Ch 5(2)

Corvus:

Mars and Apollo were whispering inside his head; Corvus knew it was them. How he was sure, he couldn't discern, but they were there all the same. In his dream state Corvus couldn't tell who was who. Their words flowed and intertwined together so much that each sentence seemed to be a swirling mix of the two gods' thoughts and nothing they said to him made sense.

He was certain that one of them was whispering lies to him but it was so far fused with the other's words that he lost bits and pieces. Were the gods on opposing sides, trying to shut the other out of his mind? Or were they working in tandem in Corvus' mind, trying to ignite a fire with their blended verse?

"Corvus," one demanded quietly.

"You must...," from the other. Or was it from the same?

"...listen. Don't listen."

They were trying to drive him mad! 'What was the cause for bringing me here,' he wondered, 'if I'm only to be driven insane?'

More jumbled words whisked seemingly throughout his entire being and Corvus' dream self crumbled under the pressure of them.

"Leave."

"...ask."

"The boy..." "The girl."

"...leave..."

"Unmoving"

"...death. Blood is..."

"...blood. Too much blood."

"...leave..."

Then they were gone.

Corvus jerked into awareness with a naeusiating quickness. His hair and face were slick with sweat. His naked torso was shining with it. He kicked the blanket away from his legs then lay, breathing heavily on his bed, until he could think through the memories of those voices.

A short while later when he was calm and feeling himself again, the realization of their weakness hit him with full force. Their presence had seemed so tenuous, so fragile.

They should have been thundering voices. He should have been able to see and touch their forms in his dreams but all he got was their thready voices.

However, through it all it seemed that one bit of instruction had risen with a bit of strength. Leave.

Suddenly, for reasons he wasn't sure he understood, Corvus was hit with determination. Not one thing could make him disobey in this. He would leave at the earliest opportunity.

With a calmness that belied his fitful sleep, he redressed, pulled the sheet off his bed and packed all of the things the doctors and researchers had given him inside. He tied the sheet around the clothing, remade the bed so that the missing linen would go unnoticed, and stuffed his belongings under the bed. Then he walked out the door, bent on finally retrieving his weapons- even if he had to kill every last person in the area to get to them.

AN1: Sorry for the shortness! This chapter was originally MUCH longer, with another pov from Milo added in, but with my own powers of procrastination, I decided to hack it in two. I've also had to scrap a few things -a lot of things!- so this might be a bit slower in coming than I thought.

AN2: I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all the delays. My husband's father lost all of his savings and his home is in a bad state so we've all packed up and moved (again) a state away to live with him and help with the bills, the badly needed renovations and to give him some space to be able to save his money back up. We also have yet to have the internet installed in the house (I may or may not be using my husband's work hot spot... Oops!) Needless to say, this has all really screwed with my internet time. But I am still here and I'm not going anywhere til this story is completed. I hope some of you are still out there, too. This is all for you, afterall!