, dancing around Will Solace, and gaining more duties from his father. Jason and he crossed paths on their way to meetings on Mount Olympus—Nico with his father, and Jason on his own. The latter years of their friendship had them seeing each other very sporadically.
“Hard to say.” Reyna’s gaze flickers. “The title of Pontifex Maximus is only granted to whomever the Senate deems worthy. Jason was that person.”
“So why didn’t he take it?” Thalia frowns.
“Couldn’t tell you. But does that sound like him? Mister, ‘I’m Always Fifteen Minutes Early’ Sunshine?” Percy says. He shakes his head in dismay and then stares intently at the Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Almost glares on it. “I talked about it with Piper and Leo. Maybe he was on a mission. A quest. But…this is too long. I asked my dad if he knew, but he gave me this look, like—like I needed to drop it.”
“You think something fishy is going on,” Nico translates. He peers to the Jupiter Optimus Maximus himself, gaze wandering to the statue’s eyes. It immediately makes the hair on Nico’s arms stand.
“I was hoping you could find him.” Percy turns back to Nico, shoulders slumping. “He’s one of my best friends—or at least he was. And we’re not getting the whole story here.”
Reyna places a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “You can travel anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye. You have your sources.”
“You knew about the Norse Demigods before Annabeth ever told us,” Percy interjects. His tone isn’t of anger—but he stares at Nico intently. “And the Roman demigods.”
Nico swallows the lump in his throat. He can’t help but step back for a moment, staring at the trio. “That isn’t—”
“No—Nico, I’m not blaming you.” Percy immediately shakes his head. After all these years he finally understood when he made the other demigod uncomfortable. But his look still remains one of concern. “But you’re the best chance of finding him. Or at least figuring out why he’s missing.”
It’s not that Nico doesn’t want to find Jason. “I told you he wasn’t dead—that doesn’t mean I know where he is.”
“Can you at least try and find him?” Thalia asks softly. She brushes a hand over Nico’s arm, her demeanor grave.
He looks into her electric blue eyes and is immediately reminded of the King of Gods. And worse—Jason himself. Thalia’s usual wild, electrifying energy is replaced with worry.
Nico understands why he’s the best choice. Reyna and Percy have to stay here if they want to implement Camp Demigod. Thalia can’t leave the Huntresses. He knows any one of them would drop everything in a heartbeat—if they could.
He submits, shoulders sagging. “I’ll see what I can do.”
A smile spreads across Thalia’s lips. Nico has never been hugged by Thalia Grace before—but it feels warm.
*
That night, Nico dreams of grasslands.
The world is dark, not a star in the sky. He surveys his surroundings, trying hard to place himself. C’mon, Di Angelo. He’s been everywhere around the world, but everything feels…big.
Crickets chirp, filling in the silence that Nico feels around him. Fireflies find Nico, allowing him to see through the expanse. Long, thin trees reach toward the dark sky. Grassy hills whisper as the wind brushes against them, bobbing high and weaving low.
Nico has been here before—but he can’t remember why.
A snarl cuts through the muteness, making his skin crawl. The hair on the back of Nico’s neck stands tall. He reaches for his sword—only to realize he didn’t have it.
The growl eases into a disgusting chuckle. Nico’s eyes water at the sound. He blinks away the tears, trying desperately to find the source of bemusement, but feels frightened. Like a small little boy.
‘They’ve been wandering for days,’ a voice growls. ‘We should just eat them.’
‘He’s low on blood,’ another voice sniggers. He coos in a way that comes off as a cackle. ‘What a sorry excuse for a—”
‘’IDIOT!’ howls a third voice. ‘He won’t be as easy the second time. Do not underestimate him.’
A large SLAP rivets against Nico’s ears, and he flinches. He can’t see—but he hears whimpers, like two frightened dogs.
‘We’ll get him,’ The third voice declares coldly. ‘The Son of Jupiter.’
Nico startles awake at the sound of wolves howling.
*
The next morning Percy sees Nico off, a wistful twinkle in those sea green eyes. There’s no doubt that Percy wants to be the one to find Jason—but can’t. Once Percy uttered the words of building a new camp, Greek, Roman, and Norse demigods alike began cementing the idea.
(It goes without saying that the Romans could build and rebuild camp in a matter of hours. The tricky part was melding all three domains—and that was before Percy could get in touch with the Kanes for further expansion.)
“I can’t help but wonder if you’re using this whole camp thing as an excuse to bring Jason back,” Nico muses as they make it to the edge of New Rome.
“I’d go to hell and back for the guy. You know I don’t say that lightly,” Percy says. He inspects Nico carefully and awkwardly touches the other demigod on the shoulder. “For any of my friends.”
There was a time where Percy’s charm would have sent Nico to cloud nine. Instead, Nico shakes his head. “The camp is a good idea. Jason would be proud.”
Percy grins. Looking into those sea-green eyes, Nico sees fear for the first time. Nervousness that was lacking the day before. Percy knows how to deliver speeches and gain peoples’ trust—but he’s terrified that this camp won’t work.
It’s probably best that Nico doesn’t mention his dream. He doesn’t want to give Percy false hope.
“So what’s your plan?” Percy asks.
“Going to visit the Fates. Like I said: just because he isn’t dead doesn’t mean I know where he is. But I can probably ask them where he’s going.”
“Yikes.” Percy’s nose wrinkles. “I met them in a subway once. I felt like they were mocking me.”
“They’re not…for the faint of heart.” He can’t say he’s ever met them in good graces himself, but he’s hoping his diplomacy will get him somewhere.
Shadows pool around Nico’s feet, humming pleasantly at his presence. They tug at his legs, ready to take him where his heart desires. Before he leaves, he notices Percy’s smile.
“Anything you want me to say to him?” Nico muses.
“Nah. I’m just…happy that you’re happy, man.” Percy claps a hand on Nico’s shoulder. The touch tingles. “Give him a big ol’ kiss. From me. Like th—”
“Don’t you dare kiss me, Jackson.”
*
Nico shadowtravels to the Empire State Building. The security guard tips a hat to him, locking eyes firmly with the demigod as Nico eases into the elevator.
His stomach does nauseating somersaults as he makes it to the 600th floor. Part of him thinks it’s akin to how Percy gets nervous on an airplane. Entering the domain of the King of the Gods puts his heart ill at ease.
Olympus is like its own New York City. Gold buildings stand tall, reaching above the sky and probably into space. Nymphs and satyrs and aurae move around the streets in a fast pace. Apollo’s music fills Nico’s ears, in a silky jazz that reminds him of the 1930s.
Nico bobs and weaves through the crowd—until he comes across a store that reads, Three Fates Boutique. Perfect.
In the window, Nico notices a gold mannequin dressed in fine robes meant for an emperor or a leader. Next to it is a beautiful gown in shimmering fabric that pools at the floor. If he blinks, he sees spirits moving around the bustier.
A bell rings as he pushes the door open. The inside is made of vibrant red brick, with studio lights high above the ceiling. Gold mannequins pose on small stages, wearing beautiful gowns or suits from different ages. One mannequin wears a beige v-neck sweater and a smoothly cut corduroy suit. Another reminds Nico of a gown he saw on the Oscars. Every outfit brims with life. Literally.
The cashier catches his attention. “Welcome to Three Fates Boutique! The one and only place to get clothing fit for a god! My name is Tassie, how can I help you?”
Nico swallows a lump in his throat, uncomfortable. Seeing someone wear the fabric life force of a dead mortal would do that to a person. Hades is infamous for his pinstripe suit made out of the souls of the damned—but this was more Forever 21 and less I Am Lord Death.
“Why, why, what a handsome man you are,” purrs another wind spirit. A breeze kisses Nico’s cheek and she hooks an arm around Nico. The aurae runs a hand smoothly down his leather jacket. “What I wouldn’t give to undress you.”
“That hair!” squeals another aurae. Nico’s bangs flutter with a gentle gust—and he assumes the other wind spirit is playing with his thick locks.
He shifts uncomfortably between his feet, unsure how to react to the attention. Not many people have ever called him handsome in his lifetime. “Ahem—ladies.”
“Yes?” All three aurae mewl.
They’re transparent. Nico has a hard time seeing them, but they spin around him like a tiny tornado. He feels like one of those supermodels with a giant fan blasting at them. “I like men.”
The wind stops immediately. He wonders if saying, I’m Hades’ son would’ve been worse.
Well, this is awkward.
Nico takes a better look at the aurae closest to him. She wears a beautifully designed Greek dress that cinched at the waist. The skirt billows as she moves, reminding Nico of old picture movies he’d seen of couples taking long walks on the beach. He quickly scans her nametag.
“Cassiopeia, is it?” he asks.
“You can call me Cassie.” She giggles happily, which just sounds like a sweet whistle in Nico’s ears.
“Cassie, then.” Nico looks at all three workers and scans the boutique. Some nymphs and magical beings rummage through the clothes enthusiastically without a care in the world. “You have a beautiful dress. It—ah, makes you shimmer. Like Iris.”
Cassie titters. “You’re so kind! Thank you!”
“I just have to meet the designers.” Nico studies Cassie’s reaction carefully. “Are they in?”
Her smile disappears, shoulders rising to her ears nervously. She looks between her aurae co-workers. “Oh, I don’t know…they’re not big…mortal people.”
“But I’m such a huge fan,” Nico responds smoothly. He pretends to inspect all three aurae’s outfits. “I simply must. And I come as the ambassador to Lord Hades. I would love to commission the Fates to make him a new suit before the big meeting.”
Note to self: find out if there really is another big meeting in the foreseeable future.
“Lord Hades…as a new client,” says the aure dressed in the crop top. Her name tag reads ‘Thalassa.’ She clasps her hands together and nods. “Yes! I don’t see any harm in that!”
“But Lassie!” The third aurae, Tassia, protests. She shakes her head furiously. “You know that they don’t—”
In that moment, Nico channels his inner Percy Jackson. Maybe Valdez. “Ladies, just picture it.” He waves a hand in front of him, pretending to stare off in the distance. “The next grand meeting of the gods, live on Hephaestus TV. And what does Lord Hades wear? A Three Fates original.”
They look at each other uneasily.
“Gods and Titans and Giants from all nine realms will be crowding the boutique, asking for their own gown or suit. And who will the Fates thank?” Nico gestures to them, a smile on his face. “Tassie, Lassie, and Cassie.”
“Well…okay!” Cassie claps her hands together. “Let’s go!”
Suddenly Nico’s being pushed behind the counter by a giggling gaggle of gales.
(He groans to himself. If only he could conjure that much charm to speak to a guy.)
The back room looks like a different building altogether. Lights are dim at best, despite the sunny New York day. Walls are filled with cracks from years without maintenance.
The floorboards creak under Nico’s light steps, and a musty scent makes his nose wrinkle. The odd part is how the storefront and back of house blend into together—Nico can actually see the upbeat hipster-inspired store transform into the rickety cabin-like room in the back.
What is new will always turn old, Nico thinks.
Three sewing machines sit in the corner, joined by a delicate looking love seat that sleeps against the wall. In the middle of the room is a frail old woman sitting in a wooden stool. She works away at a Greek dress on the mannequin in front of her, hands nimble and fast.
Nico feels like an intruder for watching. He clears his throat.
“Madame Clothos!” Cassie says. “We have a new client!”
Clothos’s hands stop abruptly. She looks up from her work, head turning slowly. Her gaze pierces straight into Nico.
Silence follows.
“Well, uh,” Cassie says nervously, “I’ll leave you two alone!”
She quickly scurries out of the room.
Clothos goes back to her work immediately, completely ignoring the demigod.
“What a beautiful dress,” Nico compliments. He walks the length of the room to inspect the gown from all sides and shivers. The closer he gets to the dress, the harder his heart pounds. “Are you running the store by yourself today, Madame Clothos?”
“We have three branches, dear boy,” Clothos murmurs. Her voice is soft, but still makes Nico nervous. “I am here. Lachesis is east. Atropos west. No more than that. We want to be noticed, but we won’t sell out. We’re not stupid.”
“Clothes made by the Fates in the mortal plane?” Nico does his best to hide his grimace. He fails. Every time Clothos looks at him, he feels like someone is in his head, controlling his thoughts. Nico didn’t like people in his head. “How…innovative.”
She gives him a wrinkly, mysterious smile. “Mortals are perfect, Nico di Angelo. They wear their hearts on their sleeves.”
Shiver. Something told Nico that Clothos didn’t mean that phrase in the way it was normally used. He hopes that phrase has never been used to describe him.
“You’re here to ask about the Son of Beryl Grace,” Clothos says. “No.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Do not lie to me, sonny.” Clothos harrumphs and continues with her work, hands working swiftly with the dress. “Your tapestry has led you here. Think of who created that tapestry.”
Right. Was there any way to charm the Fates when they guided you to their lair?
“No,” Clothos says blithely.
Well then. Nico lets go of a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. An idea comes to mind. “May I see his tapestry?”
“No,” she repeats.
“But—”
“No god, nor titan, nor my demigod cheats my sisters or my decision,” Clothos replies sagely. “Jupiter has inspired our work immensely for the Son of Beryl Grace.”
The word inspired makes Nico feel worse off. He contemplates his options. “Is it possible to see my own?”
His inquiry is enough to stop Clothos from her work, if for a moment. She stares at him directly in the eye.
“I don’t care to see how I die—” Though he hopes it isn’t sooner than later. “—but you’ve sent me on a journey. I’m happy now.”
Clothos studies his face, as if trying to find the hidden meaning behind his words.
“Would you let a man admire the work you’ve done for him?” Nico asks. “And in exchange, I will—ahem—have my father pay nothing but the highest price for a Clothos original.”
She stares at him with large beady eyes. Closes them slowly. A smile forms across her face. “Very well.”
With a soft hiss, an entrance to another room appears behind Nico.
“I always appreciate an admirer of my work,” she whispers. “And Nico di Angelo?”
“Yes, Madame Clothos?” Nico decides he doesn’t like the way she says his full name so familiarly.
“Perhaps your words have inspired me as well.” Her eyes glimmer ominously, piercing straight through him.
Nico shudders and decides best to ignore her. He makes his way into the room.
One dim lightbulb struggles to shine in the darkness. Looms stand in tight-knit rows, going on aisle-after-aisle for what feels like miles. Nico looks for the walls—but realizes the looms are actually never-ending. He sees one loom assemble itself and work on the first line of a new tapestry.
“You’re dawdling,” Clothos’s voice calls out over an invisible speaker.
As fate would have it (ugh), he stops in front of the nearest loom. On the side of the loom, etched in gold letters, is his name: Nico di Angelo.
It’s the tallest in Nico’s close proximity, standing at probably 68” x 80”. The tapestry has a stunning array of colors. At the top of the loom, Nico sees the warmest hues, reminding him of the breathtaking sunrise in Venice. It tapers off into a beautiful lagoon blue, like the canals Nico could see outside his window as a small boy.
He inspects it closely, noticing a single thread of white that follows every row from the beginning of his loom. He watches as his tapestry shifts from a lagoon blue to neon rainbows and almost glow—the seventy years that Bianca and he spent in the Lotus Casino that takes up at least two feet of Nico’s tapestry—and follows the white thread until it stops abruptly.
Beneath the Lotus Casino, the tapestry is black. Frayed. Damaged, and full of holes like someone wanted to destroy the cloth at this very point in Nico’s life, but simply ruined it instead. He notices a few lines of the white thread stitched between the tattered fabric, like someone haphazardly tried to fix it. It glows ethereally.
He frowns, scrutinizing it. The moment Nico reaches out, he feels something link to him. A lone thread at the bottom of the loom glues to his chest.
He’s literally writing fate as he stands there.
Nico focuses on the white thread, grazing his finger against the fabric.
The vision comes to him like the FWIP of an arrow.
“You must listen to me. Holding a grudge is da—”
Bianca. Nico whips his hand away immediately. Tears swell in his eyes and his throat hurts.
The thread in his tapestry was Bianca’s, intertwined with his own fate.
Nico searches the loom hastily, trying to find every instance that Bianca’s fate is wound with his—but all he sees is her white thread from his birth, through the casino, and to age ten at Camp Halfblood, when he lost her forever.
The ethereal thread in the worst part of Nico’s tapestry—the way it was forcefully sewn in there was because he was trying to summon her. His fingers tremble.
When he looks at the full length of the white thread—to the very last interaction he ever had with his sister when she was alive alive—he notices the thread is coming off of the loom.
Studying the white thread, Nico watches as it strays away from his own tapestry, like the silk of a spider web, to another loom adjacent to his.
The gold plaque next to the new loom reads Bianca di Angelo. The other loom is half the size of Nico’s—having been cut short too early. Too young.
His heart folds. Nico looks around frantically. Maybe—maybe, if he followed the end of Bianca’s thread, he could find her new life—
No.
“I’m here for Jason,” he murmurs to himself.
He’s here for Jason.
Bianca had to wait.
His fingers follow the careful line of the dark fabric, forcefully ignoring any memento from Bianca. Nico sees the thread of his darkest days intertwine with other colors: sea green (Percy, he thinks), grey (Annabeth), gold (Hazel), and stops.
His hand brushes against a dainty blue thread, heart skipping a beat.
“What did you say your rank was?” the voice echoes in his head for the first time in years, much like Bianca’s.
“I’m an Ambassador of Pluto. I’m here for Hazel. My sister.”
The memory of Nico’s first day at Camp Jupiter filled his mind.
Closing his eyes, Nico sees himself at thirteen-years-old, trying hard to stand tall. He remembers his heart pounding in his chest and the protective scowl he mustered in attempt to scream, ‘Do. Not. Test. Me.’ Nothing mattered more than protecting his new sister.
And Jason? The hard, electrifying stare of fifteen-year-old Jason Grace—slayer of Titan Krios, Praetor to the Twelfth Legion, leader of the Fifth Cohort—met Nico’s rough gaze. A stoic, menacing frown had rested upon those lips. Nico used to wonder what fight the great Golden Boy had gotten into for that scar.
(A stapler was fitting.)
Praetor Jason’s face had softened in a way Nico yearned Percy’s would. Sympathy. Pity. “I understand. She’ll be safe here.”
Nico wasn’t used to sympathy back then. Not after years of being scorned and dubbed an outcast. When his father sought his love and forgiveness, Hades presented him with a chauffeur as a peace offering. Nico certainly used that as a prime example of Children of Hades Were Bad At Feelings.
“You would be too.” Fifteen-year-old Jason’s voice whispers in his ears.
His heart had warned him that day. Don’t go down that road again. Even if Praetor Jason was easy on the eyes.
The blue thread appears on and off in the lines, overshadowed by Nico’s devotion to Hazel. Jason’s fate intertwined with his only a few times during the first months of their relationship—before vanishing.
At some point, Jason reappears in his life again.
“My name is Jason. Jason Grace.” The amnesiac demigod extended a hand to Nico—who had to do everything to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground. A warm smile spread on Jason’s face—but every move was calculated.
Nico couldn’t help but stare. Praetor Jason Grace was in Camp Halfblood, wearing the orange shirt of the Greek demigods. Percy’s color. Jason’s gesture and gaze was one-hundred percent calculated—from the way he extended his hand to the observant look he gave Nico.
But the way Jason looked at him confirmed Nico’s thoughts—Grace had no idea who he was.
(And Nico would know—every third sentence out of Praetor Jason’s mouth when Nico visited Camp Jupiter was, “Would you care to stay as well, Ambassador of Pluto?”)
The Legion was falling apart in San Francisco without Jason—with Reyna desperately trying to keep Octavian from becoming her new partner. Camp Halfblood was in shambles. Nico was exhausted from months of scouring the country for Percy. Every body of water, every candy store that sold something blue—and here was one of those MIA demigods.
Jealousy swelled in the pit of Nico’s stomach. There was a newfound lightness to Jason’s voice. He fit in perfectly here.
The radio silence from Nico’s end apparently made Jason nervous. He awkwardly put his hand to the back of his neck, never once breaking gaze with Nico. “I can tell you’re a powerful demigod. I thought you were…you know, Percy. But, ah, the…skull on your shirt…”
Nico was so appalled and angry and envious that he couldn’t speak. His mind was going a mile a minute. If Jason was here—
“Do I know you?” Jason asks inquisitively. He scrutinizes Nico. “Do you…know me?”
—Percy , his heart sang miserably, had to be in San Francisco.
“No,” Nico spat harshly.
He shadowtraveled to Camp Jupiter immediately.
Present day Nico cringes at the memory. He keeps searching his loom, Jason’s blue fate popping up in small bouts.
“Look, Nico—” Jason’s voice was as soft and gentle as the first day at camp. “—I’m here if you want to talk about, you know, what happened in Croatia. I get how difficult—”
“You don’t get anything.” The hate and misery and shame that Nico had felt for years bubbled in a lump at Nico’s throat. His heart shook with fear and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Jason’s eyes.
He hated it. He hated Jason.
“Nobody’s going to judge you.”
He hated that he could feel Jason looking at him with the same sympathy and pity as the first day they met. Everything felt wrong and raw and disgusting—and Nico never felt more exposed. He felt like a porcupine who’d spent all its life driving people away suddenly stripped of its quills. There was nothing to protect him.
Present day Nico pulls away for a brief moment. He swallows the bitter taste of the past as it lingers at the back of his throat.
“I don’t belong anywhere,” he recalls himself saying.
“You want to trust somebody? Maybe take a risk that I’m really your friend and I’ll accept you.” Nico doesn’t have to touch the loom to remember Jason’s words.
During the war, he would replay those words in his mind and laugh.
Nico drank from the chalice, then offered it to Jason. “You asked me about trust, and taking a risk? Well, here you go, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?”
He still remembers Jason’s unwavering gaze as the other demigod took the chalice, brushing warm fingers against Nico’s own.
“I’m staying.”
“What?” Through the loom, Present day Nico can replay Jason’s reaction in his mind as he wants. The way Jason’s eyebrows rose together, how his sky blue orbs widened with shock beneath those imperial gold glasses. As younger Nico explained his reasoning to remain in Camp Halfblood, present day Nico can see Jason shaking with excitement, like a child being told “Yes” to getting a puppy. “That’s—that’s fantastic! Dude!”
Nico’s heart had skipped a beat.
“Right. No touching. Sorry.”
He ignored it back then. “I suppose we can make an exception.”
Continuing further, Nico sees Jason delicately weaving in and out of the tapestry, playing a gentle dance around Nico’s life. He sees Will’s thread, wound tightly around his fate—and bits of Jason in between. The memories flood Nico’s mind like a movie.
“He doesn’t like me,” Nico grumbles miserably.
“What?” Jason sounds genuinely shocked. “Nico, he’s head-over-heels for you! Are you serious?”
“Are you?” Nico asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” his friend says with emphasis. He smiles in Nico’s direction and hesitates before nudging Nico in the shoulder. Jason’s eyes glitter. “He’s head over heels for you. Trust me: I would know.”
And then another—
“I think I love him,” Nico murmured quietly. So quietly that not even a mouse could hear him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jason pause from what he was doing—looking at blueprints for new temples.
Jason looked at him for a full minute—not smiling, but not frowning. Shocked, maybe. Nico pretended to be busy shuffling through his old Mythomagic cards, face red to the ears.
“Oh yeah?” Jason asked. He immediately went back to his work at the foot of Nico’s bed. “You think or you know?”
“What’s the difference?” Nico snapped, flustered. He backtracked in his mind, realizing how angry he sounded. “How did you know with Piper? Before you two broke up?”
Busy scanning blueprints, Jason didn’t offer his gaze again. Instead, he pushed his glasses above the bridge of his nose. “I never thought about it. We were too busy fighting a war. By the time it ended, I just…knew.”
Unfortunately, Nico didn’t have that same experience. Will didn’t start flirting with him until towards the end of the war—and it took a full seven months for Will to ask him out. Something about Nico needing to heal ‘emotionally and physically.’ “You think it’s useless for me to mull over it then.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Jason grumbled. “You can if you want. If you think about it some more, maybe you’ll know if you love him.’
Nico noticed the omitted, ‘Or not,’ in Jason’s voice. Jason seemed uncomfortable at talking about the idea. Or maybe he was genuinely concerned about his own blueprints for the new temples and cabins.
“What’s wrong?” Nico asked.
Jason looked up one more time, taken aback.
“You seem…” Nico couldn’t even think of how to describe it. Unhappy? Unsettled? “On guard.”
Jason’s shoulders heaved in response. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head in defeat. “The temple is built for Kymopoleia. The cabin, too. Action figures along the way. And then there are blueprints for other gods. Like Melinoe, the goddess of nightmares and madness.”
He didn’t speak ill of said goddess for obvious reasons, but his face said it all. Minor gods had niche dominions like that.
“But…?” Nico asked.
“It’s a process for every god. Every time I feel like I have a complete list, another one pops up. And then building these temples without consulting them…” Jason’s voice trailed off. He scratched his head and sighed. “It doesn’t feel like my attempt is genuine.”
“What does that mean?” Nico sat high in his bed. He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but his chest was crying in protest.
Blue orbs look back up to Nico, like they wanted to say, ‘I don’t want to’ before Jason even explained himself. “I think I have to go find these gods. And then make sure Jupiter honors their name. To make it genuine.”
Present-day Nico pulls his hand away. He recalls the memory on his own—Jason had been seventeen at the time, Nico fifteen himself. After a perilous journey on the Argo II, it made sense that Jason didn’t want to step foot on a boat or go on another voyage for a long, long time. But Jason wanted to earn the title of Pontifex Maximus and prove his worth.
Personally, Nico had thought that slaying Krios, uniting both Greek and Roman Camps, and stopping Gaea from rising were all heroic feats without the need to personally meet with gods. But he knew that the wrath of a deity—even a minor one—could wreak great havoc on your life.
He remembers debating on going with Jason—but he was on the brim of spilling his heart out to his then-boyfriend (ugh) and Jason insisted he stayed in one place. Nico not dipping in and out and hiding was more desirable to Jason than them traveling together. Jason wanted Nico to be happy.
And he was, for sure.
Why didn’t he remember all of this before today?
Nico searches his own mind to recall the last few years he had with a flaky Jason Grace, but it felt as though a force field was preventing him. Why couldn’t he recall Jason’s adventures?
From that point, Jason’s fate weaves in and out of Nico’s life once again, in small dashes in different rows. Weeks passing without seeing one another. Months.
Years.
He found the last meeting he had with Jason Grace, and curled his fingers against it.
Twenty-two-year-old Jason Grace looked handsome in his robes. He stood like a true prince to Roman royalty outside of the throne room, shoulders wide with a gold sash around his shoulders. His jawline was sharp, demeanor unreadable beneath his imperial gold glasses. An armful of papers rested under his arm.
“Ahem,” Nico announced his presence.
Instantly, Jason snapped to attention. His first instinct was to grab his gladius—but instead, his gaze fell to Nico. Nico had a feeling that in the last few months, Jason probably ran into a lot of trouble on his journeys. The bags under his eyes were obvious up close. The Son of Jupiter looked exhausted beyond belief, ready to pass out at any given moment.
But the moment Jason lay eyes on Nico, every bit of exhaustion faded with a smile. Jason threw his arms around the other demigod, relief apparent in his voice. “Nico!”
Jason’s body was heavy against Nico’s. His grip was almost bone-crushing, encompassing Nico’s small frame many times over. His warm cheek rested against the other demigod’s, and Nico could hear Jason’s heartbeat accelerate against his chest.
It felt…nice.
“I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jason breathed into his neck. He clung onto Nico like they hadn’t seen each other in years. He pushed away from Nico, looking less like a Roman Senator and more like himself.
“You’ve been busy,” Nico noted. He gestured to the papers in Jason’s arm.
The excitement in Jason’s demeanor wore off. His shoulders sagged softly and his smile was small. “I’ve been traveling. Meeting with gods. Going between the camps. Begging for meetings with Jupiter to get his blessing.”
Nico noticed that Jason didn’t refer to the king of the Gods as “my dad.” The wariness was clear on Jason’s face, like saying Jupiter’s name took all of the energy out of him. Nico didn’t like the edge in Jason’s voice.
Getting the sole attention of a god, let alone the King of the Gods, was almost impossible. Nico’d stepped upon Mount Olympus a handful of times over the years—but almost always with purpose or with his father by his side. It took Jason sixteen years of hardships and heroic deeds for Jupiter to meet him even once—and after that, Jason’s tone implied he hadn’t had much luck.
“You came back just in time. The Senate has been wondering where you were,” Nico explained. “The inauguration for Pontifex Maximus is tomorrow.”
It would have been sooner if Jason hadn’t been busy scouring the world seeking peace treaties with Minor Gods by offering to build temples and cabins and action figures. Nico wondered if that was how his own friends felt when he shadowtraveled without explanation. Jason always seemed too busy being happy in Nico’s presence to be annoyed.
The light in Jason’s eyes disappeared. His smile was tight, as though it was a struggle.
“What’s wrong?” Nico asked carefully. He studied the other demigod. Jason had a hard time controlling the anger in his body language.
“There are just so many gods that are…angry. At being ignored by their parent.” Jason didn’t beat around the bushes, but he didn’t elaborate. Something about Jason’s gaze held a darkness that Nico didn’t like. He flipped through his paperwork carefully and hung his head mournfully. “I just know this meeting won’t go well.”
Without another word, he stepped into the room. Although confused, Nico followed in suit.
And Jason was right. The meeting didn’t go well.
Jason’s papers were filled with the names of gods that he met with, what their domain was, and where they currently rested. He listed their demands and pleas to Jupiter. From the Gods’ side, there was an occasional “Okay,” “Sure,” and “Who?”
Juno seemed particularly annoyed and disgusted with each name—which put Jupiter on even worse edge.
Mars was busy polishing knives, Aphrodite was reapplying makeup in her compact. Nico’s own father, Pluto, seemed annoyed to be whisked away from his domain, occasionally staring at a god-sized iPhone and texting Thanatos back.
All the while, Jason kept calm. He kept his gaze on his papers—occasionally looking up to gauge the reactions of the gods, but specifically Jupiter’s.
The gods not listening was not the worst part. It was when Jason called them out for it.
“Father,” Jason said slowly when he finished his findings on the current page. His gaze was cautious. “These gods and goddesses want to be acknowledged. They’re afraid of being forgotten like Pan.”
The tone of Jason’s voice wasn’t welcomed by the God of Thunder. Jupiter sat tall in his throne, his eyes cold and lips contorted into a terrifying scowl. “I’m quite a busy god, boy. I can’t simply take time out of my day to solve the problems of these other gods.”
“You can’t take the time out of your day?” Jason repeated wearily, like he wanted to laugh.
“Are you questioning me?” Jupiter asked, though he wasn’t searching for an answer. The air suddenly became ionic, lightning sparking at the tips of Jupiter’s fingers as he clutched his throne. True anger.
From where Nico was sitting, his heart leapt out of his chest. He looked to his friend—and there it was: the ferocity in Jason’s face that he obviously inherited from the King of the Gods. His gaze was cold, lips pressed in a frustrated scowl.
“Jason,” Nico whispered to himself. “Don’t.”
Don’t fight the King of the Gods, he pleaded in his head. You won’t win.
“Of course not, Father. I was just thinking—a mere mortal like myself went on a journey to seek out these gods. Allbeit—it took me months, if not years to find them. A godly being like yourself is so incredible that he could visit everyone in half the time,” Jason responded through his teeth. He looked frustrated, but unsurprised.
It was then that Nico realized this was a circular argument. Jason was gone months at a time trying to make amends as the pre-Pontifex Maximus for all of these gods. He started the process of building temples and was trying to get Jupiter to acknowledge his deeds, for the sake of these godly beings.
How many times had Jason insisted on meeting with Jupiter, only to stand there in the middle of the throne room, with King Jupiter staring at Jason as though his own son wasn’t worth his time?
“I don’t need to,” Jupiter sneered. He rubbed his temples and sighed. The room was still filled with electricity. “Limos: the god of starvation! Ersa, the goddess of dew! They have their domains. Their own realms of control. This does not need to be done.”
Jason stared at Jupiter. “Every name that I’ve read today has been the name of one of your children.”
Silence. Not even the crackle of electricity could be heard. Venus looked away from her compact. Mercury looked up from his smartphone.
Jupiter looked ready to flatten Jason with his hand.
“There are countless names on these lists, Dad,” Jason continued. His voice was calm, but the rage was apparent in his face. He was trying desperately to run out of fumes before he could explode. “Many gods, that could easily be swayed—against you. Ignoring them like this would be—be—”
“Unwise?” Jupiter finished for him. Electricity crackled again, causing Nico to flinch. “You dare come to my home, utter the names of the children I already know with such arrogance, mock me—and call me unwise?”
“No, I—” Jason was startled, the papers suddenly shaking in his hands. His brow furrowed together and he contemplated his words. “Yes. There could be another war, Father. Raised against everyone in this court. Against you.”
The gods looked around the room, at a loss for words. But Jupiter’s attention was glued to his son.
“Are you threatening me?” Jupiter’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you take me for an unwise, mortal fool, and threaten to raise a sword against your own father?”
Nico’s throat dried. He looked to his friend, frightened. Jason’s demeanor and stance was a culmination of both fear and defiance. Nico stood at the edge of his seat, his hand grasping for his sword—
Hades cleared his throat, gaining the attention of everyone but his brother and the demigod son of Jupiter. “I see this matter no longer concerns me. Or any of us, in fact. I’ll be returning to the Underworld now. Come, Nico.”
“No, I—” Nico started, but Hades flashed him a look that clearly said, ‘Know your place.’
“HOW DARE YOU—!”
Hades shadowtraveled them both away.
“Jason!” Nico shouts aloud. He finches as his voice reverberates off the walls and searches around.
There was no trace of Jason after that. A good four inches of Nico’s life continues on the loom, and ends with the string still attached to Nico’s essence.
Nico frowns, inspecting the memory one more time. That couldn’t be right—Nico remembers Jason getting into an argument with Jupiter and Hades sweeping him away.
But—he did nothing? He didn’t seek Jason after that incident?
He inspects the loom one more time—all until Jason disappeared from his life forever. There was nothing.
Why was there nothing?
His loom continued on without any other streak of Jason. Four years had passed since that incident. Jason had to be—twenty-two, twenty-three now?
So why was it that Nico hadn’t thought of Jason since that incident?
“What happened?” Nico demands to no one around him. He can feel the anger boiling in his veins, but has no outlet.
Digging a finger nail against the streaks of blue, Nico sees what he did with Bianca’s fate: Jason’s thread tapering off, leading to another loom. He walks over it and sure enough, finding Jason’s name on the plaque.
Jason’s loom is shorter than Nico’s. Not being stuck in a casino for seventy years would do that. Despite the fact that on Nico’s loom, the blue thread represented the son of Jupiter, Jason’s tapestry is filled with as many colors as Nico’s own. Hues of that blue like the sky and white, like the clouds. An undertone of purple shows Jason’s time in the legion. Undertones of orange flow below that.
Nico can’t quite decipher the colors as well as he did with his own tapestry. Maybe because it wasn’t his life. He can’t pinpoint his place in Jason’s life as easily as his own.
When he brushes his hand against the cloth, he hears wolves howling.
The end of the cloth intrigues Nico the most. A good height of Jason’s cloth is a muddled grey color, reminding Nico of a foggy day. He reaches the edge of Jason’s cloth—the present—and sees another strand taper off. In present day, Jason’s fate was intertwined with someone else’s.
Behind Jason’s loom is another—one with a cloth that was only a few inches tall.
A frown encapsulates Nico’s lips. Why was Jason’s fate intertwined with—?
“That’s quite enough,” Clothos’s voice calls out.
In the moment it takes Nico to blink, the room fades away, moving away from him. He reappears in the rickety old room where Clothos sits next to a now-completed gown and is starting on a new one.
She doesn’t look up from her work. “I said you could admire your tapestry, boy. Not eavesdrop on others.”
“I didn’t—I couldn’t look at his fate anyway,” Nico says. His eyebrows knit together and his hands curl into fists. “Why did I stop seeing Jason?”
Clothos doesn’t answer.
“Why isn’t he in my life after that day? Why hasn’t he been in my life for the last four years?” It gets worse as Nico keeps thinking about it, his mind running a mile a minute. This wasn’t just him. Thalia, Reyna, Percy—everyone else came to the realization that they hadn’t seen Jason in all those years either. But why?
“I can’t answer that,” Clothos says.
“But you made it that way!” Nico cries back. His heart wants to leap out of his chest. He wants to puke.
How could he forget Jason Grace?
In that moment, Clothos stops her work. She looks up to Nico with her wrinkly face, lips set in a straight line. “I did not make his fate that way, dear boy. A new stitch appeared and I simply followed the seam.”
In other words: Something happened and Clothos—the Three Fates—adapted around it.
“What happened that day? Please,” Nico begs. He hasn’t felt this distraught in years.
“You saw what happened that day,” Clothos says calmly. “And your day continued after you left Olympus, and continued the day after that, and the day after that.”
“Where is he?”
Clothos puts down her pins. She stares at Nico directly in the eye, her gaze sharp. “I do not offer cheat codes, Nico di Angelo. If you seek information about every mortal being in the universe, then you shall seek it on your own.”
Nico decides pointing out the hole in Clothos’s argument would be a poor choice.
“Besides,” Clothos concludes. “You already know the answer to at least one of those questions.”
Yes. Yes he did, actually. His hands tremble. “And the loom next to Jason’s?”
She smiles grimly. “Perhaps you’ll find out once you see him.”
*
If he thought hard about it, Nico didn’t have to travel to the west coast to get hints about Jason’s whereabouts. His dream, although vague in presentation, gave him all the leads he needed.
He wants to smack himself, thinking about how close he was to Jason this morning when he was sipping on a latte and having a conversation with Reyna in a New Roman coffee shop.
When Nico shadowtravels into the Jack London State Historic Park, night has already fallen. His time at the Three Fates Boutique had caused him to miss most of the afternoon. After that, he’d stocked up on supplies—his sword at his side and a knife tucked away in his pocket. Ambrosia. A McDonald’s meal.
The park is empty. Nico sees hills full of trees beyond the dirt pathway at his feet. He scans further, until what he’s looking for finally meets his presence.
Nico pours the 32oz of coke on a mound of dirt. A moment later, he hears the rattling of bones. A spirit rises from the mound, and Nico offers it the quarter pounder and French fries in his possession.
(Seeing a spirit scarf down fast food is never a pleasant sight. Nico tries to hide his disgust.)
“I’m looking for someone. A couple of inches taller than me. Blond. He has gla—” Nico halts for a moment. He’s not really sure what Jason looks like these days—if he’s still wearing those glasses gifted to him from Asclepius. His heart aches at that fact. “He has a scar on his lip.”
The ghost nods enthusiastically and points left.
Nico hesitates before asking, “Was he with someone?”
Again, the ghost nods.
“Okay.” He’s about to dismiss the ghost when she waves her hands around, whispering something in Nico’s ears. “Someone is following them. A group of them.”
Nodnodnod.
His brow furrows together. Without a doubt, the figures from his dreams were after Jason and whoever was with him. Nico puts the spirit to rest with a quiet thank you and begin his trek to the Wolf House.
Being out in the open makes his skin crawl. After years of fighting demons and monsters alike, Nico is hyper aware of his surroundings. He knows not to let his guard down if a monster appears—almost expects it. But he also knows that having everything go according to plan has never been possible.
He can still recall feeling terrified in his dreams. His father’s blood was supposed to make it easier for him to navigate the darkness in his dreams. But the monsters—whoever they were—scared him so badly that he couldn’t move. He felt like a small, frightened child.
Nico stops in his tracks, putting the pieces together. Maybe he was.
BOOM!
The crackle of thunder snaps Nico into attention. He looks up to the sky only to see dark clouds looming above. The ionic air makes the hairs on his arms stand upright. Rain falls in heavy beads, pummeling Nico in the face.
On a normal day, Nico would have berated himself for forgetting to bring an umbrella.
“Jason!” On a day like this, after finding out his best friend has been missing for the last four years (and it might have been his fault for not searching), Nico went running.
CRACKLE
He starts running faster—through trees, over hills, off the beaten path. The rain falls harder the closer that he gets.
When he finds the source, he stops dead in his tracks.
The three voices that he heard were only a sample of reality. At the bottom of a hill, a pack of wolves surrounded two figures. The rain made it hard to see, but from what Nico could tell, the taller figure held an imperial gold sword in his hand, while the smaller figure barely came up to the former’s knee.
Jason. It had to be Jason.
Another bolt of lightning comes out of the sky, striking the wolf nearest to them. It lets out a harsh whimper and falls to the ground.
Something told Nico that this wasn’t Lupa’s pack.
He could hear sniggering come from one of the wolves. Upon closer inspection, Nico could see the long limbs of humans, covered in the hides of a beast. They weren’t wolves—they were lycanthropes.
“We can continue this song and dance as long as you want, Son of Jupiter,” snarled one of the werewolves. “You clearly came ill-prepared.”
“Juno isn’t here to save you this time,” growls another lycanthrope—the pack leader. “I can tear you apart limb-from-limb.”
The child with Jason is shaking, clinging to the demigod’s leg for protection. In one hand, Jason wields a sword. The end of his shirt is tattered, a good piece of it ripped apart to cover his left arm.
Nico’s heart throbs in his chest. His jaw is tight, body frozen. Fear rings in his ears. For the first time in years, he doesn’t know what to do.
A lycanthrope lunges at Jason, biting at his sword-wielding wrist. Jason howls in pain. One moment, he’s trying to fend the lycanthrope off and the next, Jason is on the ground with two more werewolves pinning him down. The child with Jason screams, and the rain pummels down harder.
Instantly, Nico has his sword in hand. He leaps into action, swiping at two lycanthropes closest to him. They both screech in pain and fall to the ground.
His feat earns the attention of others in the pack, and another stands on its hind legs and swipes out at him. Nico dodges out of the way and kicks it in the chest. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jason retrieve his footing, fending off two more lycanthropes around them.
Nico whips out the silver knife from his pack pocket and immediately swipes at a lycanthrope behind him. It howls in pain and immediately evaporates into dust.
“Jay!” shouts the child.
Nico feels good about the adrenaline pumping in his veins until he sees Jason collapsing to the ground, clutching his head. Three more lycanthropes take notice and target him—and Nico doesn’t have enough time to run over and help.
“Jason!” Nico shouts. “Fly!”
Jason curls into a tighter ball. Nico watches as the kid tries to—shoot lightning?—at the werewolves, but also seems too frightened to move.
Waving a hand, Nico summons an undead soldier. He whips out the silver knife from his back pocket and tosses it to his new partner, making sure to shout, “Defeat the lycanthropes!”
They make it through the pack, cutting down them down one-by-one until they’re left with one: King Lycaon himself. Lycaon looms over Jason and the child, his claws sharp.
“I WILL KILL THE SON OF JUPITER!” he shouts viciously.
“Not likely.” Nico retrieves his silver knife and drives it through Lycaon’s back. Lycaon howls in pain and evaporates into dusk. He looks over to his undead soldier, thanks it, and allows it to dissipate away.
Then, Nico turns his attention back to his friend. The little child—a boy—has his hand over Jason’s back, whimpering.
Nico’s own heart drops in his chest. He kneels to his feet, offering a hand to his fallen friend. “Jason—”
And immediately gets slashed by Jason’s gladius.
“Agh!” Nico falls back in pain, clutching his wounded arm.
Jason wobbles to his feet. He looks at Nico through hazy eyes, pointing his sword directly at Nico’s chest. “How the hell do you know my name?”
“What?” Nico’s at a loss for words. At this distance, he gets a better look at the demigod. Jason…doesn’t look well.
Jason’s arms are covered in bite marks and gashes from claws. His shirt is mottled with blood, both fresh and old, and his heartbeat is faint. He remains in his hunch, hands clutching his head in pain. His frame is thin, almost skeletal. Dark rims rest under Jason’s eyes, akin to a tired raccoon. He looks like he hasn’t slept, eaten, or shaved in months. His gaze keeps flickering between Nico and Nico’s sword, unfocused, and a crooked scowl rests on his face.
But it’s definitely Jason. The scar on his lip proves it.
Nico looks down to the boy, who clings to Jason’s leg as though his life depended on it. Two tiny hands curl into fists against Jason’s wet jeans, and sky blue eyes look up to Nico, terrified. Dirty red hair shoots in different directions, wet from both mud and rain.
Another thought whispers in Nico’s mind, and it’s not a happy one.
Before he has a chance to process his thoughts, Jason swipes at him again. Nico dodges just in time. “Jason! It’s me! Nico!”
There’s a split moment—half a heartbeat—where Jason listens. He falters for only a moment, but the doubt fades almost immediately. Jason clutches his sword tightly. “I don’t know a Nico.”
The words hit Nico like a punch to the gut. Then—Jason actually tries to punch him in the gut. Nico resists all instinct to wield his sword.
“Get behind me, Sion,” Jason mutters hoarsely. He swings at Nico again—moves erratic. Again, and again—
“It’s me! Nico di Angelo! Your—your best friend!” Nico grunts. He weaves behind Jason as the other demigod swings again, jaw unhinged.
Again, Jason falters at the name. Nico’s words have some effect—but every wave of doubt in Jason’s mind is quickly covered with a layer of paranoia. “I’ve been burned by monsters before.”
He slashes forward again—this time nicking Nico in the face.
“Agh!” Nico recoils, clutching his face in pain. “ENOUGH!”
He summons two undead skeletons on either side of Jason. His warriors grab the blond demigod and immediately disarm him. Jason cries out in protest, immediately forced to his knees.
As Nico steps forward, the nausea grows in his stomach. He looks to Jason’s battered face. Scrutinizes it.
Jason looks back, the hate and distrust evident.
“You really don’t remember me,” Nico realizes. Jason really had amnesia.
“If you hurt him, I will kill you,” Jason snaps. He spits at Nico’s feet.
If it were anyone else, Nico would’ve been angry. But he sees the exhausted image of his friend—someone who he hasn’t seen in four years, and a lump grows in his throat. He brushes a hand through Jason’s wet hair—and murmurs, “Sleep.”
Jason is resistant at first, struggling in Nico’s gentle grip—but his head quickly ducks forward, lulled into slumber by Nico’s command.
That was one down. Nico turns his attention back to the little boy—Sion, as Jason called him—and takes the sight in.
Sion doesn’t run—which, depending on how the little boy took in the whole scene just now, could either be seen as wise or downright stupid. He stares back at Nico, tiny fists trembling and tears mixing with the rain.
A moment passes. Then, tiny Sion sniffles, “C-Can you…r-really help h-him?”
“I can.” Relief floods Nico’s thoughts. Fighting off Jason was one thing, but running after a toddler after two shadow-travel spouts and everything here might actually kill Nico.
Sion shakes erratically. His shoulders cave in together, gaze never leaving Nico’s. Finally, he nods and waves his hand at the sky. “Bye, rain.”
The storm stops immediately. Nico blinks in surprise, watching as rainclouds part and reveal the starry night sky. He looks back to Sion, mouth ajar—but unsure of what to say.
He thinks back to when he was a little kid—when he’d run too far from his sister or his mom and was lost. Or what he would’ve wanted if he ever saw someone close to him in the state Jason was in, with a stranger looming over him.
Nico’s mouth twitches. “Do you want to play with legos?”