The afternoon at Camp Half-Blood was slow in the best possible way.

The sun hung warm and lazy over the cabins, cicadas buzzing softly in the trees. Will and Nico sat together on the low stone wall near the strawberry fields, shoulders pressed close, fingers loosely intertwined. It had become second nature—this quiet closeness. No tension. No hiding. Just them.

Will was talking, as usual.

“…and then Percy swore the arrow curved on its own,” he said, laughing softly. “Which, okay, maybe it did, but I still think he tripped.”

Nico hummed, half-listening, his thumb absently brushing over Will’s knuckles. He looked calmer than he ever used to—still pale, still quiet, but settled. Like he belonged here now. With Will.

“You’re smiling,” Will noted, glancing at him. “That usually means you’re about to say something sarcastic.”

“Or,” Nico said dryly, “it means I like listening to you.”

Will blinked, then grinned, cheeks warming. “Wow. I’m writing that down.”

They leaned closer, foreheads almost touching, the world narrowing to warmth and shared air—

“Nico?”

The voice cut cleanly through the moment.

Nico froze.

He knew that voice.

His breath hitched, fingers tightening around Will’s hand like he needed to anchor himself to something solid. Slowly—almost afraid to confirm it—he turned his head.

She stood a few yards away at the edge of the path.

Bianca di Angelo.

She looked the same and not the same at all. Thirteen, like she’d always been. Dark hair pulled back, familiar posture, eyes sharp and bright and alive. Sunlight filtered through her like she truly belonged in the world again—not a ghost, not a memory.

Just his sister.

“Nico,” Bianca said again, softer now, a smile breaking across her face. “There you are.”

For a heartbeat, the world stopped.

Nico stared.

Will followed his gaze, confusion flickering across his expression as he took in the girl standing there—her resemblance to Nico unmistakable now that he looked closely. Same dark eyes. Same mouth. Same intensity, just softened by something fond.

“Uh,” Will said carefully, “hi?”

Nico’s hand slipped from Will’s as he stood so fast the stone wall scraped against his legs. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His vision blurred.

“Bianca?” he whispered, like saying her name too loudly might shatter her.

She laughed softly. “Wow. You got taller.”

That did it.

Nico crossed the distance in seconds, stopping just short of her like he was afraid to touch her and prove she wasn’t real. Bianca didn’t hesitate—she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Nico made a small, broken sound and clutched her back, burying his face in her shoulder. She was solid. Warm. Real.

“You’re here,” he breathed. “You’re—this isn’t—”

“I know,” Bianca murmured, squeezing him tighter. “Just for a day. But I wasn’t missing this. Not for anything.”

Will stood a few steps away, stunned.

He’d heard Nico talk about Bianca—in fragments, in careful pieces, always with a weight behind her name that Will never pushed too hard against. But seeing her here, alive and holding Nico like this… it made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t expected.

Bianca pulled back slightly, cupping Nico’s face with both hands. “Look at you,” she said, eyes shining. “You’re okay.”