Sigh, another memory.
How many had he gone through already? A dozen? Hundreds? Maybe more, honestly, Leonidas had lost count.
From the start of his journey into the Labyrinth over five months ago, he had seen Art's whole life, pieces of Bloom and Peace's, and Sacrifice on top of that.
It was as if the world itself was trying to force him into a life that wasn't his. The darkness that had taken hold of him slowly shifted, making way for light.
The stinging rays of sunlight pierced through the abyssal veil, and Leonidas found himself covering his eyes. His hands—yes, both hands—covered his cerulean eyes.
He waited for a few moments, letting silence take hold of him instead. It was peaceful, the world was so very peaceful.
There was no sound to disturb him. No subtle rusting of bushes, or shrieking of beasts. No thunder crackling overhead, nor birds singing merrily in their trees.
