"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

—Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fire had never been Nico's strong suit. Light such as that, as fuel or as radiance, didn't suit a creature meant to spend his days under the soil of the Earth. There was such little light in the Underworld; it comforted him. When the light of the world became too great, he retreated to his father's domain. His sister did in kind, but there were days when they were relegated to the brightness of the land and had no one but each other for comfort.

Father did not have children often— he only found it appropriate when he was truly, irrevocably, in love. How terrible for him that many of those loves were mortal.

Maria di Angelo was an Italian noblewoman, strong of countenance and striking of face. She bewitched Hades without a second thought, and they married in a wedding to end all godly weddings. The talk of the town for years to come. They would say how Maria stole the god's heart, how their children were modern godly royalty to whom few could compare.

But then Maria died, and Bianca a short ten years after. And nothing from that day on was the same.

"Can we invest in the heating infrastructure of the hall, or do the harpies in the housing office have an immunity to the cold?" Bianca di Angelo rubbed her hands together and placed them over the fire.

They shared a floor, Bianca and Nico, along with several other students of varying degree subjects. The floor was heated by a fireplace in the common room that was woefully under equipped to sustain the needs of the residents of the hall. Some took to sitting before the fire, even sleeping there on particularly cold nights. Bianca was wrapped in a blanket that had been made by their mother when they were young, Nico in two sweaters that made him feel particularly marshmallow-like.

"Move." He shooed Bianca to the side and concentrated on the fire. A moment later, sparks flew from his fingers and the blaze grew higher.

Bianca raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you do fire magic?"

"You're just jealous because you never developed your other disciplines, Bee." Nico stood to grab more wood and threw it behind the grate with a shower of sparks. "Leo taught me a few tricks for when I'm in a bind. You never know when you're going to find yourself, uh… camping."

"Camping?" Bianca muffled a laugh behind the corner of the blanket. Colour returned to her cheeks as the fire crackled merrily. "When have you ever been camping?"

"You don't know! I could start."

"Yeah, when Hell freezes over."

"Hell is already pretty cold, Bianca."

"Hence the likeliness of my statement."

Nico grumbled to himself and held his hands out to the fire in a mirror of Bianca. He paused and tilted his head to the side. "Can harpies feel the cold?"

Bianca shoved him. "Idiot. Do your godly creatures assignments and maybe you'd know."

"I dropped that class second year." He wrinkled his nose. "Too many bodily fluids coming from things that are decidedly not bodies for me."

That drew a true cackle from Bianca. She fought a smile as the flame flickered across her face. After a moment, she sighed. "What are we going to do for the solstice?"

It took Nico a moment to formulate an answer. Neither of them wanted to go to their father's; Persephone and the children would be there, the empty seats at the table an unforgivable loss to their souls. There was a solstice party that Hades hosted every year, perhaps they could disappear into that and escape the notice of the more attentive godly relatives at the university.

"We could go to Leo's," Nico suggested.

Bianca shook her head. "We can't impose on him again this year: we did that at the summer solstice already."

"His house is massive, Bee. I don't think his family will even notice we're there."

"It's the principle of the thing, Nic." Bianca drew the blanket around her tighter. "We should go home. Father must be missing us."

"Not any more than he misses us on a usual day." His eyes narrow darkly and he shifted his gaze to the fire. It roared in response. "I'd rather stay here over holidays. At least then we'd get some peace and quiet."

Bianca exhaled slowly, her thoughts whirling in her mind. She stared at the fire as well, but it grew smaller, colder. "We have to go home sometime, Nico."

His shoulders relaxed an infinitesimal amount. "I know. But some other time. Not today."

Neither of them would be home in time for solstice, but the fire— that fire— raged on.

Rise, you fool.

Nico cracked one eye open at the sear of the voice through his mind. It was near dawn and a headache split his skull in two. He wasn't entirely sure how he was even awake at this hour, save for the licking flames that sat at the nape of his neck.

Get up.

Nico let out a huff and sat up in his bed. "I'm up, alright?"

He felt such a fool talking to himself. The voice didn't respond and he felt even more the fool. The air in the tower sat stagnant, cold if only for the slight chill outside its walls. He rose and went to the window, prying it open with some effort, and ducked as a streak of black launched itself into the room.

A raven perched itself on the peeling paint of his bed frame and squawked at at him indignantly.

Nico crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want?"

It squawked again in reply.

If only you knew how to speak with them.

He sighed. "I'm not an Apollo descendant. I don't do ravens. Besides, aren't they supposed to be messengers of some sort?"

Perhaps he has a message for you.

"Wow, you're so helpful," he said dryly. "I can't believe this level of enrichment I'm receiving from my patron."

Don't be insolent. It isn't becoming.

Nico grumbled something about being becoming ranking lowest on his list as he approached the raven by his bed. He had half a mind to shoo it from his room before it pecked him, but the bird was remarkably calm as it observed him. The squawk came at a lower register this time, as if communicating something of extreme importance to Nico.

"What secrets do you hold, little one?" He murmured it mostly for his own benefit, but there was something in the raven's eye that conveyed the smallest amount of understanding. Ravens were smart creatures, they could communicate with others in unconventional ways that betrayed a frightening intelligence .

Nico leaned in to see if there was a message tied to its ankle, but found nothing on the bird at all. It hopped onto Nico's arm, making him rear back in surprise. Cautiously, Nico brought his arm closer, the raven at eye level with him. It cocked its head to the side quizzically.

"Do you have something for me?" he asked. The raven had a white right around its neck and he cautiously pet it there. "Now how did you get that?"

It burbled in response.

"Right, of course." Nico nodded his head as if he understood. Then, as if someone could hear him, "What's with the raven?"

I didn't send it, came the patron.

"That isn't an answer." Nico scowled.

Isn't it?

"No. Give me more to go on and I might entertain the idea of letting you stay." Nico wasn't entirely sure if he would, but he had a feeling that the patron could feel his hesitance anyway.

You do not have a choice either way.

He sighed and turned to the raven. "You're easier to communicate with, and you can't even talk."

It squawked its agreement.

The raven was a curious thing. It gave Nico another glance before taking flight and leaving through the window it came through. The flap of its wings echoed through the tower, bringing with it a gust of cold wind. Nico went to close the window, suitably shivering in the November morning.

"Any more animals for me?" he asked. He tugged open the old wardrobe and rifled through it for something suitable to wear.

I told you I didn't send the raven.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled out trousers and another dark sweater. "Seeing as you won't even give me your name, I'm not terribly keen on taking you at your word at the moment."

All things in due time, Niccolò. You have more important things to focus on.

He sniffed, tugging the sweater over his head. This one was a gift from his mother's sister, the neckline stretched from years of use. "Such as?"

Fire. Always fire.

"Tell me that's not what you're wearing," Rachel said as he traversed the stairs down from the tower and onto the main floor.

Nico held his arms out. "This is what I came with in the Prince of Death and Destruction special collection. Can't wear anything else."

She put a hand on her hip. Rachel was decked out in layer upon layer of blazing silk; it floated behind her like a writhing flame and licked up her arms like she was a burning ember. Her hair helped in this effect, tumbling down her back in burnished curls. There wasn't a spot of paint on the whole thing— a rarity in the Dare household. In one hand, she held her winter coat as if to strangle it. "Please do not. I have enough with attempting to wrangle Leo into something suitable for the occasion."

He raised an eyebrow. "And that is…?"

She sighed. "The Feast of Stolen Fire. Am I the only one that pays attention to their term calendar?"

Nico blinked. Of course— it was November. The dark moon had passed and they were firmly in the beginning throes of winter. He tried to recall his last Feast of Stolen Fire two years ago, but only the wateriest of memories floated to the surface. Getting absolutely sloshed with Leo, almost setting his winter scarf on fire with his own lantern, seeing someone from halls fall into the pond by the east lawn. They flickered quickly, and went as fast as they came.

"Right." He looked down at his sweater. "I can go change?"

Rachel shook her head. "Do it after classes. I reserved some seats for us at the feast. I thought you would forget with the… everything going on right now."

He flushed in embarrassment. "Um, thank you, Rachel."

She stuck her neck out. "I'm sorry? Was that a thank you from the Prince of Darkness, the Son of Death himself?"

He glared at her. "Fuck off."

She nodded. "Much better. I'll see you this afternoon."

He saluted her. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

Rachel rolled her eyes and shoved her arms into her coat. She left in a whirl of flaming silks.

He didn't have much in the way of classes that day, just a short tutorial in the morning for Advanced Shadow Manipulation. The shadows were at their all-time high on a day such as this, the dark moon requiring more light and throwing more shadows than usual. Nico loved the beginning of winter, even as it technically didn't start until the solstice in December. The darkness, the cold… he craved it now. Even during his time in the mortal world, winter was his favourite holiday.

He thought of those he met back during his exile. He wondered if they knew who he was, and where he was returning to. They must have had an inkling— only so many children of the Underworld exist at any given time. He didn't tell them he was a demigod, but it was easy enough to figure out based on how someone carried themselves. He'd had musings of returning to the shop, fetter gone, and paying a visit to his old coworkers there, but it fizzled before it could come to fruition. First, he'd need the damn thing off.

And so, Nico di Angelo returned to the scene of the crime.

Bellerophon Hall sat atop a small hill that was now scorched and blackened from the flames. The university had not rebuilt it, instead mired in regulations and statutes that controlled the destruction and building of halls on hallowed ground. After the deaths of the Belle students, there was much to discuss in the way of consecration.

It had once been a stately brick building, stretching no more than three stories tall. Most halls of residence towered, save for those for graduate housing and professors, but the Belle was unassuming and middle of the road. Most chose it for its proximity to the libraries, others for the well-kept rooms. It was not the worst and not the best, but Bianca had loved it and, in turn, so had Nico.

It hurt to see it as it was now, a husk of its former self.

He had much time to contemplate the fire during his year of exile. What he had seen made little sense at the time, and what followed made even less. One thing was clear: there was something afoot at the Belle and it was not Nico's doing.

They had set up a barrier around the remains of the Belle that was easy enough to circumvent. Barrier magic did little more than convince the intruder to look the other way, change their mind to do the opposite of what they set out to do. Some had attacks built in, but there wasn't anything so complex about this barrier that warranted Nico it delve into the few disarming classes he'd taken in his first and second years. Back then, he'd wanted to go to the front, to help in the war effort. Now, he couldn't even recall what the war was about; it had been going on for as long as he could remember.

The hall was as he remembered the night of the fire. The snow had melted, the ground freezing once more to ready for another year of drifts piling up. Soon, the charred remains would be covered and impossible to get into without the help of some very obvious fire magic that Nico would have to rope Leo into doing. That was out of the question: he couldn't reveal to Leo what he was up to. He'd laugh, or — even worse— be concerned. There was nothing concerning about what Nico was doing; every disgraced demigod accused of killing their own sister went back to investigate the true nature of the crime, right?

The three floors of the Belle were in shambles, only a few stones dotting the landscape. Grass had begun to grow in between cracked floorboards and broken tile. The kitchen was a nightmare of warped metal and shattered glass. The fire had burned so hot that night that even the bones of the students caught in the blaze barely survived becoming ash themselves. He was thankful that any remnants of the bodies had been removed long ago.

He could feel where his room used to be, two floors up. Where his sister's room was down the hall. It was all gone now, picked over by investigative teams and curious students that wanted more insight into the tragedy. The university had its fair share of ghosts, but none from the fire ever manifested. He knew from his father that Bianca had gone for reincarnation and hadn't said a word about the fire before doing so. It was all a frustrating dead end.

There was precious little in the wreckage that remained: a few crumbling books that escaped the worst of it on the far side of the building, some metal trinkets, a safe from a student's closet that had long been broken into. There was also evidence of interlopers: crushed cans of beer, broken glass, the ends of cigarettes littering the ground. First years, he presumed, not knowing the history behind the ruined hall.

"What a bunch of fucking junk," he muttered to himself as he sifted through the darkened remains of the hall. Nico lifted his head. "What? Nothing to say about this?"

What would you like me to say?

He shrugged and continued his search. "I figured you'd have some kind of smart comment about me coming back here."

Seems you have one in mind. Write one on my behalf, Niccolò.

Nico sighed and shook his head. Under the debris, he found what he was looking for: a heavy iron ring. A sharp tug broke the seal with a shower of ashes. There had been a tunnel system beneath the Bellerophon— truthfully, there was one beneath every building, but some were more in use than others— and Nico had hoped it had been spared by the blaze. Not many knew of it, evident by the trap door still being shut after a year of disuse, but he and Bianca used to go down there all the time. If there was anything to point to who set that fire, it would be down in the tunnels.

"Did you bring your lighter? Last thing we want to be caught doing is fire magic at the scene of a fucking fire."

A caustic voice drifted over the hill as footsteps approached. Nico froze, looking for somewhere to hide, but he was too late. A motley crew of fourth years spotted him just as his window for escape was closing.

"Well, what do we have here?" The one in front, a boy of medium height with a cap pulled low over his ears, tilted his head in recognition. "Is that di Angelo himself? Come back to look at your handiwork, is it?"

Nico steeled himself to send them the strongest glare he could muster. "Go away. I'm busy."

They scoffed. "Busy, he says. As if he didn't already do enough."

One crept close to him. He could smell their stinking breath.

"My brother used to live at the Belle," they said with bared teeth.

"A lot of people did. Isn't anything special."

They grabbed Nico around the neck and threw him to the ground. "He died in that fire, you shitbag."

"Condolences," Nico managed to choke out.

They landed a swift kick to his ribs. "Condolences won't do shit. You should have died along with them, ekfylos."

He could have fought back— a small part of his mind registered that, it always did— but he didn't need any more bad press than what he'd already garnered. He could take a quick beating or two if it meant he flew under the radar as best he could. The small group of students descended on him and he quickly lost his bearings as to what limbs came from who. His nose was broken again, small fractures cracking across his his face. His ribs went within minutes. Nico wrapped his hands around his stomach and braced himself against a sustained onslaught.

It didn't come.

"Bold to do three on one. Thought that only happened in those magazines you lot read."

The attackers hesitated. "Go away, Solace. This doesn't concerned you."

In the depths of his muddled mind, Nico groaned.

Fucking Will Solace.

"Do me a favour and leave. I won't tell your head student that you were trespassing in a restricted area. You already have— what was it again? Two strikes against each of you?"

The group muttered an argument between each other that felt as if it were coming from very far away. Nico could feel them retreat and be replaced by a very tall, very slender figure moments later.

"Fancy a lie-in, di Angelo?"

Nico could only let out a groan of pain as he attempted to sit upright.

"Wonderful." Will's voice came to him crisp and acerbic. "I don't even have to speculate as to why you went snooping around the Belle, I just wish you'd been a bit more subtle about it."

"Fucker," he managed through a swollen lip.

"Come again?"

Nico didn't have the patience for this. "Leave."

Will laughed. "They should study your DNA some day. I'm sure they could synthesize a resiliency potion in a snap." He crouched next to Nico and helped him open his eyes. The image of Will Solace in all his golden-haired glory swam into view. "What were you looking for?"

"Your mom," Nico retorted.

Will grimaced. "Classy as ever." He let Nico's chin go. "I don't blame you for starting off where the incident happened; it's your best lead to go off of, but do try to avoid when the undergraduates go to have an illicit smoke, will you?"

He struggled into a sitting position, but ended up on all fours instead. "Why are you here?"

Will considered his words for a moment. "Same as you, I suppose. I can't resist a mystery."

"My sister's death isn't a mystery," Nico said. "Not according to everyone else here."

"Is it? Well, that's that solved, then. Back into exile you go."

Nico muttered curses that stretched back eons in Will's lineage.

"You're smart," Will said. "The fire wasn't an accident, and if you didn't set it, who did?"

Nico glared at him. "Is this some way of getting into my good graces? I'm not getting you that fucking patronage, Solace."

Will shrugged. "Maybe I'm conducting my own investigation. Your sister wasn't the only one to perish that night."

"Go away."

"Or perhaps I'm building a case against you. You have been fairly suspicious since your arrival back to the university."

"Go away." Nico spat blood onto the ground as he heaved. He couldn't tell if the slickness of his face was from blood, tears, or a mixture of the two. "I don't need your fucking help and I certainly don't need you."

Will stood stock-straight and looked down his nose at Nico's trembling form. "You will. You can't do this alone."

Nico lifted his head and glared at him with glistening teeth. "Fucking watch me."

He sighed and crouched next to Nico. "At least let me fix your face."

"No." Nico swatted at Will ineffectually, the exhaustion seeping into his bones. Blood smeared across Will's jacket. "You'll only make things worse."

Will stilled and stood. "Alright." He seemed to be reluctant to leave Nico alone, but turned all the same. "You know where to find me."

After Will left, after Nico could no longer hear his footsteps across the dying grass, he finally let himself collapse.

He wakes hours before sunset, his face a burning mess. Demigod healing was faster than mortals, but not fast enough, and he didn't have any ability to do healing magic on himself. He'd been a prideful food refusing Will's help, but he'd rather have his injuries visible than give him the satisfaction of helping where he wasn't welcome. The nerve of that boy, the utter hubris.

Nico sat upright, fishing a square of ambrosia out of his pocket. It was in pieces, but it helped all the same. The bones in his face snapped back into place, the blood flow stemmed, and he could see through his swollen eye. He must look a terrible fright, but he was still breathing.

Let me help.

A wind caressed his face and it was cleaned of soot and blood. Nico made a face.

"You couldn't have done that when I was getting beaten to a bloody pulp?" he asked.

You had it handled. As did that Apollo boy.

"Forget him," Nico grumbled. He stood and brushed his clothes off.

No.

"Now who's being insolent?"

The demigod in dire need of help, I suppose.

Nico exhaled sharply and stretched his neck. "For a patron, you've done jack shit thus far. Perhaps work on your people skills."

Likewise.

He glowered. "Anything else you wish to do to me? Attract a monster, perhaps? Throw me into the River Styx?"

Be realistic, Niccolò. I brought you Will.

He didn't dignify that with a response.

Nico returned to where the iron ring of the trap door sat amidst the wreckage and pulled it up. Now, with renewed vigor, he resumed what he came here to do.

The cellar of the Belle was dark, as to be expected. Not even a grate let light into the tunnels and it stank of stagnant air. Nico left the door up to give him the smallest amount of light to go by as his eyes adjusted. It was as he remembered it: dark stone with lichen growing, a steady drip of water emanating from somewhere deep in the tunnels, the scurry of rats echoing off the walls. It was the closest he could get to being back in his father's domain, but instead of a feeling of comfort washing over him, he shivered.

Nico grazed his fingers over the stone of the walls. There was an old storage area in the cellar before the tunnels began, dusty glass bottles and long-forgotten alchemical ingredients sat deep in the recesses of the shelves. Cobwebs ensnared the few pieces that seemed the most intact. He looked over the bottles and found one to be fully clean, fingerprints smudging the glass. Nico picked it up.

"Charles?"

The voice came thin and reedy, borne on the scant breeze that moved from the open door through to the tunnels. Nico turned rapidly, the bottle in his hand falling to the ground with a crack of glass.

Near the mouth of the tunnels was a wisp of a girl, her form shifting and changing in the shadows of the darkness. She had luminous hair that floated on unseen wind and a slight, slender frame that looked as if it would disappear in the blink of an eye. She looked towards him, but almost as if she looked through him. His heart thudded in his chest.

"Charles, is that you?" The mouth of the girl didn't move, but she spoke all the same.

"No." Nico's throat was dry. "I am not Charles."

"Oh." She drifted closer. "Who are you?"

He hesitated to give the creature his true name, lest it use it against him. "My name is William."

"William…" It sighed warmly. It didn't walk, so much as glide as if it were a dance. The figure clutched its hands to its chest. "I knew a William once; a boy made of sunlight."

Nico cleared his throat. "Well, I'm not him. Clearly."

It paused to swirl closer. "What are you?"

He tried his best to stay very, very still. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I am but a girl." It sighed again, moving with the shadows to perch near a stone on the opposite side. "Tell Charles he hasn't visited for some time. It's impolite."

He nodded. "I will."

It seemed calmed by this answer and let out another wistful sigh. "Can you help me?"

A pang of sadness struck him. This wasn't a monster; it was an eidolon. A phantom shade, projecting the image of someone long passed. He didn't recognize her as he did other ghosts and she didn't seem to recognize him either. Had she always been in the tunnels beneath the Belle?

"With what?" Nico asked.

The eidolon approached him again. "With the reaping. It didn't work this time."

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"It's so cold," she said. "So lonely. There was supposed to be another, but I am so lost."

"Another… one of you?" Nico leaned closer to her. "What's your name?"

The eidolon turned towards the light coming from the trap door and Nico saw for the first time how beautiful she was, illuminated by the trickles of sunlight. A slender nose, pale hair, the beauty found only in few. But so wretchedly sad.

"Oh, William…" Her voice sounded miles away. "How it has burned… how it will burn."

Nico's breath became visible in the air. He reached to grasp her wrist, anything to make her stay. "Please, you need to tell me—"

The eidolon contorted into a creature of nightmares and opened its maw with an ungodly shriek. Nico dropped his hold on its wrist and stumbled onto the packed dirt floor of the cellar. His hands landed in the heavily scented oil from the bottle he'd dropped. The eidolon disappeared into the shadows and Nico was once again left alone.

Nico enters the Feast of Stolen Fire moments before the procession of the flame. He missed the dinner entirely, but he'll give Rachel his excuses later, even if she won't be receptive. He knew he looked a mess from the sidelong glances sent his way, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Nico honed in on Rachel and Leo like a homing pigeon.

"Hey—! Where have you been?" Leo stuck his neck out to take a better look at Nico. Sweet-smelling smoke enveloped his face.

"Can't talk." Nico grabbed for one of the torches. "Sorry I missed the feast. Got to go."

"Wait—" Rachel whirled on him, but he was already dashing away.

Leo leaned down to mutter in Rachel's ear, "Okay, now I'm worried about him too."

Nico grasped the unlit torch as if he could will it into a lit state by sheer force alone. He wove between the tangled masses, charting a path through the lawn to where the students of medicine were congregating. Of all the blonde heads, he easily picked Will's out of the line-up.

They were assembling for the procession, where the head student from the Promethean Hall would take a ceremonial brazier and light everyone's torches. It was many students' highlight of the fall season, especially those who did not do well during the winter months. A reason to keep going, a reason to hold onto the light, even as it is being threatened to be consumed by the darkness. Prometheus was not always a heroic figure, but he represented a certain zeal found only in the hearts of students. He was hopeful, even in the face of adversity.

Nico elbowed a short second year out of the way and took the place next to Will, much to the chagrin of the student. Will turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

"You look like shit," he said flatly.

"What else is new?" Nico fumbled with the torch to appear somewhat presentable.

"Come to yell at me some more, or is this part of some other tactic to get my hopes up and then crush them under the heel of your boot?" Will looked straight ahead at the opposite line of students forming for the procession.

Nico rolled his eyes. "Come on— you deserved that one."

"You and I have a different idea of what "deserved" means." Will shuffled as he adjusted his robes conspicuously.

"You might be on to something," Nico said.

Will turned to look at him. "Hm?"

"About the ravens, and the fire." He struggled to appear nonchalant and took measures to regulate his breathing.

"Well." Will cleared his throat. "Glad to see you've come to your senses."

"Don't get a big head about it," Nico muttered.

"Who? Me?"

Nico closed his eyes. "What do you know about eidolon?"

Will lost his affectation. "Eidolon? Did—"

"Yes," Nico said. "Beneath the Belle."

Will made a thoughtful noise. "Interesting…"

"Tell me what you know and I…" He sighed. "I can talk to my father."

Will's smug smile glowed brighter than the approaching fire. He dipped his torch towards the brazier the head student held and it came back ablaze. "It's a deal."

Nico touched his own torch to the brazier. "Don't think this makes us friends."

His smile took on a different tone, flickering in an out. "Wouldn't dream of it."