It was getting late. Not wanting to sleep, Drew was still awake, just thinking. He was looking out the window of his room, watching the fiery battles still going on between the people with the signs and anyone who challenged them.

He had come up with a million arguments in his head that night against the idea of God, but he never wanted to actually have those arguments with people because it always felt like a pointless topic to discuss. Well, up until now. These crazy people just needed to get real.

After many hours of deep thought, he finally dozed off.

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The city was in chaos. Things were burning.

Drew looked up and saw fire falling from an opening in the sky. He could feel himself falling into a deep pit of despair, as he watched everything he lived for being consumed by the fire.

This was it. This is what people were trying to tell him. He always scoffed at the prophecies of hell, but always kind of worried, somewhere way deep in the back of his heart, that they might be true. And now it was happening. He was seeing the reality of it.

He heard an unknown voice say, "This is the fate of the world without love."

There was no more room for trying to be logical and trying to argue. This was real and it was happening. It was like truth was hitting him like a hurricane, and trying to deny it or argue it away didn't even cross his mind. There was no room for it. Drew understood now, but there was nothing he could do.

He was devastated to see so many people he cared about lost in the fire. It wasn't long before he felt himself starting to burn.

There was a young woman standing from a distance, facing him. Fire was falling on her, but she was not burned. After a few seconds, she faded.

"May?"

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He had never stared at the ceiling for so long.

It was more than just a dream.

This was real. This is what May and all the others were talking about. He had scoffed at these ideas his whole life… but now he was beginning to think. He felt the heaviness and reality of it that May had felt.

The clock turned to 11:50.

"Crap! The contest starts in 10 minutes!"

With that, he quickly got ready and high-tailed it to the contest hall.


A/N: Just like before, the nightmare in this chapter also comes from Flyleaf's "Letters from the Commander" on the meaning behind "This Close."

I know this was a shorter chapter, but it really bugged me when I tried to combine it with the previous/next chapter, so this happened instead.