1.

Like all children of the Greek death god, Nico had an affinity for graveyards and dark places. It was homely and soothing in a way that the bustling city life wasn't, and Nico couldn't begin to describe the joy and freedom that swamped his young soul as he moved about the graveyard, reading names off tombstones.

It was 2am in the morning; any normal person would be tucked in bed, dreaming sweet dreams of the desired land of milk and honey. But Nico wasn't normal. And the last time he checked, he sure had no home.

Camp Half-Blood was a nice enough place after his cabin had been constructed to fit his will, courtesy of Percy and his dead soldiers. Yet he knew he didn't really belong there, not with his frightening powers of death. Many demigods, were at best, wary of him, safe for some decent ones like Percy. Most demigods regarded him with suspicion, despite the fact that he had saved their half-godly asses at Olympus last year. But that was normal.

The Roman counterpart wasn't half bad either. Some campers had chosen to accept him, and even Reyna had officially declared him as a VIP, despite his vague parentage. They'd probably seen him as a scrawny little boy who was of little potential harm to the legion, hence had let him stay like a lost puppy. Then of course there was Hazel.

Hazel might have been his sister, and being from the past century, understood much of Nico's experiences and feelings. But she could never replace Bianca, the sister who had looked after him his entire life, but chosen to take a way out of it once the opportunity presented itself.

No matter how great and brave Hazel was compared to Bianca, Hazel could, and never would, be Bianca. And after his only mortal family died, he had been left all but detached from the mortal world. No friends, no family, no home.

He knew he had drawn the worst lot in life, much like his bitter father had, because this sort of thing just didn't happen to anyone. Cruel Fates had ensured suffering was prominent in the Hades lineage. After all he'd lost everything. Who else had that back luck?

So to say he was surprised to hear voices was a massive understatement.

"Anubis?" a feminine voice called out harshly, startling him momentarily out of his dejection. Why would someone be walking out here in the middle of the night? "Anubis, stop hiding. I know you are here." And constantly call the Egypt god of death's name when it was clearly Greek territory?

Nico knew a thing or two about Egyptian deities. During his travels and trivial conversations with the dead, he'd learnt much, and Egyptian deities was one of the many things he'd picked up over the months.

Nico had often dismissed them as myths that Egyptians constructed to attempt in showing the Greeks and Romans up, though it hadn't worked out well for them, seeing as to how Egypt fell to the Roman empire and blamed it on their so-called gods.

"What are you doing here?" he ventured to ask the blond-haired girl who had her back to him currently, his sword drawn out in case she was a monster in disguise.

The girl started and whirled around with a stick in her hand that didn't look much like a weapon. She had deep blue eyes, a typical representation of a Californian girl, but Nico could sense that she was much, much more. There was a sort of power that ran through her veins, different from the kind he was used to. It wasn't Greek, but it wasn't Roman either. Yet Nico didn't doubt for a second that she could blast him from here to Canada if she wanted to.

"Who are you?" she demanded brashly. A flicker in her eyes betrayed her front, displaying her true fear but determination. But it was gone in a second, covered up the way only a true warrior could. From his vantage point, Nico was able to discern that she couldn't have been much older than he was, and he was thirteen.

She was tall for her age, and slightly taller than Nico, which did not put him at ease. She brandished her stick threateningly. "Don't come any closer."

Nico didn't see how a stick was going to hurt him: his powers were nothing to be laughed at after all, but he wasn't going to challenge her just yet. His interest had been piqued by this girl's presence, combined with her strange actions, and he needed to satisfy his curiosity. Except he wasn't given a chance.

"So this is where all the rejects go during the middle of the night, isn't it Nico di Angelo?" a rich smooth voice boomed, penetrating the crystal atmosphere that surrounded the two young teenagers. Both teens spun around to face the voice of pure evil, their slight animosity forgotten.

"Well I guess this is where my hunt ends," the twenty-something immortal sighed, raising his weapon swiftly, twin-blades made of ivory and celestial bronze. Nico bristled, recognizing the man as Lelantos, a minor god of hunting who Nico had accidentally pissed off a couple of weeks ago.

The minor deity had not been pleased when Nico had cut the trap that held his prey, and even less glad when Nico had insulted him by not recognizing him. It was a petulant reaction, and Nico would have been amused if not for the fact that the god had nearly managed to take his head off with a single sweep of the weapon.

"Nice friend," Sadie observed sarcastically, as she stepped forward, prepared to help this boy she did not know.

He could have been a monster, an enemy magician, in which case, she'd be signing her death warrant, but for some reason, she felt like she could trust this boy. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was stick-thin, and a couple centimeters (a few inches for you Americans) shorter than she was, and looked just about ready to collapse.

"Stay back!" he warned, spotting, out of the corner of his eye, her deliberate movements whilst dodging the minor god's next attempt, ducking under the weapon's path. He raised his sword to deflect the next blow, catching the weapon on his blade, and almost staggering under the weight of the weapon. Heh, he needed to lift weights next time.

He spun as the glinting metal came towards him again. Unfortunately, the minor god had concealed yet another blade, and had used it to stab at Nico's side, drawing red-cool blood trickling out of the gash. White hot pain seared through him, momentarily robbing him of his ability to think.

Meanwhile, standing to one side, Sadie was furiously racking her brains for a spell that she could use. Nico was way too close to the enemy for her to use any offense spells, she might hurt him in the process. Ever since she'd given up Isis, spells hadn't come as easily to her. In her position, Carter would probably wisely have run away at the first sign of trouble. She wasn't obliged to help after all.

Yet perhaps it was a sense of kinship, she somehow intuitively knew that he, like her, had faced monsters and lived to tell the tale, or perhaps it was due to him warning her to 'stay back', when anyone who knew her knew that she hated being ordered around, and would do the exact opposite thing. Either way, she wasn't going to sit around and do nothing.

Nico wanted to curl up on the ground and just die. He'd never felt this much pain before, and he'd been roughed up worst many a times. So why did it hurt so much?

The ruthless attacker slammed Nico against concrete tombstones, knocking it over. If he hadn't been a demigod, he was sure that he skull would have shattered on impact.

Blackness threatened to cosume his vision as rational thought warred with overwhelming pain. Nico barely rolled out in time so that the sword left a scratch along his forearm, causing his forearm to start burning up as well. Somewhere above him, his instincts told him that his assailant was coming towards him, going for the kill.

The final blow that never came.

"Tas!" the female voice from before shouted with much urgency. Nico didn't recognize the language, so he wasn't sure how shouting in a foreign language was going to save him, but he shut his eyes anyway and muttered a few Greek and Italian curses, feverishly praying that his father would have mercy on him when he returned to the Underworld the normal way (that is, through death)

Next thing he knew, his breath was knocked out of him as a ribbon-bound figure collapse atop him. Had the strange girl done this? Nico wasn't sure but he didn't have time to ponder as darkness claimed his mind for a second time.

Sadie looked towards the fallen boy, relief gushing through her. But it was short-lived for what she saw made her eyes widen in horror. He was bleeding profusely, and it wasn't stopping. And he was become more and more deathly pale by the second.

"The boy is dying," a familiar voice stated non-chalantly. "I can feel his life source getting weaker."

Hearing his voice evoked a tsunami of ambivalent emotions: anger, disgust, sadness, joy… you name it, she was probably feeling it. She chose to be angry. People couldn't think the mighty Sadie was going soft. Besides Sadie had a lot of things to be angry at him about.

"Where were you?" she demanded, anger weaving through her words, hiding the note of desperation within it. "If you'd been here sooner, we wouldn't be in this mess. Now he's dying and I can't help him."

Sadie sank to the ground next to the boy, not caring that her clothes would soon be soaked by a stranger's blood.

"Don't you think that if I could have, I would?" Anubis argued back, frustration clear in his tone. "I couldn't interfere, and neither should you. That was a Greek god, and me interfering would be enough to cause war! In fact I shouldn't be in this graveyard at all!" He looked to the boy, then Sadie, noticed her growing confusion and his eyes softened. "Look, I used a little of my power to sustain him, but it will not be enough. And I called Walt and Jaz as soon as I could."

Sadie had been lost during the onslaught of words, but the last sentence nearly got her jumping for joy. The only reason why she didn't actually do it was because it would mean stomping on someone's grave, and that didn't seem pleasant.

But a healer, yes, that'd be helpful. Nico was in a very bad shape, and was beyond her sphere of control. If she tried to heal him, it could possibly make things worse for the boy.

"Sadie?" It was Walt. Said boy and Jaz hurried in through the dark entrance, their footsteps silent as they got absorbed by the packed earth beneath their sneakers. They approached the three silent figures, tensed with worry.

Jaz immediately knelt down next to the palre boy, checking for a pulse. "It's very weak, but it's there," she announced and Sadie released a relieved breath that she hadn't known she was holding.

"I'm going to try to heal him," Jaz proceeded to say, smoothing the boy's dark hair and putting a motherly hand to his forehead.

Sadie bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something sarcastic like of course you are. After all, she'd no idea why she was so concerned about a boy she'd just met. But all the same, she found her heart racing as she internally begged Jaz to speed up his recovery.

And nothing.

After a few minutes of intense concentration, Jaz looked up, almost tearing with frustration and guilt. All she'd managed to do was make Nico bleed even more, staining the soft earth with his crimson blood, marking his place of death.

How ironic, to die in a graveyard.

"There's something…" Jaz faltered, unable to explain the phenomenon. "Something that's stopping me from being able to heal him. It's as if whatever cut him had been coated with poison specifically designed to hurt him, and divine words will only make it worst."

Sadie fought to unclench her jaw as her heart quickened more, akin to if she was facing down Apophis by herself. But at least then she'd be able to throw her weight in and contribute. Here, she was completely helpless. And Sadie Kane couldn't do helpless.