The lake consumed him, enveloping him entirely; the cold, dense water felt like a chilling embrace. He felt himself being pulled down, the cold seeping into him more than just physically—his very soul turned icy.
When he opened his eyes underwater, he no longer saw anything resembling before; of course, he was no longer in that lake. He was standing in an open field, the sky above stained a bloody red, but the landscape... it resembled his previous dream.
A flowery field, now replaced by Red Spider Lilies...
He could sense a huge, overwhelming presence in the air, an imminent tension, a negative feeling. The wind was strong, sweeping across a landscape that seemed more desolate, and the distant sound of crackling flames caught his attention, pulling him toward this strangely curious and malevolent scene.
"Vergil..." a familiar voice called.
