Paul slowly opened his eyes, trembling at the thought of what he would found. The Proxitol had sent him into a deep slumber with blurred visions of a crumbling city... a flash of silver... blood, and big, pale eyes staring out of the dark. A shriek and the sound of broken glass had awakened him, but after scanning the room, Paul found himself alone. It was windowless, with one lightbulb and a single black door. He sat up in his bed with much difficulty, his body was stiff and heavy, as if lead ran in his veins instead of blood.



Indeed, there was something else running through his veins... 

Paul peered at the rash in his thigh and was shocked to see that despite the drug’s effect, it had spread: no longer a colorful myriad, but decaying gray. His fingers were about to touch it when the door opened. Maya strutted in, her weaponry jingling in a sinister tone and a syringe of Proxitol gleaming in her hand.

“Time for your medicine, love,” said Maya, as her hand reached for the artery in Paul’s arm...



“Stop.”



The syringe fell. The voice seemed to have issued from Paul’s gaping mouth. Maya froze, her eyes narrowing with suspicion before comprehension dawned on her shocked face. “Lysanna!” she screeched with her composure lost, hair rippling as one hand reached for Paul’s throat and the other unsheathing the curved blade. Paul’s hands reacted instictively, trying to fend off the attack. The moment his hands touched Maya’s, the room disappeared and images began flashing one after another like a high-sped film. He could see the ancient city clearly now: how each boulder fell into the jaws of unforgiving waves, its inhabitants screaming as they sagged further under water...

Paul realized, that he was looking at the death of a civilization: the Aegean civilization. And he was the vessel for its revival, carrying the last of their progeny. His grip loosened, and the room came back into view. Maya fell onto the floor, her attractive look gone; her skin was clammy and her eyes were pale orbs. Her chest rose unevenly, and her right hand was burnt black. The parasite in Paul’s thigh stirred; it had sucked part of Maya’s lifeforce. As if he were a marionette, Paul stood next to her, watching her body twitch like a fish out of water.



“The syringe...”



Paul picked it up, obeying the voice in his head. He crouched next to Maya and plunged the needle in her neck. Her body went limp... her eyes became a blank stare. Paul walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. His feet weren’t under his control. All Paul could be sure of was that he was walking towards someone... towards Lysanna.