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“What in the world are you talking about?” said Parson.

“It is a privilege that few have had,” said Ettol. “To see beyond what is and into the realm of what could be.”

A beat passed, and Parson blinked dully. “Right. Well, I think I’ll forego it, just the same. I’m largely content with what is.”

“Hmm. Pity. In that case, might I ask you to deliver a message for me?”

“I’m no messenger. I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Not likely. I have little time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Please. I am begging you.” Ettol’s eyes grew abruptly wider, and Parson saw something in them that he had not at all been expecting to see.

Desperation.

“You may be my only hope,” said Ettol. “Tell your friend to come find me.”

“I have many friends.”

“I know not his name. But you and he are bound. You and he and one other.” The man smiled again, though it seemed somehow sadder this time. “A trio.”

Parson only stared at him.

“You know of whom I speak,” said Ettol. “Please, tell him to come find me.”

Parson didn’t know what was happening here, but he felt abruptly as if this man might not be spouting complete nonsense, after all. And more importantly, he felt as if perhaps there really was a limited amount of time to ask questions. “...Why would I do that?” he decided to say. “Why would I want him to find you?”

“Because I need his help. Your friend is a key unto Chaos, where I am sadly trapped.”

Well, that was... somewhat of an explanation. Not a particularly good or believable one, but it was still more than Parson had been expecting, honestly. “Even if that’s true, why should he bother helping you?”

“Because, Parson Miles, I can grant your wish.”

That was too vague. Parson wasn’t buying it. “What wish would that be?”

Ettol looked at him for a long moment. “Why, the wish, of course. To change the world.”

Parson was without words. How could he know about that? Who was this man, really? Did Overra--?

“Chaos beckons,” said Ettol. “Time is vengeful. Please pass on my message to your friend. Ah, and you may wish to move away from me. This will likely not be pretty. But fear not, for I--” The man’s eyes bulged, and he broke for a cough. Then another. And another.

Parson did as he’d been asked and took a few steps back.

Ettol tried to cover his mouth, but upon the next cough, something black and slimy spewed forth, coating his hand and dripping down his arm. He heaved another time, and more blackness appeared, splattering against the dry ground and nearly reaching Parson’s feet.

Parson wanted to ask what was happening, but he was too appalled to say anything.