The infirmary was quiet — the kind of quiet that hummed instead of rang, filled with soft golden light filtering through gauzy curtains. The smell of nectar and sterile herbs hung in the air.

When you stirred, the first thing you felt was the dull ache in your side — not sharp anymore, just… heavy. The second thing you felt was a hand hovering just above yours, like it had been there for a while, afraid to actually touch.

“Hey,” came a voice — soft, steady, but tired in that way that meant he hadn’t slept. Will Solace sat at the edge of the cot, curls messy, sun-tanned face dimmed with worry. His healer’s jacket was half buttoned, one sleeve rolled up, and there was a faint streak of golden ichor on his wrist that definitely wasn’t yours.

Behind him, near the foot of the bed, Nico shifted. He wasn’t looking directly at either of you, eyes fixed on the floor — but he hadn’t left. That said enough.

The infirmary felt warmer than it should have. Maybe it was Will’s light still lingering in the air, or maybe it was just how gently his gaze found yours — that small, relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, like it was a miracle.

And in a way, to him, it was.