Meanwhile, inside that dome-shaped energy barrier.
Morpheus was on the ground, his pulse growing weaker by the minute as if counting his last breaths. A handle of a dagger could be seen sticking out from his chest.
In his eyes, the world was turning blurry and slowly losing its colors.
Only the fiery redness of the flames behind Ember remained bright, like a splash of color on a faded painting. Perhaps it was a blessing that the last sight he'd get to see before his death was Ember's flame phoenix.
'How beautiful,' he could not help but think as his heartbeats began to slow. 'She has the most beautiful wings…perhaps if there's a next life…a mere eagle like me can also…'
"M-Morph, don't die please," he heard a voice continuously say beside him like a prayer.
It was the spoiled but still adorable little fox, Isa, and she was crying and begging, looking so pitiful, his heart ached. This was someone he treated like a little sister.
