I wince as I take another step. My throat feels dryer than the sun. It hurts like hell, but everything hurts. My shirt is soaked in blood. My sandals had fallen off somehow and my feet were bruised and scared. I survived the thunder. I survived the thunderbolt. I survived Scylla but... at what cost.

There was this sound ringing in my ears. It sounds like death. I am dying if I don't get this wound looked at. If I don't get my eye treated. Basically, if I don't get help soon, I'm screwed. I cannot die. I will not die. I have to get home. I have to survive. I want more than anything to go home.

My vision is blurring more and more. On a scale of one to ten I'd say this problem is a solid 8 and a half. I'm bleeding. I'm dying. My lungs feel like they've been through the underworld and back which I have been. I have been everywhere. From Cyclopes' homes to the siren's bed, even to the liar of Scylla.

"Help!" I hear a yell.

I turn my head. A voice! I'm not alone in this island!