𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜰɪꜰᴛʏ-ꜰɪᴠᴇ

It's Quiet Uptown.

🌎

    With a heavy heart, Rory rose to her feet, the weight of her purpose bearing down on her shoulders like the pull of gravity itself. She could almost feel the presence of Kronos pressing down on her, guiding her steps with an invisible hand. It was a force both familiar and foreign, like a shadow in her mind, always lurking, always watching. She turned away from where the faint, ghostly silhouette of Luke inevitably lay far below. Each step took her further from him, yet closer to the summit, and she could feel the distance stretching painfully, pulling at the threads that still connected her to him.

    The mist around her swirled in strange patterns, parting slightly as if obeying an unspoken command. It was like a reluctant servant bowing before its master, but she knew it wasn't deference—it was Kronos, exerting his will even on the air she breathed, shaping the world around her in twisted forms of obedience. She climbed, feeling the resistance in every muscle, a battle with herself as much as with the mountain. The higher she climbed, the more she felt the weight of her orders settling in her chest, cold and unyielding. There was no room for doubt. This was what Kronos wanted her to do, so she would do it. There was no choice. She was his soldier, his puppet, and she had to play her part in this deadly game.

    When she finally reached the summit, she found herself standing before the ragtag group of heroes who seemed to embody everything she used to believe in and everything she'd left behind. Their faces were hardened, wary, filled with the determination that only those fighting for their lives and the lives of others could wear. Weapons glinted in their hands, pointed directly at her, and she could see the tension rippling through their ranks like a tightly pulled wire. An exaggerated number of blades, spears, and arrows seemed to converge on her, all waiting for a single misstep, a single sign of aggression. Rory raised an eyebrow, her expression flat and unimpressed. She was sick of this. The exhaustion ran so deep that it felt carved into her bones. She’d seen enough bloodshed, enough death. She didn’t want to fight, not now, not anymore. But she had no choice.

    She glanced around, letting her gaze linger on the faces before her—there was Percy, and Annabeth, and Maddie, each with matching streaks of grey hair. There was Camille, bow in hand, her jaw set with determination. And beside her, a girl who could only be Thalia. Rory had imagined meeting Thalia so many times before, had thought about what she might say to her. Maybe they could've been friends in another life. But instead of allies, she stood here, facing down heroes whose loyalty and lives she had once put at risk. She'd poisoned Thalia's tree, threatened her friends, and done things she could never take back. Maybe in that different life, in a kinder world, she wouldn’t be standing here like this—on the opposite side, a figure cast in shadow, with a history stained in blood.

    Behind her, Atlas groaned as he strained under the immense, crushing weight of the sky once more. She could hear his labored breathing, the creak of his bones. Somewhere far below, Luke lay broken, crippled by the cost of their mission.

    The distant sounds of their monster army crawling up from the beach echoed faintly through the mist, but she knew it would be too late. They were too slow, and by the time they arrived, it would all be over. Chris and Mary were dead, their bodies abandoned in the endless depths of the labyrinth.  All of them, gone. And now, she stood alone. The last pawn on the board.

    An arrow was nocked and released by the goddess of hunt that they had so skillfully imprisoned, aimed straight for Rory's heart. In that moment, a dark acceptance washed over her. Good, she thought bitterly. Let her die then. At least it would all be over. But just as the arrow was inches way from ending her life, as if caught by some unseen gust of wind, the arrow veered off course, spinning away from its deadly trajectory and embedding itself in the stone wall beside her, its metal tip gleaming mockingly in the half-light. Rory could only look at it with indifference, a flicker of disappointment crossing her mind.