In this dream, I could not even recognize the setting. Everything was in flames, crackling of fire as it spread and torched everything in its path. I stood in the middle of its burning rage. No, I was the burning rage cause I looked down at my hands, they were the producers of the flame.
Far up the road, the flag of the capital stood high, because of its length, the flame did not reach up to it but that only means… I’m burning the Palace!
The rage in me spread just like the flames without any care in the world. I could only watch as fire swallowed the bushes that decorated the front yard. Even the great fountain had dried up.
“«Ω, γιε του Έλιοτ, εμφανίσου μπροστά μου, αλλιώς θα κάψω τη σκληρή δουλειά του πατέρα σου στο έδαφος. Ο θυμός μου δεν θα σταματήσει μέχρι να εκδικηθώ την υπερη
