Till Sunrise ┊Luke Castellan

7 .·:· Ripples in the Shadows

Hiremy-Hirschl, Adolf. 'The Birth of Venus'. 1888. [Detail] (censored)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Words:  4,946

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Language warning

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nine days before the summer solstice

From the realm of dreams, Luke stumbly emerged, his eyes darting around, startled. His hand instinctively went towards the racing heartbeat beneath his flesh, the rhythm of his breath, erratic and unsteady, doing nothing but quicken its pace.

Closing his eyes tightly, he attempted to banish the haunting flashes of the dream that kept repairing, as if taunting him with the memories of the conversation. Of the looming threats that were made.

He couldn't afford the luxury of failure, not again. the responsibilities clawed at him as he struggled to breathe. The need to marshal forces and devise a strategy in case the boy returned from his quest becoming more urgent. He couldn't fail again. He couldn't give him a reason to question his worthiness.

He couldn't get replaced. He had betrayed too many people, he had dared too much, and now he couldn't falter. He had to keep on going. To make it all worth it. He had to win the war.

For Luke, there could be no retreat, only an inexorable march forward. He couldn't relinquish his purpose. Too many had placed their faith in him. Too many had been ensnared in the web of his choices. His pledge echoed in their shadows, the silent vow to free those shackled by the eternal cycle of divine abandonment. To break the chains that bound demigods.

The weight of his Enypnion¹ spurred him to rise from the bed. He glanced down at the girl next to him, then turned away, slipping out the window and into the soft rain, leaving the echoes of dreams behind.

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Phoebe awoke again to the warm glow of her room, its radiance too hard to ignore, even with her eyes closed. She moved her hand to the other side of the bed, anticipating the comforting warmth of another body, yearning to lose herself in his embrace. To her dismay, she found emptiness. Rubbing the entire side of the bed to be sure, she whispered, "Luke?" Her sleep-heavy eyes blinked dazedly, scanning the vacant room. A sinking feeling gripped her heart. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes again, seeking refuge in the solace of sleep, attempting to brush aside his absence and the emotions it stirred.

A soft knock on her door shattered the hazy thoughts she was having of sleep. "Phoebe? Are you awake?" The voice, though muffled, sounded like Lee.

Groaning audibly, she made no effort to mask her discontent. "I'm taking that as a yes," he said as he opened her door. "I'm going to check on your ankle."

Phoebe rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "I can do that."

"I know you can, but you never do," Lee retorted, as he lifted the quilt off her leg. When he saw that it wasn't raised, a cold breeze filtered in, and he glanced up to see the open window. He closed it with a disapproving look, to which Phoebe responded with a casual shrug.

"I'm assigning you bed rest."

Phoebe's face contorted in shock. "Huh? What, It's not that bad" she protested quickly, voicing her displeasure.