Explore "The Flight to Lucifer" by Harold Bloom on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Farther west, Perscors lay on the floor of the forest, ear pressed against the ground, listening. He sensed a danger ahead, and yearned to hear some presage, but none came. Sleep, fought off for a time, overwhelmed him.
In dream, a figure of light appeared before him, stepping into the filthy mud, stepping into the clouded water. Bending over Perscors, he implored anxiously: "Since you are a Son of the Great, why has your living fire become transformed?"