The sight of trees whisking by, blurry smears in a stretching world could only be described as scenery; of no substance. Truly, were they illusions? Could he really keep on telling himself that it's just another nightmare in passing?
Was he even thinking about trees, still? What was it about? What was he trying to say?
Or trying to avoid?
"It can't be true."
He was too scared of the prospect, the implications; too scared to admit that he might have been wrong, and the worst part was that it will not be pride that strikes the blow against the knight. If he truly was wrong, if he's been living in a self-centered lie, then...
... Was it all in vain?
An azure figure danced like an arrow in flight. The bow was strung, the shot fired -- there was but one path, one goal and exactly one way to reach it. Nothing was allowed to obstruct him, not now.
His shape hazed visibly from exertion. Speed was paramount; momentum -- a most needed boon. As he dashed through copse and meadow, nothing dared match his focused zeal.
The peaceful forest shook almost visibly. A contrived tremor, the epicenter of which now lied splintered as punishment for existing in the wrong place.
Can the nightmare be true? Luna, can I have truly failed all along?
But the nightmare he sought was not there. With divine speed he flew out of the forest, only to crash into a place that did not belong to his world.
Blue hair brushed by Zephyr's kisses, dancing like flowing water above brows arched, stilled in timelessness. Violet eyes bleached; gem-like glass work at breaking skies -- so everblue...
A dreamlike scene. For one absorbed by terror, that timeless landscape shone like a firefly.
The azure knight's chin hung bewildered. Pale lips give their parting blessing and so the tiniest gate opened, revealing a voice even smaller. Trembling. The voice of a child on the verge of tears.
His knees thudded into the ground. His half-born question echoed lonely. Echoed, in his mind, within the bounds of that singular marble of reality, of dreams.
Was this his punishment? To be judged by your own sins. A fated outcome.
But Aegis could not move. Only stare. At the small golden-haired frame, in peace, beneath a bulging sky. He just stood there, knees dug into ground that was undoubtedly soaked in blood.
He only stood. As the slow winds urged his eyes to leak...