There was complete silence in the air.
The sky a dark gray, ashes flying with the chilling wind. Isaic didn't recognized his surroundings at all, but he was at a strange peace.
He took one step forward to hear a crunching sound under his foot. Skulls lay below him, covering the entire ground.
Suddenly he notices a sword in his hand, with a detailed black handle. His hand reached up to the top of his head, he was wearing a crown.
The scene changed. He still had his crown and weapon, but he was in the castles throne room.
He saw himself with his father grabbing at his ankles, begging for mercy. His crys echoed through out the room. His face was injured badly, blood dripping onto the crystal like floor.
His pain and suffering was somehow satisfying.
The old man cowards.
"PLEASE! DON'T KILL ME! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! ANYTHING!" He choked on his own blood as he spoke.
The sun outside shined through the tall windows of the room, defining Isaics facial features, showdows dawned over his cheeks as a devilish smirk appeared.
He raised his weapon and in one swift move the kings screams were silenced.
-
Isaic woke with a start from his dream. Very vivid dream, that is.
