Stygian

Chapter One: Apparition

Nico di Angelo stood as he often stood his entire life: on the edge of a precipice. The dusty leather of his shoes kicked rocks off the sheer cliff face where the sea swallowed it eagerly. Waves writhed against the boulders below. He didn't dare peer over the edge.

It was a beautiful day in southern Italy, too beautiful by Nico's standards, but months of living abroad have led him to adjust the standards by which he conducted his life. Time felt different in this part of the world, two bright ribbons stretched into oblivion on either side of him. If he turned his head just right, he could see the past, and a tilt to the other side meant a glimpse into the future. Nico knew if he wanted to, he could reach out and grasp it, but his hands stayed where they were in his pockets.

He had no time for wishful thinking.

But that, too, was wrong. Nico had all of the time in the world now that he'd uprooted himself from his cramped studio apartment in Brooklyn and the darkened cabin he'd left behind years ago at camp. In renouncing a future of quests and adventures, he'd inexplicably unmoored himself from the path that most demigods were set on until an untimely death caught up to them.

Nico di Angelo didn't think he'd enjoy being purposeless, but that was another thing he'd proved himself incorrect on. Being able to float through life, getting by on what he could covertly steal from food carts or buy in exchange for a favour gave him a new outlook on life.

Namely, that life wasn't nearly as important as everyone thought it was.

His friends had long since learned that getting in touch with Nico was a fool's errand if there ever was one. The lucky few that recieved an Iris message from him could expect them once every few weeks. Nico thumbed the golden drachma in his pocket and, with a resigned sigh, threw it into the rainbow produced by the sea.

"Oh Iris, goddess of rainbows, please accept my offering. Percy Jackson, New Rome," Nico said. He sat down at the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling off the side.

A hazy image of Percy shimmered into view. He was washing dishes in a small kitchen; the TV on in the living room behind him blaring a colourful children's cartoon. Percy jumped at the sight of Nico, nearly shattering a wine glass.

"Nico!" Percy broke into a grin. "How's it going?"

Nico shrugged. "The same. It's gotten ungodly hot here. You'd love it."

"Well it's been pretty hot in New Rome, too." Percy resumed washing the dishes. "Where are you living these days?"

Nico bit his lip. "You know I can't answer that."

"Fine," Percy sighed. "We're planning a visit back to New York this weekend to see my mom. Annabeth thinks she finally cracked how to get Nate to settle down on planes: apple juice."

"What, no cross-country road trip?" Nico cracked a smile.

Percy laughed. "God, I hope not. As much as I hate planes, I'd hate taking a two-year-old in a car for that long. I get enough of him at home."

"He's your kid, Percy. You had him on purpose," Nico said. Then, under his breath, "as far as I know."

"And I love him, but he would hate a road trip as much as I would." Percy shot Nico a look. "We're going to visit camp while we're there. Chiron's been asking about you."

Nico turned away from the Iris message and looked out across the sea. He'd been fending off calls from the centaur ever since he'd cut his losses in New York and run. "Yeah, I know."

"He said something about a job opportunity." Percy raised an eyebrow. "It sounded pretty good. I'd take it, but Annabeth has her hands full with the tail ends of grad school and with Nate, we can't afford to move to- shit, what was it?"