Uriel did not like to sleep.
In the past, it had been because he feared not waking up.
At other times, it had been because he feared waking up and realizing his reality was indeed true and not a dream.
But all of that was of the past.
Uriel didn't like to sleep because sleeping meant to dream, and to dream was to open his heart to the skies, letting his sin flourish and tear him apart.
As he fell asleep in his bedroom, the little fox snuggling into the nape of his neck, the unfortunate happened.
He dreamed.
…
[?]
Rain poured down harshly from the grey skies, splattering across the muddy ground of the forest, the fierce wind pushing and pulling the plethora of trees, a primal and ancient song of dancing leaves echoing through the woods.
"Ah!"
Across one of the many winding paths of the forest, a soaked little boy ran, huffing and puffing as he did so, particularly slow for his age.
