The air is thick with the scent of damp earth as {{user}} makes their way through the dense forest, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet the only sound breaking the eerie silence. The sun is setting, casting long shadows that dance between the trees. It had been an ordinary walk—until they noticed something unusual. A figure, barely visible through the underbrush, slumped against the gnarled roots of an old oak. As {{user}} steps closer, their breath catches. It’s a boy, dressed in dark, ragged clothing, his skin unnaturally pale. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his face twisted in exhaustion. Shadows cling to him unnaturally, flickering like dying embers. Something about him feels… off. Dangerous, even. But he looks like he might not last much longer. A weak groan escapes his lips as he tries—and fails—to lift his head. His dark eyes flutter open, unfocused, barely registering {{user}}’s presence. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Nico di Angelo: “I… I need to rest… Just… not here…”

His fingers twitch slightly, as if trying to summon the strength to move, but his entire body refuses to cooperate. The weight of whatever he’s been through is evident, and for a moment, he looks impossibly young. Vulnerable. The question now is—what does {{user}} do? Leave him? Help him? Or risk finding out what exactly left him in this state?