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((Triple Saturday -- Page 2 of 3))
He could practically sense the hunger that dwelt within the Chaos. It was scratching at the cage, trying to reach him, trying to devour him.

Hmm.

So this was what those Abolish fools were always salivating over? He supposed that only made sense. Madmen in love with madness.

Parson, however, had seen his fill and wished to return to reality or to consciousness or wherever his physical body had gone.

And just like that, he did. As suddenly as his vision had changed, it shifted back. He saw the dusty wasteland outside Montero once more, felt the heat of the sun on his skin and the flailing of his coat in the wind.

He looked down at his hands to inspect the sludge again. If such a vision could be induced every time it was touched, then this sample could prove immensely--

The sludge had turned to stone. It, too, was already beginning to crumble. He could hear it cracking and see dust trails escaping from it.

Had he already used up its power?

Damn.

He would keep these ashes, too, but he had a feeling that they wouldn’t prove very useful. He wondered if anyone would even believe him after telling them what he had seen just now.

Bah. He could already see the stain to his reputation that such nonsense would have if he went around blabbering about it like a tactless moron. He’d have to be very careful who he mentioned any of this to, he felt.

At length, he started back toward Montero. As confused as he was, his men were probably even more so right about now, though for different reasons.

En route, he remembered that Overra was still there on his back. Maybe she would be able to tell him something. ‘Did you manage to see any of that?’

There was no response.

‘...Overra?’

Still nothing.

He stopped walking. She was definitely there. He could feel her clinging to him. ‘Overra.’ He reached over his shoulder and grabbed her with a soul-empowered hand. ‘Overra, wake up.’

She did not answer him.

He peeled her off of his back and held her in his hands.

Her ethereal body was shriveled to the point that it was hardly recognizable. She should have been a swirling and perpetually silent tornado, but instead, she was scarcely even a shrunken cloud--and not so much swirling now as just slowly turning. It looked like her body might even cease spinning entirely, what with the way it was struggling.

His eyes widened with urgency. He’d seen this before, when she had been gravely wounded in battle. ‘Overra. Overra! Please...!’

And then he realized that he felt somewhat weak, himself. His body was a bit stiff. His muscles felt somehow farther from his brain, as if his orders were taking longer to reach them, as if they might not even be his.

His soul’s grip on his body was loosening, he knew. His mind was becoming foggy. Overra must have been even closer to death than he’d thought.