It's a mostly peaceful night- they've just retired to bed, Hythlodaeus' head on Emet-Selch's chest, and like that he can fall asleep quite quickly. Draped over his friend, his dreams are usually pleasant.

It starts with light twitching, small groans. He can see Amaurot burning all over again, air thick with smoke and blood. Abominations brought forth from fear and panic run free, and as he searches for Emet-Selch or Azem he becomes more and more convinced that perhaps one of the bodies lying face down by his feet could be them. He trembles, both in his recreation of Amaurot and in bed.

He realises with a start that he's fading. No- he hadn't said goodbye. He can't go, not yet. And yet when he blinks again it's already been thousands of years, a shard of what was once Etheirys floats silently above him, and it's too late. He wakes with a start, breath uneven, still entirely convinced in the dark that he's far away from his friends, his home, and that he never got to see them one last time. His breath catches in his throat as he sits up, eyes trying to make sense of his surroundings, brain still struggling to catch up. And then he groans to himself, quietly, rubbing his face with his hands.