𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ

Fragments of Home.

🌎

    The wind whipped through Rory's hair like frenzied spirits, tugging at her clothes and biting at her exposed skin with icy ferocity. Each gust felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing her flesh, the cold seeping deep into her bones. She was falling. But even as she plummeted through the frigid air, the sensation of free fall wasn't enough to jolt her into action.

    A heavy lethargy weighed upon her, dragging her further into a hazy stupor. Should she even do anything? Was it even worth it? Her thoughts, once so full of determination and fire, now circled around a single question: Was there any point in struggling against the fate that seemed so relentlessly determined to claim her? Maybe this was for the better.

    Her mind, fogged by the chill and exhaustion, drifted back to the dreaded words of the prophecy that had been haunting her for the last couple of days. Love betrays. Trust decays. The words reverberated in her mind, it was all she could think of. Each syllable was a hammer blow, driving home the inevitability of her plight.

    Maybe it would be less painful to just let go. Maybe it would be a mercy compared to the agony of trying to defy destiny. The struggle, the constant battles, the endless cycle of hope and despair—it was all so exhausting. The weight of her past failures and the burden of her responsibilities pressed down on her, sapping her strength and will. She had given so much, fought so hard, and for what?

    But Luke... She hadn't said goodbye to Luke. The thought of him, his name a whisper in her mind, brought a fresh wave of pain that pierced through her despondency. She saw his face, the determined glint in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a tilted smile. The thought of leaving him behind, of abandoning the future they had dared to imagine together, was a pang of regret that cut through her like a blade.

    Yet, even as she grappled with the desire to fight, to cling to life with every fiber of her being, a sense of resignation settled over her. The battles, the relentless pursuit of a destiny she had never wanted, all felt so crushingly inevitable. It was as if the universe itself had conspired to strip away her will, leaving her adrift in a sea of despair.

    As a secondhand thought, she saw Tartarus again, and that horrible fall. But this time, it wasn't just a nightmarish vision—it was reality. The dark, endless abyss of Tartarus loomed in her mind, a symbol of all her failures and fears. She was truly falling, hurtling towards an unknown fate with nothing to break her fall but the hard, unforgiving earth below. The wind roared in her ears. Now, as she plummeted through the frigid air, those memories merged with her present reality. The sense of falling, the terrifying loss of control, was all too familiar.

    As the ground rushed up to meet her, Rory braced herself for the inevitable impact, steeling herself for the pain that was sure to follow. She thought of home.

    Yet, when the moment came, it was strangely anticlimactic. Instead of the bone-shattering agony she had expected, there was only a fleeting sensation of impact, a brief jolt of disorientation that left her numb and bewildered. The world seemed to blur around her, the sharp outlines of reality dissolving into a haze of confusion. She lay still, trying to piece together what had happened, her mind struggling to make sense of the surreal turn of events.

    Was she dead? Maybe that's why she couldn't feel a thing. Because all the bones of her body had been shattered, leaving nothing but numbness in their wake? The thought lingered in the back of her mind, a chilling specter of doubt that refused to be silenced. The silence and coldness of the void pressed in on her and seemed to smother her very soul.

    Yet, even as she lay there, her senses dulled by shock and confusion, a distant sound pierced the fog. It was the sound of a door opening, a creak that echoed through the silence, followed by the warmth of a soft, golden light spilling out into the darkness. The light was faint at first, just a pinprick in the abyss, but it gradually grew, pushing back the shadows that threatened to consume her.

    Then, someone screamed—a woman's voice, filled with terror and alarm. The scream cut through Rory's stupor, a jarring reminder of the world she was slipping away from. But her thoughts were muddled, her consciousness slipping further away with each passing moment. She tried to grasp onto the fleeting fragments of reality, to cling to the thread of life that still bound her to this world. But the darkness was relentless, pulling her under, drowning her in its cold embrace. Her body felt heavy, unresponsive, as if it no longer belonged to her.

    In the end, all she could do was surrender to the darkness, to let it swallow her whole as she drifted into oblivion. The light and sound faded, replaced by a deep, encompassing silence. Rory didn't remember what happened after that. The world around her faded to black, and she was left with nothing but the echo of her own heartbeat, growing fainter and fainter until it, too, was gone.

    Her dreams were eerily empty, a vast expanse of nothingness that stretched endlessly in every direction. She just sat there, waiting around in the void as though floating in a sea of ink. Every second felt like an eternity, each tick of time dragging on interminably. Were they even seconds? Rory wasn't sure. The concept of time had become meaningless in this place. Each passing moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely and blurred into an indistinguishable haze.

    It was so dark. An all-encompassing blackness that swallowed everything whole. She wasn't used to the dark. She didn't like it. The absence of light was suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides. It was overwhelming, crushing her spirit, surrounding her, drowning her in its embrace.

    She was so tired. Every muscle, every bone, every thought weighed down with exhaustion. The constant struggle against the void was draining, an endless battle with no victory in sight. She felt her will weakening, her resolve crumbling under the relentless pressure.

    In the end, she let herself float away, further into the depths of oblivion. She surrendered to the darkness, allowing it to carry her away on its cold currents. The weight lifted slightly as she stopped fighting, her body and mind succumbing to the void.

    And then, like a whisper in the void, she felt a presence—a flicker of movement at the edge of her consciousness. It was subtle at first, barely more than a ripple in the sea of darkness, but it grew stronger, more insistent. Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes, blinking against the dim light that filtered through the darkness.

    The light was soft, almost tender, and it wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She could make out a figure standing before her, bathed in an ethereal glow that seemed to push back the encroaching shadows. As her vision cleared, she saw a young boy, his features illuminated with an almost otherworldly radiance.

    He couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old. Tousled blond hair framed his face, the strands catching the light and glinting like spun gold. His eyes were a striking blue, the color of a cloudless summer sky, vivid and full of life.

    For a fleeting moment, Rory's gaze lingered on the freckles scattered across his nose, a charming constellation that added to his innocent appearance. She felt an inexplicable connection to the boy, a sense of familiarity that tugged at her heartstrings. But before she could speak, before she could even fully comprehend what was happening, the boy's eyes widened in shock.

    He stumbled back a step, his expression transforming from curiosity to panic. "Mo—o—o—m!" he cried out, his voice echoing in the dimly lit space. He turned on his heel and scrambled towards a nearby door. His movements were frantic, his small body trembling with the urgency of his flight. Aurora watched, stunned and unable to move, as he fumbled with the door handle, his fingers slipping in his haste.

    She was left alone in the room. Was this a dream? It couldn't be real. This was her room. Not the overcrowded Hermes Cabin or even her room on the Princess Andromeda but her room. Her childhood room. How had she gotten here? As Rory surveyed the room, a flood of memories washed over her, transporting her back to a time long forgotten—the sanctuary of her childhood, where every corner held a cherished relic of days gone by. It was her room, unmistakably so.

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I sure wonder what's going on

Anyways, surprise, she's not dead, yay

I also just accidentally stayed up until 5 am reading the battle of the labyrinth, send help, I've got soo many ideas for angst, Rory and Luke are not going to be having a good time

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