𝕲ETTING A QUEST at camp was a big deal, but getting your very own solo quest? Bring out the sparklers and celebration cake, because you've just won at being a demigod.
That was how everybody viewed it, anyways. And although Alya's views on quests had been tainted by her forged one the year prior, when Luke got his very own, she was over the moon excited for him.
She'd helped him prepare by staying extra hours to help him get sword practice in and getting up early to send him off. That'd been a week ago, now.
She wasn't expecting his return to be so devastating.
He had returned late in the evening, just before the night's campfire would commence. Without uttering a word to anyone, the son of Hermes had been ushered into Chriron's office in the Big House, where he stayed for nearly three hours before emerging out.
Of course, Alya hadn't gone anywhere. She'd left the cabin under the overseeing eye of Silena, who was now almost fourteen and whom she knew was more than mature enough to handle her half-siblings for their nightly lights-out routine.
It was half-past eleven, the cabins' lights were all out and campers were tucked away in their beds soundly sleeping the summer night away, but Alya was still awake. She had been pacing the floor of the Big House porch for twenty minutes now, chewing nervously on her bottom lip out of bad habit.
She was illuminated by the yellow halo of the singular light that hung over the old wooden porch, rubbing a hand down her bare arms and up to her tank top strap.
Finally, the door creaked open on its old and rusty hinges, and Luke stepped out.
He was streaked in sweat and dirt and grime from his quest and trek back to camp, in dire need of a shower and probably eighty weeks of rest that he wouldn't be granted.
His clothes were just as dirty as he looked and felt, a rip through the sleeve of his t-shirt suggesting that the quest was far from easy. His backpack hung limply off his right shoulder, it's insides hollowed out of any kind of supplies that might've been inside.
He looked almost like she expected him to after coming back from a long quest. Except for the addition to his face.
On the side of his face was a deep slash, trailing from the bottom of his eye down to his chin. It was still pink and fresh, speckles of past shed blood still clinging onto his cheek around it.
His bottom lip was busted and he had remnants of blood on his hairline, but everything paled in comparison to the eye-catching wound inflicted upon his beautiful face.
Alya released a soft gasp, restraining herself from lifting her hand to his face to touch it, maybe kiss it and kiss it until it disappeared forever.
"Don't." Luke said in a voice just above a whisper, his throat dry and hardly producing the words. He accompanied the word with a small shake of his head and a frown, downcast eyes looking down at hers.
"Don't what?" She inquired, concern written all across her face in every font and language.
"I can see it on your face. I . . . I know it's bad." He mumbled, pulling his eyes away from hers and directing them shamefully onto the ground.
"Hey," She whispered, bringing a gentle hand up to hold his face and force his gaze onto hers. His eyes were shining with tears as he swallowed them down, lips twisted into a permanent frown. "Hey, it's me, Cas. It's okay."
He leaned into her homely touch, blinking rapidly to try and get rid of the water works.
"I— I couldn't do it, Ly. I fucked it all up and totally failed. And now I—"
"No, no, stop that." She told him, shaking her head, already knowing the road to self-destruction that his words were turning onto. "It's okay, it happens. But you're okay; you're alive and that's all that matters."
She brushed his shaggy bangs from out of his eye, provoking a particularly persistent tear to fall down his cheek. She quickly wiped that away as well, taking extra care to avoid the deep wound in his skin.
"Still, Alya." He sighed, disappointment clear in his voice. "It was the easiest possible quest— pathetic really— and I couldn't even do that right."
"Luke." She said firmly, making his wandering eyes snap back onto her warm ones. "I don't care if it was as easy as walking down Half-Bloof Hill and back, it doesn't define you. It doesn't change how brave you are for just accepting the quest. It doesn't change how caring and loving and ambitious you are. One quest does not make or break who you are."
Luke could practically feel more tears pulling their way to the surface. Here he stood, an absolute failure, and this walking daydream of a girl was praising him.
"I know who you are," She told him, the reflection of the overhead light dancing in her dark, dilated pupils. "And I love him."
Her voice was always like honey to his ears, soothing his soul, but hearing it say those words made his heart almost hurt. He ached with how much he loved her, and now, for the first time, she'd told him the same.
Luke couldn't take it anymore. He pulled her into his chest and held her closer to him than ever, body relaxing as he felt the familiar feeling of her arms wrapping around his abdomen and latching on tight. They swayed together by the force of the longed-for hug, holding onto their lifelines in human form.
After a serene moment of silence, Luke lowered his lips to her ear.
"I love you too." He said in a teary voice, a small smile fighting its way onto his scarred face despite the pain.
