The chime that rang fell dead on his ears, echoing uselessly in his mind like a scream in a collapsing tunnel. He was too far gone to be aware of his surroundings.
His thoughts weren't even thoughts anymore — fragments, jumbled words and broken symbols. Ancient knowledge of a forgotten god were all that remained.
His left eye's sclera flicked to the corner, making him jerk slightly. He didn't know what it was or what it wanted.
All it did was ovserve.
"Leave me alone," he mumbled in shattered breaths. "I just need some sleep."
"Vergil," Eleanor called. "Get a grip of yourself."
No response came back.
Eleanor exhaled sharply. "You're sweating like a dying dog, and talking to yourself. Are you cursed?"
"He doesn't look cursed," Elena said softly as she glanced between the two. "He was fine yesterday. But something's wrong."
"I can see that," Eleanor snapped. "But wasting time sitting here and waiting for him to collapse isn't going to help."
