["Listen to you. I can't believe I ever respected you, my teacher ... you're pathetic, Kratos."

[Kratos. Kratos!

[Somewhere between voices, one in his memory and one in his mind, his dream self's need not to sleep slams hard into his current self's state of slumber. Kratos's eyes snap open but instead of reacting with violence, he freezes, trembling, the sheets fisted in his hands. He's awake now but his mind is still back in the Tower.

[Moving is bad. Moving is pain, is blood, is Mithos laughing at him again -- Mithos. Where's Mithos? Can't see him. On top of the dais? About to twist the Sword? Can't sense him. This is a roll of panic, not the least bit dulled, though the intent behind the terror may only be audible to another angel.

[Outside the door, Botta blocks Lloyd's path, and Lloyd crashes into his solid body and very nearly rebounds back against the rail looking over the hall below.]

Let me in!

[Botta shakes his head.]

No. Stay back -- all of you.

[This is directed to the others behind, in various nightclothes. Colette grips Lloyd's arm, tears running freely down her cheeks, and her voice is a raw whisper.]

Lloyd, please. I don't -- I don't think we can help yet.