Winter always changed Camp Half-Blood.

The cabins were quieter, the training fields nearly empty, and the laughter that usually echoed through camp had softened into the occasional conversation between the few year-round campers. Snow dusted the rooftops, and a bitter wind swept through the valley.

For the Apollo cabin, though, winter never meant less work.

If anything, it meant more.

Colds spread quickly, twisted ankles became common on icy paths, and with so few Apollo campers remaining, the infirmary was constantly busy. Will Solace had barely left it in days. Every cot was occupied, shelves were running low on supplies, and he hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time.

Which was exactly why he hadn’t gone on the quest.

He’d wanted to.

Gods, he’d argued with Chiron about it.

But Camp Half-Blood needed a healer more than the quest needed another sword.

Nico had understood… even if neither of them liked it.

⸻

Will had just finished wrapping a younger camper’s sprained wrist when the infirmary doors burst open with enough force to slam against the walls.

“WILL!”

The desperate shout froze the room.

Will looked up automatically, already smiling.

“They’re back?” he called, pulling off his medical gloves. “How’d the que—”

The words died in his throat.

Percy Jackson stumbled through the doorway first, breathing hard, crimson staining the front of his shirt.

Not his blood.

Nico’s.

Nico hung limply in Percy’s arms, his head lolling against Percy’s shoulder. His black jacket had been torn nearly in half, revealing a deep gash carved across his side. Blood soaked through the shredded fabric, dripping steadily onto the infirmary floor and leaving a trail behind them.

Annabeth rushed in close behind, her hands desperately pressing against the wound.

“We couldn’t stop the bleeding!” she shouted. “The monster’s poison keeps reopening it!”

For half a heartbeat, Will couldn’t breathe.

His boyfriend.

Covered in blood.

So pale.

Then every emotion vanished beneath years of training.

“Healer mode.”

“Bed three!” Will barked, his voice suddenly sharp and commanding. “Now!”

The Apollo campers sprang into motion without hesitation.

Percy laid Nico carefully onto the cot as Will was already beside him, slicing away the ruined shirt with practiced hands. His stomach twisted at the sight of the wound, but his hands never shook.

“Nectar. Ambrosia. Sterile bandages,” he ordered. “Someone boil water. Someone else tell Chiron.”

The infirmary erupted into organized chaos.