Chapter Text
The realm screamed, ground shaking and crumbling under the weight of its pain, and under the battle in its skies. A blade of light cleaved through the wing of Her enemy, a single flash of pain among the many as one vassal struck the other, the Sister scorched Her Brother. Why did They fight? He was not idle as She attacked, though He screamed as another blade tore though His side. Did They not know, that every strike against the other, was struck against it too? He lobbed balls of fire, many splashing harmlessly against their light formed counterparts. That every blow those Children took, it would also hurt anew? Though many others would hit their mark, and She snarled as the flames burned through Her fur. Its minders and menders, the keepers it had spawned. They fought viciously, brilliant pillars of light and spires of fear made manifest ripping arcs of godly blood from the two combatants. The blood of its Children long since filled a pond.
They danced across the realm’s cracking skies, paying no mind to anything more to snuffing out the life of their counterpart. As One broke the Other, the clouds darkened with tears. Soon, the battle began to draw to a close. The realm’s desperate cries fell on deafened ears. It was easy to see that He was far worse off than She, His gaping wounds and ragged wings to Her charred fur and blackened skin. Her blinding light had always outshined his brightest flames. Desperation now filled His every move and certainty now fueled Hers, crimson fire growing wavering and weak in the face of the spears of light that now hemmed it in. And horribly. And finally. No.
She won.
NO!
A terrible, final blow. No no no no NO! A single blade straight through the chest and He died, -- Please! -- eyes dimming and wings faltering as He stared at the light piercing through his heart. Please, no! He started to fall, and soon his corpse plummeted through the fracturing skies, -- PLEASE! -- the disintegrating clouds, -- PLEASE!!! -- and out of the realm itself. …Please. The deed was done, and he was gone. And He took a part of it with Him.
All was still, and all was silent. Nothing moved, not even the twinkling motes of essence. The Dream stared at the enormous rift the dead nightmare’s departure left, emptiness reaching forwards to fill the tear his corpse had wrought.
The realm howled. It shook, the sky and ground crumbling alike in the wake of its sorrow and the wake of its pain. The Son had died. The hole in it grew wider, darkness stretching questing fingers as it crumbled in on itself. Light drained, shadows growing deeper, and deeper as the realm fell. It was dying. Its Son was gone, and He had took the heart of it with Him.