Till Sunrise┊Luke Castellan

29 .·:· Whispers of Loss

Egusquiza, Rogelio de. 'Tristan and Isolde'. 1910 (censored) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Words: 2,583

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Language warning

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As Phoebe fought to keep her eyes open, the world around her seemed to blur into a haze of pain and exhaustion. Each breath came in shallow gasps, her chest burning with the effort. She could feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision, threatening to pull her under.

But amidst the chaos of her failing senses, a distant sound reached her ears. Dispatched shouts echoed through the forest, faint and muffled, but growing louder with each passing moment. Phoebe strained to hear them, her senses sharpening with the urgency of the situation. And then, amidst the clamour, she heard it: her name, carried on the wind like a desperate plea.

As Phoebe fought against the encroaching darkness, her ears strained to catch the faint echoes of shouts piercing through the dense forest. Each syllable felt like a lifeline, drawing her back from the brink of unconsciousness. With a desperate effort, she tried to respond, to let them know that she was still here, still fighting against the grip of death that threatened to consume her.

But her voice failed her, reduced to nothing more than a rasping whisper that was swallowed by the oppressive silence of the woods. Yet, despite her inability to call out, Phoebe felt a surge of hope as the shouts drew nearer, growing louder with each passing moment.

And then, as if by some stroke of luck or divine intervention, the calls ceased abruptly, leaving only a tense stillness in their wake. Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, Phoebe could see figures emerging from the shadows, their faces blurred and indistinct in the dim moonlight.

Among them stood Percy, frozen in place like a statue carved from stone, his eyes fixed on Phoebe with a mixture of shock and horror. It was as if time itself had halted, leaving him suspended in a moment of paralysing dread.

"Percy, what is it?" Annabeth's voice cut through the stillness, her tone laced with concern as she peered over Percy's shoulder. Phoebe watched as Annabeth's eyes widened in horror at the sight before her, prompting her to spring into action.

With a jolt, Percy was snapped out of his trance, stumbling forward as Annabeth bumped into his shoulder in her haste to reach Phoebe's side.

As they knelt beside her, Phoebe tried to summon a smile, to reassure them that she would be alright. But the effort only resulted in a grimace, the pain too overwhelming to mask.

As Percy knelt beside Phoebe in a pool of her blood, his heart hammered against his ribs with a frantic urgency. He could feel the weight of her pain pressing down on him, suffocating him with a sense of helplessness. His mind raced, grasping for solutions, but each thought slipped through his fingers like water, leaving only a sense of dread in its wake.

"Help!" Percy's voice shattered the oppressive silence of the forest, reverberating through the trees like a desperate plea. But there was no response, no saviour emerging from the shadows to answer his call. Only the echo of his own fear bounced back at him.

"Percy, there's no one around us," Annabeth's voice cut through the panic, her words a stark reminder of their isolation. Percy's gaze flickered to her, his eyes wide with terror as he grappled with the reality of their situation. "Everyone else went the other way or remained at camp in case they came back."