Reading had not served the purpose that Athena had hoped for. She was not nearly as distracted from any of the events that had transpired before. She could not get her mind away from the fact that a part of her was starting to believe in what she always believed to be was mere fiction. Like Greek mythology or ghosts.
She wanted to discard the anxiety and fear that came along with it but knew she could not. That gnawing feeling she had when she began to believe that Liza was real and a Sarrafas none the less came back again. That the darkness in the chateau was a Fresico.
There was more and more proof that everything that she believed was fiction was real. It was becoming more and more difficult to deny it. Vampires, Realms, Chaos everything must be real right?
They had to be … or perhaps … Liza and the Fresico were all a figment of her imagination and that she was actually hallucinating?
