𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ

Fading Light.

🌊

"THIS IS STUPID," Rory sighed, her voice carrying a tinge of frustration as she stood on the deck of the Princess Andromeda, her eyes scanning the endless horizon. Luke leaned casually against the railing, methodically polishing Backbiter, the dark, serpentine sword shimmering menacingly in the bright sunlight.

"I dare you to say that to Kronos's face," he replied nonchalantly, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. Rory responded with a dismissive eye roll, her annoyance palpable.

It was a beautiful day, the kind that poets write about with reverence and awe. The sky was an unbroken expanse of azure, without a single cloud to mar its perfection. Sunlight danced on the surface of the sea, turning the water into a sparkling tapestry of blues and greens. The vast ocean stretched endlessly on all sides of the ship, creating the illusion that they were suspended in a timeless, boundless realm, completely detached from the world they knew. The gentle rocking of the ship and the soothing sound of waves lapping against its hull, normally so comforting, grated on Rory's nerves. She longed for silence, for a moment's respite from the ceaseless noise and motion.

Rory's training session was supposed to be progressing, but the sheer futility she felt was overwhelming. The day was perfect, with the sun high in the sky and not a single shadow in view, ideal conditions for her practice. Yet, despite this, her task seemed impossible, and the idyllic setting only served to heighten her frustration. She glanced back at Luke, who continued his work with maddening calmness, as if he had not a care in the world.

His ease under pressure and unwavering confidence in their dire circumstances was, of course, nothing more than a façade. Rory knew this, knew that beneath his serene exterior, Luke harbored his own doubts and fears. She was glad he had joined her that morning, even if his calm demeanor sometimes felt like a rebuke.

The Princess Andromeda cut through the water with a steady grace, its polished wood and billowing sails a testament to its grandeur. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding her, Rory couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped. The vastness of the sea was both freeing and imprisoning, a paradox that mirrored her own conflicted emotions. On one hand, the endless horizon offered a sense of limitless possibilities and adventures yet to be had. On the other, it felt like an inescapable void, isolating her from everything familiar and safe. Failure was not an option, but the weight of it all felt like a heavy anchor dragging her down, threatening to pull her under. The responsibility was immense, and the pressure to succeed was relentless. She felt as if she were standing at the familiar edge of a precipice, with nothing but the vast, churning sea below.

Rory let out another sigh, her exasperation lingering in the air. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of despair.

Luke, undeterred, merely shrugged in response. "I don't know, just picture yourself over there," he suggested, nodding towards the far side of the deck where the shadows danced in the ship's gentle sway.

Rory shot him a look of incredulity, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. His casual suggestion made it sound so simple, but it was easier said than done. The effortless tone of his advice felt more like a taunt than encouragement, and she would've liked to see him give it a try in her place.

Instead of succumbing to frustration, Rory determinedly closed her eyes, hoping to tap into the instincts that had guided her before. She needed to clear her mind, to let go of the doubts and fears that were clouding her judgment. The past hour of effort had yielded no progress, leading her to suspect that perhaps she was overlooking a crucial element. Maybe, she mused, the issue lay in her overly methodical approach. She needed to stop thinking and start feeling.