The night had been quiet—too quiet.

Nico had learned the difference over time. Real rest came with weight, with dreams that pulled at him even if they weren’t kind. This sleep felt thin, like glass stretched over darkness. He lay on his side at first, then on his back, then finally on his stomach, arms tucked beneath his pillow as if that might anchor him to the world.

It didn’t.

He woke without waking.

The cabin was the same—stone walls, shadows pooled in the corners, the faint hum of magic woven into the structure—but something was wrong. Nico knew it instantly, the way prey knows before it sees the predator.

He tried to move.

Nothing.

His breath caught halfway in his chest. He tried again—fingers, toes, anything—but his body didn’t respond. It was like being pinned beneath invisible weight, heavy and crushing, pressing him into the mattress. Panic bloomed fast and sharp, clawing up his throat.

N-no, he thought, fighting it. Not this.

Then he saw it.

At the foot of the bed stood a figure, tall and unmoving, its shape blurred like it didn’t quite belong in the world. The shadows around it were wrong—too deep, too intentional. And its eyes—

Bright. Red. Burning straight through him.

They didn’t blink.

Nico’s heart slammed against his ribs, each beat loud enough he was sure the thing could hear it. He tried to scream, to call out, to shadow travel—anything—but his mouth wouldn’t open, his powers unresponsive, trapped inside him like everything else.

The figure leaned forward slightly.

Nico’s vision blurred.

And then—just as suddenly as it began—it was gone.

The weight lifted. His body lurched forward as if released from a vice, and Nico sucked in a ragged breath, air burning his lungs. He scrambled upright, hands shaking violently, heart racing so hard it hurt.

The cabin was empty. Silent. Normal.

Nico didn’t stay to convince himself it was fine.

He grabbed his pillow—his hands knew what to do before his mind caught up—and bolted. Bare feet hit the ground, shadows peeling after him as he ran across camp, breath uneven, pulse roaring in his ears.

The Apollo cabin glowed faintly in the dark, warm light spilling from its windows like a promise.

Nico shoved the door open.

It creaked loudly, and somewhere inside someone groaned, but he didn’t slow down. He moved through the rows of bunks on instinct alone, heart hammering, eyes scanning until—

There.

Will.

Fast asleep, sprawled slightly sideways in his bed, blond hair mussed, one arm flung above his head. Peaceful. Real.

Nico stopped short, chest heaving. For half a second, he just stood there, clutching his pillow like a lifeline, the fear still crawling beneath his skin.

Then it hit him all at once.

His hands were shaking as he reached out, grabbing Will’s shoulder and shaking him—not gently.

“Will,” Nico whispered urgently. “Will—wake up—please—”

Will stirred, brows knitting. “M’kay—what—?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Nico shook him again, harder this time. “Will. Please.”

Will’s eyes flew open.

It took him exactly one second to register Nico’s expression—pale even for him, eyes wide and glassy, breath uneven—and the confusion vanished.

“Hey,” Will said immediately, sitting up. “Hey, Nico. I’m here.”