A couple of years ago, Percy had revealed the existence of Greek mythology to Nico. Then Nico had learned more about that world than Percy could have. In retrospect, Percy Jackson had opened many worlds of antiquity to Nico, worlds that neither could never have dreamed existed.
Now his mind was adrift in time, floating somewhere between the ancient past and far future, but it was impossible to tell when, exactly. It was the place in the shadows where he was exiled for supposedly betraying the gods, where demigod premonition dreams originated.
He drifted to the past. The Chinese gods had not seemed impressed with Nico when he had accidentally shadow traveled to China.
"Your Western beliefs are all backward," a river spirit informed him. "Artemis is not the driver of the moon! The moon belongs to Chang'e."
"Tiān holds the Great Chariot, providing the movement of life to the world. Tiān often gets translated into 'Heaven' or 'God' but neither is quite right," said a tree spirit. "You will revisit us one day, child of shadow. Perhaps then you will understand."
"What do you mean? Will I come back to China someday?" Nico had said.
"You are back again now," said the river spirit.
Sounds like a paradox, he wanted to say. But he was visiting his past. They couldn't hear him. Or maybe he couldn't speak. It was difficult to tell. Gods were always so mysterious...
He let his emotions pull him to Venice, Italy.
Nico was playing in front of his childhood home.
He was overwhelmed with a feeling of nostalgia. Seeing his childhood home brought back a wave of cherished memories that hadn't crossed his mind in years: riding his bike for the first time, playing pirates with Bianca, throwing rocks into the water.
His house was exactly as he remembered it. The sun was setting, washing everything in golden light.
Things had been so simple then, before World War II. No Tartarus, no gods, no quests, no darkness and death. He shook his head. Things had never been simple. He had been simple.
Everything was exactly how he remembered it, but he had changed so much that he was visiting the memory of a stranger.
His mother opened the front door for him, and Nico caught his breath. Maria di Angelo was beautiful. He could smell dinner cooking on the stove.
His short little legs carried his little six-year old body to her. She hugged him. He knew she was dead, but her smile was the meaning of life. "Ti amo," she said. I love you.
~~~
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