“You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” Alyxa murmured, letting her arm fall back onto the bedspread.
“I am sorry.”
He wasn’t of course, the concept of actual regret was still alien to him, but it mattered that he had used the words. Words were after all very important. Weren’t they? Her mind was drowsy. It was because of his fingers, he was stroking her forehead, soothing away the images of his long absence.
“Did it work?” she asked, “did you get anything from them?”
“I am not sure, but then one never is with the Olders.”
Bast leapt up onto the bed as Morpheus spoke and patted Alyxa’s cheek with a paw.
“They’ve convinced Zeus to put his agents on it,” the Cat-Goddess told her.
“Agents?”
“Four Youngers,” Morpheus said, “who stayed in this Realm after Troy.”
“Troy? You mean all that Homer stuff really happened?”
It was all so confusing. Like a Dream, but twisting in the telling, as though something were reshaping the truth around her before she had a chance to truly see it.
“‘That Homer stuff’ as you so prettily describe it, kitten,” Bast explained, “is the original blunder that started the whole separation of worlds. I mean, yes, faith failed so the Olders failed, but Troy is where the big mess all started. Zeus left behind some people. Four, one God, and three Heroes. They’ve been given the task to stop your Coven from bridging the Rift any more than they already have.”
“Can the Rift be fixed?”
“In time, perhaps,” Morpheus said, “for now, do not worry about the means or the measure of its rescue. Rest yourself. As you said, I took too much from you.”
She rolled her eyes at him, or tried to, she was so tired.
“Sleep, my weary one.”
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