Chapter Text
I'm so sorry Will, Nico's gone.
Will was frozen. He stared blankly at Hazel as his mind struggled to fit those words into his understanding of the world. Hazel was sobbing in front of him and every instinct inside himself screamed to reach out and help her. But no matter how hard he wanted to comfort her and stop her tears, his body couldn't move.
It doesn't make sense. It couldn't be true. There were a few unshakeable facts about Will's life that kept him grounded. Firstly, his father was the sun god and his mother was a musician. Secondly, he belonged to Camp Half Blood. Thirdly, Nico Di Angelo. Nico Di Angelo as he grins slyly, or kisses him gently, or pulls him from the infirmary, or in his arms, in his bed, in his life. Nico Di Angelo was the prince of the dead, and no matter how hard he seemed to try to get himself killed with reckless overexertion, Will refused to believe he could really die. Surely Hades wouldn't let him.
It didn't make sense. He could only stare.
I'm so sorry Will, Nico's gone.
Gone where? Home?
Hazel was clutching her chest. She was saying something about an emptiness, a hole. He didn't understand.
Nico Di Angelo, laying in the strawberry fields, smiling up at him, and despite his nature, glowing in the sun. The springtime fields shading his face with dandelions and strawberries and just for a moment, he truly looked his age.
Hazel had grabbed his hands. He squeezed them in a measly attempt at comfort.
Nico Di Angelo, kissing him fiercely under New Year's fireworks, the colours illuminating his face beautifully, painting it in every colour imaginable. Laughing into his mouth as Will had stood there stunned, having not seen Nico for a week, thinking him at Camp Jupiter. His laughter rung clear into the wind.
Hazel staring into his eyes, her own red and puffy.
Nico Di Angelo, alive. Beautiful, amazing, and so full of life despite and because of his father.
Will blinked.
"Gone? Gone where?"
He knew the answer to the question before Hazel responded.
Hazel clutched his hands impossibly tight and breathed in shakily. "Below, with Father, forever."
He shook his head, his hair tickled his eyelids and he thought, dumbly, I need a haircut. Forever didn't make sense. Nico had promised to stay with him.
Will Solace knew what death was and how it worked. He had seen it time and time again, whisking people from its grasp and losing them to it in equal measure. He understood the mechanics of the heart slowing to a stop, the brain shutting down, and the organ's work grinding to a halt. He even knew definitively what happened after death, which is a claim very few people could make.
Even still, his brain wasn't able to consolidate that knowledge and apply it to Nico.
He felt arms wrap gently around him, and he could hear Mr D's voice far, but he was having a hard time focusing on the words. The world was suddenly, terribly out of tune. The cicadas were too loud, the laughter of campers in the distance was grating and dissonant, Dionysus' voice was piercing his brain, and most damningly, the sun was too damn hot and too damn bright. He didn't think that was possible, especially considering the winter chill that had been biting him only minutes before.
I have to go.
Where everything else was dulled and muddled, that thought was clear.
He stumbled out of Hazel's arms and ran. He didn't want to. He wanted to stay and console Hazel and be her shoulder to lean on. Will was good at that. He was warm and his presence seemed to have a soothing effect on all of the campers he healed. Everything in him wanted to stay and be helpful but his body acted on its own.
The hill was too steep, and he tripped, the grass was too soft, and slowed him down, the campers were too many, and he rammed into them. He could recognise the looks of concern coming from every direction. He knew every single one of these people, and they were all staring, eyes boring into his skill.
All he wanted was for it to stop and to get out. He wanted Nico to grab him and shadow travel somewhere far, far away, in spite of doctor's orders.
It hit him then. He would never shadow travel again. The cool comfort of an autumn morning would never wrap itself around him, and pull him to some impossible place, it had been stolen from him forever. There was no way for him to escape.
There was a door in front of him.
Will came skidding to a stop, and stared up. It was cabin 13.
He had never needed permission before, and he didn't start asking now. He swung it open, letting the dark swallow him, and collapsed onto Nico's bed. He clutched the pillow against his body, trying to recall how Nico had felt in its place. Lithe and definitely way too skinny, but comforting nonetheless.
It was only then he began to cry. He cried into the pillow that had been Nico's, clinging to it as though it would somehow turn into his boyfriend.
Will thought he had known grief, especially after the battle of Manhattan. Losing so many siblings, and so many friends had torn his life apart. He couldn't save his siblings but at least he could save others. He had spent days on end in the infirmary, trying to do something, anything, to stop his spiralling thoughts. It hadn't worked. The only thing that pulled him out of the pit he had found himself in was Nico. He had begun to fill the gaping hole in his heart that was once filled with the warmth and sun of his siblings with cold hands and colder shadows. It had been soothing the way an icepack is on an inflamed injury.
Now, there was no Nico to soothe his grief. There was only an empty cabin, and the memories that lived there.
The memories dug under his skin and began their work. Nico's cracked lips tore at him, his bony hands scratched, his raven black hair ripped, his voice pierced. Will curled into himself harder, and his sobs transformed into dry heaving. His nails dug into his shoulders forcefully as he clung to himself.
He stayed there for a while, though he was not sure how long. Time was too difficult. Eventually the tears slowed. It may have been minutes, or hours before he heard the knock at the door.
"Will?" The voice was bright and melodic.
Apollo.
"Chiron and Dionysus called me down, they said you needed me and that you'd probably be in here. They didn't say what's going on, are you OK?"
Will couldn't answer, he could only cry into the pillow. He wanted to open the door and hug the god, but moving was too hard.
"Um, Will?" There was silence for a few moments before Apollo spoke again. "I'm coming in."
Cabin 13's door creaked open, and Will could feel the warmth radiating off of Apollo. There was a moment of bright light, before he closed the door again. Though Cabin 13 didn't fall back into total darkness as the sun god gave off a low level glow.
As the faint glow lit Will up, Apollo gasped softly. "Gods Will, what's wrong?"
He sat quickly at the end of the bed, and his hands hovered over Will, seeming unsure.
"Are you injured? What hurts?"
The healing magic emanating from Apollo's hands closed the puncture marks on his arms with a warm tingle. Will opened his eyes slightly to look up his father.
Sky blue eyes full of concern and distress watched him carefully. Apollo's usually sunny face was marred by a frown, and his eyebrows scrunched in a way that he would normally never allow, because It gives you wrinkles Will, wrinkles!
No matter how selfish and vain Apollo could be, Will knew that he loved his children and would truly do whatever he could to help them. In that moment all Will could do was cry again, he wanted his Dad.
A sort of feverish desire overtook him and Will threw himself into his father's chest, who caught him gracefully. His dad wrapped his arms firmly around his body, and began to rub circles on his back.
"Will, what happened? You aren't injured as far as I can tell. Why are you in Nico's cabin?" Apollo squinted slightly. "Where is Nico? He definitely isn't the type to leave you alone like this."
At Nico's name, Will breath hitched. It took a few minutes, but his Dad's warmth gave him the strength to speak.
"Nico's dead."
Saying out loud was much, much worse. It left his mouth and materialised in the air, hardening and becoming something real and corporeal. Nico Di Angelo was dead and there was nothing he could have done to stop it.
Apollo's breathing suddenly stopped, despite not needing to breathe, and he held Will tighter.
"Oh Will… I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this. He didn't either. You deserved to be happy."
Will's tears were soaking Apollo's shirt, and somewhere at the back of his mind, he felt a little bad for that. Overwhelmingly, though, he just felt grief.
"Does it…" Will's voice drifted off, but his Dad waited patiently. "Did it get easier? After Hyacinthus?"
He pulled his head away from his Dad's chest to look at his face. Apollo looked at him sadly.
"In some ways, yes. In others, no." Apollo was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The grief will always be there, and there'll always be something missing, but it dulls over time. Maybe you won't think about him for a week, and when you do it'll be something happy. Or you'll be able to see something of his without it bringing you to tears. But there'll be weeks, even months where he'll consume your every thought, and you'll rage at how unfair it is, and you'll cry that he's dead. Having friends and family around you makes it better, they'll share your grief and make it a little easier to bare."
Apollo smiled gently. "I mean, there's a reason Hyacinths grow at my cabin. Sometimes he's all I can think about, and sometimes that's because I'm feeling sad, but a lot of the time it's because I remember how much I loved him, and that makes it worth it, I think."
Will wiped at his tear stained face, it did very little considering he couldn't seem to stop crying.
"I thought it couldn't get any worse," he stared just beyond Apollo's shoulder, eyes unseeing, "After Manhattan. But I was wrong."
His Dad made a soft noise of understanding. "Yeah. I won't sugarcoat it, you deserve better than that. Nico was your soulmate, and losing him… it's going to hurt for a long time, more than anything else you'll experience."
Will dropped his head into the crook between Apollo's neck and shoulder, and he felt soft hands begin to card through his hair.
"Thanks Dad. Sorry for drenching your shirt."
He felt, more than heard, Apollo's quiet laugh. "It's OK Will, I'm a god who can change clothes on a whim, I'm sure I'll live. Besides, I'd go through a million shirts if it meant helping you."
They stayed like that for a long time, Will curled up against his Dad. And slowly but surely, with the warmth of Apollo's embrace, and the comforting hand in his hair, he drifted into sleep.
His dreams were of Nico. Nico when he first arrived, Nico in Manhattan, Nico laughing with Percy Jackson, Nico blushing wildly, asking him out. Nico, Nico, Nico.
At some point, music had begin to crawl into his subconsciousness. He hadn't noticed it at first, it had started so far off. But it began to drift steadily closer, and he couldn't help but listen. It was beautiful and divine, it sounded like his mother's embrace and his father's blinding smile and Chiron's praise and Nico's touch and and and…
He was no longer staring at Nico.
There was a man in front of him, perched on a rock. He wore simple and comfortable work clothes held up with suspenders, and a bright red neckerchief shined like a ruby against his neck. He was plucking at an instrument, soft brown hair falling into his face as he watched his fingers move. For a moment Will thought this must've been his Dad, who else could play so wonderfully? But that wasn't right, he wasn't warm the way his Dad was.
"Will Solace," he spoke without stopping. "You have lost something."
It wasn't a question, and he didn't give Will time to respond. Even if he had, Will wasn't sure he could have. The man's voice was beyond anything he'd ever heard, even when he was talking. It was soft, and it thrummed with magic and divinity.
"You have lost something to the Underworld. The most important thing someone could lose."
In that moment, the man turned his gaze on Will. His eyes were old, and sad, and Will realised that it wasn't just one set of eyes staring at him. They flickered between colours and shapes, and soon too did the rest of his face. Some were pale, and some were dark. Sometimes his hair was brown, sometimes it was curly, or straight, or in locs. Will had never met Aphrodite himself, but he knew her form was similar. But Aphrodite didn't seem right either. The man tilted his head.
"What would you do to get him back?"
Will was struck dumb. What a silly question.
"Anything. Everything."
He smiled gently and nodded. "Well, that's a start."
He finally stopped playing his instrument, and stood, making his way to Will. He grasped Will's shoulder firmly with one hand, and in the other appeared a red flower.
"Pray to Hermes, give this as an offering, tell him your plight and say the poet sent you. He'll help."
Will glanced at the hand on his shoulder, before turning back to the many eyed man. He tried to read his expression, but there were too many faces to discern anything very distinct. There was one thing that stood out though. Longing.
"Who are you?"
The poet only smiled, and as he responded, his voice began to fade, as though drifting on a breeze. "I'll talk to you soon, Will Solace. Good luck."
Will shot up, and his hand sprung to his shoulder, feeling the phantom weight of the poet's touch.
He breathed deeply and scanned the room. He was still in cabin 13, alone in Nico's bed. Dad was gone, and in his place was a floating piece of paper. Will took it gently.
I'm so sorry Will, I had to return to the chariot. Father started thundering so I had to dash. If you need me, just send out a prayer and I'll come. Please don't hesitate. If I don't see you otherwise, I'll definitely see you at the shroud burning. You're so strong and I love you so much.
- Love, Dad.
Eyes wide, he gently traced the words 'shroud burning'. Of course, Camp Half-Blood would hold a funeral. Nico was one of theirs, and they loved him as well. They would preform the rites he needed to pass the Styx, though Will suspected he would get through with or without coins, which brought him a little comfort. If nothing else, Nico would be cared for in Hades.
He was pulled from his thoughts when, at the corner of his eye, he spotted a red flower, stark against the black sheets. He remembered the poet's words.
"Pray to Hermes… He'll help"
Will went to pick it up, but the moment his fingers brushed the stem, he flinched back violently. He was struck by an ocean of foreign grief. He could tell it wasn't his own, this was old, very, very old. Whereas his grief tore at him aggressively, this was almost cancerous, corroding him from the inside out. He knew, in a terrible moment, that this is what he would become. Once Nico's death had successfully buried under his skin, it would begin to infect his soul.
Belatedly, Will realised he was crying again.
Frantically, he pulled the sleeve of his jumper over his hand, and attempted to grab it again. It seemed the barrier worked, the only thing he felt was his own sadness, not the ancient one the flower held. With his other hand, he grabbed his Dad's note.
He stumbled out of the bed, and made his way slowly back to cabin 7. It was dark outside, and he could hear the chatter coming from the dining hall. Will loved the other campers, but he was thankful he wouldn't have to deal with the prying and concerned stares of his fellow demigods.
Once he made it to his own bunk, he pulled out a small box from under his bed. It had been painted by his mom, and she had covered it in little music notes and miniature suns. This is where he kept everything important. There was a tiny lyre, a gift from his father as a baby, photos of his siblings and mom, and his passport.
He placed the flower and note into the box, closed the lid, and pushed it back to its spot.
Finally, he fell into his own bed, and drifted into sleep once again.
The week before the shroud burning passed by in a haze.
Search teams of satyrs had been sent in an attempt to retrieve Nico's body, and Will had tried to join them, but Chiron had told him no, tone gentle and kind, but with no room to argue. If they did not find the body in a week, they would burn the shroud without it.
On the first day, Kayla had decisively banned him from the infirmary. She had seen the fallout from Manhattan, and told him in no uncertain terms that, you're in no shape to treat others right now Will, look after yourself first. He had tried to argue, but as the rest of his siblings banded around Kayla he realised it was futile and backed down. He couldn't find it in himself to fight back as hard as he normally would. He was drained and tired.
On the second day, Dionysus visited him. He was surprisingly gentle. Well, maybe not so surprising, he and Nico had always been Mr D's favourites. Mr D told Will that if he needed anything, he would do his best to help. He left cabin 7 with a frown and a concerned look. Will had barley responded.
On the third day, Piper McLean and Leo Valdez showed up at the door. They didn't stay long, and Leo cried the whole time, muttering something along the lines of first Jason, and now Nico. He did not enjoy the reminder of Jason's death, but he appreciated their visit.
On the fourth day, Will had truly meant to offer the flower to Hermes, but he couldn't do it. Everytime he went to offer the flower, something in him resisted fiercely, and he couldn't find the strength to push back against it. Instead he stared at the blood red petals.
On the fifth day, Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson arrived at Camp Half-Blood. There was a gently knocking at the Apollo cabin's door at around 10 in the morning, and when Will opened it, expecting Mr D or his siblings, he was pulled into a strong hug that smelt of the sea breeze.
Percy didn't say anything, he didn't need to. Annabeth appeared from behind him and held out her hand, which Will grabbed gratefully.
"I miss him," Will's voice broke, "I miss him so much." He couldn't see Percy's face, but he saw that tears began to gather in Annabeth's eyes.
"He's in Elysium." He could feel Percy's breath against his neck, and his voice was unwavering. "I know it."
Annabeth squeezed his hand and smiled.
That was the first day he joined the rest of the campers at dinner, sitting between Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson at the Poseidon table. No one said anything about him or Annabeth being at the wrong table.
On the sixth day, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, Thalia Grace, and Reyna Ramírez-Arellano arrived. Where Frank, Reyna, and Thalia went to see Chiron first to announce their arrival, Hazel went straight to Will. When she spotted him walking back to Cabin 7, she ran over and almost knocked him over with her hug.
She was crying, and this time instead of staring blankly, he went to wipe her tears but stopped at the last minute. He and Hazel weren't very close, and he wasn't sure how she would feel with him touching her face. She spotted his hesitation and laughed wetly.
"It's alright Will, I don't mind."
After he brushed away the tears, she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you." she said. "You know Will, I've lost one brother, but you're still here, and you're my brother too."
He gaped at her, and she huffed at his surprise. "Nico loved you, that's enough."
At that, Will once again felt his own tears begin to spill down his cheeks, but this time, he was smiling. "Thank you Hazel."
On the seventh day, the satyrs still hadn't found Nico's body, so they had no choice but to proceed with the burning without it. Apollo arrived that morning, and found Will sitting by the beach surrounded by his friends. Hazel rested her head on his shoulder and was telling a story quietly.
As Apollo approached, he expanded his hearing.
"He was always so stubborn! Gods forbid you ask him not to shadow travel halfway across the globe, he'd look at you like you'd kicked him."
The rest of the group laughed and Will nodded.
"Seriously, the amount of times he would shadow travel somewhere he could've walked to was crazy. I was always shoving chocolate and protein bars at him to try to stop him from passing out on me." Will rolled his eyes fondly. "He was such an idiot sometimes."
Percy snorted. "He was our idiot though."
A warm silenced settled amongst the group.
Apollo turned and walked away, he didn't want to interrupt them.
That night, Camp Half-Blood gathered around a pyre. Chiron and Mr D faced the group, faces tired and sad.
"Tonight we mourn the loss of Nico Di Angelo, Prince of the Dead, son of Hades, and Hero of Olympus" Chiron's voice projected out, drowning out the sniffles and quiet sobs. "He was brave and powerful, a true hero. But most of all, he was kind. Nico Di Angelo gave his all to others, and tonight we honour his life full of compassion, cut much too short, in the burning of the shroud. Kayla and Gracie, you may approach."
Will whipped around and saw his sisters processing through the group, heads held high and holding a shroud. Of course he knew that Nico had no siblings to weave the shroud for him, but he expected the Athena cabin to make it. He hadn't seen a shroud in their own cabin during the week.
The infirmary, they must of hidden it.
For a small moment, he was angry at being excluded from the weaving and not getting a say in the design. He knew Nico better then anyone and he wanted him honoured properly. The feeling didn't stick, though. He loved his siblings so much, and he knew they just wanted to save him this little bit of grief. The anger was very quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratefulness.
The shroud was mounted and it was beautiful. It was made of fabric so black, it seemed to adsorb the moonlight. The edges were embroidered with white thread, in the image of small bones. The centre was not a skull, as he had been expecting, but Nico's Stygian iron sword. And in the corners, there were 4 small suns.
"We do not have a body to prepare, and so we cannot do the traditional rights, but the gods Apollo and Dionysus are among us, and as such I call them forward to grant their divine protection."
The two gods gathered around the shroud, and holding their hands out, spoke a blessing of guidance and protection in ancient Greek. After it was done, the shroud shone slightly, and he watched his Dad wipe at his eyes quickly.
Chiron bowed his head at the two. "Thank you, friends."
Apollo and Mr D returned to their spots, and once again Chiron turned to the assorted demigods.
"Who will take on the burden and honour of setting the pyre alight?"
There was no question. Hazel and Will's eyes met, and they both walked up. Chiron smiled at them.
"Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto and sister of Nico Di Angelo. Will Solace, son of Apollo and lover of Nico Di Angelo." As he spoke their names, a satyr gave them both a torch. "May his soul be free in Hades."
They touched their torches to the pyre and watched it catch. It didn't take long, and soon, the black fabric begin to burn. They watched it turn to ashes and scatter to the wind. As the final pieces of fabric burnt up, Will felt something inside him disintegrate with it.
That night, after the burning, he grabbed the flower, placed it in a pocket inside his jacket, and made his way quickly to cabin 11. He needed to talk to Hermes, he was ready.
He knocked on the door, and was greeted by Travis Stoll.
"Hey man," he looked at Will curiously, "Are you alright? Did you need something?"
Will nodded. "Yeah, I need your alter."
Travis' eyebrows shot up. "Our alter? What for?"
"It's…" Will paused, unsure of what to say, "to do with Nico."
At that, Travis' took on a sort of tired grief. It was a look Will recognised, he had felt it himself. Demigods watched their friends and family die too often, and at a point, it became exhausting.
From the back of the cabin, he heard Conner's voice call out. "What's going on Travis?"
Travis gestured Will in, and led him to the back of the cabin. "It's just Will. He needs our alter, and some privacy."
Conner nodded, and thankfully didn't ask any further questions. "Course. We aren't normally the privacy types, but we'll make an exception."
Smiling, Will was led to a small room, which thankfully had a door.
"Just let one of us know when you're done." Conner said, as he closed the door behind him.
"Lord Hermes, I call upon your aide. The poet has sent me with this offering."
He pulled the flower from his jacket pocket. There was a soft whoosh behind him, and he felt the unmistakable presence of a god.
He turned to face Hermes, who was staring at him, seemingly in shock.
"Will Solace. Where did you get that flower?"
There was something in Hermes' voice that will hadn't heard before in his minimal interactions with the god. An edge that felt dangerous. He knew Hermes to be pretty happy go lucky, that sense of danger was new.
Will picked it up and held it out to Hermes, holding it by the stem with both hands and letting the full force of that terrible and cancerous feeling wash over him.
"A poet. He told me you would help."
Hermes took an unstable step back, as though repelled by the plant. Will supposed that was fair enough considering when he touched it he got drowned in an ancient, horrific grief.
"He did, did he?" Hermes' voice was shaky. "Of course he did."
The god sighed sadly but held out his hand reluctantly. "Give it here, it is for me after-all."
Letting go of the flower was surprisingly difficult, but he did pass it over. The moment it touched Hermes' hand, he gasped sharply.
"Oh that poor boy."
He frowned and twirled it in his fingers, but eventually looked up at Will, and asked gently, "Is Nico Di Angelo dead?"
This time, Will Solace did not cry. Instead he breathed slowly through his nose, and met the god's eyes. "Yes."
Hermes only nodded, and tucked the flower into a pocket square that had just appeared. He let his fingers linger on the petals for a moment, before turning once again to Will.
"I will help you." The declaration was certain and somewhat unexpected. Other than his own father, none of the Olympians liked to be involved in mortal affairs and relations. It filled Will with a conviction. To have the backing of an Olympian was assuring.
Smiling sadly at him, Hermes grabbed Will's arm, and they both vanished into nothingness.
When they reappeared, they were in the underworld.
It was dark and cavernous. The tips of stalactites were visible through the fog that clouded the roof, glinting like fangs. He could hear a river running in the distance, he distantly wondered which one.
Will turned to Hermes, who looked somewhat more… chthonic. His hands were skeletal, his clothes were silver and had a hood, and he bore the mark of Hades.
Hermes looked off into the distance. "At least," he said, "This time entry will be easier." He turned to face Will, and Will was shocked to find Hermes no longer had a face, he was looking at a skeleton. He grasped both Will's hands. "Sleep."
Against his will he fell once again into Hypnos' arms.
He was in the clearing with the poet again, who, this time, was singing. It was the most beautiful song he had ever heard. Will stopped, and listened. He didn't know how long he stood there, entranced by the poet's voice. It made him weep, and laugh, and something within him soared free.
Once it was over and the final note resolved, he felt empty. He wanted the poet to sing forever. He wanted to stay here and become one with the flowers, lay and decompose until he would feed the soil below the poet's feet.
The poet smiled.
"Will Solace, listen closely."
And what could Will do? Deny him?
"I am Orpheus. And I promise that it will work out this time."
Unbidden, a gasp escaped Will. Of course this was Orpheus. The man whose music had made the walls weep and the gods change their nature. Who else could it have been, really?
He had heard his father talk of Orpheus once. It was in his early days as Lester, and he was still struggling with mortality. He had dejectedly claimed that, "He was probably a better musician than me, he even made the fates stop and listen." Will had laughed then, thinking it had to be a joke. Apollo claiming someone was better than him at music, had even made the fates stop was ridiculous. He wasn't laughing now.
Orpheus looked at Will intently.
"I have failed again and again Will Solace, it is my fate. But it will not be yours. You will travel my path and you will succeed because you must. For you lover, and for yourself. It's a difficult road, one I couldn't escape from with Eurydice, but you have something I did not. My mistakes."
His voice pulled Will in, and he wanted to hug Orpheus closely, or scream at whoever did this until his voice was hoarse.
"The path will try to trick you, blind you and deafen you so you will not feel your lover behind you. But he will be there, have faith in that. As you walk, listen for my song. It echoes in the rock and stone of the path I travelled. When it gets dark. Hold onto it."
He put a hand gently on Will's cheek, and it made the world stop.
"And my final message, do not turn back Will Solace. Do not turn back."
The final image of Orpheus settled once again on the man with swooping brown hair. A tear stained his cheek and a smile graced his lips.
Will would not fail. He would save Nico.