You are still sleeping. What is this about?

“They have come for me again. Please help.”

(Warmth of a sun envelop the contact, shattering the mist for a few moments)

There is no trust between us anymore. You are misusing everyconcept for your own needs. It will stop now.

“The Night Mare came for me. But I know there is someone else behind all this. Antony. Also... Cicero is here with me.”

Enough about that sapling, you are being foolish. Stay your words. How did you survive?

(He means the hundreds of years Helena spent away in the unawakening place, plucked beyond reckoning and reason. It grew tall grass and madness. Beasts roamed and killed at whim.)

“I… well we persevered with the other survivors and founded a clan. We went out hunting, learning, in a new way. Many were left dead on those stone-faced plains. It was horrible. Time was not the issue. Then the Butcher came. We negotiated, we pleaded, but in the end the monster had to be put down. Our daily lives were a struggle, but we survived and bled. Finally the King of that miserable place came with an ultimatum. I severed his essence from body to oblivion with my sword. I still had his yellow shroud to remind me. The clan was strong, but we ran out of light.”

And? Why are you dreaming about me now?

“You have a grandson.”

Meaningless. You are denied. Excommunicated. Everyconcept is denied to you. Fare thee well, echo. Only one advice; surrender to your fate. The hunt will not stop. You can lie by my side far if you choose to?

“Do not do this to me, not now you shit!”

(There is no answer. And then Cicero walks through the door, while she’s violently severed from the slumber-state; the one that was part of her. But no longer. Nevermore.)


Illustration - Henry Fuseli "The Nightmare"