Cross had been wandering around the mansion for a while now, trying to get rid of his boredom. Everybody else was busy, and he still, after so many years of living in the white silence he used to call home, didn't know what to do when he was alone. However, now he had something to actually look at and explore while walking, which caused the whole thing to be far more interesting.

He took yet another deep breath, incredibly happy that the air he suceed in was fresh and cold, full of live even, when he heard it. A quiet whimper, almost inaudible, warped and broken, reached his ears. It sounded wrong and strange, but that could also be the case because it was echoing. Not in the sense of the noise bouncing of the walls, though, but rather in the one of two voices speaking at almost the same time.

A wild ocean, made up by darkest of liquids, stretches as far as the eye can see. Gigantic waves make their way over the surface once in a while, but otherwise, it's quiet. A light blue, almost turquoise, hue swirls around in its deeps, painting beautiful tartans as it keeps on moving. What appears to be a purple fish brakes trough the smooth surface, causing the strange water to bubble for a moment, until tentacles crawling their way out, gripping onto the fish and holding it tight. Not a single one has ever managed to escape their fate, and so this one gets pulled back down, too.

There is an island near the middle of this endless sea, small and unimportant, or so it might seem. A few trees sprouted on it, too, but not a single one bore any fruits. Flowers, varying in size and colour, littered the ground, some purple, some blue, some black and the others as crimson as blood and as bright as a star.

A single figure sits there, and returns ever so often, a being corrupted by hate and fear. His name is Nightmare, he used to be the skeleal guardian of negative emotions, but the power tainted his soul and body, overflowing it with the darkness that embodyed the worst of all things. However, the negativity that made up his entire being now wasn't limited to just anger and hate, sadness was one of them, too, and he was trying his best to supress that feeling whenever he was around someone else. A king, especially the King of Fear, would never be allowed to show any weakness, that was equivalent of running stright into a storm of the blue arrows that hurt so much, not only because they were powerful weapons, but because they were fired by the one person he thought would always be by his side, no matter what.

At this very moment, in this little world, however, was noone who could judge him for the tears that made their way down his skull. The purple magic spilling out would confuse so many others, for they only ever saw the turquise glow of his single eye. A skeleton's eyelights usually showed what theirs looked like, but he wasn't an ordinary person, he could hardly even call himself a monster. This body was merely a shell, a vessel designed to hold a soul made of nothing but the thing he was supposed to protect.

He was so very very sick of this, the constant circle of nothing but destruction and pain...The knowledge that he was saving the Multiverse by playing a villain couldn't ease up that crashing agony, no matter how important his role was.

He would've given up long ago, if it wasn't for the one thing that kept him going, that was valuable enough to him to go through hell everyday in order to keep it, his family. They weren't even related by blood, nor by soul or magic, yet they meant everything to him. Murders and criminals were everything their appearance and actions screamed, those were the names everyone else called them, too, but he knew better. In this world, it really was kill or be killed, just because of one ignorant god. Still, one question was left, and being alone, he asked it out loud.

"Why ?"

Cross' mismatched eyes jolted to the side, focusing on the door he had heard the noise coming from. It was the only one they were never allowed to enter, no matter the circumstances. Despite knowing better than to disobey the orders of the king, he advanced. Something was off, or was there supposed to be a slight crack that would allow him to hear what the person in the room behind said ? Probably not.

However, he was curious, who was there ? Were they locked away, or had they snuck in ? If the later was the case, shouldn't he chase them out ? Nightmare would surely dislike it when somebody entered without his permission, and the voice that sounded just now didn't seem familiar at all. IF there was an intruder, who else would be able to stop them ? Everyone else was busy, and he was the only one who was left.

Finally giving in, Cross tried to pull the door into his direction as quietly as possible, freezing with every creak. It took him quite some time, but he managed to open it without a sound, suprising the person sitting inside. They appeared to be a skeleton, just like him, but their bones were covered in cracks and scars. Not only that, some parts were missing completely and were filled with void--like black instead. A mix of purple, white and golden fabrics made up their clothing, even though he couldn't remember ever seeing any clothes formed like this.

Two eyes, both indigo, met the monochromatic skeleton's eyes, their gaze scared and confused, lost even. Something about the glowing eyelights differed them from any others he had seen, they simply didn't seem to belong into this world. Intrigued, Cross tried to remember why he had come here in the first place, and asked :

"Who are you ? "

Their eyelights seemed to flicker for a second, as if they hadn't expected this question at all, before they glanced down. As soon as they caught a single glance of their fingers, their entire eyesocket went dark, blending in with the space behind. For some reason fazinated, as if they had never seen their own hands before, they tried to move the bones carefully, seemingly afraid that they'd just stop working or disappear.

" Cross ? What did you do ? "

He couldn't help but notice that the voice sounded male, even though it was twisted and there was a bigger problem. How did he know his name ? Actually, no, that wasn't really that suprising, being one of the villains of the Multiverse, everybody knew what he looked like and who he was, or at least they believed to do so.

This boy, however, wasn't scared of the gigantic knife strapped to his subordinate's back, nor of the ghost child following him around, but of the situation he was in. There was nothing protecting his bones, they were pure white, just like they used to be. Was he dreaming? Or perhaps, having a nightmare? It would be nothing new for sure, but if that was the case, why was both, Cross's body and soul, here ?