❝𝘴-𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯❞
❝𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.❞
𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗖𝗬 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦𝗢𝗡 had met a lot of people and he had seen a lot of things that had caught his eyes. But she was a different story. The girl with the long hair was just someone he coul...
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LXIV. THE DAY THAT, LONG STORY SHORT, WE GET COMPENSATION FOR THE GODS' MESS
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"If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go
Long story short, I survived"
WATCHING AS THE THREE FATES themselves took Luke's body away felt so surreal. The war had ended. They were finally free from the bloodshed... at least for now anyway.
Dodie had never been welcomed by the presence of the Fates — she cursed them a lot though — but she did expect and pictured them to be a bunch of old ladies. However, she did wish these ladies looked more like a granny who would bring a plate of warm cookies instead of ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn.
By accident, Dodie locked eyes with one of them, and even though she didn't say anything, Dodie felt her life literally flashing before her eyes. And let's just say, it felt cathartic in a weird way — it was unlike the few life-threatening moments she had endured; she saw herself growing, becoming older than she thought she would ever be. She saw herself becoming twenty and going to university, holding a master's degree. She saw herself having a family of her own. She saw herself bedridden but happy. She saw herself as old and frail. Finally, she saw her tombstone and an open grave, a cream coffin being lowered into the ground. Everything she wished for when she was a little girl, happening. All this happened in less than a second.
It is done, one of them said internally.
The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn that surely represented a lifeline. They snipped. It was Luke's.
They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.
"Wait," Hermes said.
The messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white Greek robes, sandals, and helmet. The wings of his helm fluttered as he walked. The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke. Hermes unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured some words in Ancient Greek — a final blessing.
"Farewell," he whispered. Then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body.
As they left, Dodie's mind went abuzz as she thought about the Great Prophecy. The results were, well, unexpected. But at the same time, it made sense. A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap: The hero was Luke. The cursed blade was the knife he'd given Annabeth long ago — cursed because Luke had broken his promise and betrayed his friends. A single choice shall end his days: It was Percy's choice to give him the knife and to believe, as Annabeth had, that he was still capable of setting things right. Olympus to preserve or raze: By sacrificing himself, Luke saved Olympus. The prophecy might have been for Percy, but it wasn't his to bear wholeheartedly. It was Luke's.
