Ties were meant to be severed. Promises were made to be broken
Faster. Faster. He could still hear the cracked, blistered voice pleading his return. The grass withered with each pounding step forward, away. There was no escape. The world was bathed in brightness. Too harsh, too cruel. No darkness to hide in, no darkness to escape
His head was pounding, or maybe it was his heart, and he screamed, a sound so full of anguish, of pain and sorrow and death.
Because that's all there was. Death. A field full of shriveled flowers. And all those animals, all those lives, that had shied away from him because he reeked of something morbid, well, they no longer had to avoid him.
He was nothing more than a weapon, a bomb, and he had gone off. And he would never forgive himself for it.
He had fallen to his knees and the tears broke through the damn he'd built over years and years worth of loss
He was more hole than human, the pieces of himself he'd tied to others to anchor himself to reality had been ripped off with such ferocity that they left behind nothing.
A shadow fell over him, giving his eyes a reprieve from the harsh light that bore through all his cracks.
The face had a halo of light, and it seemed like too cruel a joke, making him all the more out of reach. The boy held out a hand, a sign, and Nico di Angelo was faced with a choice.
The boy in the light or the arms of darkness?
The son of Hades cloaked himself in the boy's shadows and did what he did best.
Disappeared.
Promises were made to be broken. Ties were made to be severed.