800
"..."
Crimson blood flowed from the wounds on his only remaining relative, quickly soaking her black gauze dress, Antigonus's trousers, and his slightly long hem. Yet the heavy smell of blood that should have filled the air was absent.
Because no one was maintaining the dream anymore, deceiving his senses.
"...Sister...?"
Antigonus heard a sound like shattering glass. In front of him, directly overhead, and in many other places, inexplicable patches of darkness appeared-in the dream world, it was a leisurely, comfortable afternoon, with warm sunlight falling on the backs of the demon wolf siblings. This was Antigonus's favorite time. It was still afternoon now, and night had yet to fall. These irregular, unnatural patches of darkness should not have appeared.
Antigonus found that darkness terribly jarring, but he could neither ignore it nor erase it.
The entire dream world began to totter. His Nation of the Evernight, the vegetation and valleys of the Hornacis Mountain Range, all began to crack and shatter like pictures painted on glass windows.
The destruction of it all pointed to only one answer.
By this point, no matter how Antigonus tried to deceive himself with "illusions" and "symbolism," it was already useless.
Yet even Antigonus himself had not expected to be so calm at this moment.
So calm that even his spirituality fluctuations gradually subsided. So calm that, after gazing at the blood soaking the flowers and grass beneath his feet and both their clothes, he neither flew into a rage nor went mad. He simply, peacefully, calmly held his sister's head tight in his arms.
Even though the family member he wanted to embrace would never open her arms to him again, never smile at him again, never gently caress his head with her tender voice and hands again, nor say another