Achilles: Reborn

Chapter 4

Achilles crashed into a window, shattered the glass and was hurled into the corridor, screaming in agony. Sirens blared all around him, ringing in his ears and resounding all around him. The floor shook. Dust filled his nostrils, forcing him to use up every last bit of his energy to sneeze it out. The terribly dry and bitter taste of sawdust overwhelmed his mouth, and he found himself coughing it out, unable to control himself anymore. A heavy, wooden sign broke itself loose and plummeted towards him. He willed his rigid body to move. But it was too late. The sign crashed down upon him like the powerful blades of the Spartan Army. Achilles could feel the blood. But that didn't make sense. How did he know about the Spartans? It seemed like he had entered a world where things more or less stopped making sense. He felt his senses vanishing, and his control over himself disappearing. Everything was red around him, and he thought he could hear the cries of men around him. Achilles' eyes were swimming in his head, and he shifted into the dream-vague unreality of everything.

Not long after he felt his mind focusing again, and the cold, unwelcoming stone ground. He looked around, finding himself alone in a cold, deserted field, empty except for the motionless bodies of grown men, dressed in armor. Achilles began to panic. Where was he? Why was he in this place? "How did I get here?" he wondered aloud. "I was in the corridor of, of," Suddenly he could not remember where he had been, and his brain insisted that he had been here for the past few hours! But that wasn't true! Achilles stood up, staring into the horizon for any trace of his previous location but he saw none. And then, in the light of the blazing sun, he saw his shadow. A looming figure wearing a tall helmet, a cape billowing behind him. He smelt and tasted the blood in his mouth, that just wasn't his, feeling the well-built limbs protruding out of his body, that were not his own. What was this?

Midnight fell on the world, and Achilles was fast asleep. He was dreaming.

Achilles was back on the battlefield. The great Leonidas was locked in intense combat with him, and he effortlessly parried each attack, returning heavy blows. Whenever Leonidas managed to strike, the wound instantly healed. Achilles grinned. His blade went crashing down on Leonidas, piercing his heart, and Achilles roared in triumph, feeling as if he was at the top of the world, and then the enemy sliced through his heel, mortally wounding him. He hit the floor with a thump, hearing cries of, "Achilles!" In his dream, he hesitated. Had he heard right? Achilles turned in surprise, but the scene dissolved and he saw his fellow comrades being struck down by the Spartans, one by one. He turned to help, but found himself face to face with the King of the Gods. Zeus bellowed something to him, and golden light devoured him. Realization struck him like a lightning bolt. His name was no coincidence. He was the Achilles. He had been for his whole life. All that had passed in his previous world, was, an enchanted trance, a dream. Achilles stared down at his powerful hands. His past life, or what he had thought was his past life, was a mirage?