Nightmares come true.

Stelon's eyes snapped open like a serpent striking it's prey. The shout that echoed eerily throughout the hall woke her and brought her back to the ghastly sight around her.

Blood...blood was everywhere. The dark crimson color stained the walls, the floors, the tables, looking almost like the sweet juice of berries at first glance. But the girl knew better. Her eyes continued to slowly travel through the room, taking it all in, yet not truly registering it in her mind.

Bodies were strewn all over the ground, puddles of blood, rivers, flowing around them. Her own gown, once so beautiful, was now the same scarlet hue of everything else. She felt her body tremble, and a soft cry left her mouth as she finally saw.

The pink hair was matted with blood, as was her own and many of the others who remained in the hall. Her body hung limp, and her skin was an even paler shade of white than before. She briefly saw and noted a deep wound the size of a small coin her chest and her eyes widened in shock.

Her gaze continued to survey the scene in silent horror. There was a pair of arms wrapped tenderly around the pink haired girl, and these were attached to the thin body of a boy with dark hair. His beautiful violet eyes were filled with an anger and fury, yet a sadness hung back beneath the rage. Suddenly, he was running, and Stelon sobbed as she realized she was being left behind. Miraye was dead. Gone.

And there was nothing left.

Matthias and the winged Farrago had disappeared as well, and she knew in her heart that they would never want her back. She had danced with Larkin. She had defended their enemy, and for that, she was never to be forgiven. Her mind strayed to Larkin and she began to cry, her body shaking gently with the sobs as she realized he would not want her either. She had been involved. She helped in this conspiracy to kill the Shrike, and he was not a man of forgiveness.

She lifted her face and screamed as she saw the governor's body laying in rivers of hot, crimson blood, a sword laying at his side. Miraye's sword. Dead. No. He couldn't be. He was Larkin. Yet there he lay.

She tried to stand on her feet and failed. Something was stopping her, and looking back to see what the problem was, she screamed again. A man was holding her, and rather tightly at that. She did not recognize him, and the expression on his white face frightened her. Kicking and pulling hard, she broke free of him and lifted herself to her feet.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to walk towards Larkin's body. She continued on, tears streaming down her skin--she shrieked. A hand on her shoulder. She twisted around and tried to run, but the guard was too fast for her. His hands locked around her upper arms, and without a care to her well being, he shoved her out and down the corridor.