“You flatter yourself with wretched philosophies,” It began.
His sleep broke.
There It was. Stark naked, stiff armed, angularly helpless. Loops of dark circles floated around Its eyes that gleamed ominously into the distance. Its pale hair still unkissed by the rain.
The mist grew thicker.
“You fought against your own shadows on the water,” It continued.
He saw Him in a pool of white light. Stark naked, with supple movements, palpitating life. Almost lyrically, a halo formed around His radiant eyes. He wavered silently.
“Enslaved by your Conscience!” It sneered. A turmoil of black fury raged under Its breath. Its eyes penetrated fearlessly into His. The words smoldered in momentum.
“What sanctifies, what damns!” It exclaimed excitedly, almost as if questioning Itself.
Disconnected thinking stranded his body. Silence reigned.
The mist gilded into whisps of smoke, each with a vanishing curl at the end. Darkness waned on.
His self-control excused. Every passing moment was a base intrusion on his beliefs. In the glow of dying embers, his experiences began prying on his Faith. He swayed, he unhinged, he soothed intentions. He got weary of resistance.
“What do you want?” The phoney words escaped His lips casually.
A discord of voices, raised together in a stretched wail disrupted the stillness of the air. The uproar echoed, rousing more sinister voices. An inaudible chant began, noisily.
“This Man is Naïve!” It mocked vocally. Derisive laughter followed.
He struggled with sanity. His unmoved face distorted calmly. An inward shudder revived him to Reality. Alone, he listened endlessly to Them. With a distinct conviction and an almost physical certitude he thought of the Truth. He wandered, he contemplated. He was unaffected yet responsible. He bore his heart ambitiously, his mind perversely. He felt the inadequacy of his existence to His.
“An Illusion,” It hissed, silently advancing towards Him.
With infinite deceit, It mounted on His back, grasping His face, choking and pulling Him down. He fumbled at His throat gripping Its invisible hands.
The mist formed in all rapidity.
His breath heaved in unobtrusive gloom. He waited. His beat caught pace. His invincible beliefs became skeptic of their own existence. An internal dispute began. He questioned.
Objectivity morphed into Subjectivity.
His eyes flashed for a moment. It blinked.
A mere spectator of His end. He witnessed the Death of His Soul.
It had recruited another Conscience.