Separated (56)

                                    

                                          
The Manor's garden was in full bloom, the plant beds stretched as far as the eye could see, and all the flowers were so vibrant. Roses of deep crimson, delicate lilies, and cheerful sunflowers, all of which seemed to clash harshly against the gothic design of the manor. But they smelled so nice, like the strawberry fields at Camp Half-Blood. Nico sat on the soft grass, surrounded by his family. Damian was teasing a disgruntled Tim with a spray bottle, Bruce was actually smiling as he talked with Alfred about some new garden additions, and Dick and Jason were bickering about whether guns or staffs were better.
Leo was right beside him, injuries completely gone, laughing and joking with everyone. The Waynes had accepted him without question. His eyes twinkled with that signature mischief. The warmth of the sun on his skin and the sound of birds singing overhead made Nico feel more at peace than he had in a long time. He leaned back on his elbows, closing his eyes and savoring the moment.
"It's perfect, isn't it?" Leo said, nudging him playfully.
"Yeah, it really is." Nico opened his eyes, smiling.
But something felt slightly off. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and the edges of his vision started to blur. The vibrant colors of the garden began to fade, replaced by an encroaching darkness. The laughter around him grew distant, distorted.
"Nico?" Leo's voice was muffled as if coming from underwater.
Nico's heart started to race. He tried to reach out, but his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Panic surged through him as the world around him dissolved into a swirling abyss of black.
Then, with a violent jolt, reality crashed back into him. He was no longer in the garden, no longer surrounded by his family. Cold, dark water enveloped him, pressing in from all sides.
His body was sluggish, his limbs heavy with fatigue, but he forced himself to move. Kicking his legs and pulling with his arms, he struggled towards the surface, the light above him a distant, unreachable point.
Every stroke felt like an eternity, the water thick and resistant. His lungs burned for air, his vision darkening at the edges. Just when he thought he couldn't go any further, his head broke the surface, and he gasped, sucking in a breath of cold, damp air.
He was alive, but barely. The shore was still a daunting distance away, but he had to keep moving. As he dragged himself through the water, his breath came in puffs of frozen air as he struggled to make it out of the frigid water.
Nico looked up to see the imposing figure of the Goddess of the Styx standing on the shore, her spectral form radiating an otherworldly light. Her eyes were dark, inscrutable, and filled with an ancient power that made his heart skip a beat.
"Do you believe in your oath now?" Her voice rasped, making the icy water churn around him. Nico's mind raced, the cold of the Styx seeping into his bones.
"I do," He said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "I meant every word." The Goddess of the Styx tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.
"Then prove it," she whispered, her voice carrying an eerie echo.
"How?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He grabbed onto the rocks on the bank of the Styx and hauled himself out, his chest heaving and his body shaking.
"By surviving the oaths your ancestors broke. By learning that once you make an oath, it will dictate everything you do for the rest of your life." She replied, a ghostly smile playing on her lips.
"Alright." Nico took a deep breath, steadying himself from the shivers that racked his body. "I'm ready."
Nico stood there, his legs trembling under his weight, a weird mixture of exhaustion and determination coursing through his veins. He took a step forward, water dripping from his clothes, creating small puddles on the rocky ground. As he moved, he could almost hear Hades' voice in his head, reprimanding him for getting into such predicaments.