Archive of Our Own

Hazel has memorized the trees. Each tree is the same shade of translucent white, the leaves each as wide as three of her hands, thin as her fingernail, and twice as long as her arm. The leaves are green and blue like sheets of paper painted lightly with watercolor. There are exactly seven on each tree swaying in an invisible wind towards Pluto’s palace. No matter how far she walks, the trees will always look the same. The sky will always be wine. Hazel will always be stuck.  

When everything looks the same around you, it’s very easy to tune them out. It’s very easy to lie down and replace the dome above with a painting of your own. A painting you can create in your mind where there are hundreds of different kinds of trees, and hundreds of solid people with lives and interests and thoughts, and dozens of cities with culture and architecture and real food, food you can hold and taste. Hazel doesn’t need to sleep to paint (it’s impossible to sleep in Asphodel, anyway), she can just lie down. And stare. And everything paints itself. 

Hazel paints people with horses that sprint across the sea. She paints people to talk to, to dance with, to love. These people can sing and think and be kind. These people are adventurers in far off lands or just store owners. They’re beautiful paintings. But if she touches them they’ll smudge and leave her fingers cold and grasping. So Hazel lies down. And stares. 

And stares. 

And stares. 

Until she’s staring at something else. 

Today, Hazel is staring at a new character. There’s tear tracks on his face and a trail of blood running down his jaw. She can’t think of the painting he belongs in. She never has blood in her paintings. 

The character stares at her. He has brown eyes. The bags underneath match the soil. He’s biting his lip. He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it when she begins to sit up. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of an aviator jacket like he’s trying to extend his arms past the fabric. He blinks. Hazel thinks he might be crying, or trying very, very hard not to. 

Hazel has never made a character like this before. This person is too distinctly detailed, his movements are too slow like his mind is buffering because it’s trying to process too many things at once. She wants to touch him. She wants to wipe the blood off his face, but she doesn’t have a cloth. 

“You’re different,” he says. His voice flips a switch that tells Hazel to jump. His words break like he had just been screaming. A cloud is starting to lift in her head. Should she say something? She goes through all the files in her head of things to say in conversations with strangers, but it looks like she misplaced it a long time ago. She should really keep her mind more organized. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says again. He wipes his eyes quickly with his sleeve, rushing the action. He clears his throat. It’s mundane and it’s more interesting than anything Hazel has ever seen. 

Hazel pulls herself to a seated position. She smooths her skirt. She’s forcing herself to stay. “Neither do you.” 

He bites his lip again. She surprised him. Interesting. “You’re a demigod.” 

Demigod. That’s what she was called. By her mother, the judges, and the giants in the earth. She remembers it now, like she’s reading a study sheet. “Yes.” 

“You’re in Asphodel.” She doesn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t a question. He takes his hands out of his pocket. His nails are coated in black, and a thick band of metal is on one of his fingers. He’s twisting it like a bottlecap. Hazel looks away. “I can get you out of here,” he says. He’s still twisting, brown eyes unfocused and glazing. 

Hazel’s lungs are filled with water. “What?” 

“The Doors of Death are open. You can leave.” Hazel doesn’t know what the doors are, but he’s looking at her now and she knows he isn’t lying. She knows she can follow him, she knows it by the cold feeling down her spine. She can do it. 

“Okay.” 

He nods. “Let’s go.” 

She stands. The spirits around them do not stir. They walk their predestined paths like normal. “Where are you taking me?” 

The boy cracks his knuckles. “I’m going to shadow travel out of here.” 

She blinks. There are no shadows down here. She wonders if following this character is going to end well. 

“I need you to hold my hand and don’t let go. No matter what.” He’s holding his hand out now. There’s a skull on his ring. It’s looking at her. 

“I don’t know your name.” 

“Nico.” 

Nico. She’s never heard that name before. She couldn’t have come up with it herself. This person is named Nico and wears skull rings and can shadow travel. 

What’s the worst that can happen if she follows this person? She can’t die. She’s already dead. 

She takes his hand. 

It’s instantaneous. It’s terrible. It’s bone-achingly cold and she can’t tell the difference between the lights behind her eyes and the ghouls trying to rip through her skin. And then she’s dizzy and standing on pavement. It’s bright gray and there’s no dirt and its alarmingly warm when she falls onto it. It feels like her stomach is being pumped. She feels like vomiting, even though she can’t remember the last time she ate. 

Nico is standing above her. Hazel looks up and tries to focus on him between the stars and sees- 

Pink. Yellow. Blue. White. Streaks of it colliding above. Hazel hasn’t seen colors like this since New Orleans. 

Hazel is looking at a sunrise. 

She stands against the advice of every muscle in her body. There are clouds- big and fluffy and white. Birds are sitting on buildings with windows and a mural. There are trees and the leaves are green and the bark is rich and Nico’s eyes are so dark , they are a real color up here in this world. Nico is real. 

Hazel wipes the blood from his cheek. It stains her finger redder than her mother’s lipstick. But it’s not paint. Nico is not smudged. There are no brush strokes on him. He’s one hundred percent skin and bone. And Hazel is afraid. 

Because for the first time in who knows how long, Hazel isn’t imagining things anymore. Or her painting style as slid into hyper-realism. What’s the difference? There’s no paint left on her finger, but maybe her new medium is sculpture. She grabs him. Hugs him. Nico is warm. Solid as far as she can squeeze. He smells like coffee and daisies. After a second of surprise, Nico places his arms around her waist like she might break. Nico is hugging her back. 

“You’re on earth now, okay?” he says. Hazel can feel his voice vibrating in his chest. It’s quiet. “You’re- it’s… welcome.” He pulls away and presses his arms against himself. Hazel remembers with a rush of heat that not everyone appreciates being squeezed to death in a public street. “Welcome to life.” 

“What day is it?” 

Nico pauses. “It’s September 2009.” 

Hazel’s pulse rate drops. She forgot how distressing having a pulse feels. She forgot what having working organs feel like. “2009?” He nods. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Nico is smiling. A half-smile, small and almost timid. But he’s smiling at her and her pulse evens out. 

“Did you come back, too?” 

He shakes his head. “Not from the Underworld. But I understand the… lost in time feeling. Come, let’s go.” He begins to walk down the street, which Hazel realizes is almost deserted. It must be really early in the morning. She follows him, watching his long stride and trying to match it. She feels like a dog. 

“My name is Hazel,” she said. 

“Nice to meet you, Hazel.” 

“You too.” Nico nodded, keeping his stride. She waited for him to say more, but he kept on walking. He was probably a demigod, too, but Hazel couldn’t guess who his godly parent could be. She had only met one god, after all, and he looked nothing like this person. Nico was too small and disheveled to be a full god unless immortal deities had switched from luxury three-piece suits to aviator jackets that can swallow you whole in the last sixty years. Hazel couldn’t tell by looking at him how powerful he was- he looked like a fourteen-year-old. An unusually silent and shadow-traveling fourteen-year-old, but he would never look out of place at a park or diner. (Do teenagers still go there? If she brought up swing dancing, what kinds of looks would she get?) Hazel decided he was probably a demigod, maybe of a smaller god like Mercury. Yes, Nico could be a son of Mercury. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

“You need food, I think. There’s a McDonald’s up here.” He turns toward her, noticing how shes staring at his shoes. (They’re big black boots that make him look like an army general. How can you walk in those?) “It’s a burger place. Kinda shit, but cheap.” Hazel gasped at that, focusing her attention on the trees on the sidewalk. The way he casually said things that would get her mouth scrubbed made her face get hot. 

They turned on the next intersection, which had a big pole with multi-colored lights telling them when to walk. In the middle of their path was a bright red sign with golden arches taller than herself. The largeness of it was intimidating, to say the least. She swallowed when Nico pulled the door open for her, revealing a restaurant similar to what she would see in comic books set on Mars. Except, in this story, she was the Martian. 

Small tables were organized into neat rows with four tables by each like a dollhouse. A pillar in the center had a table wrapped around it and a dozen pictures in such bright colors Hazel thought they were drawings. The walls were filled with booths with large red cushions meant for groups of people. Down about twenty feet was a counter with a metal kitchen behind it and even larger signs with pictures of what Hazel guessed should be food. Everything here was so large. This restaurant could swallow her alive and still not be satisfied. 

There were only two people eating in the restaurant this early. There was a homeless man sitting in a booth with a cup of coffee, and a young woman across the room in a small table with a newspaper. Both of them were white. The person in the metal kitchen could be Indian, but it was too far to tell. That left Hazel, the African girl… 

Nico was looking at her. He was standing next to her, hands in his pockets again. She didn’t want to appear nervous, but her hands were shaking and if that white woman looked at her she might have to leave. Nico was biting his lip. “I’ll get you a burger. I’ll pay for it. You’re okay.” She nodded and followed him to the desk in front of the metal kitchen. The white woman never looked up. 

Hazel couldn’t focus on what Nico was ordering. She was too busy counting her fingers. There were ten, of course. So there’s only about a third of a chance I’m imagining all of this, right? They stood to the side as the woman (definitely Indian) vanished away to cook. Nico leaned against the wall like he owned the place. Hazel wouldn’t be surprised if he did. 

“What time are you from?” he asked. Hazel ran through the files in her head again. 

“I…” her tongue fumbled on the word, “died… in 1941. I’m thirteen.” 

Nico looked up at her. He was indecipherable. She had a feeling he would be like this a lot. He slid closer to her without making a sound. No one was looking at them. He leaned in so their faces were only inches apart, but they weren’t looking at each other. 

“There’s no segregation,” he whispered directly to the floor. “Look around: you can sit wherever you want. Use whatever bathroom.” 

He was right: there were no designated areas, no bold letters of WHITES ONLY that were engraved behind her eyes as a child. Only tables for people to sit and eat. “Are you sure?” she said, eyes wide and focused on a seat by the window. She always loved window seats, but they were usually reserved for the whites. Except for today. 

“I promise.” Nico was looking at her now. The lady called out their order and he stood up slowly. “Pick a seat anywhere,” he said, before leaving to pay and pick up their food. 

She was not alone- Nico was less than three feet away- but the freedom was paralyzing. She took four steps towards the nearest table by the window. The chairs were high and she needed a jump to sit on them, but no one paid her any attention. No one sneered when Nico, a white boy, sat across from her. Outside, people with wires in their ears walked passed without looking in. There were cars- much bigger and faster than she remembered- speeding down the streets as the sun rose above them. It must be around eight in the morning now. Nico pushed the tray towards her, bringing her back from her fantasies. 

“So…” he pointed to a lump covered in brown paper, “they call this a Big Mac. It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s just a burger. And also fries. They’re really good here. And water. I paid for it, I promise.” Hazel stared at the tray, then back at him. Nico only had a basket of fries and a tall red cup with a yellow M on it. He was leaning towards her. Those eyes were definitely one of a teenager. “I know it’s, like, eight in the morning, but breakfast here isn’t very good. It’s just egg sandwiches.” 

“This is… real?” she breathed. Nico nodded, his face softening. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. There was this big civil rights movement a few decades ago. They ended segregation and other racist stuff, so… you’re okay.” Nico was twisting his ring again, so he wasn’t prepared when Hazel reached to grab his hand. He definitely wasn’t prepared to see the tears in her eyes. 

“Thank you so much, Nico. For everything. You’re amazing-” 

Red was rising up his neck. “Oh, don’t-” 

“Really, truly amazing.” A tear slid down Hazel’s face, surprising compared to the growing smile. “How can I make it up to you?” 

Nico’s entire face had gone red, but he never let go of her hand. It was cute. “Don’t say that. You don’t have to.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do.” Hazel squeezed harder. She was starting to think Nico had never experienced affection before, and she was determined to change that. “Nico, you’re… real. You’re definitely real.” 

“You’re not indebted to me, so… you’re going to go to Elysium this time. You’re going to be a hero.” 

Hazel remembered her trial, how the masked judges had wanted to send her to Elysium. “How?” 

“Who’s your godly parent?” 

Hazel pulled her hand back, focusing on unwrapping the burger. It was so greasy- this is probably what they forced soldiers to eat in the trenches. “Um… Pluto.” 

Nico blinked. Hazel could feel his demeanor shift. “Pluto?” He took a sip of his drink. Hazel counted down the seconds until he threw it at her. “The Roman god of the Underworld.” She nodded. “Me, too.” 

Hazel dropped her burger. “Really?” 

The small smile was back. “Yeah.” Hazel fell out of her seat and threw her arms around him, adequately stealing his breath in the process. Nico’s chair tipped back but her grip was too strong to let him fall. Hazel was always known for her monster hugs back at school- it was like she was trying to absorb the other person. Nico should have learned that from their first hug, but he still yelped with surprise. He’ll have to get used to this, now that they’re siblings. 

Dear goodness, she has a brother now. 

“We’re siblings,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Nico responded with a pat on her back. 

“I guess we are.” 

Hazel lifted up her head to examine his face- it seemed foolish now that she thought Nico was a son of Mercury. The paleness of his skin paired with obsidian hair that floated like wings- he was a recipe for Underworld magic. Magic like… 

Hazel pulled away and sat back down, giving Nico a much needed breath. The new customer waiting for their order had been staring at them, and Hazel couldn’t hide the anxiety that came with being stared at. It didn’t mar her smile, though. Nothing could, at this point. Some of it had even spread to Nico, despite how he was trying to hide it by eating his fries. 

“Do you have any… abilities?” She asked, taking her first bite of the Big Mac. Nico was right- it wasn’t that bad after all. Just totally, overwhelmingly new. She forgot how much flavor food has. 

“There’s shadow-traveling, you saw that,” he began. “I can raise skeletons sometimes.” 

That’s much better than rocks, Hazel thought. “How can you do that?” 

“It’s kind of, uh…” He raised his arms like he was pulling something, then waving them in a way Hazel couldn’t interpret. Was she supposed to? Did people use sign language now? At Hazel’s blank look, Nico dropped it and took another sip of his drink. “It’s a mental thing.” 

Hazel put down her burger- three bites in and she was already halfway through. (She had decades to make up for.) “Can you teach me?” 

Nico hummed into his drink. “Maybe. Demigods are usually born with these abilities. But you can train at camp. Camp… Jupiter.” 

Camp Jupiter. The name screamed Roman. But the way Nico said it didn’t help her imagination. “What do you do there?” 

“Train. Strengthen your abilities. You study… Latin. And the Roman gods. You’ll like it there.” 

“Have you been?” 

“It’s a nice place. I don’t go much. It’s in San Francisco.” 

Hazel had heard of the city. It was in northern California, but she was in… Not Alaska, that was obvious. Not New Orleans… 

“We’re in LA. Los Angeles. We have to go north.” 

“By… shadow-traveling?”

“It’s a bit far…” Hazel sighed with relief, finishing her burger. “But if you’d rather take a train-” 

“Please." 

“I can sneak us on one.” 

Sneaking onto a train didn’t sound much better than shadow-traveling- it was definitely illegal and probably dangerous. Hazel remembered stories from when she was little of runaway slaves hiding in train cars. That didn’t sound much different than this, but Nico continued to eat his fries anyway. Either sneaking onto trains was not as much as a crime in this time, or Nico was comfortable with breaking the law. Or both. 

After they had eaten,  the LA streets were becoming filled with people. People with dogs and backpacks and small rectangles they talked into. (Nico said they were cell phones and that he didn’t fully understand them either. Just another thing to add to the list of changes.) They took a trip on a public bus by sneaking through the back, and Hazel chose her favorite seat: by the window. Miles of modernism blurred past with murals and glowing signs and buildings in shapes she had never seen before. They rode to the end of the line, to the train station. Hazel kept herself close to Nico as they stepped off the bus. 

"So, you definitely don't want to shadow travel?" He asked, keeping his eye on the line of transparent doors people were filing through. Hazel felt the nausea waking up from the thought of going through the shadow business again. 

"No," she mumbled, "please."

Nico nodded. "That's okay." She watched his face as he stared at the building, scrutinizing everything. He's fidgeting with this ring again- she noticed that he does that alot. He twists it and takes it off and passes it through his hands. He must be thinking something through, trying to find a secret entrance pass the security or the perfect ditch to drop her in.  

"Let's go," he said, at last, stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he approached the station with determination. 

"What are you doing?" 

"We'll find out," he said, nonchalant. 

Hazel saw that response as that cause for concern. "Do you not have a plan?" 

Nico shrugged. "I will eventually." 

"That's terrible." 

"I've done this before. Sneaking onto trains. You just have to find the staff entrance." 

Hazel imagined Nico walking through a maintenance hall. With his big jacket and height (he was only about an inch taller than herself), it was almost comedic to think he can pretend to be a train conductor or someone else who belonged there. Add herself into the mix- a young black girl wearing a dress people must thought was an antique period piece- and the humor turned to tragedy. They walked past the transparent doors that slid open like ghosts into the lobby. The security guards and the other adults here- they could never blend in with them. 

"....How?" she whispered. 

Nico glanced at her, slowing his pace as he realized how she was feeling. "It'll be fine. You have to have confidence. Or pretend you do." 

Hazel nodded. She was never good at pretending. In her last year of school she had to take a theatre class: even she knew her monologues were dreadful, and she was even worse at improvisation. But back then her life hadn't been dependent on her acting skills. 

“You can stay here if you want. I can go and come back with tickets and you can wait in this lobby area.” 

Hazel didn’t want to be left alone, but she also didn’t want Nico to know that. “Do you have the money to pay for it?” 

Nico shook his head at the floor. “You just have to trust me, okay? I’ll do some shadow traveling and be back in, like, twenty minutes. And if there are any monsters…” he faltered. Hazel had not been thinking about monsters, but now it seemed frighteningly clear- killing the resurrected daughter of Pluto would be a grand prize for any monster, something to take home as a trophy like Vikings parading around a powerful soldier. “Do you know how to fight?” 

“I can run…” 

“Do you have any powers to use? Any weapons?” 

The ground below was full of them, she could pop one and knock out a monster if she had to. “Yeah- I haven’t done it in a while...” Hazel’s attention was quickly drawn to the gleaming sword Nico grabbed from seemingly thin air. 

“Just give me ten minutes,” he said, not noticing Hazel’s jaw sitting on the floor. “I won’t leave you, I promise.” And with that, Nico melted into the dim shadow of a blue plastic bench. 

Hazel was alone. 

She sat on the chair and watched the flow of the train station, keeping an eye out for anyone looking at her. It was hard to tell if something wasn’t right when she didn’t know what would constitute as ‘right’ in the first place. She fought the urge to glance behind her, knowing that it would only make her look paranoid. 

There was a deep basement below her, but below that basement was platinum in the soil, chunks of it she could rip out, but then what? Hazel didn’t know what she would do if a monster came up to her right now, in a public space, after she spent six decades daydreaming in a ghost forest. A cold breeze hit her neck, and she jumped to find it was just a draft hitting her sweat. (She forgot she could do that- sweat.) 

Nico slid out from the shadow of a man with a large rolling suitcase the same way someone would jump out of a car, but still managed to move with his usual confident balance. The sword was gone and in his hands were two pink tickets. 

“This is where the confidence comes in,” he said, moving forward before Hazel could even compose herself. “We are going to board a train to San Francisco with our tickets. And nothing is going to stop us.” 

Hazel nodded. “Where did you get this?” 

Nico waved his hand. “Little computer trick, got in and out.” 

“What?” 

“No time to explain.” Hazel wondered if she was having a stroke. “Follow.” Nico grabbed her hand and ran. As they passed two security guards, one of them pointed directly at Nico and shouted, the second frantically taking out a small black box and speaking into it. Nico’s grip tightened around her wrist as Hazel’s heart beat like it would burst. The security guards started chasing after them and Nico turned around and pulled her behind him. He stuck out his hand like a crossing guard and they stopped immediately, dropping their batons. Just as quickly he broke into a sprint again, Hazel frantically following suit. 

They made odd turns through security lines and ticket booths, Hazel struggling to keep in time with Nico’s grace. People started moving away from them in waves like he was a criminal prophet. They ducked barriers and pushed through lines uninterrupted until they made it to the other end of the station. He stopped suddenly and Hazel felt a short wind pass through her. She felt her anxiety (that she didn’t notice was there) lift, and the people they had blazed through moved back to their original positions like nothing had happened. Nico, looking completely calm and collected, took his place on the boarding line for their train to San Francisco. Hazel joined him, trying her best to limit her gulps of air. He must have done this before or learned how to at camp. He handed her a bottle of water from an inside pocket of his jacket. After giving in their tickets, they boarded in a single file line into blue cushioned seats (Hazel chose one by the window). No one would have guessed they were demigods who sprinted through illegally. Ten minutes later, the train roared to life, rumbling through the station like a dragon. Instinctually, she grabbed Nico’s hand. 

“How long is the ride?” 

“About nine hours,” he replied, looking at her the same way he did in McDonald’s that morning. It was probably only two hours ago. She forgot how strange time could move. 

“You went to this camp, right?” 

Nico’s forehead creased, but his gaze remained on her. “Not for very long. But they’re very nice there. You’ll do great.” 

“Really?” 

Nico squeezed her hand. “I promise.” Hazel smiled. It sounded so cliche, but coming from him (her older brother) it was easy to believe. She rotated herself to face him as well as she could with an armrest between them. 

“Tell me about yourself.” 

“What?” 

“I want to get to know you. You’re my brother, after all.” 

Nico colored slightly. “Well, what do you want to know?” 

Where to begin? Hazel took a deep breath. “How did you know you were a demigod?” 

Nico turned his eyes away, everything about him halting for a second before resuming as if he didn’t want her to catch it. “Well, I was, like, eleven. I went to this boarding school. A faun found me and took me to camp.” 

“A faun?” 

“It’s like… a goat person.” At this point, Hazel realized how much she did not know about the Olympian world she was born into. She felt like a newborn baby, being thrown so much information at once and only absorbing two percent at a time. “Legs of a goat, waist up- a human.” 

“Like… a goat centaur?” 

Nico blinked at her, before his face breaking into a smile, smile breaking into a laugh. He leaned over, shoulders shaking, and wiped his face with his hand to compose himself. It wasn’t a very long or loud laugh, but in comparison, she realized his other small gestures it was a lot. She couldn’t help but laugh herself. “Kind of. But centaurs are smarter.” 

“Got it.” 

“I had a sister, too.” 

Hazel perked up. “A sister?” 

“Yeah, but…” Nico tugged on his hair, probably subconsciously. Hazel’s blood ran cold as she understood what that pause could mean. “She died.” 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was frail. The constant hum of the train threatened to shatter it. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “I wanted to tell you. Her name was Bianca.” 

“I always loved that name.” It wasn’t a lie. “She must have been great.” 

He nodded. “She was a hunter. For Diana, I mean, the hunter goddess. It was a big group of girls who swore against boys. She joined after finding out she was a demigod, died in a quest few days later.” 

Hazel wanted to hold him, but she didn’t think the gesture would be appreciated. She pushed some hair off his face instead. She wished she could do more, but they were in some awfully restricted train seats, and Nico was an awfully restrictive person. “But we have each other now.” 

With the hair out of his face, Hazel could see a tear start to form before he quickly turned away. It made her eyes sting. More than sting- a tear slid down her face anyway. “I guess so,” he said, looking back at her. His tear was gone. 

“Can- I have something to tell you.” 

“Okay.” 

She wiped her tears away quickly. “So- I do have… powers.” Something pulled her gut as the chain passed a large chunk of gold deep in the ground. “I can… I’m like- a metal detector.” Hazel shook her head, well, that was ridiculous. Nico poorly hid a smirk with his hand. “I mean- I always know where gold is. I can feel it in the ground, and I can pull it up.” 

“That’s really cool.” 

Hazel sighed. “No-” 

“Yeah, that’s cool. I didn’t know Pluto’s kids could-” 

“But it’s not.” Hazel felt a rush of heat crash into her face, but it was too late to stop. She had to power through. “Whenever someone touches the metals, they die. They get sick or get into an accident. It’s a curse.” 

Hazel couldn’t look at Nico, couldn’t wait for a reaction, so she turned to stare out the window instead. The train left trees and buildings in a blur. “They come up when I’m anxious,” she whispered. At least they were moving too fast for anything to pop up like a skeleton hand. But that didn’t stop the magnetic pull in her gut. Keeping it down was like putting all her weight on top of a bursting suitcase to zip it shut, but inside the suitcase was a rabid dragon waiting to incinerate her entire life. 

“That… sucks,” Nico finally said. Hazel was fixating on the clouds that were passing overhead. Was that all he was going to say? Hazel felt her skin begin to constrict on her, her mind already trying to pull away like it did in Asphodel. “It’s not… You can learn to control it, maybe.” 

“At camp?” 

“Yeah.” 

Hazel finally turned around again. Nico was staring at her. “At camp, there’s lots of people with… really strong abilities. You won’t be different. You can live a normal life.” 

Hazel didn’t want to start crying. But she did, because life is unfair. She dug her hand into her eye like a dam but it didn’t stop everything from falling out. “I’ve killed someone before.” 

“Oh, no you-” 

“ Yes, I did. His name was Mr. Cattaneo. My mother used a piece of gold I gave her to pay off a loan from him, and two days later he caught pneumonia. Six days after that, he died.” 

“Oh, Hazel…” She felt his weight shift in the seat, but couldn’t bear to lift up her face. She felt two arms awkwardly wrap around her, and opened her eyes to see Nico trying to lean over a seatbelt and an armrest to give her a hug. It was barely a hug- more like a lean- but it was one of the warmest touches Hazel had ever received. She lifted her arms to complete it, closing the circle until it was as full of a hug as they could get. Her head digging into his shoulder, his hands resting on her back. 

She hasn’t hugged someone like this since Sammy. 

Sammy with the olive skin that hardened into a rich brown in the summer. Sammy with the chipped teeth and scars on his arms from when he first tried to jump a picket fence. Sammy with the awkwardly long arms that held her close as she cried over Mr. Cattaneo. 

“I always liked his accent,” he said. They were so close Hazel could feel his voice resonating in her chest. “It’s like his tongue is moving extra fast. It must be an Italian thing.” Hazel nodded. He pulled away and wiped away her tears with a single stroke of his thumb. “There, that’s better. Now I can see your eyes.” He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, the one with the blue stitched on the outline to form thin waves. Hazel had bought it for him and sewed it herself when she was supposed to be sleeping because she always worked better at night. Sammy handed it to her. 

“Do you think-” 

“Oh, stop beating yourself up. You didn’t kill him yourself, Hazel. You barely knew the guy!” 

“I know. He had a family…” 

“They’ll learn to live without him sooner or later. You’ve been moping about this long enough.” 

“I’m grieving, Sammy.” 

Sammy just crinkled his nose at her. She knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel- he just handled things better when he threw light-heartedness at it. “Would the country club help your mourning process?” 

Hazel looked up at him. The country club- it had been so long since she had thought about it. Sammy spent his weekends working at the horse stables at the local country club. He was responsible for closing up at eight, but if no one was there to see him with the horses and a friend, who would know if they stayed out past then? 

"Sammy, I don't know-" 

"Just because Mr. Cattaneo is dead now doesn't mean your social life has to be." He took her hand, already guiding her outside. Despite the anxiety surrounding her and the pull at her feet, Hazel couldn't help but get excited again. The horses at the club always welcomed her and never cared for her jewels. After the long day she had had- people scooting their chairs away from her at lunch, mothers pulling their children closer in the streets- Sammy’s offer of calm and acceptance was like a cold slap in the face. 

Hazel had just been slapped in the face. 

She wasn't on a horse. Sammy wasn't holding her hand. She was on a train in 2009 towards San Francisco. 

"Hazel?" Nico asked like he was coaxing a small animal to come forward. Her cheek stung. 

"Did you just…. slap me?" 

A pause. "I didn't know what to do." 

Surprisingly, Hazel wasn't upset. Maybe she slipped into her dreams at the wrong time. It didn't feel much different from when she slipped away in Asphodel. 

"What was that?" Nico asked. Hazel quickly looked down. "You- it was like you… disappeared. Mentally. Like you left." 

"It's nothing." 

Hazel did not know much about this time yet, but she knew that living people didn't slip away like she did. She had taught herself how with proficiency. She needed to in Asphodel. But now she’s here, and she just needs to stop. And stay. 

Hazel forgot how to stay. 

Nico didn’t press her further. He leaned back in his seat, aviator jacket wrapped tightly around him. Someone had opened a window on the train, letting in a cold breeze that made them shiver. “Maybe you should get some rest,” Hazel said. Nico nodded. 

“You should, too.” 

“Yeah.” 

They both stared straight ahead at the chairs in front of them, pressing back so that their own could swallow them whole. Neither of them closed their eyes or tried to get comfortable to sleep. Someone should close that window. The cold is driving Hazel insane. 

Nico eventually fell asleep. Hazel was glad- though he never acted tired, the darkness under his eyes said something else. Even asleep, he kept his arms crossed over him, ready to pull out his iron sword at any moment. (What’s up with that sword anyway? Where does he keep it?) Hazel, on the other hand, felt infused with restless energy, like Sammy had injected pure adrenaline into her bloodstream with that hug. Unfortunately, she was stuck on a train for the seven five hours with nowhere to go and nothing to keep her occupied but her mind. That was never a problem. But the anxiety rising inside of her- thoughts of camp, her dreams, her powers- drove her attention into different directions. 

After the nine hours had passed, with Nico sleeping the whole way through and Hazel catching a quick nap halfway through, the train rolled into a station identical to the one in Los Angeles. 

Nico stretched as much as he could in the cramped seat and watched the station through the window. "We're here?" 

"I think so." 

They had only brought one bag- Nico's terrible knapsack falling apart at the seams- so they were the first off the train. It had gotten colder, enough to make Hazel cross her arms and wish she had died in something more substantial than a summer dress, and the sun was beginning it’s journey to set. But all in all, she would not have known she had left LA. Maybe all of California just looked the same. If that's true, then finding camp must be fun. 

Nico made his way through the mob of people with ease. They walked around the station instead of going through the security lane. Hazel made sure to stick close to him as possible. "There's an entrance to camp on the highway," he said. 

"The highway?" 

"Yeah, there's a tunnel." 

“Like… underground?” 

Nico opened his mouth to explain further but stopped when he saw the look of confusion on Hazel’s face. “I think highways now are different from what you know.” 

Hazel’s highways were simple- four lanes of thick cars driving down a barely paved road, usually through a farming community or on the outskirts of a city. When she left New Orleans, the mayor had announced major changes to the road system to support the rise of cars, but in Alaska, everyone got around by their own two feet. If the roads here were any indicator- roads wider than her home with cars moving faster than she ever thought possible, threatening to blast Hazel off the curb- then she didn’t want to find a tunnel through a highway. Ever. 

“It’s not that bad. Just overwhelming at first-” Nico’s attention was stolen by a homeless man sitting on a bench in front of them. He wore a large leather jacket riddled with holes over the baggiest pants Hazel had ever seen. A large blue cap covered most of his face, but his lips were noticeably pink and wet in contrast to his bleach white skin. He was staring right at Nico. 

The homeless began to stand up, his pink mouth forming a grin (Hazel was surprised to see he still had all his teeth). Nico put a hand on her back. 

“Keep walking,” he whispered to her, guiding her forcefully past. They had made it outside the station, and Hazel noticed that the side of the street was practically deserted. There were plenty of people on the other side, but here there was a bubble around this man pushing away everybody else. Except for Hazel and Nico. 

“Where are you going so fast?” The man called. Nico tried to guide them across the street, but suddenly the man was in front of them. “Why in such a hurry?” The man’s pupils, Hazel noticed, were larger than they should be, dark and muddy like a pile of dead leaves in the rain. 

Nico stood his ground and, by extension, Hazel did, too. She would have loved to make a run for it across the street- what appeared to be the most logical option- but Nico and the homeless man were having a stare-off. 

The homeless man cracked his neck. It popped like popcorn on a stove. “My, my, I haven’t seen two children of Pluto walking down the street in quite some time-” 

“Shut it,” Nico said. His hand had moved down to his belt, where his sword should be. Now that she looked, she could see the dark outline of it now, but its form was obscured in some kind of mist. 

The man threw his hands up, his grin spreading into a cackle. “Woah there, little demigod, I don’t wanna start a fight. Just passing a hello from the mother giant.” He tipped his cap directly at Hazel. “Hello.” 

Hazel’s blood ran cold. Under different circumstances, Hazel would have probably given him money and directions to the nearest McDonalds. (That is, if she knew where it was.) But the man’s grin kept spreading and he had more teeth than a human should and Hazel remembered where she was, what world she was in, who she was and who Nico was. And who the mother giant was.

Nico had a sword in his hand and Hazel jumped back. She wished she had a sword. A real sword, not a purple one like Nico’s which wasn’t even there before. Then she didn’t have to watch helplessly as the homeless man’s leather jacket unfolded into leather wings and fiery hair and no eyes anymore- why did this man not have eyes anymore- that became so much taller than Nico. 

The man swiped at him, his wing unfurling to engulf Nico in their shadow, which was the first mistake. Nico ducked into it, appearing behind him with his sword raised. The man- no, not a man, but Hazel couldn’t look at them long enough to decipher exactly what they could be- it screeched at Nico like a train halting on the tracks as he slashed through its wing in a single movement. Gold blood poured out, too beautiful against the crinkled leather flesh of the demon. The scream brought Hazel to her knees, covering her ears. She was never the type to cower, but it was more than noise, something stronger she couldn’t overpower. Nico found his way towards her, halting her up. 

“Run,” he said. “To the other side-” 

“Wait-” 

“Go!” 

Nico turned around just in time to block a strike from the demon. Hazel couldn’t leave him alone, but he looked at her again- mad, almost- and she ran as she was told, never turning her back to the fight. Nico backpedaled, letting the demon work towards him. Its teeth had grown, it seemed like they were being pulled towards him. It screamed again, and this time Hazel was far enough to not be affected. But Nico fell back, twisting his ankle, and the demon finally had the upper hand. Nico rolled into his shadow, popping up on the other slide. His legs shook as he stood but the blood that ran from his nose and the dark shadows beginning to pool at his feet made up for it. The demon stretched up like a bird taking flight to the height of the corner store behind it, everything about it magnifying. It might not have been that big, but the demon’s electric pull made everything around it fall to its will. 

Nico stretched his hand out to his side, fingers splayed as the cement cracked and crumbled underneath. Hazel held her breath: she knew what was below them. A thousand feet below laid cities of gold waiting to be discovered and to take someone’s life like they always do. If something went wrong, if Hazel was right about why that demon was here- then the ground breaking was not a good sign. It was a disastrous sign. 

Hazel ran. Her skin was sizzling, signals going off in her brain like fire alarms spewing water. She reached the end of the block and turned. 

Skeletons. 

Four of them had formed a circle around Nico facing away from him, holding swords just like his. They charged at the demon, attacking it from every angle, as Nico stood, arm still outstretched, all the shadows in the street pulling towards him. 

The demon was shrinking, its aura breaking as Nico gained more control, until it found its way back into the homeless man they had met before. Nico raised his sword for the second time and slashed symmetrically through the demons back like a piece of fruit. The demon screamed one last time before dissolving into a firey burst, leaving Nico lying on the sidewalk covered in gold dust like it was confetti. The skeletons collapsed like rag dolls, the cement glad to eat them back up. 

Hazel stood, paralyzed, in the center of the street. Did he die?

No, Nico wasn’t dead. Hazel would have known, but how she wasn’t so clear. That didn’t change the fact that Nico lay on the ground across the street, his jacket staining red from the inside. She ran towards him, her footsteps the only sound on the street. 

He was awake, thank goodness, but his leg had bent at an angle legs are not supposed to bend at. The demon had landed a strike across his torso, leaving his shirt torn in many places and blood seeping through. 

“Nico- Nico, oh my goodness-” She knelt next to him and began to wipe the gold off his face immediately (is that demon blood?) despite his efforts to pull away. “We need to get you to a hospital.” 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!” 

“I’ve bled before.” 

Hazel stared at him, mouth agar. Nico looked terrible, not so different now from the homeless man. She wondered how he could possibly go through that and then demand he was okay. Nico may have been the stupidest person Hazel had ever met. 

“Are you insane? Have you hit your head? Nico, you need to go to the hospital!” Nico tried to prop himself on his forearms, but winced at the cut in his side. Hazel put a hand on his chest, but he pushed it away until he was in a sitting position. 

“They can’t help with monster wounds,” Nico insisted, his voice weak. “I have ambrosia in my bag.” He pointed at his bag ten yards away, surprisingly still mostly intact. Hazel didn’t bother to look in the direction; She stayed by Nico’s side, glaring at him. 

“What was that?” she asked. 

“A monster.” 

“I gathered that much.” 

Nico tried to hoist himself up but gasped in pain after a second of movement. Hazel gently pushed him back down. He cleared his throat. “It’s gone now.” 

“What about the skeletons?” 

Nico turned his head away. Hazel sighed and got up to grab his bag. Whatever ambrosia was, it sounded like it might help. She opened it and shuffled inside, finding a small clear bag with a fistful of what looked like a golden brownie. She handed it to him, and he ripped it apart like a beggar eating bread and took small bites. There was also a packet of wipes that she tried to wipe Nico’s face with, but he pulled away. 

Hazel sighed, crossing her arms. “You need to go to the hospital.” Nico shook his head, taking another piece of ambrosia. “ Yes, you do. You’re badly injured.” 

Nico wrapped up what was left of the ambrosia and put it back in his bag. The action was so small and concise, it was strange to see from someone who just summoned a small army of skeletons. “Ambrosia helps. It’s the food of the gods, can cure any injury.” He stretched out his leg and rolled his ankle to prove it. 

Hazel leaned back on her heels and stared up at the clouds. She couldn’t shake the feeling inside of her that Nico… She hates saying this, she sounds terrible, but she looks at Nico and sees someone with a glowing mystic sword and can summon skeletons and kill demons, and her stomach ties into a knot and she tries to wipe the dust of his face to put those thoughts away because this is her brother who set her free.  

Or is this the brother who is leading her right into the mother giant’s trap? Is he really her brother, and was that demon just a hoax? An illusion? She rips up the wipe in her hand, praying for a distraction, feeling her mind slip away back to where it’s usually comfortable. In the clouds, in the populous trees, in her paintings. 

Nico stands up, pulling her from the well of her mind. His legs aren’t shaking anymore, and he doesn’t appear to be bleeding. There’s still blood all over him, but he doesn’t look a step away from death anymore. (Or, at least, any more than he usually does.) He pulls away his shirt to look at it, and they both notice it has become stiff with dried blood. 

“Yuck…” Nico says, shivering as he tries to shake it off. 

“Do you have other clothes?” Nico pauses long enough for Hazel to find the answer herself. “You need to get more clothes.” 

“I have more clothes, just look in the bag.” Hazel looks inside and, surprisingly, finds an identical shirt with a pair of sweatpants and underwear. 

“Is this all you have?” Nico does not answer, taking the bag instead. “Well, let’s find a place to get cleaned up.” 

They walk in silence down the street, the two of them gaining strange looks from passerby- a bloody teenage boy leading a World War II girl dressed for the Alaskan summer. The sun was gone, replaced by the glowing moon, but Hazel couldn’t appreciate it due to the anxiety hanging over her like an anvil. They found a gas station with a bathroom Nico used to change and clean himself as best as he could with a pack of wipes. He gave Hazel ten dollars to buy food with. She bought two boxes of Cheerios and three small bottles of orange juice- the only foods she recognized and cared to buy in her rush to get out as fast as possible. Nico came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, smelling like chemicals and his hair tried back to hide the gold dust he still couldn’t get out. He looked different with his hair tied back- it brought more attention to his eyes. 

Hazel stared at him as he sat down next to her on the bench. “You’re… Why are you still wearing that jacket?” 

Nico looked down at his aviator jacket as he took a sip from his orange juice. “What’s wrong with it?” 

Hazel blinked. “There’s… blood on it.” He shook his head and pulled the jacket around so she could see where he tried to wash it off. There was a wet patch with some evident scrubbing, but Hazel knew from experience he could never get that blood out. “You’re still wearing a wet jacket, though.” 

Nico shrugged. “I like this jacket.” 

Nico always had this realistic manner about him, like he knew exactly what cards life had dealt him with and was using them against the punches like a master poker player. The question was: how could someone so young be so strong? 

“Nico?” Hazel asked. Nico nodded, focusing on his drink. “How did you fight that monster?” 

Nico shrugged, his face blank. “With my sword.” 

“I’m serious.” Nico looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You- It was like you… controlled the shadows around you. And the skeletons. Like, everything around you… Where did you get that sword?” 

“My sword?” 

“Yes.” Hazel felt the anxiety bubbling up inside of her. “You pulled it from thin air. It’s purple, for Pete’s sake.” 

“Yes, it is,” Nico set his juice on the bench and stood to pull out his sword. Looking at him like this was ridiculous; Here was Nico, a teenager not much older than her, wearing sweatpants and comedically large aviator jacket over his five foot seven frame, with dark eyes and messy hair that made wings over his head most of the time, holding an ancient sword that glows purple and isn’t even shaped like a proper sword. 

“It’s the Mist,” he said. “It’s always on my belt, but I hide it so mortals can’t see it most of the time.” He attached it back to his belt, but now Hazel was able to see it this time with clarity, but it disappeared just as quickly when he sat back down. 

“Okay…” Hazel fumbled with her Cheerios, nervously tossing some in her mouth just for something to do. “But the skeletons.” 

“It’s a Pluto thing. You could learn how, too. Maybe.” 

Hazel quickly turned away. Learning how to do those tricks was the last thing she wanted to do. The thought of it made her want to vomit already, her hands shaking at the memory of Nico doing it alone. The way darkness crept towards him like crude oil snakes, how he could destroy that monster so quickly, how he carried a sword around like it was a wallet (and why was it purple! No one is telling her why the sword has to be purple!), it all added up to something sick in Hazel’s mind. She knows Nico is a nice person, she knows he can be kind and definitely is not a monster… 

Or is that what Gaea wants her to think? Gaea, the mother giant, who that homeless man directly referred to, who knows she’s here- is that the idea she is trying to plant into her mind? Maybe she shouldn’t be trusting Nico, maybe she needs to run, but how long would she last? It’s 2009, she’s in San Francisco. She’s alone.

“Hazel,” Nico says. Not a question, not a call to attention. He’s calm, staring out into the street as the last of the sun hides away. “I need to tell you something.” 

This is it. Hazel wishes she had a sword or something else to fight back with. She knows her hands are useless against skeletons or whatever Gaea could conjure. 

She turns to him, but Nico isn’t looking back. He’s twisting his ring and shaking his leg. It could just be the dark, but his face looks paler than usual. “Yeah?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Hazel’s anxiety quickly turns to guilt. She had watched this boy sleep, had eaten her first meal at McDonald’s with him, had snuck onto a train with him. Her gut still said nope, nope, nope, but her heart still lingered on yes. 

“Hazel…” Nico turns his body directly towards her. His face is exactly the same as when they first met in Asphodel; there’s the same fractures in his face and the same quiet voice. “I’m gay.” He continues to stare at her, waiting for a reaction. 

Hazel swallows hard as she thinks of how to respond. She watches the tears pool in Nico’s eyes despite how hard he’s trying to hold it back. “What’s that?”

Nico stares at her for another moment, blinking furiously to keep back the tears before he gives up and runs his hands over his face. Hazel’s own face heats up incredibly quickly. She watches as his shoulders begin to shake. Cautiously, she puts a hand on his back and scoots in closer so they mold into one. 

This is the most awkward moment in Hazel’s life. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, after a tense moment of contemplation. “Are you okay, Nico?” At this, he turns around quickly, and Hazel realizes he was never crying at all. 

“Do you not know what being gay is?” Hazel shakes her head, trying so intensely badly to keep her face sympathetic. Nico leans back and sucks in his cheeks to prevent himself from laughing. He glances at her again, and his smile gets ahead of him. “You really don’t?” 

“...No?” 

Nico runs his hands over his face again while tipping his head back over the bench, but not fast enough to Hazel to miss his laugh. “Oh my gods,” he says, and Hazel begins to smile herself. Despite how long they had been together (had it only been a day?), they had yet to laugh together. 

“What? What does it mean?” She asks, turning around and tucking her feet under her. Nico lifts his hands from his face, and Hazel watches as the last of his poorly held laughter slips away like sand. He sits back up, reverting back to how they began. 

“It means that… Okay, it means that I like boys. Like, romantically.” They’re both still, Nico staring at the floor and Hazel staring at him. They’re statues. And Hazel doesn’t know how to feel. 

“You’re… gay.” Nico nods. 

Hazel had never met a gay person or at least someone who admitted to it. In her time, they were called homosexuals; A harsh word, bitter like a lemon left in the sun. They were known as dirty, impure, demonic and demented. She remembers learning about Hitler’s concentration camps on the radio and hearing homosexuality as a reason to be gassed and tortured. She remembers a young homeless man in New Orleans who got discharged from the army for sodomy and couldn’t find a job. She remembers how that man was beaten in his sleep and never had a funeral. She remembers how her mother always pulled her away from that man, and how Sammy referred to him with words that now burn her tongue. 

Nico isn’t moving. He isn’t fighting back his tears. One slides down his face, barely noticeable in the dark. Hazel remembers how he hugged her back, although uncomfortably, when she first threw herself on him when they first met, how he guided her through the McDonald’s and the train station, how he always let her have the window seat. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, not from personal guilt but from confusion as to what else to say. Nico remembers himself and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Me too.” 

Hazel moves towards him again, wrapping an arm around him for the second time that night, but for the first time, he leans into it. “I’m still here,” she says. “I’m not leaving you.” It’s hard to tell whether he heard her or not, but Hazel can’t miss how his breath evens out when she says this. They stay like this for a while, admiring the crescent moon above them. 

Nico grabs his orange juice bottle and finishes the last half, tossing the empty bottle into the trash bin next to them. He stands up and throws his bag over his shoulder. “Highways’ about thirty minutes west. We can make it to camp tonight if we hustle.” 

“Camp?” Hazel remembers the reason they were in San Francisco in the first place: Camp Jupiter. “It’s getting pretty late.” 

“Monsters actually don’t come out any more often in the night than in the day,” Nico says, “that’s just an urban myth.” 

Hazel stands up, her stomach filling with butterflies. She bounces on her heels as if ready to take flight. “Okay. Okay! Let’s go.” Nico smiles a bit at her eagerness as they start walking down the street. “So- where’s the highway?” 

“It’s in this direction. We’ll climb through the green and into the tunnel, and it’ll be right there. Should be some guards.” 

“Guards?” 

“They’ll let us in.” Nico notices the crease that forms in Hazel’s forehead at this. “They know me. And they’re pretty nice people. It’s like…” He pauses and waves his hands a bit, which doesn’t do much for Hazel’s comprehension. “A family,” he finally says with a tone of misplaced sadness. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You all live with each other, and train together, and all that stuff.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, something he hasn’t yet done but is still warm with familiarity. “You’ll do great.” 

Hazel feels her face heat up and the butterflies start storming in her stomach. “You’ll be there, too, right?” 

Nico shrugs. “I’ll stick around for a while, a few days, I guess.” 

“Then?” 

“I’ll have to go. Run some Underworld errands.” 

Hazel stops in her tracks, butterflies suddenly disappeared. Nico stops a few steps ahead and turns his head. “What do you mean?” she asks. She sounds like a little kid and she hates it but it’s true. Like a little kid lost in the park. 

“I’m, like… the ambassador for Pluto. I take care of things for him sometimes.” 

“So you won’t be there?” Nico shakes his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m sorry, Hazel.” It’s her turn to shake her head. “You’ll be okay. You’ll forget about me.” 

How can you say that? Hazel bit her tongue but kept walking. She knew she could trust Nico, and she knew he trusted her, but paranoia still had its hand tight around her throat. If Nico was working directly for Gaea, then why would he still be so kind in his own quiet way? Why would he be a child of Pluto, working directly in his realm, when Gaea was so against the powers of darkness and the Underworld? Or was Gaea trying to twist her mind, trying to obscure her trust and lead her confused directly where she was needed? Paranoia was a curious parasite, infecting her every thought. 

“That’s not true,” Hazel finally said. “I won’t forget about you.” 

Nico kept his gaze forward, but Hazel was getting good at spotting his emotion anyway. “Thank you,” he said, unsure. “I’ll… visit.” 

“You will?” 

“Of course,” he said, turning and smiling at her directly. “You’re my sister, after all.” Hazel grinned widely, mentally kicking paranoia in the throat. “I’ll come around every now and then. I don’t talk to the other campers very much-”

“Why?” 

Nico waved her off. “But I’ll still be there.” He crossed his fingers. “Promise.” 

Hazel copied the gesture easily. “Promise.” 

They walked for what must have been thirty minutes, passing through the commercial strip into a few streets of fancy houses with fountains and large windows. Hazel asked questions, maybe too many, but Nico never grew tired of answering them. They fell into an easy pattern, chatting like they were just normal teenagers- normal siblings-  walking home from a day spent loitering around the city. He told her of the Roman mythology classes, the war games, the nymphs and fauns and cohorts that formed this large city hidden in the middle of a mortal world. She fell in love with it with every word. 

Camp Jupiter, her new home. It was as far as you could get from Alaska. 

Eventually, they found themselves on top of a cliff, staring down at the highway. It was the most cars she had ever seen, moving so quickly and sleekly she was amazed that they were cars at all. Nico pointed to the overpass below them. “There’s a maintenance tunnel that will take us to camp.” He pointed to two purple blobs standing in front of it with silver heads. “Those are the guards. Don’t worry, they’re just demigods.” 

The cars rushed below them in eight rows, leaving the wind spinning behind. She’d be turned to dust down there if she didn’t tumble down this cliff first. “How are we going to get there?” 

“Well, we could climb down, and then run…” Hazel shook her head quickly. “Or we could shadow travel.” 

Hazel gulped. She knew she was certain to die if she chose the first option, but shadow traveling felt like her organs were being harvested.

“It’s easier the second time,” Nico offered. 

Hazel sighed and grabbed Nico’s hand. “You promise?” He nodded and showed her his crossed fingers. It was a modern gesture that Hazel still didn’t fully understand, but it soothed her anyway. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Go easier this time.” 

“I’ll try.” 

Within the second, Hazel found herself sandwiched between four lanes of rushing cars, the wind blowing her hair into her face. She opened her eyes to see the shadows rushing from her feet like mice and the guards hoisting their swords, utterly terrified. Up close, they didn’t seem that bad at all; They couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and too surprised to form any real threat. 

Nico held his hands up in surrender, but his smirk and confident air didn’t convey the same submission. “Nico di Angelo, ambassador to Pluto. I come in peace.” Hazel took this time to notice Nico’s full name for the first time. It oddly suited him.

The taller and possibly older guard lowered his sword. “Nico?” He pointed his sword at Hazel, hand still slightly shaking. “Who is that?” 

“That’s di Angelo to you, Schafer. This is Hazel, a new recruit. I’m taking her to the praetors.” 

Schafer grumbled and dug a ring of keys from his pocket, digging it in the large metal door behind him. The second guard was still staring at Hazel, and she understood for the first time what Nico meant when he said he didn’t talk to the other campers. It was because they were scared of him. The door swung open with surprising ease to reveal a long tunnel with light bulbs hanging from the ceiling every four feet. “You know the way,” Schafer said. 

“Thank you for your service,” Nico replied with a touch of mockery and motioned for Hazel to follow him inside. They walked through together through the darkness, anxiety squeezing Hazel’s mouth shut. She felt her mind start to wander to her old dreams with her old characters, but shook them away. Now wasn’t the time to daydream. 

After an uncomfortably long walk, Hazel finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. She ran into it, forgetting Nico behind her, and saw, for the first time, Camp Jupiter. 

It was beautiful. 

There were colors and lights and people talking and laying in the grass, and the air felt cooler here in a way that made her fill with excitement. There were grass and trees and the nymphs Nico had described to her running past. She saw small buildings with painted roofs in perfectly organized rows, and temples made of marble with the most beautiful sculptures and artistry she had ever seen. She wishes she had the words to explain the rush of emotion all her senses were receiving, but she can’t pull it out. Even if she did have the vocabulary, words might not have captured the whole thing.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Nico says, admiring the view next to her. 

“That’s just what I was thinking.” 

Nico nods. “Come, you should meet the praetors.” He guides her to a small stepping bridge that passes over the narrow river between them and the camp. The Tiber, she remembers. He guides her through the streets, past the people who couldn’t seem to care less about their sudden appearance. Some wave at her, recognizing her as a new camper, and she waves eagerly back. There are kids and teenagers of all ages, and at first, she wants to ask where the adults are, but then she realizes she doesn’t care. 

Nico guides her to one building that stands out from the rest, with a purple banner across the doorway reading SPQR. It reminded her of the large banks in downtown Orleans. “This is the principa, the praetor’s office,” Nico says, opening the door like it was his own. Inside were three people, two wearing cloaks made out of the purest purple Hazel had ever seen on a fabric. The cloaked ones sat at the long table in front of a wall filled with different weapons and war trophies. The third stood in front of them holding a pile of scrolls, appearing to be speaking very passionately about something until Nico had walked in. 

The boy with the cloak stood up when he noticed Nico. He was blond with the perfect military haircut, looking ready to jump into battle despite wearing a simple t-shirt with jeans. “Nico di Angelo,” he said in recognition, causing the girl next to him to rise and the boy they were talking to to turn around. 

“Praetors,” Nico greeted, taking a stance right next to the boy with the scrolls who looked disgustedly away. 

“It’s a surprise to see you, ambassador,” the girl said. She towered over Nico but looked at him with strong respect like they were battle comrades. It was a nice contrast against how she was looking at the scroll boy a second ago. Her long hair was thrown back in a simple braid that gave Hazel the opportunity to admire just how beautiful she was. Her regal air complemented that of her partner. They were definitely the praetors. 

“We were in the middle of a serious meeting, if you don’t mind, di Angelo,” the scroll boy said, scowling. 

“I would hardly call it serious,” the blond praetor said under his breath. 

“Oh, I don’t mind at all, thank you, Octavian,” Nico said, making Hazel laugh quietly. Octavian dropped his scrolls onto the table and sat down in one of the two chairs behind him like a small child being denied a toy. Nico turned around and noticed Hazel still standing by the door. The other three people in the room all turned to notice her, and she fought to hide the rush of heat in her face. Nico motioned her over the same way he did when they were going through the tunnel and she went to stand next to him. He took a step closer to her and smiled at her minutely and the butterflies in her stomach fell away. 

“This is Hazel. She’s a powerful demigod I met in LA. She’s ready to be trained at camp full time.” The praetor with the braid looked her up and down as if assessing her for any mistakes. The blonde one smiled at her kindly, like she was actually a human being. 

“This is what you came in here for?” Octavian said from his seat. “This is ridiculous.” 

“Octavian,” the praetor with the braid snapped. She returned her focus to Nico. “What’s her parentage?”

“Pluto.” 

A breeze from outside blew in, pushing a piece of paper off the desk and causing everyone to shiver. The blonde praetor shifted his eyes away, his friendly smile now gone. 

“She’s powerful,” Nico said. “She just needs to train.” 

“It’s almost curfew,” the blonde praetor said, his gaze finding Hazel once more. It felt more uneasy this time like he was watching to see whether she would break like porcelain or set him on fire. “We can give you the proper initiation in the morning. ‘Til then, we’ll put you in the fifth cohort.” Hazel was too worried over the term ‘initiation’ to notice that the praetor had moved around the table until he was a foot away and sticking his hand out to shake. “Jason Grace, nice to meet you.” 

She took it gingerly. “Hazel Levesque.” 

The other praetor came around the desk, too, to stand next to Nico and coincidentally right in front of Octavian. She stuck out her hand in the same exact manner as Jason. “Reyna Ramirez-Arellano.” They shook as Octavian stood. As he smoothed his purple shirt, Hazel noticed just how fragile he looked, like a skeleton painted to look like a living person. He kind of acted like it, too. 

“Now, if we could please get back to the prophecy at hand-” 

“It’s almost curfew, Octavian, and we have a new camper to attend to,” Reyna said, not even looking at him. 

“It’s important business-” 

“It’s a grammatical error,” Jason added under his breath. 

“It’s serious-” 

“Shut it, Octavian,” Nico interrupted, turning to face him fully for the first time. “Go back to your cave and play with your stuffed animals.”

Dark red rose up Octavians neck, which was definitely not flattering for him. “Of course you wouldn’t understand, di Angelo-” 

“So the fifth cohort is stationed this way,” Jason loudly broke in, opening the door for them all to exit. 

Jason Grace, praetor at Camp Jupiter (she still didn’t fully understand what that position meant) led Hazel and Nico out of the principa and to a small building with a similar purple banner, this one with the roman numeral for five. He explained the function of the camp and the cohorts in more detail than Nico did, but seemed to avoid asking questions about herself. He asked about where she was from and the similar courtesies, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that being around two children of Pluto made him nervous. Hazel was given a bed in the cabin with about twenty other people, but not many of them seemed interested in who she was. Thank goodness she had Nico. 

“What do you think?” Nico had asked after Jason had left. 

“It’s… alot,” she admitted. “Alot of people…” 

“Yeah, I get that. You’ll get used to it.” 

“I hope.” 

“Hey.” Nico put a hand on Hazel’s knee. Since he had told her he was gay, he had gotten more comfortable with touching. It was small and never lasted more than a few minutes, but it was a significant improvement from when they had first met. “You’re going to do great. You belong here, just like everybody else.” 

Hazel dropped her head, staring at the wood floor. “Nico... Nico, I’m dead.” 

“Not anymore.” 

“But- Nico, I’m not even from this time period-” 

Nico slapped her knee with no force, but she jumped anyway. “Hey. Shut up.” He dropped his voice, “You’re here to train and learn so next time you can make it to Elysium. You’ll figure it out.” A horn blew from outside, and Nico stood up. “That’s the curfew alarm. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?” 

“You’re not going to stay here?” Hazel felt stupid for being afraid of being apart from Nico for so long. It was like she was turning back into a little kid. 

“Ambassadors have a special room. I’ll show you one day.” In a second, Nico melted into the shadow of her bed and disappeared, leaving her to sleep for the first time of her second life. 

Hazel didn’t see Nico again until the next morning. Just as he had promised, he showed up in front of the fifth cohort building just as everyone was heading out for breakfast. Out of instinct, Hazel jumped and hugged him. He stumbled back but caught her anyway, but not lingering for the hug. 

“Good morning,” she said. “How did you sleep?” 

Nico shrugged. They walked to breakfast with the rest of the crowd into a large dining pavilion. There must have been about twenty tables but no food inside. Jason had told her about the air spirits the night before, and she bounced her heels in excitement at the thought of actually seeing it. She and Nico chose a small table and got their meals; Hazel, elated at the prospect of having whatever she wanted but also equally as nervous, had a plate of eggs with fruit, and Nico had a bowl of cereal that he had trouble explaining. 

“So, it’s like- french toast, right?” 

“I know french toast.” 

“So it’s like french toast, but with cinnamon- like, mostly cinnamon- and it’s cereal. Like Cheerios. Cinnamon french toast cheerios.” 

“And does it crunch?”

Just as Nico was about to explain how it absolutely does crunch, Jason Grace sat down at their table, causing Nico to quickly shut up. 

“Hi guys,” he said, unaware of the previous conversation. “Just wanted to say hi, and welcome you to camp, Hazel.” Jason smiled, and Hazel thought that this person might be a good friend to turn to when she’s here. They’re in the same cohort, after all. 

Octavian appeared a minute later without any food and plopped himself at their suddenly crowded table. Nico stared into his cereal bowl. “Hazel!” He said, smiling at her widely. Hazel gave a polite smile his way but stuffed a forkful of eggs in her mouth as to not talk. “Just thought I’d introduce myself, I’m Octavian, the augur here at Camp Jupiter.” 

“Oh, nice to meet you-” 

“What’s everybody doing here?” Reyna suddenly appeared behind Octavian, who didn’t even bother to turn around. Nico covered his face in his hand. “I was looking for you, Jason.” 

“I was just welcoming Hazel,” Jason said sheepishly. “Octavian had the same idea, apparently.” 

“Just trying to be friendly.” Nico looked like he was going to scrape off Octavian’s plastered smile with his spoon. Hazel put a strawberry in her mouth as to not laugh. 

“Why don’t you, uh, join us, Reyna?” Jason asked, his eyes pleading up to Reyna for help. She exhaled through her nose but took a seat next to him anyway. Hazel noticed that she and Jason had matching omelets. 

 “So, Hazel,” Octavian said, stretching out her name like taffy. “How did you meet Nico?” She quickly looked up at Nico, hoping her uneasiness wasn’t noticeable. She couldn’t mess this up on her first day. 

“Hazel and I met in LA,” Nico supplied. 

“I asked Hazel.” 

“He’s right,” Hazel said between bites of fruit. 

“Oh, she speaks.” Octavian chuckled to himself. “How did you meet?” 

“Mind your business, Octavian,” Nico said. 

Octavian finally turned away from Hazel to stare daggers at Nico. “I’m just trying to get to know Hazel so she can adjust to camp life better and begin to play a role in our own little society. Why are you here?”

“What kind of question is that?” Reyna demanded, but she was ignored. 

“Well, Octavian, I know this concept confuses you, but I have powerful demigod abilities I like to practice-

“I mean- how did you even find your way here in the first place? You showed up randomly, with your powers already harnessed from a god we don’t usually have connections with. And, not to be rude, but you’re rarely around and, when you are, it’s always to do some kind of secret business. Forgive me for asking, but what do you even do when you’re not here?” 

Nico set down his spoon in his bowl. Hazel quickly glanced at the ground to check if skeletons were going to pop up, but so far the coast was clear. This didn’t reassure Hazel all that much, though, because Nico seemed perfectly capable of killing Octavian in other ways. 

“When I’m not here, Octavian, it’s because I’m at a Greek camp in Long Island, training with all the Greek demigods. Because I’m actually a child of Hades, not Pluto. I’m here to gather information for my home base so we can plot to destroy you in the upcoming war next year. And, because I know you’re thinking it, Hazel is also a Greek demigod. I brought her over here under my father’s orders to bring more Greek spies until we can overthrow you from the inside.” Nico stared at Octavian, who had finally dropped his smile. He turned to Reyna and Jason, and then examined Hazel like a bomb, then back to the praetors, then finally to Nico. He gripped the dagger that hung on his belt. 

“How long have you been doing this?” 

Nico slapped his hand on the table, shaking the glasses. “I’m being sarcastic, you asshat.” Jason choked on his water, bursting into a laugh. Octavian was left slack-jawed, hand still glued to his dagger, as Reyna shook her head to hide her enjoyment behind disapproval and Nico drank his coffee cooly. 

“But seriously,” Nico began, setting down his cup. “I met Hazel after fighting off an empousi on Hollywood Boulevard, outside one of the entrances to the Underworld. How else may we help you, Octavian?” He took a sip of his coffee and watched casually as Octavian stormed off. 

Jason, after composing himself, used the rest of breakfast to explain the procedures for initiation. The initiation itself was terrifying, but now Hazel could say that she finally got a tattoo. The rest of the day went by quickly, with Hazel being officially inaugurated into the fifth cohort and being introduced to everyone at camp. She was led around by Jason most of the day, but Nico was never more than two steps behind her. If he hadn’t been there, Hazel might not have survived all the weapons, the war-talk, and seeing ghosts on the living earth for the first time. 

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Nico showed her the hidden areas Jason never mentioned, and she was able to pick out her own sword (though now she doesn’t think swords suit her very much). Latin came easily to her, as with meeting everyone in her cohort. At the end of the week, Hazel found herself back at the same table in the dining pavilion where she began, thankfully with only Nico and no new guests. 

“Are you staying the night?” she asked, crossing her fingers (Nico had explained to her what that gesture meant) that he would say yes. She knew he couldn’t stay long, and that he already stayed for four days, but she hoped anyway. 

Nico shook his head, and Hazel tried not to show her heart sink. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Ambassador things,” he said as if this explained everything. “It’s a tough job.” 

Hazel nodded but really didn’t understand at all. “I wish you could stay.” 

Nico looked up at her, then around at everyone in the pavilion. “Me, too. But I’ll be back soon.” 

“When?” 

He paused, chewing on his sandwich. “I’ll try for next week, okay?” 

“Next week. I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I know you will.” 

Hazel moved her seat closer to Nico so that she could hug him one last time. “You’re not getting rid of me, now.” 

“Oh, I know.” Nico stood to take his tray back, and Hazel followed. Something inside of her wondered if everything would change when Nico left, if everyone was only pretending to help her out because he was there to protect her. Her novelty had faded after the first day, so now when she walked through the legion people paid less attention. Maybe she should keep it that way- lie low, focus on her training. But she also knew she was too much of an extrovert for that. 

“Kill some monsters for me,” Nico said, hands back in his pockets. 

Hazel laughed. “I haven’t been here for a full week yet, Nico.” 

“Never too early.” He held his fist out and Hazel bumped it, excited to show off one of the (many!) things she was learning from this time. Often times, 2009 felt like 2109, but she’s adapting. It’s more exciting than anything she could have ever painted in her mind, the people are more diverse and accepting than she ever thought possible. 

Nico slipped through the shadows once more with a wave. Hazel was left alone as she walked back to her room, and she knew that as she climbed back into bed that she’d be okay, at least for now. Because they had each other.