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VI • shade without color

CHAPTER SIX

S H A D E  W I T H O U T  C O L O R

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Nico di Angelo had grown used to the voices.

It was the only way to stay sane, since the voices whispered in his mind constantly. The prayers for the dead, the pleading to die, the cries for help from the dying. And the buzzing. The constant buzzing in his head. Every time that he began to believe that he was used to it, it doubled in strength, and Nico began at square one all over again.

"Healer?" a new voice said, this one very much real and alive. Nico would never admit it, but it was getting more and more difficult to tell if the voices he heard were from the living or the dead.

He looked up and saw a kid, no older than eleven, staring at him with wide brown eyes. Her hair was tied back into a knotted ponytail, and dirt streaked her face. She was one of Hazel's helpers, one of the many children that flocked around Nico's sister. Hazel had become a source of solace and hope for everyone at Olympus, especially the younger demigods.

Nico licked his lips, finding them to be very dry (when was the last time he drank water? The realization that he couldn't remember didn't alarm him as much as it should have). "Yeah?" he croaked, ignoring how dry his voice was.

The girl's eyes darting around the tent nervously, but her voice was full of bravado. "There's a meeting."

Nico grudgingly followed her darting gaze. Several cots with unmade sheets were cramped in random spaces. Two of the ones shoved in the back belonged to him and Will (but don't dwell on that, not now, move on). Bandages, ambrosia, and nectar were always kept in large quantities in the healing tent. The light through the faded white material of the tent cast a yellow glow on the inside, giving everything a tinted look.

It was a place that was starving for miracles, and reeked of disappointment.

And somehow, it was also Nico's home.

"A meeting?" he asked stupidly.

The girl nodded. "In the Olympian tent."

Di Immortales, he couldn't handle this today. But Nico smiled at the young girl, and nodded as more pleading voices filled his mind. "I know where to find it. Thank you for telling me."

The girl gave him a grim nod (were kids meant to be this grave and silent?) and quickly spun on her heel and disappeared.

Nico sighed to himself in the empty tent. The emptiness seemed to stare back at him mockingly.

(Help me, a voice in his mind pleaded.)

He ignored it, and instead shrugged on his worn black coat. Nico walked out of the healing tent, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Outside, the air was cold and desperate. But it did not bother Nico; he had been through much worse than a small chill. However, it seemed to scare the majority of this island's residents into their tents instead of training.

It was sad what the demigods had become; broken soldiers and hopeless heroes. Once destined to be legends, they were now just kids fighting for survival in a damned world. Even the gods had forsaken them (was that a bubble of emotion in the pit of his stomach? No, easier to just blame the cold, and the voices that kept escalating and escalating and--)

The Olympian tent, dubbed by the younger demigods who reveled at the remaining seven prophesied demigods like they were royalty, was at the top of the biggest hill in Olympus, and waving flags greeted Nico. It was the grandest tent on the island, but there was something sad about its lonely silhouette on the hill (could tents look sad? Please help me, anyone save me, please).