A Fate Foretold.
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Having acquired a sleek new boat, its hull sleek and glistening under the rays of the sun, they navigated their way out of the treacherous Sea of Monsters. Finally, the skyline of Miami emerged on the horizon, its tall buildings shimmering in the distance. They maneuvered the boat into the marina, navigating through the busy docks until they found a suitable spot to anchor.
With the boat securely docked, Rory, Luke, and Chris took a moment to gather their thoughts and plan their next move. The salty tang of the ocean air mingled with the myriad scents of the city—exhaust fumes, street food, and a hint of tropical flowers.
They then summoned the rest of their army. They knew that every second counted, and that they needed every ounce of their strength and cunning for the ambush that lay ahead.
The waves lapped gently against the hull of the boat, an unsettling tranquility. The sea seemed to hold its breath along with them, as if it too awaited the clash of forces that would soon erupt. It was a deceptive calm, masking the storm that was about to break. Those next few days were spent in a tense vigilance.
Now, all they had to do was wait until Percy and the others showed up with the Fleece, take it from them, and then have Kronos rise. Easy enough. Or so it seemed. Despite the simplicity of the plan, Rory couldn't shake her apprehension. In their line of work, plans rarely went off without a hitch. Every mission was fraught with unforeseen complications, and this one would be no different. She had learned not to place too much faith in things going smoothly.
But whatever happened, Kronos would have a plan. He was as old as time itself. He had witnessed the ebb and flow of centuries pass. There was nothing he hadn't seen, nothing he hadn't experienced. His knowledge spanned millennia, and his strategic mind was unmatched. He knew exactly what he was doing, and that was both reassuring and absolutely teerifying. She had to believe in the larger scheme, in the ancient wisdom of the titan who had orchestrated everything. Yet, it was an uneasy alliance. It was true that the Titan Lord didn't care much about their lives. To him, they were just puppets to be orchestrated around, their strings pulled according to his grand design. They were expendable in his eyes, mere tools to be used and discarded when their purpose was fulfilled.
"Loyalty," echoed Kronos's chilling voice, resonating through the desolate chamber. That night, Rory found herself standing not in front of Tartarus, but in front of the sarcophagus in Luke's room. Now, most of his body was entombed within this very coffin rather than in the Underworld. The room was swallowed by darkness, empty except for her and the pulsing golden coffin. Shadows danced on the walls, their movements accompanied by haunting whispers.
The chamber was cold, the only source of light was the golden sarcophagus, which emitted an eerie glow that cast long, flickering shadows across the stone walls. It was as if the room itself was alive, watching her with a sinister curiosity.
She knew that Luke must be in the room with her, and she felt like she could almost feel his presence, a faint and flickering essence lingering just out of sight. But she couldn't see him. That had panicked her at first, when the nightmares had first started. The realization that she was all alone with the disembodied voice had been terrifying. Luke had warned her how disconcerting it would be, after all, he had been having them for months before her. But it had been so much worse than what she had imagined. The nightmares, like tendrils of darkness, had completely ensnared her thoughts. They were vivid and relentless, dragging her into a twisted realm where reality and illusion blurred. Yet, over time, a peculiar sense of familiarity had settled in—an acceptance born of repeated exposure to the dark pit and the disembodied voice that echoed through it. She had grown accustomed to the chilling presence, the way Kronos's voice would slither through her mind, filling her with dread and purpose in equal measure. The familiarity, however, did not lessen the horror. If anything, it deepened it, creating a twisted bond between her and the malevolent force that sought to reshape the world.
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𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan
أدب الهواةɪᴄᴀʀᴜꜱ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ but do you feel like a young god? you know the two of us are just young gods and we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath and they're running, running, running ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ OR in which in every uni...