Alcander's Fantastic Voyage: Part 8

By Heracles, I must be getting close.

Why is it that, in this land, Heracles is not content to speak to me when I am awake? Shouldn't the gods have to sleep sometime?

But no, he has to wait until I'm trying to rest to send me messages whose meaning is so obscure as to be nearly meaningless.

Still, I must accept this as a gift from the god. Perhaps not the most useful gift he has given me, but a gift. And perhaps one less perplexing than the other.

I can still feel the rage of the god coiled in my gut. It is the very rage that I was trained to avoid at all costs, so that I could avoid the errors of Heracles. Now, I learn that avoiding the rage was all children's rules, things that are told to novices in the true way of Heracles.

The true secret I now know. The cleric tells me that, once strong enough, the true follower of Heracles can control the rage. It is only taught after years of careful training, after being absolutely sure that one is ready to use the rage in ways that will only cause benefit, and no harm.

Yet I have this ability. Even lacking all training, I have it.

I must be favored of Heracles indeed. I of course must endeavor to use the gift wisely, but it would be foolish to squander the gifts that the gods have given me. This, at least, is a gift whose purpose seems clear! This is a vision in the daylight, as when Heracles first called me, a gift with only one purpose.

For now, I must return to sleep, and hope that perhaps Heracles sends some clearer message this time.