Luke knows the bitter taste of rejection well. His creator didn't want him, humans cursed at him for his eyes and elves shrunk from him because of his soul. He'd learned to hide his emotions well, keep up a gently stoic mask.

But he'd gone through this loop so many times. You just kept dying and dying and dying. He couldn't take it anymore. Immortality was a curse, and he was the bearer.

"Please, don't go," he breathes shakily. There are tears welling in his eyes.