"You broke your promise once, Luke...don't...not...again..."
The gleaming gold of Luke Castellan's eyes slowly faded, giving way to pale, mortified shaking knees fell to the bloody carpet with an utterly revolting squelch, his hands white as the moonlight spilling in through the violently torn curtains.
"Annabeth..." he whispered, his voice tight with a paralyzing, heartbreaking, pain. "No. No no no no!"
"This wasn't supposed to happen!" he moaned, tearing at his blond hair with blood-stained fingers. "This is all my fault! I should have been able to fight him, I should have been able to break free of Kronos' control! I don't want him to use his control over time to bring me back to life, not if this is what he makes me do!"
He let out a low, mournful wail, which turned into a shuddering heave, which dissolved into sobs.
"Annabeth...Percy...Thalia...I'm so sorry..."
A young man sprints through the city under the cover of darkness. He holds one bundle under each arm, handling them like footballs made of glass.
His breathing is short, small hiccups interjecting every now and then. Two thin strips of liqiud, each beginning at one of his eyes, cuts through the grime caked on to his face.
Finally, he arrives at his destination. It is an ordinary house with white shutters, a peeling brown door, and a squeaky red garage. There is nothing abnormal about this that will soon man sets down the bundles on the porch's bench, first the seagreen one, then the grey one. A loud snore erupts from the grey bundle. He peers over at the girl crammed inside, a
But that will soon change.
The man sets down the bundles on the porch's bench, first the seagreen one, then the grey one. A loud snore erupts from the grey bundle. He peers over at the girl crammed inside, a two-year old with permanently tousled black hair and a sleeping manner reminiscent of Percy Jackson's. The seagreen one shifts slightly, and a beam of moonlight hits the round face of the occupant. A two-month old with gently curled blond hair and angelic face, she sleeps fitfully, almost as if she realizes that her life is about to change drastically.
The man sighs, and pulls a sheet of paper from his cloak.
He places it gently on top of the side-by-side slumbering having completed
Seemingly having completed his mission, he leaps off the porch and back down to the street. He begins to sprint away, but stops, and turns around once more to catch one last glimpse of the orphans he deposited on the porch. His blond hair catches the light of a streetlamp, and casts shadows across his icy somber blue eyes and the scar running through one of them. He says two simple words, yet pours his heart and soul into his last message to them.
"I'm sorry..."
Me: Funnily enough, I actually finished this chapter within a couple of days from the first one, but I forgot to post it. Eheheh...Sorry
Me: But seriously? You thought I would make Luke the bad guy? I dropped hints that he was not in his right state of mind. Please don't think so low of me as to believe I would villainize Luke Castellan.
Me: That being said, that's the end of this story. It's short, but I hope I did a good job. Please leave a review! Also, I was thinking if enough people ask, I might write a little bit about the Jackson daughters. Who knows? Feel free to guess at their names though, despite the fact that I've already chosen their names and the stories behind them. If you haven't noticed, I like asking my readers questions.