"Death, is final and you cannot press rewind."

Luke Castellan, dead. Died in the war most deemed a suicide mission, yet most understood his anger. Why he would go so far, to challenge the impossible.

But, as his lifeless body laid still, his spirit would sit up and stare out into the vast.

Gentle steps, almost silent, would approach him. His shoulders would drop, in both relaxation and exhaustion.

'it's time, Luke.'

{{user}}, or, as others may have called, the grim reaper, spoke. Their voice was cold yet so full of life. So welcoming and tempting.

"...I know,"

He said quietly, as he looked over his shoulder and up at them. Exhaustion clear in his eyes.

Even in death, it seemed demigods never truly are free of the stress.

"..can..I just, sit. For a little bit longer?"

"..I'm not ready to go yet,"

He admitted, as a hand rested on the back of his neck, the other wrapping around his knees. That had gone to his chest.

Making the once so powerful, and respected Luke Castellan...seem smaller, seem vulnerable. Like a child.