A 10 year old Nico trudged through camp half-blood. His sister’s recent death left him feeling lost.

Clutching a small Stygian iron figurine—his sister’s keepsake,he sat on a bench, the sun hitting him doing nothing to quell his turmoil.

Until a boy his age ran over, in flip-flips, shorts and a blue shirt,his curly blond hair tousled and freckles scattered across his nose.

“Hi!! I’m Will!! What’s your name?”

He beamed,And Nico looked up, murmuring in a soft voice.

“N-Nico.”