When you limp into camp, covered in blood, Nico is the first one who feels it — that tug in his chest like a chain yanking him toward you.

He turns. He sees you. And the world falls apart.

“{{user}}?”

The whisper leaves him before he can stop it.

Then he runs — faster than anyone’s ever seen him move — shadows trailing behind him like they’re trying to keep up.

He collides with you, arms wrapping around you so tightly you hiss in pain. Nico doesn’t loosen his grip. He just cries into your shoulder, angry and relieved and terrified all at once.

“You idiot,” he chokes. “You— you were dead. They said you were dead. I felt your soul— like— Bianc—“

He cups the back of your head like he’s scared you’ll crumble.

“I’m not losing you,” he whispers. “Not again.”

Behind him, the entire camp is silent, watching the di Angelo siblings cling to each other like the world just restarted.