"They're gone?" Attis asked.

That was a relief. He'd suspected it himself; when he looked back there, he couldn't see any of the shadow creatures piling on top of each other anymore. They didn't seem to be running through the woods anymore, either. Yes, he figured they were gone, but Attis's senses were much more limited than Dyss. Dyss could perceive a wide area at will. He could see if there truly were no creatures of darkness left, anywhere in the vicinity. He could even see into Hillcrest-- and indeed, there was no unnatural darkness there, either.

Attis trusted Dyss's judgment on this without a doubt. If their aggressors were now gone, he and Dyss might even be able to walk into Hillcrest, rather than continue to run for it.

"That's good . . ."

Dyss, who was ahead of Attis at that point, would hear something-- a sudden impression upon the grass and dirt of the path, somewhere behind him. Close.

There was the chance it could have been an enemy, but . . .

Were Dyss to check it himself, he'd see not a foe or stranger of any sort, but Attis, now face down upon the ground, eyes closed, and body limp. From Attis, there was complete silence . . .

Dyss didn't have to turn or anything; after all, he saw behind and in front of himself equally well, simultaneously. He wasn't slow enough to catch Attis or anything like that, though... While he could see, he couldn't react fast enough to do anything...

"Attis!"

Dyss would quickly move to his friend, dropping the sword beside him. He would then roll Attis over, pulling his friend up into a sitting position... To do what? Dyss wasn't even sure. He couldn't even be sure Attis was breathing, much less do anything if Attis was not. He had no idea what to do...

"Come on, wake up! We need to find Milos, remember?"

To Dyss, there was nothing. Attis made not even a sound. He was breathing nominally and his heart was beating fine-- he simply wasn't waking up. This was the second time it happened since they started this journey. The first, he hadn't passed out, but he went unresponsive. That was when he first picked up the scythe. He went unresponsive for so long, as if entranced-- no, as if he were in a state of a waking coma.

To Attis, though, everything was different. To Attis, there was no light, only . . .





A void of eternal shadows. A world of no end, a night with no demise; a starless existence in a world rejected by the light. Limitless shadows.

Absolute Midnight.

Drifting, drifting . . . Attis felt like he was falling, gliding, and flying all at once. He felt like he was upside-down. He felt like he was falling head first. He felt like he might die.

But he didn't feel scared.

Attis's eyes remained shut and his form loose. His clothes whipped about him, filling the void with the noise of violently rustling clothe. The fall felt like it lasted forever. For hours, he felt like he were barely conscious. For hours, he felt like he were barely real. Both were absolute truths, except hours weren't involved at all, merely minutes . . .

The fall slowed as Attis stirred. That half-conscious feeling lethargically took its leave from him, and before he knew it, his eyes were open again. His feet were upon the ground. His body was partially hunched over. He felt real in a very real place.

Except there was no ground and there was no real place. He perceived nothing, something he was far closer to than he was those of the living, the real people with their real lives-- the people he felt no jealousy for, only a want to help. This darkness felt fitting, almost, but not quite. It was darkness, and nothing might have looked like an empty, soulless pit-- but this wasn't it. This wasn't a soulless pit. Someone was here, and the darkness that someone inhabited was a very real something.

"Dyss?"

It was the first thing Attis said. He straightened up and looked from left to right. No matter where he seemed to survey, he could find nothing, only a hollow darkness, where he couldn't see farther than five feet before his eyes, and couldn't find anything to see in the first place. Below him was darkness, a black mist that seemed to cover him from the knees down. If there was a floor, he couldn't see it. There was no light, just the mild ability to see in the dark. Everyone had it once their eyes were used to the dark-- and Attis's eyes had been used to it for far longer than most of his friends had been alive.

"Dyss! Where are you?" Attis called out again.

He listened for an echo; there felt like there should've been an echo, but there was none. Either there were no walls here, or something absorbed his voice.

"Dyss!" he called again.

Still, there was no answer. Attis bit his lower lip. This was odd, familiar, and troublesome all the same. Attis felt a twinge of frustration bereave him. All he wanted to do was find and protect Milos . . .

It was at that moment that Attis especially didn't feel alone. He was almost ready to call out Milos's name, as the presence arrived just as Attis thought him. But, no. No, this wasn't him. This didn't feel like Milos at all. It came from behind Attis, and he turned to face it immediately.

The first thing he saw was obsidian skin. It curled about toes, arced gently up the foot, rose, and softy curved up her legs, her supple hips, her thin belly, her ribs, her modest breasts, her shoulders, arms, and hands-- up her skinny throat and smooth jaw, across her cheeks, nose, and brow, and up the single horn that rose inches up from the left side of her forehead. Similar horns seemed to be upon the backs of her hands, two on each hand, curled up and running back away from her fingers and close to the skin. She had short black hair, and when she opened her eyes at last, Attis

Attis narrowed his eyes upon the girl's form. Her nudity didn't seem to attract or repulse him. Truth be told, Attis was both indifferent towards female sexuality, and he was indifferent towards sexuality in general when the circumstances called for urgency, worry, or thoughtfulness in any way. Besides, hers wasn't a sexualized nudity, it was a natural one.

The woman, no, the girl stared at him. She wasn't quite old enough to be a grown woman. She couldn't have been any older than seventeen or eighteen, which, truthfully, made both she and Attis look about the same age-- chronologically. No, she wasn't a full grown woman, but she was close. Attis stared at the shadows, and so too did the shadows stare into him.

Instinct commanded him to look for a weapon. Mindlessly, he reached back, searching for his scythe. He found nothing. He was unarmed. The girl's dark form commanded the same urgency as the creatures from before, and even if unarmed, Attis might have tried to defeat them with his bare hands if need be.

But this was different. The creatures from before weren't . . . this. They didn't have details like this. They didn't look human like this. Her skin may have been darker than any human being could ever pull off, but she had color upon her body, such as little red freckles upon her cheeks and shoulders. They were subtle and especially difficult to see in the dark, but Attis could make them out. Her form was human, her posture was human, her eyes were human. She had impossibly dark skin, scarlet eyes, and elongated horns upon her forehead and wrists, but that didn't make Attis any less unwilling to treat her like any other shadow creature. Had she the appearance of a normal creature of darkness, he'd have analyzed it for a weakness and attacked it without a second thought, but . . .

"Who are you?" he asked, instead.

You . . . first.

Her voice was strange. She moved her lips when she spoke, and Attis could see that she had a pink tongue and white teeth just like any normal human, but it didn't sound as if her words were coming from her at all. They sounded, instead, like that lost echo effect he was looking for before, as if her voice came from the world itself, and not her body. The strangeness of her voice aside, though, she sounded downright feral-- as if a human being had suddenly lost her humanity and hissed with nearly every spoken word.

Attis lifted his brow curiously, a bit taken aback. "What?"

Who . . . are you?

The girl straightened up, then. She spoke now as if she were more confident with her words, more confident with her ability to speak.

What do-- you want-- with me?

The obsidian skinned girl took a step forward. Attis tensed up. He slid his right foot back and made sure he had good footing here. He couldn't really see the floor or ground, if there even was such a thing, but it felt like it was a fairly level surface with a good deal of friction. Attis was tempted to look behind him, just to see if there was anything he might back into if he backed up, but he couldn't justify taking his eyes off of this mysterious girl. Likewise, it wasn't like he could see anything other than her . . .

She took more steps forward. It took only a few for her to stand a foot from Attis. She looked up at his eyes, her own scarlet eyes half-shut and Attis's sky blues alert-- but also . . . confused. The shadow girl, on the other hand, stared with an almost tenacious curiosity, one that almost bordered on frustration.

And-- why do you live?

Attis didn't understand what she meant at first, but he soon discovered a need to move. Attis kicked back with his foot, throwing himself back by innumerable feet. He landed softly upon his feet, before looking down to check his stomach. His jacket and undershirt was ripped somewhat, revealing a slight redness under his clothes, where two lines had cut through them. They were scratches at best, but only because he'd evaded in time.

When he looked to the shadow girl again, he was just in time yet again. She was bent over where she stood, one hand set upon the ground, her legs bent hard at her knees, and her other hand out to the side, the two claws upon the backside of her knuckles no longer arched back towards her arm, but forward instead, jutting out past her knuckles like two well sharpened knives. Without warning, she kicked forward with one foot, rocketing herself towards Attis with "knives" out.

Whatever his reservations were against hurting the girl, they were mostlygone, now. He had to defend himself, and he couldn't even begin to explain where he was right now; if defending himself meant hurting her, then so be it. He needed to get out of here . . .

And so, Attis stepped back with his right foot, twisting his body to show his profile to the shadow girl just in time, causing her arm to fly past him, to not even graze by. She nearly did the same, leaving Attis the ultimate opportunity to throw his elbow at the side of her skull. As if on a whim, though, she ducked beneath it, took one more step forward, and propelled herself at him: forehead leading, horn first.

Seeing tragedy in the very near future, Attis leaped back again. The girl had a brief airtime with her leap, but landed low to the ground again, and once more thrust herself at Attis. With him unarmed and her clearly armed with volatile sharp appendages, Attis knew he was at a disadvantage. Unless . . .

When she neared him this time, Attis used the length of his arms against her. With his left arm read at his side, he smacked down hard upon her forearm as she thrust her arm at him, knocked it back towards the ground again. As expected, she leaped towards him when her initial weapon was thwarted. Prepared for it, Attis interrupted her by taking a harsh step forward and, with his left hand, grasped her by the horn before she jumped. Perhaps it was instinct that commanded her to suddenly claw and bite at his forearm just a moment later, but she hadn't sharp fingernails, and he had control over her skull.

Still, though, there was that right hand of hers. She was clawing at his wrist, so her hands were both very accessible. With his right hand, he grabbed hers by the wrist, before she realized that the appendages upon her knuckles would've been useful. Attis might not have been a big man, but this shadow girl was five inches shorter than him and looked to be at least sixty to eighty pounds lighter. When Attis took her by the wrist, she knew it.

He released the horn on her head, but only to twist at her wrist, instilling a much more human cry of pain from her. He wasn't going to break her wrist, but he wanted-- no, he needed --her to know to stop. Before she thought to try and bite him, he spun her around, leading her by her wrist, and twisting it behind her back. She let her body give way; she fell to her knees as her elbow gave in and her right arm was controlled in a tense and painful hold behind her back. She reached for her shoulder with her left hand and whimpered a much less feral whimper.

"Look," Attis spoke firmly; he didn't want to, but if she was going to try and stab him, he needed to be stern and put out a little bit of pain, "I don't want to hurt you, so stop."

Still, the shadow girl whimpered into the darkness. She clawed at her shoulder in pain.

"Why-- ? Why, why?" Her voice, this time, was coming directly from her lips. It was less feral, less made to be intimidating, and more . . . raspy, yes. Her voice was soft, but very, very raspy.

"Why?"

"Your shadow your shadow your--" she cried, before sniffling, "I can't-- your shadow! I can't!"

Attis thought about it for a moment. What exactly did she mean by that? She couldn't do something because of his shadow? She couldn't do something to his shadow? She couldn't do something with his shadow? Oh . . .

"I'm sorry," he was less harsh with his tone this time, "I . . . wherever we are-- I think it's bringing out the worst in me."

Of course, he didn't mean anything in regards to his personality . . .

"What-- what--" the girl was panicking. She was trying to struggle against Attis and failing, throwing herself around needless, causing more pain than before; she was in a state of extreme panic. The feral side of her would have been scratching, kicking, and biting for dear life. In her panic, she began wheezing. "-- do you want? With me? What?"

"Nothing!" Attis replied without a second thought, "I don't even know who you are, or why you want to hurt me so badly . . ."

"You will-- hurt! Hurt me! Use me! You will . . . hurt and use-- nhhhhghhh," the last part was a long, desperate whine. By the way she was reacting, it was unlikely that she'd experienced any significant pain before.

"You think--" Attis stopped himself right there. Yes, he was hurting her right now. She knew full well that he would do it if need be. He loosened up with his voice; he spoke now with the same caring tone that he treated others with, "I didn't want to fight you, you know? I didn't want to hurt you at all. If you can promise me that you'll stay calm, I won't hurt you at all. But if you try and hit me again, I'm going to fight back. I need you to know that. I only hit you because you tried to hit me first. Can you promise me you'll calm down and talk to me?"

"I-- I-- o-oh-- o-ow, ngh," the shadow girl whimpered; she may have been in pain, but not enough pain to keep herself from asking: "Promise? What is promise?"

The way Attis replied . . . it was like he had to explain the concept so many times before that it was second nature to him, all committed to memory. "When you make someone a promise, it means you're going to fulfill it to that person no matter what. I promise that I won't ever hurt you if you don't make me do it-- that means that if you don't try to attack me, I won't ever do anything like this to your arm or anything else that hurts you ever again, and if you can promise me that you won't try to hurt me again, I'll let you go, okay?"

The girl was silent for a long while, waiting several seconds before finally reciting exactly as he said: ". . . I promise I won't try to hurt you again."

"Thank you," he replied, relieved, as he released her wrist.

As if not trusting him, the girl ran away at first. She only ran a few feet before she stopped, turned to him, stared at him expectantly, and upon receiving nothing more than a confused tilt of Attis's head, she finally look at her right wrist. She tapped at it and winced. The way she tapped at it suggested that she wanted to paw at it, but she didn't have paws, she had fingers, and Attis had to wonder if she completely understood her own form. He didn't know why she wouldn't but stranger things had happened. After all, in this world, Memories could exist . . .

When her scarlet eyes fell on him again, her brow was furrowed, and she nearly bent over with a predatory sort of cautious. Attis only raised his hands and waved them slowly, smiling nervously as he quietly expressed his intentions for peace.

After all, this girl was speaking-- thinking, even! The other creatures of darkness weren't capable of that. They wished to feed and mindlessly sought out that goal. She didn't act that way, though. Her reactions seemed to be completely fearful. If she was ever like those dark creatures, she was smarter than them-- and something must have happened, something to make her see that hunger could be trumped by fear, something that commanded fear aggression to be an appropriate response to just about everything.

". . . always follow promise?" she asked with a low tone, her voice sounding even raspier than before. It almost sounded painful for her to speak with it.

Attis nodded and smiled with less nervousness, this time. He could only hope being friendly would disarm her. "Yes, of course! You should never break a promise. I won't, ever."

". . . then . . . you will not . . . to me?"

Attis shook his head. "I won't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. You're a reasonable person, you're an intelligent person; you know I won't hurt you."

That wasn't all flattery at all, actually, nor was it an outright conveniently placed compliment. It was, instead, a conveniently placed truth. This shadow girl spoke well and even though she didn't know what a promise was before, she was catching onto what it meant very quickly. That was both a sign of reason and intelligence.

She moved to speak again, but as soon as she got out the first syllable, she winced and held onto her throat. After a moment of hesitation, she looked up and around, into the darkness as she moved her lips as if to speak, but nothing came out.

She hasn't used her voice in a long time, Attis concluded instantly, Or she's never used it at all. She projected her thoughts upon the darkness so she didn't have to speak, earlier. So she "thinks aloud" and mouthing out her thoughts without actually speaking. That way, she wasn't in pain.

Attis's brain worked much like a well oiled, impossibly durable, endlessly functional machine. Sometimes, he processed stimulus as data, and then in turn interpretted that data into what it meant and how he felt about it.

The girl moved her hand away from her throat and moved her lips again, and this time her voice seemed to come from everywhere again. Still, it was quiet, human, and awkward.

What about . . . the other one?

"The other one?" Attis asked calmly. He had a bad feeling about what was to come, but he maintained a calm approach.

The one with no eyes.

"Dyss?" It was an instant interpretation. "What about Dyss? Is he here, too?"

Dyss . . . what if Dyss is hurt?

Attis bit back his immediate feelings. She didn't answer him. If she told him that Dyss wasn't there, he would've felt a little better, but she didn't. She didn't say anything about that at all. In fact, the way she spoke, it almost sounded as if she were confused-- somewhat scared, even.

"Dyss is my friend. If you hurt Dyss, you'll hurt me, too," Attis replied, and though he was maintaining his composure and calm, he couldn't help but waste no time with his question, "Did you hurt Dyss?"

She nodded her head slowly, fearfully.

Attis shut his eyes tight, balled his hands into fists, and looked away. He bit his lip to bite back a curse. Composure, composure-- he needed to keep it. He needed to know where Dyss was and how bad he was hurt.

"How badly is he hurt?" Attis asked with an air of calmness. It was forced, but he managed.

Not-- not badly . . .

"So he's all right? He can stand up?" Attis asked; the latter question was needed for the girl more than him. She might need a point of reference, he figured.

The girl nodded slowly.

He stands.

"Can you tell me where Dyss is standing?"

Outside.

"Outside? Where outside?" Attis asked within thinking about it first, but then after a few seconds of the girl not answering, Attis had the opportunity to rethink his question. "Is he outside of the darkness?"

She nodded her head.

Good. Though, that didn't explain how Attis got here, within the darkness. If Dyss wasn't here, then something had to happen to bring Attis here alone. The last he remembered, he was standing up, getting ready to start walking onto Hillcrest with full intents and purposes to finish the daring rescue of Milos. Then, everything started going dark, starting with the moon, and the next thing he knew, he started falling.

"When did you hurt him?"

Before you. When I called the shadows.

Her voice was sheepish, practically reserved. It was as if she were cowering already. Attis promised that he wouldn't hurt her if she didn't try to hurt him, and she promised that she wouldn't try to hurt him, and if hurting Dyss in turn hurt Attis, then she would have broken her promise, which she was told should never happen, and then he would have to hurt her. Understandably, she was much more afraid of the latter problem than she was regretful about the former.

Called the shadows . . . Attis thought for a moment. It took only a couple of seconds for him to figure that one out. Call the shadows-- the shadows, the creatures they fought. She wasn't like them; she must have called them from somewhere, from here, deep within the darkness.

"You called those creatures to us?"

She nodded, much slower this time, and even backed away from Attis just a bit. Initially hoping to calm her, he took a slow step forward, easing forward with his hands out to display his want of peace. Moving forward, however, only served to alert the shadow girl, and as if she were coming close to being pushed into a corner, she looked to him again, her distant and subtly fearful expression turned quickly into her narrowing her eyes, furrowing her brow, and bearing her teeth. The girl didn't have razor sharp teeth; in fact, they looked completely human. Her bicuspids looked sharp, but they weren't long, and he could only imagine her molars were sharp, too-- all her tearing teeth. Those were the ones that needed to be sharp. Attis knew to back away and let her put space between them if she truly wanted to. She was able to think reasonably and intelligently, but if she felt backed into a corner, she might go feral again, and Attis was well aware of this. He slowly waved his hands as if to signify a retreat.

It took a longer moment than before for her to respond, as she needed to calm a bit, but soon she averted her eyes from him and adopted her distant expression from before.

Yes.

As I thought. "Why did you call them on us?"

She didn't answer again.

"You can be honest with me. You told me about Dyss, and that's okay. I forgive you. That was before you made a promise to me. I just want to know why you attacked us," being reasonable and reminding her, however subtly, that she was a reasonable person, too, was helping; Attis was adopting that whenever he had the chance.

She still did not reply.

It was a bit of a distanced conclusion, but it was the best Attis could come up with. "Were you afraid of us?"

At this, she did reply. The shadow girl nodded.

"That's okay. You didn't know us. You have every right to be afraid," Attis reminded her of reason again, "You were just scared. We're not going to hurt you because you were scared. We won't even be angry with you. I promise you that."

That-- that right there. The last thing he said, that he promised her they would not want to hurt her or be angry with her for reacting aggressively-- that almost instantly calmed her. She even looked at him, and not with teeth shown, but with an only somewhat cautious look about her. Perhaps she couldn't help but still feel cautious, but even then, she was clearly calmed.

Now that she seemed calm enough, Attis felt comfortable asking for something a little more taxing. He didn't know how taxing it might be, but he didn't quite want to be here in this darkness. It was disconcerting; it felt too comfortable.

"We should talk to Dyss, too," Attis reasoned, "Can you take me to Dyss?"

She nodded. This time, her nod was not nearly as slow. It was almost at a normal pace. She was almost standing on the flats of her feet rather than on her toes. She nodded again-- a second nod, and suddenly, to Attis's vision, the darkness thickened and grew . . .



Attis didn't open his eyes at first. At first, he felt a pain in the front of his skull. There was a smear of dirt there and a fresh cut. He must have fallen on his face somehow. Attis lifted his right hand up, tapping upon the front of his head. He winced only slightly. He didn't know how long he'd been out for, but Dyss would know. Fifteen minutes, that's how long he'd been out for. It felt, to him, like hours, but it was only fifteen.

He didn't quite know where he was, though, so he opened his eyes at last to check . . .

Attis would find himself hidden among a few large bushes at the side of the road, Dyss sitting just in front of him, sword unwrapped and laid across his knees. Dyss, at first glance, would also be unresponsive. Dyss had only moved him perhaps 20 feet. Attis was a bit larger than Dyss, and Dyss was still tired, after all...

However, Attis would be able to recognize by the way Dyss's head was still propped up, if non-responsive, that he was simply absent. Dyss's ability to perceive, as far as they could tell, might well have no range. He had been able to focus on things miles distant before, if in a limited fashion. Moving his perception away meant two things; his area of perception generally became smaller, and he lost more and more connection with his body. In fact, Dyss had once or twice been scared that he might not "wake up" if he perceived too far away...

For now, with no sign of enemies, nor an ability to carry Attis, Dyss was doing what he could and looking for Milos. He was conducting a thorough sweep of the town, starting with the streets, though it would take quite a while, if he was to be able to recognize Milos on finding him...

When Attis opened his eyes, he surveyed his vicinity. He looked for Dyss, first, who was difficult to see, as Attis woke up hidden by brush. Anything on the path wouldn't see him, and likewise, he wouldn't see anything on the path-- or anything ahead of him at all, really. Necessity commanded him to stand, regardless of how much it kind of hurt. Only then was he able to see Dyss.

The second person Attis searched for was the shadow girl he had on his mind. He couldn't see even the faintest sign of her, though. Was it all a dream, that girl? If it was, why? If it was, then what really happened? There was a good chance that it was all just a dream, but Attis hadn't a clue why he'd be sitting back and dreaming in the brush.

The village of Hillcrest, Dyss would find, was a lot different than Galaens. Galaens had roads and a city plan. Hillcrest did not. Galaens had thousands of people living in it. Hillcrest maybe had a couple hundred. Even that might be pushing it a little, actually. Galaens was a merchant community, Hillcrest was a farming community. In the time that Dyss had to detachedly explore the village, he'd find that the most of it was composed entirely of farmland. The forest came to an end, which was where the farms began. The main road from Galaens struck through the middle of the village, where a moderate collection of houses and establishments were, where a clinic was nearby.

But, truthfully, there were no signs of people. Either they weren't in the village, or they were all under the cover of houses. There was movement in the trees just past the village, but by the time Dyss got to notice that, he'd be roused out of his concentration.

"Hey, Dyss?" Attis called to him as he nudged Dyss's shoulder-- not lightly, nor all that hard; just enough to get Dyss's attention.

It would take Dyss almost thirty seconds to move, though that wasn't unusual, considering the circumstance. Attis's voice was heard, but not completely distinctly, as if muffled through a door. The sounds were also directionless: Dyss couldn't tell much of anything about his body when his consciousness was away.

"...Ngh..."

Dyss would slowly rouse, as if from a deep sleep. The lack of people in the town was... Worrying, to say the least. Even if they were inside, it was still wrong... Every town had someone out at any hour, it seemed. Even a small one like Hillcrest.

"Nobody is out in the town. No one at all. And maybe not inside, either..."

Attis leaned forward, looking out towards Hillcrest. No one in town, no one at all? With all the ruckus outside of the village, Attis figured that at least someone would be out and about, perhaps to come check, perhaps to arm his or herself for the potential of a coming battle. Unless . . .

Unless there'd already been a battle.

Urgency. Before Dyss was roused and reported the state of Hillcrest, Attis's thoughts had been on what felt like a strange dream-- but now, that dream may well have never happened at all.

"Dyss-- we--" Attis paused, gulped back his apprehensions, and worked on standing up, "We should really get in there . . . a-as soon as possible . . ."

While one might think Attis's main concern was Milos-- in reality, Milos was actually part of the main concern. If no one was out and about, that did not bode well for them. Attis had been there before, numerous times. He'd met people in Hillcrest. They were good people. They all just wanted to live normal, peaceful lives, the kind of lives Memories wanted to have, too-- and the people of Hillcrest, at one point, had those lives. They deserved to keep them. They didn't deserve to have them all revoked by beasts from the shadows . . .

Dyss would also stand up, as his consciousness settled around his body again. He was eager to find Milos, as well... Then eager to get back home. They'd encountered monsters here already, and still didn't really understand what had happened the night before...

"Something was moving by the other end of town..."

Dyss would quickly wrap the sword in cloth again, moving forward towards the city. He was tempted to run, but more afraid of the shape it might leave him in if something else was to attack. He didn't know why the shadow creatures were there, but he definitely feared another attack... He was curious why Attis had passed out temporarily, as well, but if he was moving, it was best to just continue on...

Once he was out in the road again, Attis retrieved the scythe he'd dropped when he passed out. It was starting to grow on him, and was a lot easier to use rather than his bare hands. Sure, it was possible; that dream suggested that he might be able to put someone down with his bare hands, but what if it were a shadow creature he was actually intent to kill? For that, he needed a weapon, and that scythe was the best one he'd found so far.

Without a word, he started towards the village again. There was something moving at the other end of town, Dyss said; this would have to be the first thing they checked, once they were actually in Hillcrest. It was still a five minute walk before they'd reach the first piece of farmland, and they could have made it quicker if they ran, but walking quickly was going to do them just fine.

As he slung the pole of the scythe over his shoulder, Attis felt something. It was almost like he was feeling tired again, as if the world was suddenly growing dark again. He squinted his eyes. With a shake of his head, he concluded that he'd get a day's worth of sleep later to make up for this. As he took another few steps forward, however, he heard something eerily familiar . . .

You still keep me close . . . why?

And then Attis stopped walking . . .

Dyss would stop as well, several steps ahead of Attis. Attis was certainly acting strange... Particularly when Milos was such a big concern. Not to mention getting back to Izumi, Recheov, and Illorex. Preferably before any more shadow creatures became a factor...

"...Are you okay, Attis? We should really go as quick as we can..."

Attis had been awfully quiet, too. As if he was seeing things Dyss couldn't see: figuratively, of course. It was starting to make Dyss worry... They didn't need anyone else to be out of commission, for any reason. If Dyss was the only one still mobile, they were all going to have major problems if something occurred...

When Dyss called out to Attis, he moved again. It was almost as if he were frozen again, but at last he took another step forward, only to pause and let Dyss's words set in. Again, he stopped walking, but only to think about it.

"I--" Attis was about to reply.

But then he shook his head. He hadn't the slightest clue if he was or was not okay. He couldn't even put his finger on why Dyss would ask such a question. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but it just felt . . . imagined? Dreamed up? He felt like something very unreal was happening at the same time as something very real--

And it made no sense whatsoever.

". . . Dyss, do you think there's something wrong with me?" Attis asked. It was a genuine question, because at this point, he felt like he was having trouble figuring out what he was dreaming up and what was actually happening. This wasn't the best time to bring it up, certainly, but really, there wasn't any good time to bring it up, but it was directly relevant to, well, everything. Attis felt like there was something wrong with him, and if something put him out of commission, anything that could do it permanently, then their entire purpose here in the real world would be jeopardized.

"Attis... Is this really the time?"

Once they got back to Izumi's house, and had everyone together, Dyss would do what he could to help. He had no idea what was wrong with Attis, if anything. There was a wealth of strange things about them, just by their nature, from terrible dreams to mysterious fighting skill and the fear of simply fading...

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you... Except that you're worrying now. Let's get Milos and go home, and then we can figure out if something is wrong..."

It was really starting to make Dyss wonder if Attis was seeing or hearing things, though... Beyond the things they had actually seen...

Dyss was right. Attis paused a moment, awkwardly, and with his free hand, scratched the back of his head in discomfort.

"Ah--" Attis sighed, "Y-yeah, you're right. S-sorry . . ."

In acknowledgment of Dyss's point, Attis started forward again. This time, he wasn't going to stop, regardless of what happened. This time, he'd keep on walking, even if he suddenly gathered a fear for his own sanity. The future would just have to wait a little while longer. With renewed vigor, Attis started forward again, but would inadvertently be behind Dyss the entire time.

I do not think there is anything wrong with you.

A voice again. Was he imagining it? Was he really seeing and hearing things that really weren't there to begin with? Truth be told, as Memories, they barely existed-- one might argue that seeing a Memory was to see something that bordered on imaginary just the same.

Yet still, Attis couldn't help but reply to it this time, without thinking about it-- or even realize that he was doing it. "How would you know?" he asked out of the blue, though he still sounded respectful-- just . . . confused. "You're not even here . . ."

Dyss wasn't talking as they walked, focusing what attention he could on his sight. There was enough danger and enough possible difficulty in finding Milos that he wanted to do what he could. After all, he wasn't getting any less tired walking around trying to find his friend...

"Attis... What is wrong?"

Attis was talking to someone, obviously... If not Dyss. Dyss certainly wasn't understanding, but it seemed awfully important to Attis. Perhaps too important to wait, despite the urgent circumstances...

"A-ah?" Attis reacted confusedly, "What?"

He thinks you are mad.

Attis furrowed his brow. It was a tough thing to come to terms with, yes. The way Dyss spoke, it sounded like he was beginning to consider the possibility that Attis had gone mad. It wasn't entirely out of the question, though. He genuinely felt as if something was off-- that something had been off for awhile. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, a slew of disjointed voices that he sometimes replied to and sometimes did not, but weren't all such replies in his head? Wasn't it all in his head? The shadow girl, the voice, the voice that he imagined to be similar to hers, wasn't that all just a dream?

I do not think you are mad.

Well, that was a relief. "Thanks."