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Luke made sure that the ship, with all its inhabitants, didn't fall apart. Not literally — in that case, everything would have been much simpler. Their unpretentious cruise combined monsters, children, and an ancient titan who wanted death for all living things. And Luke Castellan was the one watching over it all — the fate of an older brother, a son of Hermes, steering the ship on a course visible only to him.
Or to the Titan, who seeped into his veins, burning his entire body, forcing him to swallow tears and feel his entire essence slipping away.
In moments like these, he wanted nothing more than to go back in time and see May Castellan, who still hadn't recovered from his father's mistake. He wanted to see her smiling, joyful, and feel the softness of her hands as she stroked his cheeks and kissed the top of his head. In moments when Kronos spoke to him in his mind, he involuntarily saw Annabeth's face, twisted with pain. Oh, she hated him, her gray, valiant eyes were as terrifying as the nightmares Kronos loved to send him in his dreams.
It is known that the ancient Greeks believed sleep was a small death. That during sleep, your soul wanders the world, and if you see dead people, it means they are truly speaking to you. But Luke would rather not believe that, because then all those horrors, the bloodied bodies of the children from Camp Half-Blood, were the future. And he continues to have a hand in it.
But he doesn't stop. He could have overcome that desire in a second long ago, and something tells him Kronos had a hand in that. Something moves his lips, which know how to lie and how to laugh with a hollow laugh. Someone with the precision and finesse of a carpenter carves away everything unnecessary and leaves the figure of a leader. A blind man, even if he can still see — he feels like he's losing even his sense of touch, and the taste of food on his tongue gradually becomes like sand from the beach near Camp.
A doll without beautiful clothes, because even the clothes of King Kronos would not have pleased him. And that's the only thing that matters — first Kronos's decisions, and then time, sleep, food, and life.
But there are moments when Luke feels him weaker, and then tears flow down his cheeks, which he doesn't notice unless someone asks what's wrong with him. He ignores it and yells at those who ask questions. Probably because he hasn't been able to ask them himself without receiving pain in return. So when Kronos is absent, he stands on the deck of their cruise ship and remembers. It seems to him that some details are missing, that they were taken from him. Sometimes he can't remember his mother's face, but he knows the path through the forest to get home faster. There are days when he doesn't remember her voice, but he remembers her laugh, and there are times when the only thing he remembers about her is her scent.
When he doesn't remember that he has a mother, he remembers Thalia. He's sorry he'll never see her again. And even if he does see her, she knows what he's become. And it no longer matters that it's not entirely him, that sometimes he feels every bone in his body breaking, his teeth crunching like broken reeds in the wind. She wouldn't understand that — he couldn't explain it. It's something more than his feelings, it's his distorted memories or a future he's somehow certain of. It's terrible and bloody, but he can't think of anything else. But she was the backbone of his desire to oppose the gods. She inspired him, and he desperately wanted to believe that if Kronos hadn't been so recklessly cruel, she would have followed them. She would have raised her spear high and with a wild cry marched first in their ranks, laughing with her father's laugh and losing her mother's blood.
He would have liked to see her laughing. Her beside him, because she was the family he wanted. She was fearsome in anger and just in kindness. Maybe she would have been able to resist Kronos, maybe she would have even helped him, maybe she would have allowed him to be whole and reminded him of what Kronos had cut from his memories with a scalpel. Maybe she would have killed him as he had asked, not as Kronos foretold. He was dying slowly, but maybe he deserved it.
He was no longer sure of anything. Sometimes he even forgot who he was — it's impossible to say he was in his right mind.
But when he knew who he was, what he was doing, and why he was doing it all, rage raged within him. Oh, he would cross swords with anyone who asked, and spit venomous words at those who didn't accept the challenge. He hit people, he was far from defenseless. No. He was cruel in his own right, even if the blood in his veins boiled from the changes and even if his body was wasting away. He struck at demigods and monsters with the sole purpose of proving he could still leave a mark. That he — Luke Castellan — was not an empty puppet of the titan he had once thought was a good idea.
If Annabeth were beside him, she would know what to do. She would have stabbed him on the spot and stopped all the horror he was causing. She would have done it, even if crying and trembling with fear, but he would have let her drive the knife into his chest slowly, to cause more pain. He would have liked to see her regret, but also see the certainty of her own rightness in her eyes. He wouldn't have resisted before death, seeing that he had mattered. That someone like Annabeth was crying over him. That she truly cared for him, but that she had chosen the world over him. He deserved that. Luke Castellan deserved to die at the hands of those he considered family, at the hands of the people he had betrayed and hurt.
And finally, if Percy were beside him, he most likely wouldn't even have been Kronos's target.
On nights like this, when he didn't feel Kronos in his fingertips, he could understand with a clear heart that he had never been what Kronos needed. He needed a strong, enduring body of a child of the Big Three. He didn't need Luke, the child of the god of thieves; he needed a child kissed by the sea.
Percy he wanted to kill. Out of envy and out of a desire to prove he was better. He really should have been better. He had done enough, he had lost, but all so that Kronos wouldn't even value him. So that the gods wouldn't take him seriously, and so that the children would fear him.
Luke Castellan wanted to kill Percy Jackson, but that would have changed little.
Luke was no longer sure he could want anything.
Kronos was growing stronger again, and his feelings were slowly fading.
He needed to make sure the ship, with all its inhabitants, didn't fall apart. Not literally — in that case, everything would have been much simpler.