*TEN YEARS AGO*
The ruins of the city stretched endlessly before Victor, a wasteland of crumbling skyscrapers and jagged concrete. The fires that dotted the horizon painted the ash-stained sky in hues of red and orange, casting long shadows across the desolate streets. The air was thick with the stench of burning, the oppressive weight of devastation clinging to every breath. Victor walked through it all with unhurried steps, the tap-tap of his black umbrella against the cracked pavement echoing like a metronome in the silence.
The silence, however, wasn't absolute. Beneath it, woven into the fabric of the air, was the sound of screams—raw, agonized, and inhuman. The voices of his siblings.
Victor paused mid-stride, his calm demeanor unbroken despite the cacophony of agony surrounding him. His black suit was immaculate, his shoes untouched by the ash and blood that stained the ground. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to the screams more closely.
"They scream so loudly now," he murmured, his voice soft and steady, as though speaking to a companion who wasn't there. His faint smile remained fixed, but there was a coldness in his tone.
Around him lay the disintegrating forms of Dream Beasts—his siblings. Each was a grotesque and unique blend of shapes and forms, their bodies twisted by agony and madness. They were no longer the peaceful beings they once were, their minds shattered and their existence consumed by pain.
Victor knelt beside one of them, a massive, serpentine creature with countless eyes glowing faintly as it let out its final, pitiful wails. He reached out with the tip of his umbrella, gently tapping it on what might have been its head.
"You didn't ask for this," he said softly, his voice carrying a rare flicker of emotion. "None of us did."
The creature convulsed once before dissolving into wisps of light, its cries fading into silence. Victor stood, his gaze shifting to the mountain that loomed in the distance. At its jagged peak stood a single figure, silhouetted against the blood-red sky.
"She made you like this," he continued, speaking more to himself now as he began walking again. "Woke you from your peace, forced you into this suffering. And for what? To see how much pain you could endure? To make herself feel powerful?"
The screams of his siblings grew louder as he approached the mountain, their agony clawing at his mind like nails on a chalkboard. But Victor didn't flinch.
"You cry out for release," he murmured. "And I hear you. I hear all of you. But I cannot wake you—not now. Not like this." His grip on the umbrella tightened, his calm smile hardening. "No. You will sleep again. All of you will sleep."
The journey up the mountain was slow but deliberate, the ground beneath Victor's feet crumbling with each step. The figure at the peak grew clearer—a girl who appeared no older than sixteen, her pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She stood calmly amidst the chaos, her long hair flowing like silk in the hot winds.
In her hands, she held a paintbrush and a palette, the colors on it shimmering in ways that defied logic. Her expression was serene, almost gentle, but there was a sharpness to her eyes that betrayed her intentions.
Victor stopped a few paces away, his umbrella resting lightly on his shoulder. The air between them was thick with tension, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on the mountaintop.
"You," Victor said, his voice steady and cold. "You're the one who woke them."
The girl tilted her head slightly, her serene smile widening. "You make it sound so cruel," she said lightly. "I gave them life. Isn't that what you should want for your siblings?"
Victor's smile didn't waver, but his tone turned sharper. "Life? You call this life?" He gestured to the chaos below, to the ruins of the city and the fading cries of his dying siblings. "They scream in pain because of you. You ripped them from their peace and cast them into a world they were never meant to endure."
The girl—Adrastea—shrugged, dipping her brush into her palette. "They were sleeping. Dreaming. But what is sleep if not a lesser death? I gave them the chance to live, to experience the world, to create."
"To suffer," Victor interrupted, his voice cutting through her words like a knife. "You didn't give them life. You gave them torment. Every moment they exist in this state is agony. And you knew that. Didn't you?"
Adrastea's smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, her tone playful. "Perhaps. But doesn't pain make existence real? Doesn't it make them more than just shadows in a dream?"
Victor's calm exterior didn't crack, but his grip on the umbrella tightened. "You did this for yourself," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "To prove your power. To play god. You're nothing but a cruel child with a brush."
Adrastea's eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't raise her voice. Instead, she began painting, her brush moving with unnatural speed. "And you," she said, her tone sharp and mocking, "are a hypocrite. You've slaughtered more of your siblings than anyone else. Tell me, Victor—what makes you any different from me?"
Victor's smile remained, but there was no warmth in it. "I do what must be done. I end their suffering. I let them rest."
She laughed softly, dipping her brush again. "You call it mercy. I call it cowardice. You can't bear to see them awake because it reminds you of what you are—a monster."
Victor's voice didn't rise, but the weight in it grew heavier. "And what are you, Adrastea? A savior? A creator? Or just a human playing with powers she doesn't understand?"
Before she could respond, he pointed his umbrella at her, the tip glowing faintly with energy. The strike came fast, a ripple of power tearing through the air. But a canvas appeared in front of her, absorbing the attack effortlessly.
Adrastea chuckled, her brush moving once more. From the canvas emerged a perfect replica of Victor, his calm smile and black umbrella mirrored in every detail.
The two clashed, their movements blurring with speed. In twelve seconds, the fake Victor fell, dissolving into streaks of paint.
Victor took a step closer, his tone as cold as ice. "You've done enough damage, Adrastea. This ends now."
Adrastea set her brush down, her expression calm but defiant. "And what will you do, Victor? Kill me, like you've killed so many others? Will that make you feel better? Will it silence the screams?"
Victor's voice dropped to a whisper, but it was no less dangerous. "You don't deserve mercy. Not after what you've done."
He struck the ground with his umbrella, a pulse of energy freezing her in place. Time wrapped around her, locking her mid-motion, her brush hovering above her palette.
Victor stepped closer, his voice a quiet promise. "I cannot wake any more of my siblings. But you... you will never wake again."
With a final tap of his umbrella, the world around them went silent. Adrastea's frozen form stood as a testament to his resolve, her defiance now locked in eternal stillness.
Victor turned and descended the mountain, the screams of his siblings fading into the distance. His calm voice lingered in the air, carried by the wind.
"Sleep now, my brothers and sisters. Sleep, for I cannot rest until you are at peace."