Sigurd found himself in that strange place once again. Darkness covered his vision with shadows as trees and the shape of animals. At the same time, the sound of wind echoed, yet there was no breeze.
"Are you alright, Sigurd?"
The same gentle voice, yet it was not alone. It was a chorus of voices, an ensemble of echoes from his past. He could discern his mother's, Lilith's, Eva's, and even Medea's voices, all intertwined and distorted.
"I'm a little tired."
"You did well to endure everything. I am proud."
'Did I? Though I cannot remember what I did.'
Her hands, soft like silk, gently brushed through his hair, the silver locks beautiful and glossy, bringing light to this dark world. Her touch was soothing, taking him away from his fatigue and uneasiness.
"This is just a dream, isn't it?"
"I see your heart is still restless. But a dream or reality, does it matter? The fact I am here right now doesn't change."
"Lilith?"