The Ghost King Chronicles
"I have felt the wind of the wing of madness pass over me."
-Charles Beaudelaire
C o n t e n t s
Part O N E:
PAIN
Part T W O:
FEAR
Part T H R E E:
IRONY
Part F O U R:
DESPAIR
Part F I V E:
DEATH
I R O N Y
My fury shall be poured out upon this place, ... and it shall burn, and
shall not be quenched.
-Jeremiah 7:20
Fire.
It coursed through his icy veins and consumed every mortal inch of him in its manic grip.
He could feel the tongue of that searing snake flicking against his innards rapaciously.
Slowly, it made its way to his abdomen and curled in upon itself, as if taking a well-deserved rest.
The heat intensified tenfold but did not seem to make a sign of movement. It welled up in the pit of his stomach; growing brighter and hotter as the seconds ticked slowly by.
It was an explosion getting ready to blow. It was a time bomb.
Tick
He felt as if he was being pulled apart at the seams.
Tick
Oh he could even swear that the flames began pouring out of the ripped pieces of canvas he meagerly called skin. Surely someone will see!
Boom
Just like that he could feel the most intense wave of heat shoot through every cell his body contained.
A scream tore from his throat and blood spurted from his mouth; choking him, drowning him.
Did any hear him?
Or was it too loud, too high, for even divine ears to pick up?
It felt like it.
Did a vessel pop in his throat? Perhaps. Did his sight turn red? Maybe. Did he dig his nails so deep into his sides that there would be scars left? There's a chance. Did any of it matter right now? Of course not.
Slowly, so very slowly, the pain ebbed away like the waves of the ocean during low tide.
Further and further back they recedded until nothing was left.
Nothing.
Nothing but...
Ice.
A sudden and furious blast of arctic wind seemed to blow through his very being.
The inexplicable change in temperatures seemed bent on breaking down his body, mind, and soul.
A distant memory chirped in the depths of his mind. A common knowledge ocurrance in society.
Extreme Temperatures.
If one were to take a red hot piece of glass and drop it into a pool of ice cold water the chances of it cracking or breaking were extremely high.
Cracking.
It felt like his physique was starting to fracture into shards of irrecoverable rubble.
Breaking.
Like a creeping fog, he felt a certain bitter and foul mist encroaching on his mind. A horrendous disease.
Terminal.
It would seep into the crevices of his brain and taint the neurons.
A slow creeping death.
But, he knew he would not die.
Could not die.
Would be forced to live.
To live with this.
This...
Insanity.
The acrid vapor seemed to crawl into his mouth; leaving a pungent taste lingering as the aftermath.
The insanity, as he so assumed it to be insanity, did not rob his of his thoughts and mind as he would have thought.
Or had it?
Were it not the case in many insane beings that they claim sanity, whereas the sane ones falsified their own stability under scrutiny?
He did not want to think of it.
He would not think of it.
He was adamant.
Surely he had not lost his wit for he still thought the thoughts as he previously did.
Or was that how it started?
His mind toiled while his body shivered furiously against the intense chill.
Perhaps that was the purpose.
To break him down.
Build him up.
Remold him.
To be their own.
To be...
Perfect.
Had he found himself even capable of such a simple gesture he surely would have snorted at such a ridiculous notion.
Him...perfect? HA!
If there was one thing he was absolutely certain about, it was that Nico di Angelo was not, is not, and never will be...
Perfect.
The very thought of such an atrocious word left a slowly churning hate boiling beneath the remains of his flesh.
There was no such thing as perfection.
Every-fucking-body had their flaws and it did not matter who you were or what lofty throne you sat upon, even you were damaged.
He clenched his teeth with such might he could feel the gums pulsate and bleed.
It only added to the pool of crimson the continuously flowed from the lacerated flesh of his larynx.
Every so often he'd begin to suffocate on his life force.
Horrible, guttural hacks wrenched the blood from his mouth and sent it splattering across the dark linen beneath his body.
Cesspools of the liquid formed around his face.
It was sticky and hot against his immensely cold features. An almost welcomed relief.
He gasped, short quick breaths. The stuttering of his heart and pain in his lungs calming marginally. The congestion built up in his throat gave a harsh, weezing sound as he so eagerly inhaled mouthfuls of the frigid oxygen.
With even the slightest of movements he heard cracking, and he momentarily became frightened it actually was his flesh breaking apart.
Slowly, his red-hazed eyes crept open and down his blackened figure. He seemed to glisten under the flickering light of the fires.
So very carefully he moved his arm and was quite relieved to see it was not his skin that cleaved, but rather ice.
It confused him momentarily though he did not focus on it long.
His body slowly began to end it's fits of shaking and a warmth began to creep up his legs.
It was not searing like the previous heat, but a soothing warmth.
His heart began to relax and his breathing slowed. The pain in his throat seemed to numb as his mind grew fuzzy.
Sleep.
He just wanted to sleep.
Just lay down and sleep...
Forever.
Another distant, more urgent memory nagged his increasingly bleary mind.
Something about the warmth after cold.
Something...
Dangerous.
What was the name of it again?
His bloodied and busted lips contorted into a grimace of slight irritation.
It was right there.
He could almost feel it.
It banged at the doors of his mind exigently.
Nico was there, struggling to let it in, yet he was missing the key.
Bit by bit it seemed to die down as he grew more and more comfortable.
The closest he got was part of a word.
Hypo-
Then, he faded to a halcyon black.
His breathing slowed to an alarmingly sluggish pace.
Normally pallid lips, swollen and bruised in state, held a blue tinge in pigmentation.
Warmth forgotten, his body surrendered to the cold.
They stirred nowhere else. They bit no other hide. They only held Nico in their enervating embrace.
His limbs were far passed numb as the heat retreated to his center in a fruitless attempt to forfend the vital organs.
The very body he inhabited seemed to buckle under the stress and sadistic torment thrown at him from this supposed 'gift'.
Gift.
Had it truly been a gift? Or a simple way to rid his son and get one last jibe in at his expense? He did not put it past his father to do such a thing.
But...and he despised to feel such a way, his father was not so depraved and beastial as to do such a thing as kill his own child.
The last living reminder of Maria.
No matter how much Nico wished to find an excuse as to why his father was so brazen to him, he could not find a suitable cause.
Except...
Himself.
It was all his own fault.
'I'm just not good enough,' he thought many times over.
He was a weakling, despite his physical strength.
He was foolish, despite his exceedingly sharp intelligence.
He was worthless, despite his Godly blood.
Never would he amount to the glory of Percy.
Never would he reach even a fraction of the intelligence of Annabeth.
Never would he be as loyal as Grover.
Never would he be as valiant as Thalia.
And never would he be worth an ounce of love.
The only thing he would amount to is a pound of maimed flesh.
'Perhaps,' he absently wondered, 'if I'm lucky I can go in the heroic manner Bianca did.'
Of course he did not mean electrocution at the hand, or rather foot, of a robot.
Rather, he wanted to die in honor saving a comrade.
It seemed the best way to go.
The only way to go if he had any hopes of getting into Elysium and being with his sister once more.
Besides, they threw amazing parties.
Down in the lavish throne room, Lord Hades and Lady Persephone were seated in their thrones.
Each had their own personal touch that encased their seats.
Hades' was obsidian edged in gold and embellished with intricate designs depicting varying scenes of death and the underworld. The scenes seemed to move on their own accord.
Persephone's was a soft and pale green with flowers winding up the legs and back of the chair, leaving near to no room inbetween each other's petals. The colors seemed to change as did the species of flower according to the mood of the Lady herself.
Currently they were wilting pointsettas varying from a deep crimson to sickly ivory. Leaves fell only to dissapate before they had a chance to touch the cold marble floors.
Hades sat in quiet discontent upon his throne.
His jaw was clenched in unease. A fist propped up his chin while his remaining hand laid complacently on the arm rest.
Persephone was still petrubed with the turn of events put into motion on his son's birthday.
Now a silence hung uncomfortably in the air.
He could feel the intense distaste rolling from his queen.
Why was it so wrong to reward his son? After all, he only worked to please her.
But of course he did not expect anything less.
He had, after all, kidnapped her and forced her to live beside him for half a year for eternity.
Then something aroused his attention.
Worry began to spread through him like an infection.
It was not normal.
There was something wrong.
There was...
Silence.
With a swift glance to his consort, he frowned. She was waiting for him to run like a troubled puppy to Nico. Oh how she got a grim satisfaction out of seeing something finally distress him aside from that inferior mortal Maria and her little wench, Bianca.
Secretly, she felt a surge of jealousy and ire at the Italian woman who inexplicably wooed Hades.
How could such a mundane and disposable creature enrapture him so?
He was such an austere man. It almost seemed as if he were unattainable by his preferences and standards. Yet, some mere human caught him in her web.
Well, she was gone now, thanks to her Uncle. Oh and was she happy for that.
She was the only woman allowed to seize this God's heart.
Unfortunately she knew this was not possible. Even after death, Hades still fawned and mourned who was once his mistress, along with their daughter.
All that was left living of that...trouble...was the boy.
Nico.
She detested him almost as much as she detested his mother.
How dare he gain such power without even a thought of her!
He was but a half-blood, not a God. It should not be the offspring of another woman that gains the crown. It should be her offspring! They were more deserving than him.
But still, she could not help but pity the poor boy. It was only a small, almost non-existent part of her that felt bad for him. He went through the torments of both the mortals, demi-gods, and Gods. She was guilty of harassing him and he gave no retaliation even though he so wished to. The feelings of vindication rolled from his young, lanky frame, but he did well to contain them.
She seen the pain and felt the hideous self-loathing that plagued his mind. How he blamed himself for every fault of others was a grave mindset he possessed. Somewhere deep within the fortified walls of her own heart she felt he did not deserve her ire, yet that part was drowned out by the blaring envy that prickled her veins like the spines of a rose's stem.
She seen the slight shift in Hades' demeanor and watched him carefully from her peripheral.
He was tensed and a frown marred his stony features. Lifting one pale hand he gestured a shade forth. It hesitantly stepped up and bowed deeply, waiting permission to rise. Instead, it heard the cold and velvety lyrics that seeped from the mouth of it's Lord.
"Go forth to Nico's room and check on the boy. He is being abnormally silent."
The shade, without making eye contact, nodded in respect and vanished from site.
It appeared a moment later in the dark room of the boy. Green-flamed torches illuminated the room and bathed it in an eerie emerald light. Hesitantly It came closer to the bed where a slumbering figure lay.
The form of the familiar son of Hades lay mostly encased in black sheets. It was about to leave, seeing the boy was just sleeping, when something caught the spirit's hollowed eyes.
Blood.
The dried crimson stood out grotesquely against the boy's pallor.
It ghosted closer, scrutinizing every inch of the boy. What It saw caused fear to rise rapidly in the shade's mind.
Nico was a blighting pale shade with blue tinging his extremities. His frame was mutilated and bloodied and his breathing was dangerously slow.
Wide-eyed and shaken, It instantly vanished only to reappear before Lord Hades once more.
With an urgent bow It spoke swiftly. The speed and pitch of the tone made it almost indecipherable to make out what It was saying.
"My Lord, h-he's not fairing well. He's blue..and...and he's hardly breathing. I-I fear for the young Prince."
Hades' features immediately shifted from worried to alarmed and angry.
He stood swiftly from his throne. The intense waves of fear and darkness he was accustomed to throwing off increased rapidly, sending the shade into a weeping, tearless mess on the black floor. Even Persephone herself flinched back and shuddered from the terrible feelings. With not a word nor a glance Hades vanished in a flash of golden light to his son's room.
Upon arrival he wasted no time dillydallying and immediately rushed to the bedside. His jaw set and those abysmal eyes hardened at the sight of Nico's condition.
Just as the shade said, he was discolored and his breathing was almost too light to notice. Hades brought his hand up to one of his son's sickly colored hands, that was curled across his abdomen, and pressed on his flesh gingerly. With a shock he jerked back from the touch and looked upon the boy in puzzlement. His temperature was even lower than Hades' was.
He tentatively reach out in his mind to feel the strength of Nico's soul. To his pleasant surprise his soul thrummed on strong despite his poor condition. It should have been weak, near death, but it was similar to that of a man at his peak condition. His body seemed to be fading, but not his soul.
In an attempt to heal the physical portion of the child he snapped his fingers, causing a small canteen of nectar to appear in his grasp. He gently lifted Nico's head and touched the metal rim to his ice cold lips. With a bit of anxiousness, he tilted the container and watched as the liquid poured into the unresponsive mouth. It healed the wounds on the lips almost instantaneously, as well as the lacerations in his throat and gums. That was all it did.
He seen no improvement in the condition of the body aside from the minor injuries. Bruises healed and cuts faded, but he still remained cool to the touch and blue in the limbs and lips. He grimaced before striding smoothly over to a chair that was currently occupying the area in front of Nico's desk. Sitting down, he thought about the situation carefully.
It was true; he knew his son would travel from death to life, but he was not prepared for such a drastic turn of events. This was his first, and hopefully last, time ascending a demigod to power, so he only had passing knowledge as to what would happen during this ritual.
He pondered calling forth his nephew, Apollo, for a moment. He was, after all, the god of both Plague and Healing. Though that thought was quickly banished. No other deities, aside from Hermes and Persephone, were granted passage to and from the Underworld. Demeter had a habit of coming in unannounced anyways, much to his chagrin. Erebus and Thanatos resided within the Underworld and he'd be a fool to deny Nyx acceptance to visit her husband.
So, patiently he watched and waited.
Time ticked by slowly.
There was no change.
Still he waited.
It seemed as if the minutes had been stretched to hours and the hours lengthed to days.
His patience was wearing thin.
He so wished to just snap the boy awake.
He could not.
Movement.
There!
On the bed!
He caught the slightest inkling of movements within the sheets.
The soft rubbing of fabric and a groan graced his ears.
Swifter than he would dub proper he rose from the chair and stood at the bedside, looming over the moving figure.
Slowly the blue began to retreat and color, or what he had of color, returned to his features. Those familiar eyes did not open yet, though.
He realized his anxiety and immediately placated himself. His face cooled to the dauntless expression as accustomed. There was no way he would want Nico to see how truly frightened he was about his condition. That was completely intolerable.
Nico rolled his head from side to side, as if having a nightmare. His features scrunched up in frustration and a sort of groaning growl murmured through his lips.
Suddenly his eyes snapped open.
He looked around curiously before his sight landed on his impressive father. Mentally, he shrunk back from that intrusive stare. The cold look that graced his features only furthered Nico's assumption that he had done wrong.
Yet...
There was no reprimanding or punishment.
He just...stood there.
Stood there and watched him.
Watching for something...
Examining.
In an attempt to make-up for whatever he believed he had done wrong, he let his expression slide into an eerily similar impassive look.
Without warning, Hades broke the silence. His voice was just as corrosive and sleek as before.
"You wake, finally. How long it took you to rise from your stupor is remarkable. There is no time to waste. Get up. You must deliver a message for me."
There was no room for objection or comments. It was a command and he must heed it.
Gingerly, he rose to a sitting position and was secretly excited to find that there was not a trace of pain to be felt.
He deftly got up from the bed and kneelled before his father for a moment before rising.
Hades noted a few physical changed that seemed to occur during his shift.
His features were sharper, more defined, and his upper body broadened a bit. He appeared a little taller and his muscles were a little larger. Even his eyes seemed a little darker and his skin a little paler.
It was like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar.
He went from just a demigod to...
A God.
Perhaps not in the same sense that Hades was a God or even like Nike was a Goddess, though he was closer than any half-blood out there to becoming a deity.
With silky words and frigid tones, Nico spoke. There was a strength and power in his voice that was not there before. It was almost frightening.
"Yes, my Lord. What is the message, and to who is it to be delivered to?"
Hades waited a moment, coming up with a way to deliver the message and spread the news of Nico's rise without alerting Nico to his intentions.
"I would like you to tell Chiron and Dionysus one word. 'Ascended'. That is it. Now go."
Without hesitating, Hades disappeared in a flash of Godly light.
It was then that Nico realized that seeing the true form of a God did not kill him.
At worst it sent a prickle across his skin in discomfort.
That fact excited him.
Scared him.
It was nearly impossible for any being, aside from the deities, to survive even a glance at godly forms.
He shook off the sensation and called for the shadows. Oh, he did not want to hesitate and risk the ire of Hades.
The shadows seemed to jump to him swifter in bigger portions than before. A small grin curled the edge of his lips. So far he was enjoying this upgrade. Though he would never lose sight of his true purpose.
He swiftly stepped into the shadows. For a moment he waited for the darkness to drain some of his energy as payment for his crossing but he felt nothing tugging at him. Only the caressing darkness that enveloped his body and the distant sound of monsters growling in the shadows accompanied him. Though he could swear he heard a faint, mischievious giggle somewhere in the black.
After remembering one of the perks of his duties, the easy travelling, he went forward swiftly and reached the region he desired.
Camp Half-Blood.
Those familiar shadows beckoned to him.
With enviable prowess he slid from the dark portal to find himself just beside the dining pavilion.
All eyes on him.
Campers stared at the intimidating black-clad figure with wide eyes and varying looks.
Many had never seen the son of Hades, nor how he travelled.
The shadows seemed to gather in one spot, despite the sun. It was positioned in an impossible spot. There was no overhanging eaves to cast a shadow at that particular location.
To them, it was odd.
Frightening.
Some of the younger and easily frightened campers shrieked while others gasped, though the majority just stared on in wonder.
Few, very few, did not both to even look.
He recognized some of those faces, though they were none he wished to see.
Then he noticed how the darkness seemed to surround him beyond what his own shadow would.
That what was meant when he spoke the oath, saying 'I banish the light and welcome the shadows.'
Eternal darkness.
It would trail him for eternity, no matter his location.
The dark would always be thickest around him.
He shrugged it off mentally.
With an indifferent glance to the campers he strolled over to the head table. His steps were absolutely silent. Not even the rustling of his clothes could be heard. It was like he was but a ghost himself.
Eyes as dark as Tartarus looked from Mr. D to Chiron.
Both watched him apprehensively.
Then, Mr. D glanced up and those violet eyes caught sight of the thorned crown and almost paled. His features fell the slightest bit, almost unnoticeable to untrained eyes.
Chiron noticed.
He looked curiously at Dionysus before looking to Nico.
He also noticed the physical changes. Then, the moving wisps of shadows across the barbs of Nico's crown caught his attention. That gave similar results.
Finally, Nico reached the table and bowed deeply before being flagged back upright.
Chiron spoke in wise, cautious tones.
"Welcome back Nico. May I inquire as to what this visit entails?"
That was one more thing Chiron knew.
He knew Nico despised Camp Half-Blood.
It was almost infuriating how much Chiron knew.
That was one thing Nico respected about him most.
His voice was fear in the form of sound. Absolutely cold and calm. You could almost hear the scathing and eerie echo his voice now created.
It was pure, unaltered...
Terror.
Campers physically flinched from the quality his voice brought. It aroused primal fears in their inner most being, yet they could not understand why.
"My father has sent me to give both you and Mr. D a message. 'Ascended.' That was all he said."
Both nodded in understanding.
Their eyes furtively met for a moment, as if communicating a secret message, before they looked back to Nico's awaiting figure.
"Alright, thank you Nico. That is a very important message."
Chiron spoke, the apprehension was replaced with a sort of pride and a grin began to form on his lips despite the fear that ebbed in his eyes.
It puzzled him for only a moment as to why fear would be injected into the wise director just at his presence when another thought ocurred to him.
The Crown.
It incited fear, just as his father's helm did.
He did not enjoy scaring others that did not deserve it. Most certainly not Chiron!
With a set of his jaw and another bow respectively he turned and conjured more shadows to report back home.
Protests.
There was a voice that stopped him.
It was a completely unexpected voice.
It held no resentment, but rather an edge of urgency.
It was...
Dionysus.
Mr. D rose from his seat. Those usually snarky words were cut back and transformed into a sincere request.
Nico was stunned.
He halted immediately and turned back to the God and camp director with curious eyes.
"Wait! Nicolo, do not leave just yet. Remain here for a bit. We have a...ah...shortage of trainers. What with your experience and...prowess...it would be beneficial to the other nuisances if you could give them some tips on how to survive."
It was not only the most Mr.D had spoken to him that he could recall, but also one of the kindest things, aside from the purposeful butchering of his name.
He did not mind.
What he did mind, however, was staying in the camp to teach ignorant brats.
He could already see the shock wear off and the judgemental expressions envelope their faces.
With a look of distaste, he swept over the entirity of the pavilion.
Many campers were missing, due to winter, though there were quite a few still left varying from table to table. The only empty tables were, naturally, Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Artemis, and Hades' tables. He was actually glad to see no other 'siblings' stationed at that table. The only sibling he cared to have was gone.
He thought over the proposition for a moment. Though he did not want to stay he would not outright refuse a god's demands. Grinning the slightest bit he nodded to Mr. D before turning back to the tables with a passive expression.
"Alright, here's a few tips on how not to get killed. One: Don't piss off the Gods. A fairly simple concept but some, like my cousin, have a knack for doing it. Two: Try not to attack a monster unarmed. You'd be foolish to try unless you have powers. Three: No more than three to a quest. One will always die. Four: Don't bathe with a plugged-in toaster. Five: Ladies, never, ever, ever join the Hunters of Artemis. It might seem all fun and shit, but it isn't worth it. Trust me. My apologise Lady Artemis."
With that he turned on his heel and headed back for the portal.
Suddenly, he felt something, or rather somethings, slithering up his legs and holding him in place.
Vines.
He looked to Dionysus curiously and seen an unhappy face staring back at him.
With a smirk he looked back to the campers.
"Number one looks like that."
There were only a few snickers at the remark as Dionysus drew closer to his halted form.
He glanced one last time at the vines and with a thought they withered up and wilted away into dust.
Into...
Nothing.
Mr. D faltered for a moment before coming closer and pausing a few feet from Nico. His eyes flicked to the crown. The same look of terror flashed in those oddly hued eyes.
Nico did not mind the fear he brought to Mr. D.
It amused him.
"Nick, perhaps you misunderstood me. That was a command. Not a request. You are to stay here until further notice. Understand?"
Nico grimaced at his lack of options and nodded slowly.
Mr.D gave him one last glance before sitting back in his original spot. That tiger striped shirt and purple running shoes still clashed horrendously. A diet coke appeared in his hand as he eyed Nico. With a wave of his hand he dismissed him.
Nico ground his teeth as he turned back around, faced with the pointed stares of the campers. Many obnoxious orange shirts stood out in the crowd. The greek words printed across the clothing spelling out 'Camp Half-Blood'.
He left without a word or motion to the residents.
Their stares burned into his retreating figure with an aching fury.
His first stop would have been his cabin. Oh and he would have locked himself inside for days if he so felt the urge to. Right now, though, he wanted to test his improved sword.
The upgrades featured were never told nor explained and dared not ask.
Instead of shadow travelling he felt the need to exercise his legs. For so long now he was confined to a bed or a floor in sheer pain. It felt good to move and stretch his muscles once more.
He made it down to the training fields without a hitch. There were no annoying children to run around him or spying girls to giggle when they thought he did something attractive.
Yes, it has happened, unfortunately.
There was a reason he no longer had windows within reach of prying eyes.
His stride was powerful and deathly silent as he approached a dummy that had yet to be mutilated.
It was no living being, which his sword thrived off of, but perhaps it held other qualities.
He unsheathed his sword and with steady motions stood in fighting stance.
A quiet moment stretched on as he seemingly sized up the 'opponent'.
Then, he began.
With just a quick slice the blade tore away at the fabric of the dummy.
He watched in horror as the cloth singed, then sizzled.
Further and further back the black line of the wound recedded.
It seemed to be dissolving the thread.
Eating the dummy.
Then, without warning, little green flames formed and quickly consumed the fabric.
Greek Fire.
For a moment he was stunned a terrified at what his sword had done.
Though a part of him enjoyed it.
Knew it was useful.
Knew it was...
Lethal.
Though he had to be sure not to use it during playful combat with a camper.
Explaining to others that his sword made the camper catch on fire and inevitably die would not go over well.
With that, he sheathed his sword and stared at the charred remains of the dummy.
What a terribly wonderful upgrade.
He felt irritation stir within him as the distant shouts of playing demigods caught his attention.
Why did he have to stay here?
Sighing, he looked off into the distance before an idea struck.
He had to inform his father of his current predicament without leaving. There were no rainbows around and Percy wasn't here to make one.
That was when he remembered how shades were used to contact others in the Underworld.
With some concentration he snapped his fingers and a shade immediately appeared before him.
It was startled at the sudden summoning and looked to Nico. Fear and awe took place on It's empty features. A bow was given to It's king.
"Rise, shade. I want you to go to Lord Hades and inform him that I am currently unable to return. Mr.D has 'requested' my presence here."
It gave a stricken nod before dissolving into the grass.
"Hey, little prince! HEY FREAK! Talkin' to ghosts 'cus you ain't got no real friends?"
The obnoxious bellow came from the crest of the hill he had descended down just moments ago.
Black eyes immediately went to the bulky figure of a male standing so haughtily at the top of the hill.
Even from this distance he could see a smirk on the lips and knew it to be an Ares kid.
Now, he knew not all Ares kids were pretentious jackasses. Most were, but not all.
With a slight snarl he turned fully to face the kid.
He had begun descending as well; coming to meet down in the arena.
A couple kids followed close behind.
One figure he knew.
Another member of the Ares cabin.
Clarisse's younger half-brother and new leader of the Ares cabin.
He fought beside the kid in the war.
In the Last Stand.
He was one of the acquaintances.
One of the survivors.
One of the...
Heros.
Who this new kid was, he did not know, nor did he care to. Already the brute earned Nico's wrath.
That was a terrible thing to earn.
With an over-confident stride, he came to the front of Nico and paused.
The Ares cabin leader paused just behind him. Anger was pointed to the hedonistic kid and knowing was shown to Nico. He gave a slight nod, which Nico returned. Then he spoke.
"Back off, Nico's cool."
The now disgruntled camper looked to his leader with disgust. His voice portrayed such emotions.
"What, you're sticking up for the freak now?"
He was just out of range of the helmet's powers.
The acquantince sneered at the kid and pushed him with irritation.
"No! I'm sayin' you're gonna get your ass kicked from the Underworld and back if ya try him. I don't need that shame on the Ares cabin!"
The two looked ready to scrap and Nico just stood by, impassive to the whole situation.
"Yeah, sure. Don't tell me who to fight! This punk won't beat me!"
Nico rolled his eyes in slight aggravation.
This was both an insult and a waste of his time.
"Look, if you want to fight. Let's fight. You're wasting my time right now and it's starting to piss me off."
The abject terror of the words sent all the spectator's spines tingling and flesh crawling. His eyes were pits of unfathomable darkness and intelligence. Or was it insanity?
Before the kid could respond Nico had shadow travelled to the tool shed to grab a celestial bronze sword. Despite how much he would enjoy watching the ignorant fool burn, he couldn't afford to have not only Ares angry with him but all of camp.
He was back almost as soon as he left. People jumped at his sudden vanishing act.
The kid drew his sword and shield before walking back to a proper position.
He was now in range of the radiating powers of the barbed crown and the fear immediately seized his heart.
The blood seemed to drain from his features and his body tensed.
Nico tapped the crown twice.
Immediately it began to transform into his armor.
The barbs seemed to extend and wrap around his head and face. A mask now covered all but his eyes, nose, and lips. It appeared to be an ashen skull placed over top of Nico's head. The resemblance to a real skull was uncanny.
He felt a barb expand and creep down his spine. It sprouted more barbs that travelled down his arms and wrapped around his ribs in a perfect match to the bones. They transformed into the shapes of bones themselves. It stopped at the bottom of his lower back. Shadows seemed to creep around his body, encasing him in a sort of translucent, breathing flesh.
Fear.
It overtook all the other people's minds.
A coy grin pulled his lips.
A choleric expression marred his features.
He was an intimidating creature.
Something so ferocious and primal about his very appearance caused unease to capture them all.
Another silence stretched on and no one made a hint of movement.
They simply...
Stared.
With a dark look he spoke once more.
"Well, are we going to fight?"
The kid was now looking more than unwilling to step up to the imposing figure, but his pride forced him to go.
They stood before each other, weapons posed to attack.
As if a silent alarm was tripped they charged one another.
Nico lunged a fake attack before he deftly sidestepped, dodging the glinting bronze blade.
He swung his arm around and hit the male where the spine should be just below the protective armor covering his upper torso.
The kid stumbled before spinning back around, parrying the strike Nico delivered. With unexpected grace he swung the blade toward Nico's side.
It would have hit.
Could have hit.
But...
Didn't.
Instead it seemed to be stopped by the mist that shrouded around the ribs of the armor.
Nico grinned darkly before thrusting the hilt of the sword downward. The butt hit the kid's forearm fiercely. He hissed in pain and jumped back a bit. Nico then sent a roundhouse to his head, which made a sickeningly satisfying 'thump'.
He fell hard and clutched his head in pain.
Blood seeped from the new wound bestowed upon him rightly.
A new desire swept through Nico unexpectedly.
He looked at the pitiful camper without remorse. Rather, he was angry.
Very angry.
He was just like all the others.
Judgemental.
Rude.
Disgusting.
Hypocritical.
Scarring.
It was people like him that caused Nico such torment.
Oh how Nico wanted to show him just how bad he hurts because of them.
Yet, no physical punishment could come close to he endured mentally and emotionally.
Still, some pain is better than no pain.
His fatal flaw wasn't grudges for nothing.
With a wave of his free hand shadows immediately formed around the boy.
Tendrils reached out to wrap around his hands and feet, yanking them straight.
He screamed.
He screamed and screamed.
He trashed and cried.
Nico felt nothing but hate.
He pleaded and threatened.
Nico felt nothing but pain.
He whimpered and prayed.
Nico now stood over him.
Campers were frozen in their spots by terror.
Finally one, his acquaintance, broke from the stupor and tried to stop him.
He did not get any closer than the boundaries of the radiation.
Nico knelt down, his knee digging into the cavity of the kid's chest.
He was bigger than Nico in brawn, though Nico had him in height.
They seemed about the same age.
He wrapped an icy hand around the soft flesh of his chin and jerked the head to face him.
He felt a power welling deep inside him. Something better than physical pain. Far better.
Fear.
"Look. Now."
The kid reluctantly obeyed. His eyes met Nico's and Nico felt a surge of malicious power shoot through his veins.
The kid's eyes immediately widened and seemed to glaze over. He began to thrash around and scream at no one.
"No! NO MOM! NO, DON'T GO! MOM! DON'T LEAVE ME! Don't...don't leave me..."
He began shaking a sobbing, reliving his worst memory.
His most feared moment.
It distantly reminded Nico of his own mother and he instantly felt longing to have her back to comfort him.
The anger still lived on in his heart.
It was a deep seeded evil that would grow and bloom into a terrifying monster.
For now, though, he controlled it. For the most part, that is.
He grimaced at the boy before retracting the make-shift shackles and shadow travelling to the somewhat comforting room of his cabin.
A feeling, perhaps it was foresight, informed him that for whatever period of time he resided within the boundaries of this camp, would only grow worse.
Violent.
Bloody.
And he put on the garments of vengeance for clothing... According to
their deeds, accordingly he will repay, fury to his adversaries, recompence
to his enemies.
-Isaiah 59:17-18
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, any of the characters, quotes, or The Crow.
Formatting and content inspired from The Crow by James O'Barr and Dark Angel by Ryan Corven
A/N
Reviews, CC, etc. welcome.
Alright, so this is the OFFICIAL UNOFFICIAL third installment of this story.
Shitty, yes.
BUT! I intend to come back, check it over, and tweak it.
I'm just extremely worn out from school, work, and working on a senior project.
I wanted to get this out to you all before I die of guilt.
Sorry for the wait and terrible results of the wait.
I'm running on E right now with energy.
There's a lot of mistakes in this chapter that I hope to fix when I have the energy to.
My senior project is writing an original work of fiction.
Would any be interested if I were to put it up on fictionpress?
I have no synopsis. But, it's about a 17 year old male with drug problems, serious mental disorders (And I don't mean learning disorders) that gets arrested at a failed, and nearly lethal, B&E (Breaking & Entering).
Then he's sent to an asylum for Criminally Insane Youth. He meets quite the motley crew there. They all have thier own, and many rather violent, disorders such as Cannibalism, Renfield Syndrome, Sadism, Psychosis, Schizophrenia, Cotard's Syndrome, Kleptomania, etc.
The orderlies and warden go missing. They manage to escape thanks to an inmate with a talent for picking locks. Something else I haven't decided on will happen where they run in to a gang boss or some shit like that. They will also stop by his friend's house, who happens to be a drug dealer. There might be other inopportune stops, like a strip club, the police station, a diner, etc.
Anyways, I'll update this author's note later. I'm tired.
