Lips quivering, breath a ragged rasp echoing against the river's noise, Garduck rushed to Adam's sunken cheek. Desperation fueled his frantic shakes, his voice coming in heartbroken pleas.
"The Fury left. You endured it, Adam!" He clenched his jaw, a tear trailing down his pale face. "Stand up proudly like you always do. We... we're close to our destination. It's the last stretch to escape them. You can't give up!"
However, Adam's tight eyelids didn't flutter. His body didn't twitch ever so slightly either. He was out cold, his flesh mangled, his soul tainted, and his mind an inmate in a prison of hate.
Achilles narrowed his eyes behind them. He knew more than anyone that recovery was possible but slim. Perhaps a hundred years wouldn't even suffice to untangle the hate poisoning Adam's soul. As for the devoured limbs...
