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There was no closure.

He hadn't witnessed anything.

To the end, all Ferrucio faced was the face of some mangy ogre, slobbering over his face as it prepared to crush his skull to pulp. There was no catharsis in this, no euphoria to be found in watching the Patriarch hold his ground. No acknowledgement, not when he had long lost personal attachment to the Kaides name. Inhuman might clashed against the demonic strength that felled the kingdom, while mere mortals scrambled in the muck, survival instincts reducing them to mere beasts. And when reality broke, when even legends shattered in that limbo between life and death, when his soul was rent by the fragments of Aura, what remained was still...

...a mongrel, unsated.
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It was a beautiful day.

Birds chirping outside the window, sunlight illuminate the dust motes in the air. A bed that he sank in, and covers that smelled like nothing at all. His pillow was made of something much softer than canvas and stone; his clothes felt soft against his skin.

It was surreal. He rubbed his eyes. Felt his face. Rolled his tongue over his intact teeth. Sat upright, then practically hurled himself out of his bed in a hurry to roll up his sleeves, his pants, his very vision obstructed by bangs that were unfamiliar yet nostalgic. Thinner skin. Unscarred, uncallused skin. And the sight outside his window.

It was a beautiful day, blindingly so. Had Kaidisyum always looked like this? In the window, his own reflection was found, a transparent image of a self he no longer recognized. Gawky limbs and hair that masked half his face. A hunched neck and sallow skin, pockmarked by acne. Had [i]he[/i] ever looked like this? Ferrucio swallowed, lost in this mirror image, lost in his thoughts. Had it been all a dream, a nightmare that was finally broken upon his imagined death?

He didn't want to dwell upon it.

He wanted to leave, now!

He reached for a light cloak to pull over his clothes, slipped his feet into a pair of boots, and left his quarters without a thought. Ten years passed, but he knew where the kitchen was still, knew where the cellar was. None of the servants batted an eye as he moved down corridors and hallways. Another errand perhaps, another order to be fulfilled by the mongrel of the Kaides for his betters. He slipped past the heat of the cooking fires, snatching a heel of day-old bread. Another few steps and he pocketed a bruised apple or two. His gaze lingered briefly on an assemblage of eggs, before he reached for the remains of a wheel of cheese instead. Enough for a breakfast in his youth. Enough for three days, in his 'yesterday'.

Ferrucio left through the servant's door.

Perhaps today was an important day, but at the moment, all he wanted was to bask in the sun in a place with a view.