Tears of an Age (031110)
Blood. So much blood.
Achenar's head reeled as he finished a task on Voltaic.
The heat there did strange things to his mind, made him see things best left for nightmares. At least in nightmares you could escape.
But these phantasms, these ghosts drifted across his view… they were too much to bear.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and staggered into the shade of the tunnel, where he slid down the ground wearily.
The wind carried the soft sound of screaming across his face, the grit under his hands the ground bones of those he had tortured and killed. He wiped his hands across the front of his shirt and used them to cradle his head.
How he hated these Ages. They were so pointless, and the motions of the intellectual thought he had to go through made his head ache. If only he didn't have to go through this, to be a mockery of a son.
But Sirrus said wait. He had a plan. And so Achenar obeyed.
The wind picked up to a howl, blowing the accursed dust whistling down the tunnel.
What have you done! We trusted you!
KILL ME!
Where is my wife, Lord Achenar?
Why do you have blood on your hands?
"My son," a voice said, somewhere near to Achenar.
Achenar jumped to his feet, tense and near the point of throwing whatever was nearest. "Father?" he mumbled, his eyes darting around the dim tunnel wildly.
"What have you done?" the whisper said accusatorily.
"Hah… nothing, Father," Achenar replied, his voice tightening as it jumped an octave. He tried to assume a casual position while he looked desperately for his father's hiding place.
"Come home, my son," the voice called. It was coming from there, just beyond the mouth of the tunnel. "Your mother misses you. Come home."
"I'm not done yet," Achenar replied dully. "Voltaic isn't finished."
"I want you to come back."
"NOT YET!" Achenar bellowed as his will and self-control finally snapped. "I CAN'T COME HOME!"
He backed away into the cave, pulling his arms in close to his body. He shook his head, like one gone mad. "I can't. Too much blood on my hands." He giggled insanely. "Can't you see it, Father? Too many ghosts. See them around me, Father?" He laughed again, but choked on his next words. "I can't-"
"Please," Atrus' voice called softly.
"You're not real," Achenar murmured. "You're just in my mind; you're not really there, Father. I know it. There's no reason for it. Remember, that's what Sirrus said? It's just your imagination."
Achenar let out one last feeble laugh. He wiped his hands on his trousers one last time, and moved on to finally finish the lesson on Voltaic.
As his back turned from the mouth of the tunnel, the wind whispered.
We forgive you…