Achilles was standing in the black ground, covered in blood, only the smoke on the sky.
All the the soldiers have been gone.
He was alone, the tired body, the metal of his armor scraped and filthy of the blood of the battle.
The pile of wood and ashes won't stop smoking, it was a long and dark column, covering the light.
His gentle touch, with his hard hands.
Now is just ashes, and drops.
Drops falling from his eyes.
His lips, soft, and his strong body, but still, the body of a young man.
Now is gone.
I'm never going to heard again his voice. Never.
Nobody is going to. What 's left is just the memory, that's is alredy fading away.
Achilles feels himself filling up with an umberable rage. He falls into the ground, he's now criyng and sobbing out loud.
He's not capable to deal with the pain,
the guilt is too much.
He can't stand the guilt,
he needs--- to be angry.
Achilles cry out to the black sky, a terrible screams, wich arrives 'till the Ettore's ears.
He screams the name of the righteous man. Ettore!
But Achilles knows who's fault is this.
It's his fault, not Ettore's. He knows this.
But he's a vanaglorius man, he's not going to admit the mistake he made, not even to himself.
The guilt. The guilt is too much.
He lost him and with him everything else. All the women of this world cannot make up for him. They are just a prize. He was the man, the boy. He was his lover, and his friend.
Achilles do not care anymore for his life, the guilt is unbearable. he wants to desappear--- in his rage stop to feel stop to be human stop to exist
He will do the only things he knows: fight and kill. and kill and fight and kill and kill relentlessy kill and kill tirelessy until he feels nothing
Everything else isn't important. His life is now just a tangle of pain and guilt and rage.
On his kness in the mud, he thightens his hands 'till blood start to flow, he puts his head in the dirty ground. Ashes descends on his hair. Tears are coming of his eyes and covering his face-
mud and salt water and blood and blood