Chapter Text
Letting out a slow breath between his teeth, Cross closed his eye sockets, the darkening sky and stars disappearing behind his eyelids. The grass beneath him uncomfortably poked at his bones through his clothing, but feeling it against his cheeks, gently swaying in the breeze, was almost meditative. He slowly spun the glass bottle in his hand, feeling the weight shift as the alcohol sloshed around inside it’s glass prison. He could hear Undyne and Papyrus talking next to him, something about a new recipe Paps wanted to try out. Something Mettaton had told him about.
This was… nice, peaceful even. A break from everything going on. Or at least it was, until…
“Why am I here?”
Cross opened an eye socket, biting back a groan as he tilted his head enough to look at Killer, who sat across from him. “I asked if you wanted to come, and you said yes.” He nodded his skull to the beer bottle in Killer’s hand. “I assume it's the mix of free booze and not knowing what else to do because Nightmare is with Dream that got you to come.”
“I have things to do other than hang out with Night.” The short skeleton snapped, taking a swig from the bottle, his eye sockets narrowed at Cross.
“Like what?”
“...”
Cross propped himself up on his elbows, cocking an eyebrow. “Well?” He prompted, earning himself a middle finger from Killer. “Really proving my point here, Killer.”
“Fuck you!” Cross snorted, amused as Killer turned his head, looking away at the woods in the distance, very nearly pouting.
“...Well, I thought we were bonding!” Papyrus pipped in, leaning forward to catch Killer’s eyes, who had been doing everything in his power to avoid looking at either Papyrus or Undyne up until that point. “Since you’re such good friends with Cross already, I was excited to get to know you myself, Killer!”
“We're not friends.” Both men spoke at the same time. They were very specifically not friends.
Obviously.
Undyne barked out a laugh, clapping Cross on the back as he fully sat up, hard enough that he had to wonder if it was going to bruise. He hoped not, the last thing he needed right now was to be sore and unable to move like he usually can, “Suuuure, whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night!”
“We’re not friends.” Cross repeated, batting away Undyne’s hand.
Undyne frowned, but her face quickly lit up again, a dangerous grin spreading on her lips. She leaned forward, hands on the knees of her crossed legs. “You're right, my mistake. You two are future brother-in-laws! ”
Killer mimicking gagging before tilting back his head, downing the rest of his drink. “That's making a lot of assumptions.” He grumbled, dropping his now empty bottle onto the ground, Cross watched it fall, his pulse spiking when it made contact with the dirt. He looked away when it didn't break, only rolling a few inches before stopping. “We don't know if any of either of us are getting married.”
Undyne raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to look at Cross, red hair falling over her shoulder. Even though the evening was chilly with the soft breeze, she was just wearing a sports bra and sweats, her torso still bandaged up. At least her wounds weren't bleeding through them anymore. “Aren't you and Dream engaged?”
“No. Well, not really. Kind of.”
“What kind of fucking answer is that ?” Killer barked a laugh, shaking his head. The other guards turned their heads to look at him, the short skeleton’s shoulder’s visibly tensing at all the attention on him. But Cross paid little attention to that, the annoyance crawling up his throat taking most of his attention. He better not say what Cross thinks he’s about to say…
“You were talking like you had already gotten him pregnant earlier today. You're obviously going to get married and do all that stupid…couple shit, or whatever.” Killer leaned back, tilting his skull to the sky, his hood falling down in the process. Cross had the sudden urge to look away, as if Killer’s bare head was somehow scandalous to see. But that feeling was easily overpowered by the announce clawing at his chest, accompanied with embarrassment. Was he really bringing this up again ?!
Undyne and Papyrus turned their heads in unison, all the attention falling on to Cross. Undyne in particular looked as if she were ready to burst, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open, the two fins on the side of her head perked up. He almost felt bad that he and Dream weren’t expecting, with how excited she looked. “We’re not having kids right now.” The ex guard hissed, turning his eyes back onto Killer, his cheeks warm from embarrassment. “Would you stop fucking saying that??”
“Is this something you two have talked about before?” Papyrus hesitantly asked, poorly hiding his amusement. Cross grit his teeth, his grip on his drink tightening, threatening to break the glass.
He was way too sober for this bullshit.
“No, we haven’t.” He answered, just as Killer shrugged his shoulders. Papyrus titled his head, confused, pulling his knees to his chest. “We haven’t. ” Cross repeated, very briefly imagining what would happen if he smashed the half full bottle against Killer’s stupid head.
“Ok, but have you and Dream talked about it” Undyne insisted, her shark like grin back. Pointedly rolling his eyes, Cross took a swig of his drink, nearly finishing off the bottle, beginning to feel the buzz it gave.
“No. Not really. Let's talk about something else.” Cross set the bottle down, only for it to immediately tip on its side. Resting against the dirt and grass, and he made no move to pick it up. “Like…” He searched his mind for a topic, a grin stretching over his features when he found out. “Pap, you and Mettaton have been hanging around each other a lot. Anything up with that?”
A soft orange hue formed on the skeleton in question’s cheeks, his eyebrows shooting up
“Or we could talk about something important.” Killer interjected, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He pulled at strands of grass with his hands, looking off into the distance. Cross turned his head, following Killer’s gaze, eyes landing on the cottage. His soul dropped. “Like what you told Chara earlier.”
“Why are you bringing this up again?” Cross hissed, avoiding looking at his two friends, though he could feel Undyne and Papyrus's eyes on him, their gazes crawling into the cracks where his bones met, judging, making him uncomfortable and itchy.
“Because it was a fucked up thing to say!”
“You agreed with me.” Cross shot back, those words finally getting Killer to look at him. His eyelights pinpricks, piercing like the blades he used in combat.
“No, I didn't. I've always thought she belonged here, I’ve been the only one on her side this whole goddamn time. She just needed some help. Help that you were giving her.” The ex-guard tensed, feeling slapped by the venom in Killer’s voice. It was the kind of anger he hadn't heard from Killer since… well.
Since Cross had tried to kill him. Anger, mixed with betrayal.
“And then you took that away, and told her you didn't think she could handle this!”
“That's not what I-”
“That's what she's going to take away from it! Are you stupid?”
The two men stared at one another, a beat passing. The silence hung thick like humidity between them, clogging up Cross’s throat. “Why did you join us if you were this pissed at me?” Killer shrugged, the action only sparking Cross’s annoyance more. “Are you serious? Did you just want to start shit?” He scoffed, looking away. “And I thought we were actually starting to get along, but you're still the same fucking prick you were at the start of all of this.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to change if all of you refuse to see me any differently?!” Killer snapped, expression darkening, a storm of anger and hurt playing on his features. “No matter what I do, you’re all going to see me as an asshole. So why the fuck would I try to be anything else? Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.” The short skeleton scoffed. He opened his mouth, before closing it a moment later and shaking his head, like he was shaking a thought from his mind - Cross bit his tongue, resisting the urge to ask him what he was originally going to say. “And it’s the same for Chara. You all just see her as a kid and disregard everything else, and act like you’re better for it.”
Killer stood, pulling his hood back up over his skull, the shadows on his features darkening under it. “But who cares what I think, right?” He turned, kicking his empty glass bottle towards Cross. “There’s a reason I only stick with Night, and it’s not just because of my…feelings for him,” He mumbled as turned, not looking back as he walked away. Most likely going to the old barn.
Cross didn’t bother calling his name.
He groaned when Killer was well out of hearing range, falling back onto the grass. He dragged his hands down his skull, sucking in an exasperated breath through his teeth. Killer was just being dramatic, Cross didn’t fuck up that bad. Regardless of what he thought, Chara was a child under Asgore’s care, and if he didn’t want her fighting, they had to respect that. And Cross hadn’t actually told her she was kicked out, he just… tried to put the thought of not fighting into her mind. To make things easier for Error when he talked to her.
It wasn’t his fault she reacted badly.
His chest tightened with guilt.
… It wasn’t his fault, was it?
“Cross?” The guard in question opened his eyes, tilting his skull to look at Papyrus. He looked worried, eyebrows creased and mouth pressed into a straight line. “What was that about?”
“I…” Cross sat up, scratching his jaw. He narrowed his eyes at the ground, thinking over his words carefully. “I told Chara that being a part of… this.” He waved a finger around, gesturing to the surrounding area. “May not be a good idea. Given she's.. young.”
He met Papyrus’s eyes, and the other skeleton looked conflicted. His hands pressing into fists, Papyrus looking down, but Cross could tell his jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed.
“She is 16, Cross…” Undyne leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “She's young but… weren't we, when we started properly training for the guard?”
“He still waited until we were 18 to actually join.”
“Yes, but… this is a different circumstance. And you were training her for this exact reason, weren't yon?” Cross grit his teeth, narrowing his eyes at his friend, but her expression didn't change. Firm, jaw set, eyes commanding. It was a look that made Cross want to buckle and follow orders, but he held his ground.
“You're really siding with Killer on this?”
One of Undyne’s fins twitched, and she tilted her head, lips screwing into a crooked line. “He saved my life, Cross, I don't think he's that bad.”
“Oh, for fuck’s….” Cross sighed heavily, looking away from Undyne, bitterness clogging up his throat. “You're on my side here, right, Pap?”
When his eyes found the other skeleton, Papyrus was staring off into space, his gestures rigid and tense, lost in thought. His hands clenched so tightly, Cross could hear the material squeezing and bending. “...Papyrus?” He repeated the other’s name, somewhat released when Papyrus blinked, snapping out of it.
“Sorry.” Papyrus's eye sockets jumped between Cross and Undyne. “I'm sorry, I think… I've had too much to drink.” He moved to stand, brushing himself off - he was obviously lying, and Cross was sure he knew that Cross and Undyne knew it was a lie.
But why was he lying? He couldn't possibly agree that Chara should be fighting with them.
“I should head to bed.” Papyrus continued, tugging at and playing with the hem of his left glove. “It's pretty late, too.”
Undyne also stood, nodding before clapping Papyrus’s on the back. He didn't even flinch. “Yeah, we should probably all hit the hay.” She looked to Cross, who waved her off, turning his gaze to the sky.
“I'm going to stay out a bit longer, you guys go on.” There was an awkward, cold edge to Cross’s words that they all felt, but no one commented on.
Cross fell back into his back once his two friends had left, wanting nothing more than to either get shit faced, or to scream up into the void above the earth.
Had he done the right thing?
He had thought so, but…. he really wasn't so sure anymore.
*****
Inky black hands were clawing their way up his legs.
They ripped his clothing, dug their nails into his bones, leaving beads of blood in their wake. He flailed, trying to shake them off to no avail, the inky black hands only gripped tighter.
They were nearing his chest.
They were going for his soul.
Suddenly, the hands melted into him, seeping into his very bones. He could feel them around his soul, gripping and tearing and shredding him apart. His insides were on fire, the marrow and magic inside him turning to lava as he was destroyed both inside and out.
He choked out a name, the name of the one he trusted. The one he loved, had always loved. His words came out gargled as his own searing blood filled his throat.
“I…Ink…”
The man’s small form materialised out of the darkness, stepping towards him, Ink’s expression was uncharacteristically blank. Cold. Empty like the space around them.
He opened his mouth, but all he could manage was a pathetic gurgling noise.
Ink’s face hardened, his mouth pulling into a disgusted scowl, and Ink took a step back. His body was sinking now, and he couldn't tell if it was because his bones had succumbed to the molten liquid coursing through him, or if the surrounding darkness was simply swallowing him whole.
“I never should have trusted you.” Ink’s words cut into him, sharp as a knife. He felt his soul finally snap, the pain piercing him, but his scream was drowned out but the blood that was choking him. “You could never have kept me safe. You're pathetic .”
His vision darkened as Ink turned on his heel, walking away from him as he collapsed. Everything was hazy and darkening, his body disintegrating into dust, he could feel himself crumble. With the last of his strength, he raised his hand, reaching for Ink just as he was engulfed in the blackness and…
Everything…
Went…
Dark.
Error gasped, his “lungs” desperately dragging in oxygen as he blinked away the fog of sleep. He stared up at the popcorn ceiling, feeling dizzy with disorientation as he watched the shadows twist and coil in the darkness, reaching out to him like hands.
Hands …
Error squeezed his eyes shut, counting to ten inside his skull, focusing on Ink’s warm form pressed against his side, slowly rising and falling with his breaths. Just a nightmare.
When Error opened his sockets again, the hands reaching for him from the dark had vanished, leaving just a normal looking ceiling and normal shadows. Of course, that's all it was - really, Error, you're too old to be getting scared of boogeymen hiding in the dark of night.
He turned his skull, resting his cheek against the soft pillow beneath him, and his gaze dropped to Ink. He was curled against Error, one hand underneath his own cheek and the other on Error’s chest. The small monster’s bones seemed to glow in the hazy moonlight that filtered in through the crack in the blinds, making Ink look angeletic. His features were soft, so relaxed, his mouth slightly parted as he took in slow, measured breaths.
Error smiled tenderly, before slowly manoeuvring himself out of Ink’s hold, sitting up in the dark. The handmade sheets and quilts pooled around his waist, the night air cool on his bare arms. It was a nice chill, working as a shock to his system that grounded him. But it wasn't enough, the tendrils of his nightmare were still hanging on to him, leaving him with a knot in his stomach.
The room was bathed in a soft white light from the moon outside of the window, giving everything a hazy, dreamlike glow. The house was completely silent, aside from the occasional sound of the cottage creaking as old houses do, and the ever present tick…tock…tick…tock… of the old clock in the guest room. The wind rattled softly against the houses outside walls, bringing bits of other monsters’ conversations along with it. Guess not everyone was asleep at this late hour.
Ink murmured Error’s name, his eye sockets slowly opening, though the action seemed to be a struggle for the skeleton, his lids weighed down by sleep.
“Go back to sleep, sweetie.” Error whispered, stroking Ink’s cheek. His husband’s eyes fluttered close at the gentle touch, and he leaned into Error’s hand.
“What are you doing…?” Ink’s breath tickled his palm, words slurring together.
“Getting some water.” It was only a white lie, yet Error still felt guilty saying it. It was for the best, though. Ink shouldn’t have to worry about anything right now, he should be relaxing, taking it easy. Taken care of. “I'll be right back, promise.”
The reason seemed to be enough to satisfy the smaller monster. He mumbled something under his breath as he drifted off, his breath once again evening out. Error’s smile twitched with affection and amusement. He leaned down and kissed his partner’s temple before standing up, pausing briefly to stretch out his spine.
In the dark, his eyelight found the crib on the other side of the room, and, careful not to make too much noise and wake Ink again, he moved to its side. Within the crib, the twins laid side by side, pressed against one another and their little skulls practically touching. Did they snuggle close like that purposely, feeling a connection to their twin? The idea of asking Dream and Nightmare if they felt more connected because of their twin status briefly passed his thoughts, but he disregarded the idea. He didn't know either man well enough to ask that without it coming off as awkward.
He watched the two small babies for a moment, love making his cold bones warm. He still couldn't believe they were really here, he was really a father .
He had a responsibility to protect these two little souls, and he fully intended to take that responsibility very seriously.
Error frowned to himself, pulling PJ and Gradient’s blanket higher so that it was property covering them - he didn't want them to get cold and uncomfortable. Eventually, Error was able to pull himself away from his sons and out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.
The Dreemurr’s home was eerily quiet at night, in a way that deeply unsettled Error. It was the type of house that just felt like it was supposed to be bustling with life, the very walls and foundation alive with all the activity, the halls always filled with the sounds of joy. But in the dead of night, as it was now, the house no longer held warmth, it was no longer alive with all that positive energy.
It was cold, empty, and unwelcoming.
Error felt a rush of relief when he stepped outside, escaping the oppressive wrong feeling inside, and immediately being hit in the face with the cold night air.
“Didn’t think you’d still be awake.”
Error’s gaze dropped to Cross, who was sitting on the edge of the deck, watching him with tired eyes. Error pushed down the immediate rush of disappointment he felt, offering a lopsided smile to the ex-guard instead. He'd wanted to be alone, be without the pressure to say the right words and form the right sentences, but he couldn't just tell Cross to fuck off.
Besides, he did like Cross, so it could be worse. It could have been Killer.
“I could say the same to you.” Error’s voice was rough from sleep. He sat down next to Cross, noting the faint smell of alcohol on him. His body tensed up, memories of his father crashing into him - he pressed his nails into the sides of his femurs, forcing those thoughts back into the recesses of his mind. Cross wasn’t Cyber, Cyber was long gone from Error’s life. “Were you drinking?”
“Yeah, a bit. I'm not drunk, tipsy maybe but…” Cross froze, realisation sparking in his eyelights. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I wasn't thinking. Fuck. Uh. Should I…?” He gestured over his shoulder, to the tents set up around the dreemurr’s home, sweat beading on his temple.
Error let out a slow breath, shaking his head. He leaned back, looking up at the night sky. Stars blinked back down at him, forever watching. “It's fine, I can handle it.” Cross opened his mouth, but Error cut him off before he could get an argument out: “I need to build some tolerance to the smell at the very least. I'm sure the twins will eventually get to the point where they're drinking and hiding it, and it'd be unfair to leave Ink to deal with that all on his own.” Error breathily chuckled, feeling Cross’s eyelights bore into the side of his skull.
The ex-guard seemed to accept that response however, or he just didn’t have the energy to argue, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Congrats, by the way. Are Ink and the babies doing ok?” Cross spoke after a minute of awkward silence, his phalanges playing with the ripped sections of his pants.
Error hummed and nodded, not taking his eyes off the night sky. “Yeah, they’re all healthy, asleep right now.” He paused, a beat passing between the two men. This time, it was an oddly comfortable silence, not in the same way Error felt comfortable with Ink or even Sans, but it was the kind of silence that held no weight. Neither man knew the other deeply, and neither needed to, they knew enough.
“I'm surprised you're not with them. Asleep, I mean.” Cross glanced over his shoulder, watching Error. His eye lights flickered down to meet Cross’s, holding eye contact. “Honestly, I kinda expected we wouldn't see much of you for a few days.”
“I couldn't sleep.” Error shrugged, not liking the way Cross was watching him. Studying him. It made his hackles raise.
“How come? Your new fatherly responsibilities getting to you already?” Cross snorted, but there was little humour in it - He was actually asking, albeit in a weird way.
“Kind of.” Cross raised an eyebrow, silently urging Error to continue. The wind blew between them, making the ebony skeleton acutely aware that his arms were bare. That wasn't something that had bothered him in years, and the scars carved into the bone had faded over time, yet for some reason, right now, his soul was screaming and clawing at his ribcage, telling him to cover up, to cover up now.
“I've just been thinking about…” Error gestured with a phalange to the general area around them. “This. The rebellion. I've been wondering if I should still be leading it.” Cross sat up straight at that, his attention fully on Error. “I have two kids now, and this shit is dangerous. I don't want to get dusted and leave my family all alone to deal with that.” Error leaned back on his palms, lips pulled tight in a frown. “I want to see the twins grow up.”
Cross’s eyebrows furrowed, the ex-guard staring at Error. Error kept his eyelights glued to the ceiling above the Dreemurr’s porch, feeling more uncomfortable the longer Cross’s eyelights bore into him. He didn't want to be analysed, he didn't want to hear what other people thought about his thoughts. Not right now. “I just want to be a good dad, you know? It’s a lot. I’m not saying I’m going to up and abandon everyone.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Cross finally said, standing up. His body language had changed, it had become stiffer and more closed off. “But we're doing what's right. We're changing things, making the world better for them - for all kids. Right?” He turned back to look at Error, and while his expression was neutral, there was a fire burning in his eyelights. “Pretty sure most would agree that would make you the best dad in the city. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
His eyelights, those burning fires, held such intensity, such anger, and determination. The smoke of that blaze spelled out one thing perfectly clear.
Cross knew where he stood, what he believed in.
And if Error didn't feel the same, Cross wouldn't forgive him.
Error felt a twinge in his soul, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of guilt, and he had to wonder how much that would actually bother him.
He tensed his jaw and nodded, not breaking eye contact. He didn't want Cross to know where his thoughts actually were, he didn't want the ex-guard to know how much he was really considering this. He regretted saying anything in the first place. “Yeah. Of course.” Cross was right, Error knew he was. He started this thing on a whim, fueled by rage and impulse, but the importance of it all wasn't lost on him.
“Make sure your head is in this, Error.” Cross looked away, his expression dark. “We can't do this without you, and if you lose hope, everyone else will.”
Error bit his tongue, holding in the urge to state that they absolutely could do this without him, he wasn't special. Cross was the far better choice for a leader. Or, hell, Dream would be leagues better, too.
They didn't need him.
But he knew Cross was right about one thing, that this would make the city better. Safer.
Error shook his skull, looking away from Cross, dropping his eyes to the ground. He watched the blades of grass rub against each other, waving in the gentle breeze. “I know. I'll do what needs to be done, Cross.”
“Good.” The ex-guard didn't move for a moment, the two men left to wade in silence again, though it was far from comforting now, not even awkward. Something heavy, a threat, hung there, ugly and bare and stinking up the air. “Good night, Error.”
Error grunted, closing his eye sockets and listening to Cross walk away, waiting until he couldn't hear Cross anymore before standing up.
He regretted getting out of bed, regretted not just getting a glass of water, like he said he would.
He'd come outside to clear his head of this, to make a decision. And now he was just more unsure.
*****
“... And I promise you, my people, that I will not stop until these terrorists are completely dealt with, and our glorious city is safe.” Gaster’s voice drifted out of the laptop speakers, his tone calm and collected like it always was when he was in front of a camera. It was the kind of voice you automatically wanted to trust, lulling you into a false sense of security.
It made the inside of Dream’s skull itch and his spine ache, the little Gaster voice that lived in his head (But had grown much quieter and easier to ignore over time, thank god.) shouting lies at him.
Trust him, he knows what’s best.
You’re too stupid to make these decisions on your own.
You can’t trust them, you can’t trust Cross.
“And my dear son,” Gaster continued, placing a hand over his chest, brow creasing in a practised look of concern, “The crown prince, Dream, if you somehow see this broadcast… I promise I will ensure your safe return.” Gaster stared into the camera, a shiver coursing through Dream, as if the king was staring right at him through the screen.His eyelights boring into Dream’s soul. As if this was a one on one conversation rather than a rehearsed speech. “I shudder at the thought of what they have done to you, my son, and I will stop at nothing to free you from-”
Come home. It’s where you belong.
Dream slammed the computer screen shut, shutting up both Gaster’s, his breathing hitching as panic seized his bones. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dream sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to sooth his pounding soul. To sooth his magic, feeling it writhe inside of him. Wiggling and squirming in thick tendrils trapped inside his spine, trying desperately to escape into the open.
It was a nauseating feeling.
After a minute of breathing, trying and failing to calm himself down, he opened his sockets. He looked to the others surrounding him, expression hard. Sans had been the one to bring up the broadcast, bringing the core members together to watch, to see what kind of bullshit Gaster was saying after attacking a pharmacy, and other smaller businesses throughout the city looking for places people were “harbouring” the rebels. Countless innocent civilians had been hurt int Gaster’s thoughtless attacks, all because he was desperate to find Dream and the others. He felt like screaming.
His eyes landed on Error, jaw clenching as he stepped towards him, batting Cross’s hand away when he felt it on his back. “We need to do something, Error, we can’t keep waiting.”
Error stared him down, his eye sockets narrowing, visibly tensing up. “Ink just gave birth a week ago, Dream, it’s far too soon-”
“And how long do you expect us to wait?” Dream snarled, cutting off Error’s words, anger wrapped around his soul and squeezing out his reasoning like a cloth being wrung out. Error's eyes widened in surprise, Dream noticing similar looks of shock on the monsters around him. His magic thrashed against the inside of his spine, agitated. “How many more innocent people need to get hurt - need to die , before we do something?!”
“You and Cross have both agreed that waiting is for the best!” Error raised his arms in defeat, turning away and pacing. “That's always been what we do. We wait a few weeks after an attack, for things to cool down.”
“Things are cooling down.” Cross spoke up behind Dream, the Prince turning to look at him. A sense of pride welling up beneath his anger and panic. “When we were working on ambushes, that plan worked. But things are different now. Gaster is attacking civilians at random, looking for us.”
“Which is why we can't keep waiting.” Dream looked back at Error, his hands shaking. His back pulsing with pain, like he was being burned. “I can't allow more of my people to be brought into this unwillingly. Please , Error.”
The wind blew past them, cooling down the weather after a hot, sunny day. There was a storm brewing on the horizon, dark clouds eating up the sky, taking it over. A deep rumble of thunder far in the distance.
Dream's stomach lurched and he stumbled, Cross catching him. He vomited, black bile mixed with golden magic rising in his throat and spilling onto the ground. He heard Nightmare say his name, felt his hand on his burning spine. Dream waved off his concern, shaking his skull. He'd rather throw up than have the magic manifest and come out of his back.
“...Fine.” Error mumbled, Dream’s head jerking up to look at him. He sounded defeated, exhaustion soaked into his words. “Thursday. We attack the castle.” Error looked around at the others, then moved to the white fold out table, moving the laptop off of their maps and papers.
“Let's end this.”