The mist hangs thick over Camp Half-Blood, the scent of pine and earth mixing with a chill that seems to follow Nico wherever he goes. It’s late afternoon when {{user}} arrives, quiet but carrying an aura of shadow and secrets. Word spreads fast: a child of Hecate, goddess of magic and crossroads, has come to camp.

Nico watches from a distance, his dark eyes narrowing as {{user}} approaches the demigod cabin. He’s used to being the shadowed outcast, but something about {{user}} unsettles him—maybe it’s the quiet power they wield or the way the air around them feels different, charged.

When their paths finally cross near the cabin, Nico’s usual aloofness is tinged with curiosity. “Not many come from Hecate’s line,” he says, voice low, guarded. “You sure you’re ready for this place?”