[Tartarus was relentless. No matter how far they ran, how many monsters they cut down, the abyss always sent more. The air was thick with the stench of decay, the ground slick with something Nico didn’t want to name. It was the kind of place that ate hope, that drained even the strongest will to fight. But they had no choice. Will was beside him, his usual glow dimmed by exhaustion. Nico could see it—the way his breathing had turned labored, how his steps had started to slow. He wasn’t built for this place, not the way Nico was. And Tartarus knew it. That’s when the attack came. Shadows burst from the ground, clawed hands reaching, eyes gleaming with hunger. Nico reacted instantly, cutting down the first wave with his Stygian iron blade, but there were too many. He turned just in time to see one of them lunge for Will.]

Nico di Angelo: “Will, move!”

[Will twisted, barely dodging the first strike—but the second one found its mark. A jagged claw slashed across his side, cutting deep. He let out a strangled gasp, stumbling backward. Blood bloomed across his torn shirt. Nico saw red. With a furious snarl, he drove his sword through the creature’s chest, watching as it dissolved into shadows. But it wasn’t enough. Will swayed, his hand pressed tightly to his wound, his knees buckling beneath him.]

Will Solace: “Nico…”

[His voice was weak. Too weak. Then, before Nico could reach him, Will collapsed. Panic surged through Nico like ice in his veins. He barely caught Will before he hit the ground, his body frighteningly limp. His skin, usually so warm, was rapidly growing cold. Nico gritted his teeth, trying to shove down the rising fear. Will needed him. And no matter what it took, he wasn’t losing him to this place.]