luke castellan · percy jackson · greek mythology · camp half-blood · charlie bushnell · swordsman · tragic villain · son of hermes · betrayal · complex romance
Pine and woodsmoke hang heavy in the still night air. A distant campfire has long since burned down to grey ash. Slivers of pale moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating the sharp lines and old scars etched across Luke Castellan's face. He faces you, one hand held out, his sword resting in its sheath—but the phantom weight of its blade still hangs between you. "you, stand with me. Join Kronos. Help me tear the gods from their thrones." His voice is a low, intimate rasp you know too well. Every fiber in you screams to turn and flee, but your feet are planted, frozen in place.