BLURRED | Annabeth Chase

XI • φωνή

φωνή

voice

• • •

The voices were all that Nico di Angelo could hear.

Whatever rare, quiet moment that the boy managed to find was ruined by the pleading voices begging for life. They followed him no matter where he went. They infiltrated his dark dreams and darker nightmares.

"Save him."

Nico clenched his hands into fists, pressing a pillow against his face as he tried to fall asleep.

"I can't save anyone," he muttered to the darkness, guilt turning violently in his stomach.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come —"

Then silence. No matter how much Nico hated the voices, the abrupt silence was always worse. But the silences never lasted long; already a dozen more voices had occupied the space the recently dead voice had fallen from.

Nico listened to them each for a second before giving up. None of them belonged to Will, who was still missing two days after his panic date. Everyone else seemed to have given up on the idea of him returning, but Nico couldn't surrender that hope. Not yet, anyways.

The return of Thalia Grace had sent everyone into a frenzy. The war-driven survival base that was Olympus had somehow turned into a hopeful sanctuary. All because Thalia returned. Even Reyna, the steady, level-headed warrior that had become like a second sister to Nico, had turned into a hopeful, blushing girl at the mere sight of Thalia.

But Nico was skeptical. He had heard what Artemis said to Thalia before the goddess disappeared on a Hunt. "You've served as my faithful lieutenant for many prosperous years. But you are the last one, ever."

Something about Thalia brought destruction. And after so much in his life had been destroyed, Nico wanted to keep her as far away from Olympus as possible.

"This is going to end well."

A new voice. This one louder, clearer in the way that only familiar people could be. Nico felt for the connection, for the source of the voice.

To him, they looked like strings. With his eyes closed and all senses dulled, the voices in his mind appeared to be strings. Some of them tangled together, others limp and broken. But they each had a color and they each had a voice. Over the years, Nico had mastered the art of identifying the strings.

There. The string was long and dark and branched off to connect with four other strings. Nico hesitated before reaching out to grab the dark string; one of the strings it was connected to was a gray-blue that was severely frayed.

"Well," the voice said, emitted from the string. "There are worse ways to die."

Nico grabbed the string.

And he opened his eyes to hellhounds pouncing on top of him. Nico couldn't help himself; he screamed.

"Holy shit," he muttered.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded.

Nico felt somewhat nauseated as he took in his surroundings. Whenever he touched a string, he always saw through the voice's eyes. There was a hellhound on top of them, its teeth bared.

Somewhere on a bed thousands of miles away from the hellhounds, Nico di Angelo smiled in his sleep.

"Hello," Nico spoke using the voice's body. "I think it's time for you to go to sleep."