NOTE: I continued! Finally, I decided to continue! A huge, huge, thankyou to SirPepsi for giving me the idea. Also, if you're a fan of Percy Jackson (which of course, if you're here, you are) I advise you to go and read The Son of Hypnos, by SirPepsi himself (well, I assume it's a 'him', judging by the 'sir' part)... Anyway, enjoy!
Years passed. The War between Gaia and the god's raged on, with no party ever gaining a clear lead. It seemed pointless. Deaths followed deaths, battles followed battles, and hatred followed hatred. Still, Piper's words stayed with Nico, despite all the hardships he went through.
Eventually the war came to an end.
There were no winners, no losers. Only survivors. Everyone had grown tired of the constant fighting, fighting for causes they had long forgotton. As the demigods looked back on it, it all seemed so pointless, so meaningless, and such a waste. Even the children of Ares were fed up of it - and that was really saying something.
The war had sucked all the love and warmth out of Camp Half-Blood; everyone was so cold and tense towards eachother that the godess Hestia was rarely seen anymore. People generally walked round, their heads bowed low, constantly avoiding eye contact.
Which was why Nico's reappearance at Camp-Half Blood was such a memorable event. Everybody looked up. Everybody glanced at eachother, nervous. Everybody began whispering furiously to each other.
Was that him? Was that the Nico di Angelo, son of Hades? Had he really returned?
These weren't excited whispers, however. They were suspicious whispers, mistrustful whispers, scared whispers. You see, there were many strange rumors circulating about Nico di Angelo. Creepy rumors. Disturbing rumors.
Some said he had given up on the human race and moved into Tartaros, preferring the company of demons and monsters to that of people. Other's said he was crazy, that he'd gone insane half-way through the war and began plotting against the gods. Some even said he was dead.
None of those were true.
He stalked down the hill. He'd replaced his old aviator jacket with a long, black leather trench coat that billowed in the wind. His hair had gotten longer. His skin had gotten paler. The bags under his eyes had become deeper, bigger, more prominent.
"Tell me where Chiron is." he ordered a rather alarmed 11 year old daughter of Hermes.
"Er, I, er-"
"Just tell me."
"He's... I think he's in the Big House! You... you know where that is, right?!" she squeaked in a combination of awe and fear.
"Yes," he replied, unsmiling, yet not unkindly either. "Thankyou."
And so he trudged off.
Behind him, there trotted a large, beast-like dog with blood red eyes. It's teeth and claws were sharper than coffin nails, and it's thick black fur was as soft as snow. Nico whistled.
"Hurry up, Tutore. I wanna be out of here as soon as possible."
Tutore let out a sharp bark before catching up to his Master. Nico sank his hands into Tutore's fur, feeling a surge of comfort well up inside him when he did so. He had to admit, it made him pretty nervous to come back here, after all these years. If he was honest, he was terrified of the curious and slightly disgusted faces of the onlookers. They hurt him more than all the wounds he had sustained during the war put together.
He really hated that.
His heart pounding, he finally found the courage to knock on the door.
Oh yes, he was terrified.
Note: Sorry it was short. They'll be more coming soon, I promise... By the way, Tutore is an Italian word which translates into Guardian.