Something caught Exploded’s attention. It tugged at his mind, a jagged irritation, dragging through his thoughts, pulling him away. No. He wouldn’t look – he couldn’t. But the image was seared into his vision – blood. Death. So much blood. Too much. He didn’t remember that.

He squeezed his eyes shut, craving peace – but he was refused. His eyes weren’t open, but the image was there, sharp and merciless and red.

The annoyance pulled at him again. This matters, it whispered. But what mattered now? Did anything? Since death had come, did life lose its meaning? No – he was still alive. But the other dragon…

Dead.

The full force of the word crashed into him.

A sharp pain tore through his wing, but he didn’t care, didn’t notice. Warm blood trickled through the gash.

Hazy thoughts drifted through his mind, but he wasn't aware of them. Crimson clouded his vision.

A terrible hollowness crept into him, spreading from the wound. It seeped through his body, like cold, jagged ice, tearing, ripping, emptying. It continued towards the only source of hope, life, and emotion he had left: his heart.

Then it was empty.

A raging darkness suffused his mind, drowning his thoughts. It tore through his veins, his blood, and it wasn’t just in him – it was him.

He wouldn’t move, he couldn’t, he was sadness, he was misery, he was grief, he was frustration, he was hate, he was anger, he was fury, but most of all…

He was dark.

Then he was nothing.