"Yeah . . . we did . . ." Attis whispered in reply, a hint of a smile upon his lips.
It was selfish and he knew it, but if this was where he ended, he wouldn't mind too terribly. It would have been better to lose his mind and fade here in the real world than for it to happen in the unreal. Of course--he didn't want to. Not here. Not now. There was still so much to do. It was selfish of him to even think that he might be willing to die out here. He'd have just been dying alone. No one would have benefited from it. No lives would be saved. That wasn't the kind of death that Attis could accept.
Soon, he heard Milos's voice. "Attis?"
Attis opened his eyes. He couldn't be sure if he'd fallen asleep or not. If time passed or not. Dyss was still not moving much (likely not asleep, as the man rarely had much need for it, but he was definitely not here), but Milos was back.
"Oh, hey." Attis rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn.
Milos wanted to giggle at that. He really did. But he didn't feel like he had the heart to just yet. After all that happened here . . . "You look beat," he observed. "And Dyss, too."
"Dyss a lot more than me," Attis half smiled, then looked down the road towards the house. "How is she?"
"She's asleep. She's gonna be okay."
"That's good."
"Should we wake Dyss?"
Attis shook his head, "No, it's fine. He needs his rest."
There was a long pause. Neither man had a clue what to say. Both wanted to say the same thing, both wanted to throw their arms around each other and express how happy they were to see the other alive and okay. But they equally felt as if they were obligated not to. As if they had to get other things out of the way first. Important things.
"Milos," Attis broke the silence, "can you tell me . . . how it all happened?"
Milos quirked a brow. "What happened?"
"Hillcrest and . . . everything," Attis elaborated. "I can't make any sense of it. I've been trying to this whole time--but it's all so disjointed."
"Oh . . ." Milos trailed off. It was actually somewhat of a difficult subject for him. He didn't want to relieve it. He might always have to; he might always have it as a reminder of how horrible existence can be. But he didn't want to dwell on it. Not enough to explain it all. "Wh-what do you want to know?"
Seeing Milos's hesitation, Attis was tempted to tell him to forget about it--but he still felt an obligation to understand. If he could understand it, then perhaps he could do something about it. In his mind, he whispered an apology to Milos. It was the only way to keep it sincere.
"How it began. How it happened . . ."
Milos nodded silently. He didn't say anything for the longest time, just stared at the ground. It took several moments for him to force back his apprehensions and speak at last. "It began when this boy came from up your way. I think it was the Tsukimonos' son. He gathered everyone in the village around and told them that he'd found a dying militiaman from Galaens, talking about an enemy coming from the shadows. Everything thought--I thought, too--that it was something like those bandits from before. A lot of people thought it was them exactly, coming back for revenge. I was worried sick! B-but . . . but I knew that you'd be disappointed if I left so many people behind, when I might be able to help them all . . ."
Attis smiled some. "No, I'd understand. I wouldn't have been disappointed at all. But that doesn't make me any less proud of you for making that decision. It must've been hard to do."
"It was," Milos smiled sadly.
It was me.
For a second, Attis looked as if he'd been stalled. It took him another second to shake it off. "What happened after that? I imagine it wasn't Theleaus again . . ."
"It wasn't, no," Milos frowned. He stared at the ground. His heart beat hard. He wanted to lean into Attis for comfort, but he hesitated to do so. "It was right when it started to get dark when it happened. A few hours ago. They weren't human at all. They weren't even . . . even like the predators we saw back home! They were . . . I don't know. They were so dark. They'd sharp fangs and claws, like . . . like demons."
"Shades," Attis recounted, "We fought them, too. On our way here."
Milos nodded solemnly. "They killed so many. They'd come out of nowhere. Right out of people's shadows! The Tsukimono boy-- he gathered a bunch of people together to fight, he sent all the women and children back, way back to the end of the village. Um . . . I was sent back there, too. But I guess . . . I guess I wanted to try and defend them, if worse came to worse. But there was no stopping these things.
"I was only able to save that girl. That girl, Mayako. One of the monsters--th-the shades, right?--was out of the ground and chasing her. I couldn't stop the ones that were in the shadows. It almost was on top of her; I think she fainted, but I got it from behind and picked her up. But by that time . . ."
Milos sighed.
"Everyone else was dead."
Attis set the scythe down. He knew that Milos needed comfort more than ever, now. He tried so hard to protect these people, but he couldn't. He was up against too harsh of odds. Attis knew that pain. He knew it all too well. Attis leaned forward and wrapped his arms about Milos's body. Milos took in a deep breath, but readily accepted the embrace.
"I took her and ran," Milos whispered into Attis's chest, "I ran until I couldn't run anymore. We just sort of . . . stayed in the forest and waited. She was so frightened. Shaking the whole time. Scared of me. Scared of everything. I calmed her, I told her she was just dreaming. I don't know. It felt like the only thing I could say. I carried her back with me when I thought they were all gone, but . . . there was no blood. No damage. Nothing. I checked the clinic house, and everything was sleeping. The Tsukimonos. Their son. Everyone in the clinic. And in the other houses, too. Everyone was just sleeping. I can't make any sense of it at all . . ."
I did this.
Attis furrowed his brow. It all felt so darker when he heard that. That voice. A voice he was starting to recognize. He tried to pretend he didn't hear it.
I brought them here to hunt.
"To hunt . . .?" Attis couldn't help it anymore. He asked the question aloud, unsure of where or why his thoughts were becoming quite like . . . that.
Milos tilted his head to the side inquisitively.
Attis noticed Milos's confusion. He recognized what it felt like to move his own mouth. He finally understood how much he was saying aloud. "I-- I mean, do you think they came here to hunt?"
"M-maybe," Milos paused at length, thinking deeply about it, "They . . . they ate everyone they could get their teeth into. So maybe they were. But why was it all taken back?"
"I . . . I don't know."
Milos pulled away from Attis weakly. "Me, either . . ."
Attis was of two minds right now. He thought of both Milos's story and the vaguely familiar voice he was beginning to recognized. Nothing made sense still. Everyone should have been dead here, according to Milos, but they were not. They were alive and sleeping soundly. Likewise, he should have only been hearing his own voice in his head. That was the voice he thought in. Nothing else. He'd have to consciously think in a different voice to actually create it. And yet, this one was not his own. This one was female. He decided to test something out.
How did you find this place? Attis thought, specifically thinking in words rather than concepts, specifically creating something tangible in his mind that could potentially denote a--
I cannot remember.
--reply.
Before Attis could respond for further testing, Milos spoke again.
"B-but," Milos forced a smile, "it'll all be okay, I think."
"Hm?" Attis tilted his head to the side.
"I was able to get in touch with someone, someone from home, when we were out in the forest," Milos nodded. His smile was one of the utmost relief. "He said he'd be here soon."
For a brief moment, everything stopped. The testing, the thoughts, the worry about Hillcrest. Attis's heartbeat, his breathing, Milos's heartbeat, Milos's breathing, Dyss's, Mayako's, the whole village of Hillcrest's. For a second, a second that last a thousand years, there was nothing. Just a pause. A horrifying pause. A pause during which Attis's expression turned from vaguely tired but content to something . . . bad. Something worried. Something confused. Something curious.
Something absolutely terrified.
"Who . . ." Attis felt breathless, like someone had thrust a weight into his chest and replaced it with a bushel of bricks. "Wh-who did you . . . who did you contact . . .?"
"Oh, umm . . ." Milos paused to think. "Th-The Legionnaire. He told you before we left, remember? To contact him if there's ever any trouble at all. A-and he's really close with you know who, s-so . . ."
Attis shut his eyes. He dropped his arms from Milos and leaned his head forward, his face contorted in pained disappointment. ". . . why, Milos?"
Milos looked from left to right. He suddenly felt as if he'd done something horribly wrong. He didn't know what, but . . . Attis was-- Attis was disappointed. Frustrated. He had that look about him that he got whenever he couldn't make a plan work. That look of frustrated disappointment. With each passing second, Milos was more and more scared that Attis was disappointed in him in particular.
"W-what did I do . . .?" he asked with the utmost nervousness.
"Milos . . ." Attis groaned, perhaps the first time he'd ever displayed any degree of frustration with another person. At least, to Milos's knowledge. "The Legionnaire's member of the Crepusculum!"
"Th-the Crepusculum . . .?" Milos furrowed his brow. Worried as he was, he hadn't the slightest clue what Attis was talking about. "What's . . . that?"
Is something the matter?
The Legionnaire could ruin everything we've worked for!
"You said he's close to him. You said he's close to the Maestro," Attis groaned again, "That's what we are. The Crepusculum ex Memoria. We're close to the Maestro."
Milos backed away somewhat. Attis wasn't yelling at all. He was keeping his voice perfectly normal, he was trying to stay perfectly calm, but his frustration was evident. Milos knew he wouldn't hit him; he knew he wouldn't hurt him, but he was scared. Scared of himself.
"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell everyone? If the Maestro gets involved, it'll ruin everything. That's why we had to come here. Where no one from home could find us!"
Milos found himself on the verge of tears.
"O-oh God," he whispered shakily, drawing his hands up before his lips. Tears stung his eyes and he was trembled all over. "O-oh my God . . . I-- I--"
"When will he be here?" Attis deviated from what menial of a fit he'd been in. He needed to know where to go from how. He desperately needed to know how to progress. All other things--the mystery of Hillcrest, of Galaens, and of the familiar voice in his head--would have to wait.
"S-- s-so-- soon," Milos stuttered. He took in a deep breath, but it was voice. He whined as if ready to fall into an unbreakable fit.
And for the first time in years, Attis cursed.
"Damnit." He took in a deep, pained breath, tried to count to ten, and pushed his hand through his hair. He got his bangs out of his eyes and leaned his head back. Counting to ten wasn't working. Running might have to do the trick. "We need to get back to Galaens. We need to hide the research. And the materials. We need to burn the materials."
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