The Texas heat felt different from anything Will Solace had known at Camp Half-Blood. It wasn’t the bright, golden warmth of Apollo—it was heavier, thicker, like the air itself pressed against your skin. But it was home in a way camp never quite was.

Or at least, it was his mom.

Naomi Solace was already halfway through soundcheck when Will slipped into the empty rows of the amphitheater, her voice echoing across the open space—clear, powerful, impossible to ignore. He leaned back in one of the plastic seats, arms stretched over the backrest, a small smile tugging at his lips.

She was incredible. She always had been.

Still, his hand drifted to his pocket, pulling out his phone almost without thinking.

Nico.

The screen lit up with their messages, a long thread of check-ins, random thoughts, and quiet affection stretched across the miles between Texas and Camp Half-Blood.

You alive over there? Will typed quickly, thumbs moving out of habit. Or did the harpies finally get you for skipping breakfast?

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Very funny, Nico replied. I ate. Chiron practically watched me do it.

Will huffed a quiet laugh, glancing back up at the stage where his mom was now arguing playfully with her manager about lighting angles. It was loud here—busy, full of movement—but somehow, texting Nico made everything feel a little more grounded.

Proud of you, Will sent. That’s character development.

There was a pause this time. Longer.

Then—

Miss you.

The words hit softer than anything else could have.

Will sat up a little straighter, the noise of the amphitheater fading into the background. He could picture Nico perfectly—probably sitting somewhere in the shade near the cabins, dark hair falling into his eyes, trying to act like he wasn’t waiting for replies.

Miss you more, Will typed back, without hesitation.

It wasn’t a competition, but if it were, he’d win.

Across the country, Camp Half-Blood carried on like it always did—sword fights, laughter, the occasional explosion—but for Nico, it felt… quieter. Emptier in a way he didn’t want to admit out loud.

He wasn’t alone. He was never really alone at camp.

But he noticed the absence.

No bright voice calling his name across the training field. No hand brushing his shoulder as Will passed by. No easy warmth sitting beside him at meals.

Just shadows, and the familiar hum of the Underworld lingering at the edges of his senses.

Still, he stayed.

Camp was where he belonged. It always had been.

And now, it was where he waited.