Minecraft Manhunt 5 v 1 | As the World Caves in

I Wanna Be in your Arms Tonight

When Dream woke again, he was lying flat on his back in an expansive and frankly humongous room. Foyer? Who knew. He sat up, looking around. Distantly there were halls with gold plaques in bold black letters with what each of them was.

He cursed, laying back down with a whine. He sat up too fast and almost hit his head on the marble floor too hard.

After a moment of recovery, Dream squeezed his eyes shut until he heard someone talking. Who was it? Where was it coming from? He got up, looking at himself first. He was wearing gold boots that were shining with enchantment, and he had his belt. On it, he had a strength potion and a healing potion. On the other side was his sheathe, his enchanted sword snugly in it. His mask was clipped around his leg instead of squeezing his head to give him a migraine or snug on his face.

He looked behind him. It was a hologram type screen. He watched it carefully, it seemed to be a live feed-type thing. He was watching from a bird's-eye view of wherever. It was Bad, George, Sapnap, and... Charlotte.

Oh my god, Charlotte.

He gasped and took a step back. She was crying, gripping his motionless figure. He had blood streaming from his mouth - though it started to turn darker the longer he was dead - and his eyes staring into the sky blankly. His hands had been covered in his own blood - somehow? Dream wasn't killed by swordfight or anything, so he didn't understand that detail.

He wanted to cry, but couldn't. He was but a soul in this sort of purgatory until the true afterlife or being a ghost. Hopefully the latter.

Dream walked up to the glass again and put a hand to Charlotte. She looked so broken. It hurt. Would he remember her after? He sure hoped so. He did know he would remember his death and his killers, but maybe he'd be able to remember someone he loved so much.

He sighed and walked away from the feed reluctantly. Only glancing at her with her lightly purplish tinted white hair and bright eyes that shone with her magic. He looked at George. He seemed just as broken. Bad as well. God, he didn't think his death would hurt so many.

He thought that after he got out of jail he would be avoided even by these friends of his. He had been - even still after - manic and had certain absolutism to him. All because he was a 'threat to society' as he was told.

Dream shook out his head, taking the hair tie out of the pouch and tying his hair up messily. Now. What the hell was this place. What was here, is a better question.

He first went straight, looking around in the echoing silence of his shoes - he was walking on the toes so he wasn't making that much noise - on the black and gold marble. Why was there so much gold? No seriously, why?

He came across two doors. One about 3 meters tall and the other 3 and a half. They were ebony wood painted with a thin layer of gold glitter. He looked down under the doors. There were gentle lights filtering out from under each.

The taller of the two had pastel yellow light coming from it, and what looked like leaves threatening to poke out from the hinges. The shorter of them had a lime coloured light coming from it. There was an envelope stuck into the door. It had a cat sticker keeping it closed and his name scrawled in perfect calligraphy.

What either of them meant he did not have a clue. He reached for the envelope, getting a good grasp on the pristine white letter and pulling. Though it wasn't budging. Maybe it was because he had to open the door to get it.

He didn't want to open it just yet because what if he couldn't go back? He'd be stuck as this one thing.

Well, at least he guessed this was for his final personality. Like the way Wilbur had come back as an innocent ghost from missing his childhood that was anything but a safe haven. What did he miss or value the most? There was so much he hadn't told anyone. Not even the lake he liked to lay beside and talk senselessly.