Born To Die

My whole life changed

The change in Luke had been gradual, but now it was impossible to ignore. He wasn't himself anymore. His usually sharp, commanding presence had dulled into something hollow. He moved through the ship like a shadow, his words clipped and distant whenever I tried to talk to him. At first, I thought he was just stressed—after everything with the labyrinth, Antaeus, and Percy's reappearance, who wouldn't be? But it was more than that.

Luke was shutting me out.

I sat on the edge of our shared cabin, watching him as he stared blankly at a map spread across the desk. His fingers traced over the edges, but he wasn't really seeing it. His face was pale, his jaw tight, and his shoulders slumped in a way that made him seem smaller than usual.

"Luke," I said softly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between us.

He didn't look up. "What?"

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was pushing me away, why he seemed so... lifeless. But I knew he wouldn't answer. Not fully.

"You've barely eaten," I said instead, trying to keep my voice steady. "You haven't slept. You're running yourself into the ground, and you won't even tell me why."

He sighed, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. His blue eyes, once so full of fire and purpose, were now clouded with something I couldn't quite name. Guilt? Resignation? Fear?

"I'm fine, Isla," he said, his voice flat. "I'm just... tired."

"That's a lie," I said, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "You've been like this for days. You're not talking to me, you're barely talking to anyone. You're not fine, Luke. What's going on?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pushed back from the desk and stood, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he might actually tell me. But then his expression hardened, and he turned away.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, his tone colder than I'd ever heard it.

The words stung, but I didn't back down. I stood and crossed the room to him, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from walking away. "Don't do that," I said firmly. "Don't shut me out. Whatever this is, we can face it together. You don't have to do it alone."

He flinched at my touch, pulling away like my hand burned him. "Yes, I do," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't understand, Isla. You can't."

My chest tightened as I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. "Then help me understand," I pleaded. "Talk to me. Please."

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. "It's better this way," he said, stepping past me toward the door. "You'll see."

I reached out for him again, desperation clawing at me. "Luke, please—"

He stopped in the doorway, his back to me. "I'm doing this for you," he said quietly, his voice so soft I almost didn't hear it. Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of our cabin.

For a long time, I just stood there, staring at the empty doorway, my heart heavy with a growing sense of dread.

Something was wrong. Something terrible. And no matter how much I tried to fight it, Luke was slipping further and further away from me.