Hey Readers! It's been a (very long) while since I've even considered this fanfic, much less looked at its potential towards future chapters. And after I've updated this time, I can't guarantee another chapter in . . . I don't know how long. It really depends on how much I can still pull together, how much I can still gather, from a well that's almost drained dry.

Another note: I've mixed traces of my own subconscious thoughts within the story so some of the narration contains what I would call . . . remnants of a writer who outgrew his story. The characters, I've not touched (to the best of my ability obviously). Forgive me if the first part sounds a bit like I'm starting over—somewhat like an introduction rather than a follow-up to the previous chapter—once again, it's been a while.

Chapter 7: Looming Darkness

Kissing is an art. An art, easy to learn, difficult to master. That sort of usual bullshit. Nevertheless, it brings mortals and gods alike, irresistible joy and passion. It satisfies the shallow desires of humans, giving them some false notion that a bond has been made with the mutual partner. It barely fulfills the eternal lust of the gods. Yet they love it. After all, it propels them into the more sensual stage of the interaction.

That said, it also brings them to their knees. It makes them weak, and defenceless. It makes them feel vulnerable. And that was the exactly how Percy felt at the moment. Vulnerable. But somehow, it felt good—infact, more than just good. It was enchanting. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he concluded that vulnerability was absolutely essential for him to fully delve into the experience; it was essential to let his guard down so his lover could get to know him, every inch of him, up close and personal. What happened within those dark corners of his mind didn't really matter though. Didn't make a difference. Percy was still mesmerized by the elation that flowed in his blood, pumped around his body like some sort of adrenaline-enhancing drug.

And Thalia—oh gods—she was a good kisser.

Thalia. That was the only thing circulating those intricate nerve systems in his head while he returned the kiss to the best of his ability. Not like he didn't have any practice. It's just . . . he never met anyone who kissed him so naturally, so passionately. Except for the first time he kissed Annabeth. Gods, that was ages ago, yet he still remembered that euphoric sensation. Her hands gripping the sides of his hands, fingers curving around his ears. Pulling him down onto her, his lips pressed against her's. After that time, nothing really got better than that. When they'd got bored of kissing for so long each time, hours turned into minutes, minutes, into seconds. In the end, it went down to the routine peck on the lips. Insufficient to satisfy that insatiable thirst of this fresh-water demigod (although he does prefer swimming in the wide-open ocean, the smaller, more local fresh-water seas and lakes provided him a more consistent convenience).

As he lifted his body slightly away from the body that pressed against him, Thalia's arms reached around his neck and pulled him closer once again, giving him little room to breathe. That was part of the art. Being able to survive on short quick breaths before diving into another eternity of action. A thought emerged in Percy's mind, completely unrelated to the present situation. But applicable.

Luckily, combat sported a similar concept. Short, quick breaths. One for each wave of unrelenting monsters. As if that thought had been communicated telepathically, Thalia shifted her weight. Leaving her right arm around his neck, she moved her left arm and rested her palm on his chest. Short, ragged breaths. She spoke first.

"I guess combat does help a bit with this delicate stuff, huh?"

Percy gave that small, teasing smile. It was brief, disappearing into the wind. Enough for her heart to beat even faster than before. Irresistible. Anything for his approval. He does that to people. The smile always leaves her wanting more. More of him.

"Smile again. For me."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Well, give me another reason to do so."

And so, she was on him again, starting a whole new assault into his mouth.

. . .

The sight ahead of him was soothing to the worries within his mind. Whenever he felt a strange or ominous feeling, as if some odd premonition, he came here and was able to find comfort and peace. Nevertheless, Nico approached the Oracle's cave with an instinctive caution. When he arrived at the mouth of the cave and peered inside, all he could see was a wall of cryptic blackness. For some reason he couldn't sense or read what was ahead of him, even with the powers of a child of Hades. Regardless, he smiled. This—the unknown— was his comfort zone.

He stepped into the cave and felt that wind again. Its chill brought whispers to his ears, as if spirits of the past Oracles were speaking to him. As he continued walking, the cave walls began to close on him and the wide mouth of the cave soon became a narrow tunnel.

The tunnel was quite long and as the minutes passed, his thoughts drifted and merged with the whispers of night. Suddenly, something scurried beneath his feet and Nico yelped, drawing his Stygian Iron sword. Only then did he realize it was simply a curious rat that wandered beyond the hole it called home. He reprimanded himself quietly.

"Gods, what the hell . . ."

Part of him was curious as to how Rachel never seemed to be spooked by this place.

Finally, he spotted a dark-bluish, indigo glow in the distance. As he got closer, the tunnel widened up and he could see the glow was in fact, emitted from behind a stone door, outlining the door's rectangular frame. The door had no handle and without the glow, it would've seemed as if a block of stone that was forcefully jammed into the tunnel. However, strange runes lined the edges of the door. These runes also glowed, but each individual rune seemed to shift into different shades and colors. Nico ruffled his hair and squinted at the runes. They formed a series of magical seals and locks, evidently the handiwork of Hecate. A complex mechanism allowed for the stone block to dissolve and crumble into thousands of sediments; it was the work of Hephaestus. The periodical shift in color of the runes indicated a change in the passcode signature.

"Does the security have to be this tight?" the boy grumbled.

He unsheathed his Stygian Iron blade and placed it into a mould that perfectly resembled his weapon, which that had appeared on the wall to his right. No weapons were allowed inside the Oracle's room.

He then placed his palm at the centre of the stone and used his free hand to pull up his sleeve. I breathed in deeply and then started chanting in a mix of Greek and Latin. The runes that surrounded the stone block began shifting in colors as if alive. As if they were getting excited. As soon as he finished chanting, the stone block groaned and began rolling towards the side. As it moved, it slowly crumbled into sediments. Nico gasped, as what lay before him, the beauty of it, never ceased to amaze him.

A large crystal sat in the middle of a large, circular, dome-like room. It levitated a little less than a meter off the floor of the room and emitted an indigo, dark-bluish aura. Its surface was somewhat translucent, enough so that Nico could see a miniature blue flame that merged with a white outline, magically burning within the heart of the crystal. However, as he approached the crystal, its light began to fade and when he arrived at its base, the light had dimmed so that the crystal had turned to an ominous obsidian.

Rubbing his palms together, he exhaled. A steamy breath was let lose into the air. Nico forgot how low the temperatures dropped within the Oracle's cave. Then suddenly he heard a sound. It sounded distant, as if some place far off a pebble had been dropped into a puddle of water. He looked around him and saw nothing that would've caused the sound. Where was it coming from? He glanced above him and saw nothing but darkness.

The sound came again and echoed across the room.

Where?

And again.

Where is it? What is it?

He felt something wet splash onto his face. Using his finger to wipe away the object, he realized it was some sort of liquid. It felt like water but Nico knew it wasn't water. He just knew it wasn't. Was certain of it.

Then he spotted it.

An inconspicuous drop of the liquid, fell from a position that was situated directly above the crystal. As his eyes followed the drop of liquid, it seemed to fall progressively slower, defying gravity.

Hecate? He thought. That's a new trick. Haven't seen this one yet.

As if reading his mind, an angelic voice answered him, reverberating in his head. It was as if music, and he couldn't tell whether it was masculine or feminine.

No, son of Hades. It is a gift. Or rather, a reminder.

Nico spoke aloud now. "Is that you? Oracle of Delphi?"

Oracles of Delphi. They corrected him. We speak to you collectively.

"What do you want to show me?"

Rather it should be, what do you want to see? You will find what you seek within the soul-gem before you.

Nico looked closer into the crystal. He saw nothing.

"What do you mean?"

But they ignored him. We leave you now, Nico Di Angelo.

"Wait! I don't understand—"

As the voices faded away, the soul-gem abruptly lit up again, and Nico covered his eyes from the sudden emission of blue light as his shadow was once again thrown across the floor of the room.

But there was something within. Something moving. He placed his palm onto the crystal and rubbed its surface, as if cleaning its immaculate surface of a dust invisible to mortal eyes. A picture began to solidify. A figure. Then a face. The face distorted briefly, then adjusted and settled. It formed a mouth, and the mouth spoke.

"Nico? Is that you?"

Impossible. He knew this voice. Even after all these years . . .

"Nico! Oh my gods. Nico, you've grown so much!"

"No—" He stuttered. "How are you . . ." he trailed off.

"Nico, come closer. Let me see your face."

When he saw what was within the crystal, his knees shook and hit the ground. He started crying.

"Yes, mom!" He obeyed.

. . .

Their conversation mostly consisted of tears of both happiness and sorrow, but Nico managed to tell his mother, however briefly, of all his adventures and accomplished. They both knew their time together was limited.

"Nico, you know I have to go soon. Please—don't come looking for me. It's only for the best."

"Bianca tells me the exact same thing. Why can't I?"

"You know why, my son. Farewell."

Nico's words were stuck in his throat. He couldn't bear to reply for he knew the conversation would end.

"Mother—" he sobbed.

Maria Di Angelo smiled sadly and gradually faded from within the crystal.

As Nico wiped the final few tears from his cheek, and dried his eyes with his sleeve he drew in a large breath, then exhaled slowly. He felt slightly embarrassed for weeping on the ground in the middle of the night and mentally scolded himself for submitting to some odd form of his emotional weakness but on the inside, he knew it felt good to let out the pain of longing. He sniffed.

A quiet voice sounded behind him. "Does it feel good to cry out like that? Does the pain . . . go away?"

Nico was only slightly surprised by the sudden shift in the situation. He was not aware of another presence in the room—but then again, he wasn't really aware of anything while crying. He kept his back facing the voice, after all, he immediately recognized it.

The voice addressed him again.

"I thought the all the pain and suffering had gone away. I thought—I thought I could take all your pain away. I'm sorry for overestimating myself."

Nico let the last tear crawl to the point of his chin, then waited for it to drop. When it hit the floor of the cave, it made a seemingly distant splashing sound that echoed around the room and exited through the tunnel. He finally spoke.

"Don't blame yourself, Reyna. It's not your fault at all."

He heard the footsteps approach him and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I—I can't take the pain away," Reyna said softly. "I wish I could. But how can I comfort your tormented soul?"

Nico gave a sad smile, and though she couldn't see it in the dark, Reyna could somehow feel it. He curled his fingers around her hand and held it. "Your presence itself is comfort enough."

And that's it! The Seventh Chapter! I apologize to so many of you dedicated readers for such a long wait (It's been almost a year!), nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave a comment below, it really helps!

If you have any comments or critique that you don't feel comfortable posting in the comments section, feel free to PM me!

Peace!
Nightrous