Dimness was the twisted dreamscape, scarlet was the overflowing despair, and gray sorrow mingled among them. In this warped world, an angry soul cried out.
"Kill!"
"Naga... my fleet is gone..."
"Dead, they're all dead..."
Sometimes frenzied, sometimes sorrowful. He had been trapped here for a long time. Time did not pass in dreams, but that only made this solitude seem crueler. When the despair engulfing him threatened to overflow, it often meant his soul's defenses were about to collapse.
But just as the crushing weight of tangible negative emotions brought him to the brink of collapse, the shackles binding this dream suddenly loosened. The pressure vanished abruptly. He opened his eyes and drove his clenched fist forward.
"Kill!"
Thud.
Varian caught Taylor's wrist in a death grip, while Anduin seized the crazed general's other hand. Baron, the "Blind Friar" who had hurried over from Northshire at the royal family's request, immediately touched the mind-soothing Holy Light to General Taylor's forehead as he roared like a wild beast. He struggled even harder, his bloodshot eyes stretching wide, like a tiger ready to devour anyone it chose.
A few minutes later, Baron recited a prayer and lifted his finger from Taylor's forehead. The admiral, nearly suffocating beneath exhaustion and despair, finally quieted and truly fell asleep.
Varian released Taylor's arm and looked at his general. He, too, was a veteran and a commander. He understood a commander's despair after losing an entire army. On the surface, however, the Naga Water Mages who had brought Taylor back had not lied. Azshara, Queen of the Deep, had not mistreated him, but had merely used magic to place him under some kind of illusion.
Still, the king turned his gaze toward the Blind Friar. The latter took a slight step back and said quietly,