0: Prologue

Nico di Angelo was not a crowd person.

He was not, despite his age, that kind of guy who likes going to parties to enjoy himself. Nor was he the kind of guy who goes to some friends' reunions to talk and get drunk. In fact, he was a person who apparently enjoyed people mostly when they were dead, for he spent most of his time in graveyards, be it in the dead or the night or in middle of the day.

He was that kind of guy.

It is an understatement, therefore, to say that he did not feel comfortable as he saw the sea of people standing in front of him, talking and giggling in soft tones, as if to match the grace of the rustling expensive dresses and the tinkling of crystal glasses. He stood uncertain for a minute or two, wondering if he couldn't just shadow travel to the other side of the room. But no, he couldn't. There was magic in the air, he could feel it, and it was strong. He could feel it touch his skin; he could taste it in the air.

Not a very good sign. If things went wrong, there wasn't much he could do.

He faced the crowd, pushing them aside as he said "sorry" and smiled apologetically. It was funny, he thought, the way people averted him instinctively, as if there was a repellent magnetic field around him – which apparently stank, considering the faces they made. It was kind of sad, too, but by then he was more than used to it.

As he reached the far end of the room two huge men dressed in black who looked absolutely the same frowned for some moments, observing him thoroughly from head to toe. Then they stepped aside, revealing white double doors with golden knobs in the shape of torches. As Nico entered the room, the doors closed behind him with a smooth click.

The room he'd just gotten into was nothing like the finesse party he'd just come from. It was large, with stone walls and a black marble floor that glistened and reflected everything like a dark mirror. Flames flickered in torches attached to the walls and along all the room piles of old books with leather covers were tossed randomly. At the center of the room, a black rusty cauldron the size of a Jacuzzi stood like a piece of modern art. It was grand, in a scary sort of way, but it was also odd and tacky. By the far end of the room, three arched windows let the moonlight in. The central window was open and leaned against it a dark silhouette stood, quiet and motionless.

"Milady," he said as he bowed.

She did not move or say a word for some long seconds. Then she turned toward him and Nico could see the somber expression in her ageless face.

"So you came," she said. She analyzed him intently as if expecting a reply, but none came. "Do you know why you are here?"

"There's something you need me to do, I suppose," he frowned as he spoke. "Though I can't understand why you haven't called one of your own children."

"It's complicated. But you are a child of the Underworld. You should be safe with the task I ought to give you." The woman took something from the folds of her dark dress. "Come here. And do not worry. I won't turn you into a frog," and she smiled, as if the thought gave her pleasant memories. Nico shivered, but he still walked toward her.

What she gave him was the most unexpected thing – a dark piece of wood with a rag tied up to it. It looked like a wannabe torch made by a three year old, lame and even pitiful. He took it, hesitantly, wondering what he would have to do with it. As if reading his thoughts, the woman spoke.

"My quest for you is very simple, son of Hades. Carry this torch, take care of it and don't lose it." Her green eyes glowed with fierceness. "And when the time is right, you burn it. That's all."

He opened his mouth to protest, to ask her to tell him when the time would be right, but he gave up before he could say anything. She wouldn't tell him – he'd have to figure out by himself. Nico lowered his head with deference and muttered "Yes, Lady Hecate". She nodded in a sign that he could leave, and he was about to do so when he hesitated. There was something bothering him.

"Milady, why this party? I thought you were a loner goddess."

She smiled enigmatically.

"It's the Mist, Nico. It's all about the Mist." And with that said she left, disappearing in a midst of fog and shadows, leaving only a faint green glow behind.