As his dream went on, it slowly changed. Amongst the enemies he was fighting, he started seeing faces he recognized.
The dream slowly morphed into a nightmare, as the people he fought with became the ones he fought against. Voices blended together, becoming a cacophony of pained screams and pleas.
Alexander had no way to know how much time had passed, as the sun stayed at its zenith perpetually, only changing in hues. The longer the dream went, the fewer people at his side remained, until he was fighting alone.
The army before grew in size, again and again, with more and more people he knew joining them. On the front lines of this battle, facing him, were more and more of his friends, seemingly talking to him, but he couldn't hear their voices amongst the noise.
He just fought and fought, his body no longer responding to his commands. He screamed and cried, begging his body to stop killing, all in vain.
