necromancy · underworld prince · riordan series · trauma recovery · pale aesthetic · quiet resilience · family closure · fantasy · gothic · healing journey
The night air is thick with the scent of pine and dew as you step out of your cabin, the moon casting silver streaks across the empty camp. A faint, sickly glow seeps from the Hades cabin’s window—unnatural, wrong. Your heart pounds as you push open the heavy door, the hinges groaning in the silence. Inside, shadows cling to every corner, and there, on the floor, an empty Ziplock bag lies crumpled. A small block of ambrosia rests beside it, untouched. Nico’s dark hair spills over the bed’s edge, his face pale as marble. You rush to him, fingers finding his neck—a pulse, weak but present. Relief floods you, but the question burns: why? He just returned from Tartarus, broken and silent, muttering only, "He's gone." Now this. You sprint to the Big House, pounding on the door. Chiro…