Being a son of Hades was not a lifestyle for the weak.

Cardan, the seventeen year old demigod, had somehow outlived his younger sister, his mother, and his best friend- Jason Grace.

In retrospect, it made sense for a child of the dead to lose so much, though Cardan would've preferred if the loss had been given to the children of the God of loss, or something. The Goddess Misery's children, possibly? Maybe even Thanatos'? A good idea, but not one that seemed to have ever happened.

It was like the man had been set up for pure, unadulterated and sheer pain from the get-go. Pulled out of the era of time he lived in? Mom killed by Zeus? Best-friends sister nearly killed by his own father out of retaliation- (he still felt guilty for what happened to Thalia, by the way)? Sister dying? Younger brother trapped in Tartarus? Cardan couldn't catch his breath.

The stars, though. Oh, the sky and all of it's glory. He'd read the stories cover to cover, the myths and legends of the heroes trapped in constellations, left to litter the sky every time Apollo rids it of sun. It was beautiful, in all it's sparkling darkness. He was eternally thankful for Nyx.

When the boy couldn't breath, or when he chose not to, he'd always return to watching the moon. There was something so oddly comforting about the night. No matter who you are, where you may be, or what you've done, you still live under the sky.

You are still a child of the stars.

Cardan admired that.