'...Dreams are successions of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep..' He had killed many, he would kill many more. He finally snapped and it felt so good! Gone was he who cared, gone was he who loved, gone was the weakling! In his place now stands a man, a man in heart if not in looks. He is splashed with crimson and soaked in red, the sounds of the dying have faded away and now only the sound of dripping can be heard. He licks his lips in pleasure as the droplets sound like the ticking of a clock, a clock that ticks life away. Death's watch. It felt so good to make them squirm, to make them suffer as he once had.. even if it was for but a moment, it felt wonderful.. delightful! Such a feeling of pleasure had in cased his soul, he felt so alive! Even though.. he killed the people he once cared about, well some of them. He doesn't feel sad, he doesn't feel guilty. He feels joy and that is all. He raises his bloodstained hands above his head and sways his thin, scarred body to a rythem only he can hear. A beat that only he can taste. He elegantly skips over his father's body, his bare slender feet hitting the floor with a soft and wet 'thud'. He continues to dance, feeling the blood drop from his hands and stain his body. He hums faintly, dancing faster to a sound only he can hear. Spinning and standing on perfect point, the blood soaked ballerina sways to death. He extends his arms and bows slowly to a non existent audience, hearing their cheers. “Sepiroth, Sepiroth, Sepiroth!” that's his name, isn't it? For a moment he had forgotten, so caught up in silencing all life everything else had come to a standstill. His smile widened until he was beaming in unmasked joy, tears entered his could eyes and slowly ran down his cheeks. Pure tears became tainted with the blood on innocents as they rolled down his face and hit the floor. “..I am.. loved..” he whispers, his voice loud in the dead silence. “I am.. adored..” no movement can be deteticed from the bodies that surround him, their cold eyes are like glass. “..I..am..” suddenly his vision bursts into stars and he collapses. Standing behind him with a frying pan is Arakan, the Demon king. Arakan looks around with his dead eyes before they settle upon his life less son. “what have you done..?” the old demon whispers before picking Sepiroth's frail body up and tossing him over his shoulder. “I have no choice..” Arakan whispers before walking away.. to the void. The void, where the great magician lives. The void, a place of nothingness yet infinate opportunities. Like the number zero, it's possibilities are few and yet many. The void, the darkness that houses the abode of the man he seeks. Arakan walks into the man's home and looks around, taking a deep breath. “Chaos!” he calls, as Sepiroth twitches a little. “no doubt you have seen everything, so I have no need to explain what has happened!” the demon king takes a deep breath. “I need.. your help, I need to contain him.. I need to stop him from ever awakening, lest he kills us all! Well.. all of us killable life forms anyway.” the demon king adds with a hint of jealousy and resentment in his tone. “but I cannot do this alone! I need your help.. please..” from the shadows Aqualeer- the self proclaimed king of the nightmares- watches. His shadowy lips form into a smile as he awaits to see what his friend will say, he awaits to see.. if a new game can be played.