Utopia:
It's dark. So, so dark. Is this death?
There's a faint burning in the back of his head, the slight pounding in his temples that threatens to beat his brain like a million drums in perfect unison. Sounds are faded, gurgled underneath a hazy layer. Maybe it's silent and the sounds he's hearing are only the blood rushing through his skull.
There's a gasp, a strangled breath. It takes him a moment to realize that the gasp is his, that his breathing has slowed, and the fuzziness of his surroundings grows worse as the darkness closes in. His body feels too heavy for the emaciated condition he knows he is in. His eyelids refuse to open fully, his eyes lazily trying to focus against a haze that doesn't exist. For a moment, he wonders why he bothers fighting to stay awake in the dank atmosphere. And then darkness takes him.
When he awakes, he doesn't open his eyes, but for some reason, he feels energized. There is a thrum of energy in the air, pulsing through his body, and he breathes in. The air is fresh and clean. The coldness that had caressed his skin before seems to have become an embracing warm hug and the pounding in his head has settled to a dull ache that allows him room to breathe evenly. He opens his eyes.
This isn't the same place. This isn't the prison he was entrapped in. This isn't the torture cell that left his weak and helpless. This is something else. This is the opposite. This is paradise.
When he opens his eyes, a dim light greets him. It's not blindingly bright like the fluorescent streams of flashlights, but the soothing light of a candle, burning warmly and brightly. The ground is soft, covered in flowers and grass. Butterflies float gently amongst the wind, floating from flower to flower. Large trees wave in the air, foliage creating shade and swaying in the breeze. The wind that runs across the flowers bends them slightly, and Nico can almost imagine the anemoi running their wispy hands over the tops as they sprint through the field.
There's something buzzing within him. Unlike the ringing of the dead that is a constant presence in his ears, there's a different type of dull thrum. It sounds like a million heartbeats thudding softly and soothingly, aligning with the pitter-patter of his. It's life, he realizes. The vitality of this place almost takes his breath away but that would be silly because only death would be so cruel. Instead, it seems to fill him up with air, as if he had been suffocating for a long time and this was his reprieve.
The soft sounds that aren't ear shattering, nor whispering fill his ears. It's sweet laughter that sounds familiar. It's joined by more quiet voices, which he strains lightly to hear. He can almost faintly hear it. The wonderfully familiar voice that calls his name in the distance, he can almost hear it. It floats down amongst the wind, and he can pick up the slightest strains of the sound. Is that…?
Nico staggers slightly to sit up, his excitement consuming him. In the distance, he can almost make out a figure just a little ways off. The figure reminds him of something, but he cannot clearly make it out. His body, brimming with wonder, moves forward. As he gets closer, the figure starts to take shape. Small and dark-skinned, hair neatly braided, definitely feminine. Could it be?
Suddenly, something crashes within him. With a hitching gasp, he breaks into a run, not even caring that the flowers bend away in fright at his strides. It is her. "Bianca!" he cries out, the sound shattering the peaceful atmosphere. He keeps running, faster and faster. As the figure continues to clear into a more distinct person, his heart beats faster and faster, out-pacing the thrum of life that he had felt once before. The wind that once had caressed him flies up in a frenzy, pushing wildly against him as his speed increases as if telling him, Stop, you can't go any further.
He's almost there. He's so close. It's definitely Bianca, he's that close. But something in him warns him. Bianca is dead and resurrected, it yells out. That cannot be her. But the sound of her voice, loving and soft beckons him closer until he can see her clearly, the fuzziness and haze around her fading to nothing.
At the last stretch, he can see her. With one quick move, he envelops her in his arms like he would have as a child. He can feel her arms slowly move to wrap around him, a loving embrace that almost makes him choke on tears. But before her arms fully wrap around him, she begins to fade in a haze, disappearing like the evanescent mist in a burst of petals and soft light, until his arms close around himself as if she never had been there. He collapses to the ground, holding his tears in and trying to keep the memory of her hug just for a little longer before it faded like her.
There's an aching pain within him now and the energy he had been feeling begins to drain from him, until only emptiness remains. He sighs. He is so tired. There's a light tap on his back. He turns around and there is Percy, gently holding out his hand. In the back, he can see the figure of Annabeth. Even further down, there's more and more people, rows of demigods that he met and found camaraderie with. In the distance, the furthest person he can see, is a women dressed in all black, wearing a veil. The pooling rush of emotions he feels tells him he knows the women, tells him that this person is special to him. Mama.
Nico grabs Percy's hand and Percy pulls him up. But before Nico is fully up and can let go of his hand, Percy begins to fade away like Bianca, in a fluttering wind of petals and light, until the only thing Nico can see of Percy is the last look on his face. It's disappointment from what can he see. Percy's face engraved in his mind with eyes slightly drawn down and mouth frozen into a straight line, not a smile's curve or a frown's bend. He lifts his hand and starts moving forward towards that figure in the distance. He's almost to Annabeth who smiles gently at him at first. Her face changes though as he passes her and she begins to be blown away in the wind as well. His walk gets faster.
Every person he passes seems to smile at him before being fading away, looks of anger and disappointment evident in their eyes. For every person that fades away, he starts to run faster and faster, hoping to outpace the disappearance of people. It's a swirl of lovely petals and soothing light, but everyone is disappearing, everyone is going away and he knows it is because of him. But he keeps running, hoping to feel her hug one last time.
Finally, he's almost there. He throws himself at her, wrapping his arms around her, and then chokes back sobbing gasps as she vanishes with the wind, into nothing more than petals and light. He inhales loudly, tears threatening to burst through. This isn't paradise. This isn't a utopia. Not while he is here.
Suddenly, the beautiful surroundings around him begin to morph. The air around him grows heavy with humidity, heat pressing down on top of him, until he feels like he is suffocating. The soft bright light is streaked through his black, as darkness threatens to overtake such simple beauty. The flowers around him begin to decay, wilting and falling to the ground, the colors fading to blacks and browns, finally collapsing into dust. The gentle wind blows harshly, dragging any heat away, leaving his skin cold and creating an awful whistling sound that sounds like the bells of death to his ears. Everything once living fades into nothingness and the only thing left is the eerie darkness and himself.
And then there's a startled gasp, and he awakes. He's in the same place once again, suffering through for another day. His dreams grant him a slight reprieve but he remembers why he doesn't like to dream anymore.
People like him didn't deserve utopia.
So… it's been a while since I last wrote. Like, a while a while. I really won't delve into excuses aside from major writer's block. But thank you guys for liking and favoriting my story. Comments are always appreciated because it gives me motivation to write. I've been apologizing for my stories, and this one is a bit messy, so I'm sorry for anything that's wrong with it. Again, I won't promise to update soon, because I'm likely to have another hiatus right after this, but I promise I'll get all the way to the last letter. Thank you again for liking my writings. I do not own Percy Jackson. All rights and rewards go to Mr. Rick Riordan.