"I fear for our friends."
The words were whispered softly into the night. Jyn's eyes flickered open when she heard them, her back to the room and to the bunk across it, from which Baze had spoken. She swallowed past the trepidation closing up her throat and involuntarily curled into a tighter ball beneath the heavy sheets, suppressing the shiver that ran down her spine. The words were true, and she feared for them, too.
Chirrut shifted in the bunk above her, and she heard the low rumble of his voice. "As do I," he said simply. "There is a great destiny upon them. It moves about and through them."
"And us?" Baze's voice was heavy.
"We will protect them as best we can," Chirrut returned, a sorrow in his tone that bespoke his own hopelessness.
"And Jyn?"
Jyn resisted the urge to stiffen at her name, revealing her consciousness. Baze still believed she'd fallen asleep, but she sensed in her bones that Chirrut was well aware of her farce. She heard the sheets shift about him as he rolled to look upon Baze.
"The strongest stars have hearts of kyber," he repeated, and she recognized his greeting to her on Jedha, the memory foggy from the time that had passed between now and then.
Apparently Baze was confused, for Chirrut elaborated. "Even now she feels the tug of her own path."
Beneath the sheets, Jyn trembled in her bones and squeezed shut her eyes.
- - -
"Bohdi!" Cassian kept his voice low, hissing out into the night. The chill air turned his breath into a ghost that plumed forth before dissipating. In the low bed across from him, the still form of Bohdi shifted, rolled over, and Cassian's gaze met eyes that glinted strangely in the little light that filtered through the bars of the door and into the room.
"What?" Bohdi's voice was low, and there was no hint of grogginess within it. For the past couple hours, then, he'd done nothing but toss and turn, just as Cassian had. He couldn't say he blamed the pilot. Aside from the ever-increasing complexity of their position, the cell-like room didn't make sleep any easier. Cassian let his head fall back upon the pillow and studied the underside of the stone ceiling.
"What was wrong today?" The question was still bothering him. Before they'd all disappeared into their sleeping quarters for the night, Jyn had pulled Cassian aside and explained to him her fear that the madness of Bor Gullet was simply taking longer to set in. When Morpheus had done his best to help them, imparting a little bit of his knowledge as he did so, and in quite the same fashion that he had to Cassian, he hadn't been able to determine the cause of the reeling in Bohdi's mind, only fashioned for the pilot a salve to rub into his temples that would relieve him of the headache.
Bohdi took a while to answer, and Cassian rolled over to see if he'd fallen asleep, though he highly doubted it. Finally, the pilot's voice came from across the room, low, subdued. "I- I don't know. It was like there was this tugging in my thoughts. It wasn't a voice or anything, just a-," he paused, searching for the right word, before resigning himself, "a tugging."
Cassian waited a moment to respond, his thoughts lost in circles. He opened his mouth to comfort the man, but he was interrupted before he could speak, and his words fell to oblivion in his mind.
"What- what do you think will happen next?"
The question had been echoing in Cassian's mind for nearly three hours now, and he still had no answer, neither for himself, nor for Bohdi, and so he shrugged, mustering as much nonchalance as he could. "I don't know," he admitted, and then paused. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."
- - -
Luke woke in a cold sweat, his muscles stiffening, his body firing itself up and out of the warmth of the sheets, into the chill air of the cell, his limbs trembling, his face sheet-white. In his ears echoed the tortured screams of Ethan Nakamura, falling, endlessly falling to a sudden and bloody end. His mind reeled, struggling for a point of reality on which to cling, his breath short and sharp, his eyes swimming with unwept tears. He scrambled for Backbiter, its sheath hanging at the foot of the bed, glinting in the light from the main hall. His hand closed about the hilt, knuckles white, and he seemed to collapse in on himself, his fingers sliding slowly from their grip on the blade, back to his lap, where they shivered as he stilled his breathing, controlled his inhales, his exhales, and then finally breathed a heaving sigh, running his fingers through his hair, resting his forehead in his palms, letting out a low curse.
He raised his gaze to Rowan's sleeping form, splayed out in the bunk across the cell, clutching the pillow to her as she rested, her body rising and falling rhythmically. A small smile raised the corner of his lips when he beheld her. She slept the same way she always had, even on the streets, as if there were no threat, not even of some horrendous monster, that could persuade her to surrender her habits of taking up as much space as possible. She seemed at peace now, contrary to the night before.
They had talked late, till they had exhausted all the subjects of the times they had spent apart, and though her stories were fascinating, he found himself resting more in the familiarity of her presence. For the one moment that they had it, it was like old times, sharing stories in the dark, in unfamiliar rooms, the advance of enemies all around, for the moment delayed enough to allow them hope. But there had been an undertone to the conversation that was not so resembling of old times; there was a hardness to Rowan's voice that had not always been there, and a note of hopelessness to his that he, in their youth, had yet to gain, and so there was a darkness to their stories, and the night had ended in something far off of the laughter of their childhood.
He stiffened, rose to his feet, and stretched, scanning the room and inclining an ear toward the hall. No one else had risen yet, and satisfied with the silence, Luke grabbed hold of Backbiter, strapping it to his belt as he moved out of the cell, careful with the door when he closed it behind him. Looking through the bars, he saw that Rowan had not yet stirred, and so he moved confidently down the hall, back the direction they'd come.
He'd always been good with directions, but he was happy that the paths of the Labyrinth, through the guiding hands of Ariadne, Hecate, and, to his surprise, Circe, had been straightened, becoming easily navigable, easy enough for him to reach the beach house in a period of about twenty minutes. It was dim and quiet there, the lanterns of the meeting room not yet lit, but papers and maps still blanketed the surface of the table, and he peered about it to see the slumbering form of Reyna, her body contorted in her chair, her head resting gently upon her hand. Luke furrowed his brow and tilted his head at the sight, concern and sorrow in his eyes.
He pushed on, moving outside and into the sea air that buffeted the beach house and tousled his hair, filling his lungs. He breathed slowly, taking in the salty tang, remembering the beauty that the world once held before the onslaught of Ouranos. There was a figure far ahead on the beach, and it didn't take much riddling for Luke to realize it was Percy. He had a feeling that, with the absence of Annabeth racking the heart of the man so fully, he would find no respite underground.
Luke stepped forward, his boots sinking into the sand as he did so, but a harsh voice called off his movements, and he froze, turning about to face the speaker.
"Where do you think you're going?" The question was sharp, pointed, and Luke came face to face Terminus, the stone god staring him down with a fiery glare.
Luke raised his hands in surrender. "I'm going to speak with Percy," he explained.
Terminus opened his mouth, but paused as he did so, studying Luke thoroughly. Slowly, his mouth tightened into a frown once more, till he gave a short, jerking nod. "I suppose you can go," he said then, his stone features softening a little before growing rapidly rigid again. "But I've got my eye on you."
Luke nodded, and a gently laughing smile slipped across his lips. "Thank goodness."
Before the god could respond, Luke had turned, though he heard the low chuckle behind him, and advanced through the shifting sands in the direction of Percy's figure, a dark shadow in the even darker night. The sun had not yet risen, and Luke glanced down to his watch, frowning. He pressed down the light, illuminated the hands of it, and was surprised to find that it was already five-thirty. The sun should have been rising, but the world was black. Dread settled into his bones, and he redoubled his pace toward Percy.
The man turned as Luke neared, and his expression lit up in a multitude of emotions, and each of them, Luke felt with a drop in his stomach, he could account for. But Percy smiled as he neared, a sad smile, and a shadow of his former mirth, but a smile nonetheless.
"'Morning," Percy greeted as Luke came up beside him. Luke nodded in turn, grinning his own greeting. They let silence reign for a moment now, both studying the ocean, both searching for the right words to say.
"It's still dark," Luke noted after a time, and his brow furrowed in concern.
Percy nodded, his eyes flashing. "I don't think the sun's gonna rise today," he said, his voice low, dark.
Luke's expression grew grim. "Rhea said something about Nyx joining Tartarus. There were rumors it was happening."
Percy's chest deflated a little. "I don't think they're rumors anymore," he commented.
Luke didn't respond, forced himself to breathe deep the sea air, to feel the gentle caressing of the wind upon his skin, billowing sea-spray toward them so that it pattered at their feet, a drumbeat for the lapping of the waves. They rested together in that moment, caught somewhere between the chaos of war and the calm of the deep, until they knew it was time to abandon their daydream, return to reality.
"What are you watching for?" Luke asked.
"My father went off to find Pontus. We're hoping to secure an alliance with him. There'd be hope if we could, but we have to find him first. I'm to watch for the first sign of them," Percy explained.
Luke looked over to him, noting the exhaustion in his voice, and he saw the haggard, beaten look in Percy's eyes, strained from night after night of fruitless waiting. Compassion filled him.
"Rest a bit," he told him. "I'll watch until the meeting."
Percy opened his mouth to protest, but already his eye-lids were struggling to stay open, and he simply nodded gratefully, lowering himself to rest upon the sands, crossing his arms beneath his head as his eyes watched the storming clouds above. Luke lowered himself beside Percy, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows there, his eyes scanning the horizon, so lost in the endless black of it that he didn't notice the figure that seemed to form from the shadows beside him, standing still and tall in the dark, till she spoke.
"The oceans here are much more beautiful than where I come from," she said.
Luke stiffened, his hand falling to Backbiter before he peered up into her face and recognized Jyn, her features hard-set, anxious but defiant. It was the same expression she always seemed to have, and Luke wondered for a moment where it had come from. Rowan had mentioned that she was the daughter of an Imperial science officer, that many of the trials Rowan had undergone in space were related to the battleship plans Jyn's father had created, and he began to evaluate her in a new light, noting the bright intelligence in her eyes, the result of a life on the lam, and the subtle strength in her limbs, a deadly surprise to any unsuspecting enemy. He smiled a little at the thought, then patted the sand beside him.
"Take a seat," he offered, and she nodded, taken somewhat aback, before lowering herself, panther-like, beside him.
"Thanks," she returned when she'd settled herself into the sand, a few inches shorter than him. They rested in silence for a moment, and Luke watched her incline her head to the sea, listening closely to its lilting melodies that came gently to them on the breeze.
"It's strange," she said after a time, glancing to him, her brows furrowed in a sad sort of confusion. He nodded for her to continue, turning his full attention toward her. "Ever since we've arrived," she elaborated, letting her eyes fall back in a daze to the sea, "I've felt some familiarity here. It's as if walking in a memory."
Luke furrowed his brow, nodding slowly. He turned his head to watch the waves beat against the sand once more.
"I don't know what it is," she concluded finally, letting the doubt, the trepidation, slip into the breeze, her voice ending on a low note.
Luke shrugged helplessly. "I don't know either," he told her, wishing he had a better answer, but knowing that the falseness would only cause her more anxiety. "I have a feeling, though," he added, "that you'll find out soon enough what it means." He looked to her, a meaningful glint in his eyes, and she nodded solemnly, meeting his gaze, before turning back to the sea.
There was silence again, in which Luke studied her features, taken aback at the beauty there, suffusing her face, welling up from deep within, gently and firmly all at once. When she spoke, it took him a moment to register the question.
"Why was Rowan looking for you?"
He faltered a little when his mind grasped her words, and his eyes fell with a bitterness to his hands, the fingers clasped together. He took a moment, tasting his answer on his tongue before he ventured to say it.
"Did she tell you about the war against Kronos?" he asked after a moment.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she shook her head negatively, and he let out a barely perceptible sigh of regret when she did so, preparing himself to recount all that had happened.
"I-," he sucked in a breath. "I allowed Kronos to possess my body. I'm… I'm the reason he was able to gather his armies." There was a hard resignation in his voice; he felt his heart hardening against the memories as he finished his explanation as rapidly as possible, his only defense against the nightmares in his mind. "I'm the reason for the war. At the end of it, though, I had enough consciousness to defeat him," he said, and took another deep breath. "I tried to take my own life." Jyn's head jerked to face him, and he fixed his vision on the sand, refusing to meet her eyes. "It was the only way to defeat him, and it would have given me a final peace, but in the moments while I was dying, Rowan showed up. She's always had remarkable powers of healing, and she was able to slow the process that should have taken seconds, allowing enough time for me to be transported back to Camp, where they healed me.
"I lived there for a year or so, training new recruits, but always reminded of what I had done. I was not to be trusted, and I knew that full well. There were times in which I could not even trust myself, but they passed quickly. As far as sisters go, Rowan is probably the most loyal," he interrupted himself to smile a little, the expression mirrored by Jyn as she watched closely his lips form the words of his tale. "But when the war against Gaea started, it was too much to bear. As soon as I knew for certain that the war was won, I left. Rowan had gone on a quest with a few other demigods, and she was growing into her skill and powers, and so I knew that she would be safe. I had arranged passage months before with a group of Mandalorians that had been stranded here for some time, trading them parts for my escape. We left before Rowan could dissuade me, because I knew that she would."
Luke paused then, and his gut twisted within him, guilt and remorse building like vomit till his eyes fell back to Jyn's.
"I was a coward," he told her, his voice low and harsh and grating. "I was hiding behind the excuse that my absence would be the best thing for her, but all I truly wanted was to run away, and, like a coward, I did."
Jyn's eyes were large and sad when he met them, and her hand traveled gently up to rest upon his shoulder, the warmth from it seeping through his clothes and into his skin, more powerful than the biting chill of the wind. He found himself involuntarily huddled against it, relaxing his muscles beneath her touch, his shoulders loosening the tension that had been stored there for longer than he could remember. He met her eyes again then, the chocolate brown melting the ice in his own, and so they remained, as if they had been cut from the bonds of time.
Time caught up to them, though, enveloping them and pulling them back to the present. Luke looked down at his watch again, saw that it was nearing the hour for the meeting, and then glanced back to the beach house. Already, the lanterns were being lit in the meeting room, and he could see the silhouettes of various men and women thrown against the blinds.
"It's time to go," he muttered to her, reluctant to move. It was mirrored in her, but she nodded, struggling against her own desires as she rose from the sand.
She offered a hand to Luke, and he took it, throwing his weight into his legs and standing. He knelt beside Percy, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and rocking him gently. Percy's eyes flickered open, the whites turned bloodshot, looking as if he were waking into a nightmare, not from one.
"The meeting's starting," Luke explained, when he saw that Percy would not speak. Percy nodded solemnly, raising himself to a seated position. "Are you coming?" Luke asked, offering his hand the way Jyn had offered hers.
"No," Percy shook his head as he took Luke's hand, his voice low and broken, still adjusting to the world about him after his sorely-needed rest. "Reyna will update me on the plan of action," he explained when he was on his feet. "I can't abandon my position here."
Luke nodded in understanding and looked back to the beach house. He took a step toward it, followed by Jyn, before turning and facing Percy with a smile, unassuming but hopeful. "I hope to see you sometime soon, Percy," he said.
Percy grinned softly. "I hope so, too," he said, and they parted, Percy turning back to the sea as Jyn and Luke hurried up the sloping beach to the meeting they were very nearly late for.
"It's so dark," Jyn commented as they slowed beside Terminus's statue.
Luke's face was grim. "The sun won't rise today," he said, and with that, they entered the meeting, and Jyn's face, already hard-set, grew even more defiant under the hopelessness that fell like the executioner's blade upon them.
