The decision to leave Camp Half-Blood came quietly.

Summer ended the way it always did—with the air just beginning to cool at night, the campfires burning lower, and the feeling that something important was being folded away until next year. Nico stood at the edge of the hill, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, shadows curling lazily at his feet as if reluctant to let him go.

Will stood beside him, fingers brushing Nico’s knuckles. “Ready?” he asked, gentle but excited, like he was holding back a secret.

Nico nodded. “Yeah. I trust you.”

That was all Will needed.

Texas hit Nico like sunlight with weight.

Not the sharp brilliance of Apollo’s cabin, but something broader—wide skies that seemed to stretch forever, heat that lingered even in the shade, cicadas humming like the land itself was alive. Will drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching over to squeeze Nico’s knee as he talked.

“That diner over there?” Will said, pointing as they passed a low brick building with a flickering sign. “Best pancakes I’ve ever had. I used to come here after school.”

Nico watched everything quietly—the open roads, the small towns, the way Will’s voice changed here. Softer. More grounded. Less healer, more son.

They stopped more than once. Will showed him the park where he’d learned to shoot a bow before he ever touched a celestial bronze one. A high school with faded banners and cracked pavement where Will had learned how to smile through pressure. A taco place that Will insisted was “life-changing,” where Nico ate in silence and then went back for seconds.

“You like it,” Will said, smug.

“I’m not admitting that,” Nico replied, though his shadows pulsed contentedly.

By the time the sun dipped low and turned the sky orange and pink, the car slowed in front of a modest house with white siding and a wide porch. Wind chimes hung near the door, catching the breeze.

Nico’s chest tightened.

This was different. Camp had rules. Cabins. Gods. This was real. Mortal. Permanent in a way that scared him.

Will parked and cut the engine. For a moment, neither of them moved.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Will said softly. “Just… be you. She already knows about us.”

Nico glanced at him. “You told her I’m a son of Hades.”

Will smiled, a little crooked. “I told her you’re important to me. The rest can come later.”

That helped. A little.

They stepped out of the car together. The heat wrapped around Nico, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. As they walked up the porch steps, Will’s hand found his—warm, steady, anchoring him to the moment.

Will knocked.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, unhurried. The door opened to reveal a woman with Will’s eyes—kind, observant, framed by faint laugh lines. She froze for half a second, then smiled.

“There you are,” she said warmly. “You must be Nico.”