In his restless dreams, he sees that place.
Syrup Village.
He should've burned it to the ground.
Yet here it is. Extending its hands to welcome him home. As though he is a lost little child returning from a war that was not his own. Any attempts to break away from its pull is met with incredible resistance from behind. As though he had fallen into a powerful stream heading straight for a waterfall.
His claws. Where are his claws? Nothing but light caresses his hands—a warmth seeped in falsehood that scalds his flesh, that makes him want to pull out his fingernails one by one before resorting to scratching off his skin.
"Klahadore?"
A voice. Distant.
Darkness befalls Syrup Village. The earth roars and shakes. And in but a heartbeat in time, the village sinks into the depths of a vengeful ocean.
"Klahadore?"
Closer now. Pressing.
The world swims back into focus.
His vision is woefully broken without the aid of his eyeglasses, but his mind manages to assign those floating shadows and colors to pre-established associations in memory.
Someone turn off the damn sun. Why must it be so needlessly bright?
"Klahadore!"
Like a ball of lead blowing through a lung, that name uttered by that voice burns the cotton webs off his brain. A fire breaks out in his veins, turning his arms cold, his legs leaden, and his heart screams as it is boiled in its own blood.
"You're finally awake!" Kaya says.