Wails of the dead

It had been a while since the night terrors had gripped the titan with such strength. For a while now the dreams had been vague, lost faces awashed in a sea of blood. Perhap it was the changes to his life, the realization that he had so much to lose. Today the faces of the dead took on those he loved. Back, when the Empire had collpased, there had only been Deathbelle he had loved, and he had succeded in getting her to safety. This time, it happened well Venom, Pesto, Zee and even Io were under his care.

He was forced to watch as they were mutilated, butchered, and torn to pieces by the wild savery of hungry peasants. The mob became a living thing, a wild out of control entity with only one goal - to feed.

Sweet soaked the skin beneath his fur, perspied on his brow. He could not move, nor speak, nor breathe until it was done. Only once all lay dead at his feet could the titan regain his senses and stumble forward, a soft, agonized moan falling from his lips as his eyes fell upon the loose, rolling head of his Wife. he crumpled to his knees, lost in the world of his pain, unable to break free or waken.