The woods never truly slept.

Even when the others finally gave in to exhaustion—bedrolls unrolled beneath towering pines, a small fire burning low and safe—something always lingered in the dark. A shift of air. A distant snap of a twig. The sense of being watched.

Nico felt it more than anyone.

He stood at the edge of the clearing while Percy and Annabeth slept side by side, Annabeth’s dagger within reach, Percy’s hand curled instinctively toward where Riptide would be. A little farther off, the rest of their group rested uneasily, breaths shallow but steady. They trusted the perimeter wards. They trusted each other.

They trusted Nico.

The shadows gathered at his feet like familiar hands.

Nico didn’t bother sitting. He knew better. The moment he stopped moving, the weight of the day—and the night ahead—would crush him. Instead, he drew a slow breath and stepped backward, letting the darkness swallow him whole.

Shadow-travel snapped him to a ridge overlooking the campsite, cold biting into his bones. He scanned the treeline, eyes sharp, senses stretched thin. Nothing moved—but that didn’t mean nothing was there.

Again.

And again.

All night, Nico shadow-traveled—short distances, careful jumps. From ridge to ravine. From behind twisted oaks to deep pockets of darkness where monsters liked to hide. Each jump burned a little more than the last. The cold crept deeper. His head began to throb. His stomach twisted unpleasantly, but he ignored it.

He always did.

By the time the sky began to lighten, Nico’s hands were shaking.

He returned to the clearing one final time just as dawn filtered through the trees in pale gold. The fire had burned down to embers. The others were still asleep. Safe.

Mission accomplished.

Nico barely made it three steps before his knees buckled.

He caught himself on a tree trunk, breath coming too fast, vision swimming. His skin felt clammy, the shadows sluggish and unresponsive now, like they were as tired as he was. He sank down onto a fallen log, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, hoping no one would notice how badly his body was rebelling.

Unfortunately for him—Will Solace noticed everything.

Will woke with the sun, as usual. Years of healing had trained his body to respond before his mind caught up, and the first thing he did was take stock of the camp. Fire. Gear. People.

Then his eyes found Nico.

Sitting apart. Pale even by Nico standards. Shoulders hunched, breathing shallow, one hand pressed hard against his side like he was trying to keep himself together.

Will was on his feet instantly.

“Nico,” he said quietly, crossing the clearing in long strides. He knelt in front of him without hesitation, one hand hovering near Nico’s wrist. “Hey. What happened?”

Nico tried for a shrug. It came out weak. “Nothing. Just… tired.”

Will didn’t buy it for a second. He took Nico’s wrist gently, fingers warm against Nico’s cold skin. His jaw tightened. “Your pulse is racing,” he said softly. “And you’re freezing.”

Nico looked away. “I shadow-traveled. A lot. Someone had to watch.”

Will exhaled slowly, carefully, like he was holding back something sharper. He shifted closer, blocking Nico from the others’ view, and brushed his thumb across the back of Nico’s hand in a grounding motion.

“You didn’t wake me,” Will said—not accusing, just stating a fact.

Nico’s voice dropped. “You needed sleep.”

Will leaned in, resting his forehead briefly against Nico’s. “So do you.”

The others were starting to stir now—Percy groaning, Annabeth pushing herself upright—but Will stayed focused. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Nico’s shoulders, then gently guided him to sit back against the log.

“Okay,” Will said, slipping seamlessly into healer mode. “I’ve got you. Nausea? Dizziness?”