𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

A Hero's Resolve.

⚡

EVERY NIGHT AFTER THAT WAS THE SAME.

Night after night, the same endless torment.

She was falling. Deeper and deeper, into the gaping abyss where her screams seemed to dissolve into the blackness. As she plunged into the void, each descent felt like an endless journey. The dark engulfed her, pulling her deeper into a realm where the agony was palpable, each ounce of pressure crushing her. It was as though the abyss itself was alive, squeezing the very life out of her. No matter how much she tried to claw her way back to the surface, the darkness was relentless, pushing her down.

The falling never ended. Rory could feel the despair settling into her bones, each moment in that chasm stretching into an eternity. The oppressive weight of her torment grew heavier with each descent until she could no longer contain her anguish. The echoes of her screams reverberated through the endless pit. But when she finally woke, with her body drenched in sweat and her heart racing, the tears had already begun to flow. It was always the same—waking in the dead of night, the darkness outside the window mirroring the void she had just escaped, her sobs stifled by the oppressive silence of the night.

Kronos seemed to take delight in her suffering, watching her struggle against the inevitable. Rory could have tried to escape, to find some way to break free from his grasp, but deep down, she knew it was futile. This dream world was his dominion, a realm where his power was absolute. She was merely a pawn in his cruel game, her fate sealed from the moment she closed her eyes.

Despite the hopelessness, she never even attempted to fight back, never tried to run or change the course of her nightmares. She might as well have been jumping into the pit herself, willingly leaping into the chasm. With each plunge into the abyss, she became more resigned to her suffering, more accustomed to the crushing embrace of darkness. The dreamworld became her prison, the night her captor, and each fall into the void another link in the chain that bound her to Kronos's twisted will.

Grover and Annabeth had returned to camp, both looking a little worse for wear, but very much alive, the day after Rory's initial nightmare. The whole camp was abuzz with rumors, the air thick with whispers and speculation about what might have happened during their quest. When pressed for details, Grover and Annabeth revealed that they had found the bolt, that Ares had also stolen Hades's helm of darkness to try and start a war with him as well but that Ares wasn't working alone—Kronos was rising.

It was too much information, far more than they were meant to have. It changed everything. How long would it take for them to realize that Clarisse hadn't been the one to steal the bolt? That Ares was merely a pawn in a larger scheme orchestrated to completely annihilate the gods themselves? Annabeth was smart. They had to keep up their roles, lest she see through them.

Despite the gravity of their news, Grover and Annabeth couldn't help but bask in the spotlight. Campers gathered around them, patting them on the back, hooting and hollering in approval. Not only had they been the first ones since Luke to go on a quest, but they had also come back successful. Annabeth's smile was radiant; this had been her dream, her moment to shine, and she had worked tirelessly for it. The other campers were eager to hear their stories, hanging on every word as Grover animatedly recounted their adventures, complete with dramatic gestures and embellishments that had everyone in stitches.

And Grover had been hoping for his searcher's license, so that he could officially embark on his own quest to find Pan. The success of this quest could be his ticket to that dream. Annabeth and Grover soaked in the admiration, enjoying the attention from their friends and peers. It was a moment of triumph after so much struggle and uncertainty.