Artemis sat in his chair. Things were not good. His eyes were red-rimmed with no sleep. His face was bleak and scared.
Am I mad?
Ever since he had seen that thing…
Am I mad?
Was the Complex saying the truth? Was he delusional?
Mad. The word was resounding in his head. It was a parasite. It was eating him from the inside.
I’ve seen stranger things than a dragon. That was no excuse. It was simply… it could simply not be true. A huge blue dragon could simply not exist.
It was there. Artemis knew he had seen it.
There was something that drew him to the beast. Where other people would have found it terrifying, he found him-her magnificent. And it was. It was a beautiful, huge yet graceful animal. Who could equal it?
And even stranger still was the boy riding on its back. Artemis had seen (the Complex hadn’t been all bad; for some reason it had left him sharper senses), he was not human. His ears were pointed, his cheekbones were high, he was in short, handsome. Artemis had never lowered himself to envying someone -his pride would not permit it- but, shamefully, he had to admit that the boy was very attractive.
Perhaps he should stop tormenting himself. Perhaps it was all a figment of his imagination.
But he didn’t think so.