The hallucination that had enveloped this demon had been on a grand scale, and it was the only reason that kept Xylon from swiftly dispatching him.
"Alright, I understand," the Incubus Somnia acknowledged, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone.
"If not a dream of that nature, what kind of dream would you desire? I'm more than willing to invest considerable effort to ensure your next dream brings you profound happiness."
Xylon's gaze shifted from the dreamweaver to the now desolate walls of the dungeon.
Once adorned with deceptive mirrors, they now stood as mute witnesses to the shattering of illusions, their surfaces littered with the remnants of what had been.
The floor, too, bore the scars of shattered mirrors, a stark contrast to the realm of deception that had previously held sway.