Insanity knows no limits, here. A place of infinite confusion. Tangible confusion. Dense enough to feel. To walk on. To see.
He stood over their living corpses, with a broken smile. Twisted from millennium of murder. His blade, only visible from the many colors of blood staining it.
As he stood there, he spoke.
"He must see me now. A choice, he has not."
One of the corpses lifted her hand, reaching for the corpse in black, but the twisted removed her hand with a jagged cut. She would have screamed, but the blood drank her pain.
The figure in black attempted to speak, but his words would not come. Instead, blood and bile took their place. As they lay there, unable to understand, a scream echoed from beneath them. A hand burst through her chest, eviscerating her. To her end, she thought, but not.
Her eyes were no longer hers. An older one, one of pure hatred and fear. They became one. her corpse, though no longer so, lifted the corpse in black into her hand.
"Do what he could not. Do what she could not. Do what I could not."
Though he could not speak, the blood spoke to them.
"I cannot. He would not allow it."
"Then he damns us. You're not allowed to suffer, yet. Not until you die."
The insanity, shattered. Not he, but his child. His brother. His life-blood.
"They would not approve, I said. Approve, they do not. He wishes to speak with you. Leave the children and the traitor."
"Yes, he does see me. I miss him so. Show me to him."
"Luck is not on your side."
The one who is not he becomes mist, and becomes naught.
The cold throws a tantrum, and through lack of concern, is pulled away.
The corpses lie on the ground. She became her again, though missing her body.
The blood could no longer speak.
Although the blood could not speak, a silent observer brought his presence to light, or to dark. Of which, no one is certain.