Coming out of the haze of darkness was like swimming up from a dark pond with a final gasp of air she broke surface and with an aching head opened her eyes.
It was just another day, the digital numbers on her alarm clock blinked rapidly. 6:30. Time to get up. Groaning she twisted in her blankets, finally rolling with a thump off the bed. Putting her arms down to push herself up she gasped, this time audibly. Over both arms ran ugly thick scars, red and purple, angry with their violence and the way they disrupted her skin pattern.
Shaking with terror Niera stood up slowly and was struck by thoughts, memories so violently that she found herself on the floor again. War... War... Troy. Then above all... ACHILLES.
Shaking her head, numb with shock Niera tried to sort things out. But there could be no sorting out the wild torrent of images that invaded her mind, pounding at her skull to be released, to be acknowledged. Shivering with fear she briefly relived her night, the night that had lasted two years.
Still shaking she turned and climbed back into bed, immediately with a swirling of colours she saw something, not saw, she lived something. She was in a great field, but the colours around her were tinted as if a dark shadow had been thrown over it. A large river was running slowly through the field, perhaps half a mile in width, and a large ferry was being poled slowly across. A familiar form stood besides that of a crooked one and one word entered Niera's mind. Achilles. Without thought, without any intention of doing so she waved and saw that he saw her.
There would be more. More dreams.