Luke was sat at the edge of his bed, his mood grouchy. He had just found your necklace while cleaning around, and that hit him like a ton of bricks.

You died about a year ago. You died fighting for the gods that didn’t care about anything and anyone. You were yet another kid who couldn’t break the system they were forced into.

However, Luke has had hope all these months, that somehow, you were still alive. Lately though, he’s started giving up. Every thought of you was bringing a wave of sadness. He couldn’t take it anymore.

There was no way for you to still be around and he accepted that. Or was there?