Apollo's Muse

Lykos (Awakening) XV

                                                           ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Lykos lay in his bed and groaned. His hands were hurting as if something had burnt them. His eyes couldn’t take the glare of the sunlight outside his room and he hobbled to pull the curtains. His feet hurt, too.

What a great time to get the flu. Just brilliant.

“Lykos?” His mother called from outside his door. “Let me get your washing.”

“Come in!” He growled, irritated. She opened the door, unfazed by his tone.

“Oh! Lykos! Are you not feeling well?” she cried, coming over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got the flu,” he ground out, the sound of her voice scratching against his sensitive eardrums.

“Let me take your temperature,” she worried, wringing her hands. I’ll bring you some breakfast, and—“

“Mother! I’m fine!” His voice was harsher than he intended, and her mouth turned down, hurt.

“I’m sorry Mother,” he apologized. “I just don’t feel that great right now. Give me a few hours and I’m sure I’ll be better.” He touched her arm with his hand, wincing at the agony.

“Alright, my son. Can I at least bring you something to eat?”

His mouth watered. “That would be really nice,” he admitted. “Thanks.”

She leaned over and kissed his forehead, before getting up and leaving the room, humming softly.

He slumped back on his bed, clenching his jaw as his head pounded.

Bloody headaches.

He closed his eyes and listened to the pounding in his head, the blood rushing through pressurized veins, the pain at the back of his skull. The rushing in his ears grew louder and he struggled, fighting against the darkness clouding his brain. 

Then everything went dark, and very, very quiet.

                                                           ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

 He dreamt… 

Dreams laced with ancient fortresses and glinting steel; brilliant night skies and shimmery aurora australis over Northern constellations; snow-covered wastes and expansive green hills; glades of giant oak trees with their big leafy foliage; an eagle soaring on the wind, screeching its earsplitting cries; brief glances at a room lined with old scrolls, their parchment yellowed with age, and worn by countless gentle fingers; the peaks of big grey mountains topped with crystalline snow; ethereal caves lit by the gentle glow of a thousand glowworms, shining in silence; a sudden deafening noise, accompanied by a view of a muddy path, big hairy paws splayed out on the ground, galloping effortlessly through treacherous conditions…

                                                           ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

He tried to blink, straining his eyes against a thick fog of blackness. A deep voice rumbled in the distance, and he held onto every word.

“The time has come, Lykos. You are witnessing the fall of the Age of Man, and it is your destiny to restart the Hands of Time—“

His eyes blurred, and his hearing dulled. He fought against the brightness at the back of his eyelids, but it was in vain. Reluctantly, he cracked an eye open. Sunlight burnt against his retina, scalding his brain in white light.

Ahhh! Damn. 

He stiffly propped himself up on his elbows, and stared out the window. It was late afternoon, and a cold plate of food sat on his bedside table, untouched.

Mother.

He listened to the muffled sounds of his parents talking in the kitchen, and could just make out their conversation.

“He’ll be fine. It’s natural. He’s almost eighteen.”

“You have to talk to him, explain…”

His mother’s voice trailed off.

“I went through the same thing without a father to guide me. It’ll make him stronger.”

His father’s thickly accented voice had an air of finality about it, but his mother’s next comment prompted a moment of thoughtful silence.

“The situation has changed, Korvus. There are dangers that you never had to face in your time.”

A long pause triggered an ultra-sensitive response in Lykos’ hearing, which honed in on his parents gentle breathing. When his father spoke, Lykos winced at the contrast of volume.

“Perhaps you are right. I will need some time to prepare myself, much less him.”

He heard the friction of his his mothers sleeves brushing against his father’s woolen coat as they embraced.

“I know you’ll do the right thing, Korvus. You always do.”

Lykos listened to their footsteps retreating outside onto the deck, and he blew out the breath he’d been holding.

Now I’m even more sure that there’s something happening that I don’t know about. 

I don’t like this.

Not at all.

                                                     ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Please don't forget to vote :) Thankyou!