Rodeon was brought to a place shrouded in darkness, where he felt the enormity of the world itself stretching endlessly around him, but found himself completely and utterly alone. The land beneath him was hard iron and his footsteps seemed to echo into eternity. As Rodeon traversed through the darkness, he could glimpse stars steadily coming into view. The stars grew myriad and beautiful until they exploded in an aurora of light and color. There, canvassing the darkness, he watched as they coalesced into a grand constellation of a massive dragon-like creature. When the dragon spoke to him, Rodion heard a woman's voice echoing in his mind.

"Remember me," it said.

Tatiana was back on the darkened ice surrounding the Black Glacier, on the day of her unsuccessful hunt. All was as it was, her father standing there watching, the bitter unnatural wind that manifested around the Black Glacier lashing at her angrily. When the demon closed in on her with fangs bared, ready to tear her apart, she reached out to it, and just as she did on that day, ordered the demon to stop.

Only this time, the entire world stopped. Even the wind ceased. She glanced at her father and saw him frozen in mid-step, rushing to her aid.

It was then that she heard it. The voice of the Black Glacier itself, speaking directly into her soul. When she turned to face it, she found herself standing directly in front of it, close enough to gaze upon her own reflection in the mirrored darkness of the Glacier's shell.

Her reflection spoke back to her, but not in her own voice, but in the language of the Black Glacier-- that mournful rumbling that was as apparent to every Lanostran child as the howling of the winter wind. Somehow, she understood it.

"Love," it repeated. Over and over again, until Tatiana woke from her vision.

Ziotea opened her eyes and found herself... exactly where she had been kneeling in the moments before closing them. When she looked around, she saw all of her companions on their knees with their eyes closed before the colossal doors of the Red Shrine, no doubt experiencing their own visions. Unsure as to what was happening, or if something had gone wrong, she rose to her feet. It was then that she heard the thunderous noise of a million voices crying out together.

Leaving her companions, she turned around and approached the edge of the great platform where the entrance to the Red Shrine stood. Beyond, the surface of the city of Magnagrad stretched onward and from its depths, the roar of a million voices rose up in mechanical unison. With the cacophonous ocean of sound ringing in her ears, Ziotea made her way down the steps of the Shrine to investigate.

When she was halfway down the massive stairwell, she finally saw the source of the sound. Looking upon the streets, she saw them choked with legions of people. All of them stood shoulder to shoulder, every child, man and woman in all the empire seemed to have gathered in every conceivable space-- every street, rooftop, plaza and alley was filled to capacity. She could see the dark azure eyes of native Varyans, the pale blue eyes of T'saraens, the deep emerald of Lanostrans, the cold indigo of Muraadans and the burning gold of Omestrians. Each of those eyes was fixated on her.

"Destroyer," the crowd of millions chanted. Over, and over, and over again. Suddenly, a great explosion of... something encompassed the city and the endless crowds of people disappeared as the maelstrom of golden light washed over them. She felt burning heat begin to cook her alive, it was pain unlike anything she'd felt before. The tempest of golden fire began to swallow her whole when suddenly, a blue circle of light manifested around her, and she felt the burning sensation begin to cease.

At that moment, she woke up.

Astraea found herself waking up in what appeared to be a ruined war hospital. She was lying on a filthy old hospital bed, and the ceiling above her was heavily damaged by what she assumed to be mortar fire. Beyond the crumbling stones, she could glimpse a pale sky-- stark in its emptiness-- the kind of sky that only exists above Varya. When she sat up, she ccaught sight of the rest of the hospital, and to her horror, discovered that the ward seemed to stretch onward to a distant point in the horizon. Thousands of hospital beds were lined up in front of her, unending as they disappeared into eternity, all of them empty but hers.

Suddenly, from somewhere deeper in that eternal corridors, she heard the howling of a wolf. Astraea tried to get up from her bed, but for some reason, her body was heavy like a stone. Something was wrong. It's as if she had woken up from a long period of sleep. Nevertheless, she hobbled to the where the sound was emanating from, and soon enough, she found him. A cyan wolf with golden eyes, lying bloody on the tiles before her.

She could still hear its feint whimpering after she awoke.

Ragnar didn't see anything. When he closed his eyes, the next time he opened them was when Tatiana roused him awake. There was no vision, no sound, nothing at all. This lack of any sort of vision weighs on him heavily, and when asked about what he experienced, he makes up a lie about the Aspect transporting him back to Muraad and seeing his family again.

Stina awoke to find himself standing alone, at the peak of a high tower, somewhere in a vibrant sun-drenched land. Looking around at the distances beneath him, he found that he couldn't recognize where he was, for no place that he had ever laid eyes on was as filled with life and color as the bucolic lands surrounding him. This wasn't Varya, or anywhere else in the empire, but a place beyond where he knew.

Beneath the tower was a great forest, an army of sentinel trees rooted to the brush. He had seen trees before, in the lands of wealthy Varyan military officers, in pictographs of Lanostre, but here, there were more trees than he had ever seen in his life.

Beyond the mountains far from the tower the cobalt sky darkened into shadow. A monstrous storm seemed to enshroud the place beyond those peaks. Mist roiled and lightning struck as black and grey clouds waltzed through the darkness. The storm seemed to be approaching the emerald valley beneath him, and as the clouds grew closer, he found the world was beginning to lose its color.

It was then that he saw it. Hidden behind the storm but only visible through the intermittent flashes of lighting. A massive humanoid shape in the far horizon, shaking the world with its every step. It steadily marched toward him.

He woke to find that the rumbling in his bones had not ceased.

Hassan awoke to find himself... nowhere. All was pitch black, there was no sight, sound nor smell. No sensation of air touching his skin or ground beneath his feet. In fact, there was no feeling at all. Hassan tried to wiggle his fingers, his toes, and found that he didn't have any fingers or toes to move. There was just... nothing. This place was nothing. And he was nothing.

His consciousness was the only thing in this place that kept him cognizant of the fact that he existed. Hassan looked back at his entire life, making a mental catalog of experiences, his companions, hurts he had suffered, victories he had gloried in. He was relieved to find that they were all there. He could remember them all. Relief.

It was then that he tried to remember his own name, and couldn't. He then tried to remember what he looked like, and found that he couldn't do that either. Little by little, he began to forget.

When Hassan opened his eyes, he found that he was the last to awaken.

When he opened his eyes, Galahad stood in his chambers within the Red Seminary. Immediately, his heart pang with an overpowering sensation of loss and he found himself beset by a burning desire to see his companions. Seized by this sense of overwhelming sadness, Galahad ran out of his chambers and looked around for signs of Warband Phoenix, but instead found the seminary empty and silent. Only the sound of his footsteps echoed across its halls.

While searching, he made his way past a polished mirror and in the periphery of his vision, managed to catch a glimpse of himself. He immediately walked back to gaze upon his reflection, and to his shock, found the face looking back at him to not be his own. The man in the mirror was at least fifteen years older, with light scars adorning his face. There was a weariness to the man's features, as if he had seen and suffered much. While he couldn't recognize how his face had changed, his eyes were still the same. They were cold emerald, the strength and wisdom in them still burning bright.

A voice called out to him.

Suddenly, he was not standing in the darkened halls of the Red Seminary, but in the middle of what appeared to be a battlefield where the dead had accumulated to such a degree that mounds of them rose up around him. The smell of rotting flesh assaulted his senses, and strange dark birds unknown to him pecked at the dead, their lifeless eyes watching on.

A man in black stood over a mountain of bones. His red eyes glared down at Galahad as he smiled at him.

"I'll be waiting," the stranger said to him, his voice barely above a whisper.

By the time Galahad had awoken, he could still hear the man's words snaking through his mind.