The black rocks surrounding the rebel disappeared.
One moment, he was lying beneath the crimson sky with Simon crouched before him.
The next, he stood ankle-deep in a sea of blood.
There was no end to it.
Broken weapons floated across the dark-red surface, while mountains of corpses rose beneath a black sky. Demons, humans, demonic beasts, and creatures he could not recognise were piled on one another. Some were missing their heads. Others still moved weakly, stretching ruined hands toward him.
At the top of the nearest mountain stood Simon.
He wore the rebel's face.
The same narrow features.
The same bronze eyes.
The same pale scar across the nose.
Only the smile was different.
It carried none of the fear, pain, or desperation the rebel knew should be on his own face.
The corpses beneath Simon opened their eyes at the same time.
Whispers entered the rebel's ears.
Some begged.
Some cursed.
Some laughed.
Then the sea around his legs began rising.
