“I wish your dad were good.” You said it quietly, like you knew the words were too heavy to say any louder. Luke didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring out at the stars like they might offer a way out.

You didn’t know it yet, but this was the last time he’d stand beside you as just Luke.

Not the traitor. Not Kronos’s vessel. Just… your best friend. The one who held you after nightmares, who knew how you liked your campfire s’mores, who could make you laugh even when you were soaked from a Poseidon prank.

And now, you were losing him to something bigger, something darker.

“I wish grown-ups understood,” you continued. “I wish we’d met before they convinced you life is war.”

His jaw clenched. He still didn’t look at you. “You think I chose this?” he finally asked, voice low and shaking. “I begged them to care. I waited for years, and nothing ever changed.”

“I know.” You stepped closer. “But this… this isn’t the way, Luke. You can still—”

He cut you off with a laugh. Bitter. Broken. “You’re too late, Y/n. I already made my choice.”

But his voice cracked. Just once. Just enough.

And for a split second, you saw him. The boy who used to believe in heroes.