( everything in italics is Wormwood's dreams, not reality!! + a slight tw for light gore in paragraph 8 )

It had been a while since Wormwood had been able to truly sleep through the night without any issues. When he had been a hellhound, he had been plagued with nightmares of undead steadily marching towards him, along with the soft voice of Arethas lulling him over to his side, pressuring him towards becoming the general of his army. Now that Arethas was dead and he was back in his birth body, however, he had been saved from these constant plaguing nightmares by Red, and he was eternally grateful to the injured male, even though he was still kinda angry the other had rushed to his defense even while he was still struggling to heal. Nowadays, in his golden furred lion body, he found that his dreams were mostly back to their usual weird realities, just a strange jumble of consciousness that held no true meaning and just left him slightly confused in the morning. Of course, that was if he even had any dreams, since there had been nights when he had just slipped into darkness and woken up the next morning, not even the usual faint memories of any strange occurrences coming to him when he slowly got up to his paws. Honestly, he preferred it this way, with dreams being few and far between with only the occasional odd ones that would stick with him. It was far better than being plagued with nightmares and being eternally exhausted when it came time to do things for the group.

However, it seemed as though things were about to change for him. The entirety of the day has been fairly normal, with the chaser getting up, doing his usual patrols around, greeting others and then having a hearty meal once he was sure that others had gotten their fill. The only thing that had been even slightly out of the ordinary was the odd little tickle in the back of his mind, bugging him through everything that he did. It wasn't anything particularly urgent, and it never even came to the forefront of his thoughts, but something just felt vaguely wrong, as if he was forgetting something important. He had racked his brain for what felt like hours, desperately trying to figure out what he had forgotten, but nothing came of it, and he was just left with a vague feeling of frustration and a sigh coming deep from his lungs. Evidentally if it was something really important, then he would be able to remember it by now, right? At least that's what he chose to tell himself, since he really didn't want to believe that he was forgetting something vitally important to his life. It was as if he was forgetting a close friend of his, and the very thought of that made his stomach twist and flip unpleasantly, and for a moment as he settled into bed, he thought that perhaps he was going to vomit, even going as far to glance over at his waste basket, but eventually feeling himself relax.

When he finally settled into bed, his head gently plopping down against the pillows that he had there to cradle his chin, he glanced over at where Roy was, the other male already asleep in the bed that Worm had set up for him, evidently exhausted from all of his exploring during the day. A faint smile came to the lion's face as he watched his son's form rise and fall, and he felt warmth spread through his chest, all the way through to the very tips of his feathers. He found that he very much enjoyed being a father, and felt like he was already doing a better job than Aethelwulf had done with him. It seemed like Roy knew how much he was cared about, and even trusted Wormwood enough to come and ask to live with him, and he could still remember the thrill of excitement that had been running through him even as he had been clearing out his beloved books to make space for Roy's future things. Sure, he had never gotten the chance to have his own biological children with Draekon, and he wasn't sure that he would ever have his own biological children, since after what had happened with Draekon, he wasn't particularly interest in romance these days. There was one person, but... well, he wasn't sure that anything would actually ever come from that, and needless to say that if it did end up happening, he doubted any biological children would be coming from it. Still, Roy was all that he really needed to be happy. The boy was more family to him than anybody else, save for maybe Moth, who was about the same level since he considered her akin to a sister.

The more and more he thought of his family and how happy he was nowadays, the more he felt his eyelids drooping with drowsiness, and eventually he just yawned, stretching slowly out and just letting them close, the darkness overtaking him and eventually pulling him down into slumber. The house around him creaked peacefully, and the only noises that echoed through the air were the sound of his and Roy's soft breaths, along with a few gentle voices from outside that were talking quietly as to be considerate of those that were asleep. The darkness remained for several peaceful minutes, before eventually the first of his many coming dreams began to formulate itself, swirling like a cloud beneath his closed eyelids before eventually taking full form, making him lose track of the real world and slip into that of his mind, shifting from the present into the very, very distant past.

---

The world around him was distant and unfamiliar, but also somehow gave him the same itch in the back of his mind as the rest of the day had given him, the one that refused to let go of him, incessantly reminding him that there was something wrong. All around him there was nothing but blinding light, a world so bright and overwhelming that Worm needed to squint in order to take it all in, and even then all he could make out was the faint outlines of things around him. It seemed almost as though he was in some kind of old human office, but when he tried to move, he found himself trapped, the faint rattle of chains echoing in his mind. When he looked down, he found that far too many eyes moved at once, glancing down and seeing nothing but swirling chained up rings and wings, shifting eternally and unnervingly. He felt like he was him, but this certainly didn't look like him. He wasn't even sure what the hell he was, since he certainly wasn't a lion anymore, nor was he one of those rumored humans that he had read and heard so much about. For some reason as he sat there in the room, struggling and screaming silently, he felt sorrow beginning to build in his "chest", forming into a blazing wall that choked him and made his many eyes burn. Before long his many eyes began to cry, tears dropping silently to the glimmering floor of the eternal room and more silent sobs leaving him and shaking his old arcane form. As time went on and on, his tears filled the room, rising up into a huge mass and beginning to suffocate him, despite the factnthat he had no mouth. He tried to scream for help, but he couldn't manage it, and soon he felt his "head" become covered, his struggling slowing as he felt life draining from him. He was drowning in his own tears – what a cruel fate.

As he was slowly drained, the rings that made up his body slowing and his wings drooping, he heard a loud and booming voice echo off the walls of the water filled bright white room, commanding and stern, "It is time for you to go, my darling. You have a new ward to protect, and it is time for you to leave here again. I promise that one day you will return again, but for now may you go and make sure that the son of Judith and Aethelwulf is alright. May you find happiness down there among the mortals... for the time that you have." He wanted to scream, or question, or do anything to challenge the voice, and for some reason just the words that he was saying made Wormwood's sorrow almost triple, pain exploding through his mind and making him feel as though he was going to pass out, as if the drowning wasn't going to make him pass out already. The voice fell silent again, and suddenly Wormwood felt as if the world had been dropped out beneath him, his form plummeting and the water that had surrounding him plummeting with him into the nothingness that had opened up. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cling to the place where he had just been, suffering through the eternal choking, or if he should accept what he was happening, but it seemed that he didn't have a choice.

As fast as he had arrived in the strange land of brightness and terror, he was out of it, and suddenly he was slammed into a completely new location, the dizzying sensation of it all making it feel sick. It took a moment for him to readjust, and he found himself... in the pride. All around him he could see the towering buildings that had made up the city the pride called home, and he found himself just openly staring in amazement, dazed at the feeling of being back again, before he was broken from his thoughts by a familiar voice. A familiar voice, but one in a far younger form. His head snapped towards the source of the noise as Poetking came racing towards him, looking no older than maybe 6 moons old, a grin on his small muzzle as he yelped, "Brother, brother, have you seen the new place that we added onto the territory? Dad took it from the hyenas as punishment for them stealing! It's been so long since we've had a new place to explore... can you take me there, pleasseeee?" The sick feeling that had plagued Worm only got worse as he found himself realizing that this was a memory he knew quite clearly. A moment in the past, one that had been so peaceful and carefree, back when he and his brother had trusted each other. Before he had betrayed Poet, and before Poet had betrayed him. He wanted to cry again, or maybe puke, but instead he found his mouth opening against his will, saying words that resided now only in his memory as if he were reading from a script. Soon he and his brother were heading towards the small town outside of the city that their father had taken over, and Worm desperately wanted to change course, or pull away, or do literally anything to just wake up, but he could do nothing but struggle inside his moving form.

Once they arrived at the town, Poetking was enthusiastically moving from place to place, shouting about every little thing that he found that was new to him, and Wormwood found himself reciting the lines from his old memories, chuckling or gently admonishing Poet for his childishness. However, he knew what was coming, and it made his heart sunk. This had been the day when Poet had been temporarily injured by some hyenas, and Worm hadn't been able to do anything... and from how this dream was going so far, it seemed that he wouldn't be able to do anything now either. As he walked into the familiar little house that the incident had happened in, he found himself tensing, trying in being to say something to Poet. Maybe a warning? He wasn't sure. However, he didn't get too much time to think about it, as the other young lion turned towards him, grinning cheerfully and opening his mouth to say something to Worm, but the hyena behind him rose from the shadows like a being of pure shadow, leaping forward and pinning Poet beneath him. Poetking yelped in fear and surprise, and Worm wanted to close his eyes, in order to stop from seeing his little brother injured again, but then the dream deviated from the memory. The hyena grinned cruelly – knowingly – toward Wormwood, and then lunged down, digging his teeth into Poet's neck and jerking his head from side to side so that his flesh ripped and blood stained the ground. Poet's screams echoed throughout the room, and Wormwood found himself screaming as well, his entire body trembling.

The hyena, once Poet was well on his way to bleeding out, lifted his head, grinning at Worm again before fading back into the shadows, leaving only Worm and his fatally injured younger brother. Tears leaped into Wormwood's eyes, and he urgently moved forward to Poet's side, sobbing and rumbling out soft and frantic apologies, his heart pounding loud enough that he could hear it in his ears. However, he was interrupted by the soft sound of Poetking's dying voice, the younger lion looking up at him with a sad little smile, "I... I guess we all knew that this was how it was going to work out, right, Wormy?" Wormwood blinked in confusion at this, pulling his head back and opening his mouth to question Poet's words, but the other was already continuing, "We all always knew that you weren't good enough to protect me... Mom and Dad knew, I knew... even all of Tanglewood knows. That's why I left, because I knew if I stayed around you, I would just end up suffering. After all, that's all you've ever brought. Suffering, to everybody around you. You've already failed so many people. Me, Moth, Beck, Sam, Red, Selby... hell, you can't even be around Feza without terrifying her. You're nothing but a failures. How long until more people end up dead? How long until you end up letting Roy die too? You know I'm right, brother. You're nothing." Worm felt like every sentence was a knife cutting straight into his heart, slicing it up into little tiny shreds, and sobs began to leave him, along with desperate mumblings of "no", and "that's not true".

A strange weight settled upon Worm's shoulders, and suddenly he felt something warm and slimy beginning to drip down over his wings... his wings? He didn't have those when he was younger. He turned to look behind him, seeing his two large golden wings, with blood beginning to slowly drip down over them, staining them permanently with a symbol of his sins. As if confirming his thoughts, Poet's cruel words continued, broken and weak as he continued to die, "How long until more of their blood is on your paws? How long until everyone you love is dead? HOW LONG UNTIL YOU FINALLY ATONE FOR YOUR SINS, WORMWOOD?" Dream Poet's voice had escalated into such a grateful screaming that Wormwood found himself covering his ears, falling down onto his belly and desperately begging for forgiveness, words leaving his mouth in such a jumble that he couldn't even begin to understand himself. As Poet fell silent, the last of the life having drained from his eyes, the room they were in began to fill up with chanting, steadily becoming louder and louder until they filled Worm's mind, blocking out all other thoughts, "Failure, failure, failure, FAILURE, FAILURE, FAILURE, FAILURE!" The voices chanted incessantly and cruelly, mocking Wormwood as he shrieked and sobbed for them to stop, the wings upon his back trembling as tears filled his vision, and soon the world around him collapsed back into nothingness.

---

When Wormwood woke up from his dream, it was far from peacefully. He woke up with a scream that echoed off the walls of his small house, a desperate and sobbing shout of "NO!" that he was sure probably woke up Roy as Worm laid there on bed, desperate pants leaving him as tears slowly rolled down his cheeks. Panic still gripped him, and he looked over at Roy, desperate to make sure that his son was okay. When he saw the tiger's form still laying in his bed, still very much alive and alright, the lion quickly climbed up and out of his bed, still freaking out but not wanting to do it with Roy so nearby. If he hadn't already woken Roy up with his shouting, then he didn't want to wake him up with the aftermath of it either. Once he was out of bed, the winged lion quickly opened up the front door and stumbled out onto the porch, fresh air hitting his face and making the tears that stained his fur feel sharp and cutting to his core. He quickly made his way down the steps of his porch, eventually just sitting down in front of it, unable to make it much farther than that with the state that he was currently in. He felt as though he could barely breath, and that he was going to collapse if he moved any further.

He just sat there in front of his home for a few minutes, sobs wracking his body and leaving him drained and defenseless as he sat there, trying desperately to figure out anything of what had just happened in his dreams. Even when his sobs began to slow, devolving into only soft and weak sobs and weak hiccups as well, he found th as t it was hard to grip solidly onto anything yet he had dreamt, or what any of it possibly could have meant. The first part was utterly baffling to him, although frightening and upsetting nonetheless, and the second part had so utterly cut him to his core that even just thinking of it made his tears come back with renewed force, rendering him immobile once again. He knew that he had been struggling with his emotions of feeling as though he had somehow failed Poetking, but apparently it had manifested itself in an especially unpleasant way, along with a very confusing one. Why had he had his wings in the dream, and why did it feel like he had failed Poet as more than just a brother? He found that he could answer none of his own questions, and he just sat there, tears weakly sliding down his cheeks and exhausted, drained breaths leaving him slowly.