It was all a dream.That illusion of control—the idea of manifest destiny. All my problems evaporating like dust in the wind. Bodies drop around me, my enemies removed one by one. And not by my hand. Innocence becomes an illusion—a pretty distraction surrounded by gorgeous flowers. Order doesn’t exist. Neither do black-and-white rules. Redemption.Sins.Purity.Brutality. It can all co-exist in one form.
