𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜰɪꜰᴛʏ-ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

The Vessel.

🧶

    HER DREAMS WERE FILLED WITH FRAGMENTS OF MEMORIES AND FEARS, like shattered glass scattered across the dark expanse of her mind. In the haze, battles raged—spectral images of war-torn fields and lost allies, faces obscured by smoke and dust. Through the chaos, she saw Luke falling again and again, his body twisting and plummeting through an endless abyss. Each fall felt sharper, more visceral than the last. She reached out to catch him, to stop the spiral of his descent, but every time, his form slipped through her fingers, his desperate eyes reflecting nothing but the void. It was as if he was never truly there, a phantom slipping away despite all her efforts. Her chest tightened, her heart cracking with the futile ache of helplessness. She couldn’t save him, not again.

    A faint sound broke through the thick fog of her nightmares, a soft rustling that stirred her from the depths of her restless sleep. The transition was jarring, like being pulled from a deep, dark well into the harsh light of reality. Her body jerked awake, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was. The room around her was blurry and indistinct, its edges softened by the dim, flickering light. She blinked groggily, disoriented by the abrupt return to consciousness. The memories of the dream clung to her like cobwebs, making it hard to focus. But then, as if in slow motion, her senses sharpened, and the truth snapped into place. Her gaze immediately shot toward the figure lying beside her.

    Luke.

    Then, just as the air around her seemed to freeze, she saw it. His fingers twitched—so faintly at first that she almost missed it. A tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to jolt Rory fully awake, the fear and tension flooding back in an instant. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she leaned forward, closer to his side, her voice barely a whisper, laced with a fragile hope. "Luke?" she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion, as if calling out to him could somehow bring him back.

    For a long, agonizing moment, there was nothing. No response. Rory’s heart sank into her stomach, the doubt creeping back in like cold shadows. She stared at him, her eyes scanning his face, desperately searching for any sign of life, wondering if she had imagined the movement, the hope.

    Then, just as she was about to pull away, to retreat into the overwhelming flood of despair that had threatened to drown her since the moment he'd fallen, his hand moved again. It was slow, hesitant at first, but undeniably deliberate—like a whisper of life returning to his battered body. The sight of it sent a tidal wave of relief crashing through her, so intense and sudden that her chest tightened with a sharp, almost painful ache. She held her breath, her heart racing as she leaned in closer, her fingers trembling as she gently squeezed his hand in hers, afraid to believe it.

    For a moment, it seemed as though time had stopped. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them in this fragile, suspended moment. His fingers twitched in hers, and the sensation was enough to make her heart swell with hope. Was this really happening? Was he truly waking up?

    Then, his eyelids fluttered—just once, then twice—and Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She held her breath, every fiber of her being focused on him, praying that this was not some cruel trick of her mind. Slowly, painfully, his eyes opened, revealing the familiar brown that she had missed so much, the eyes that had always anchored her in the chaos. They were clouded with confusion, dazed as if he didn’t quite know where he was, or how he’d gotten there, but they were open. And that was enough.

    "Rory?" he croaked, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, ragged from the days of unconsciousness, a voice she thought she might never hear again.

    Her chest swelled with relief so quickly it almost hurt, and the tears she had fought so hard to hold back came spilling over. She nodded, her voice thick with emotion as she finally allowed herself the release she'd been denying for so long. A small, exhausted smile broke through the haze of her exhaustion as she looked at him, her eyes never leaving his face. "I’m here, Luke," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m right here."