Recently, Price had been suffering from a recurring dream, one that he could make no sense of.

It always began with the smell of death, Price opening his eyes to find himself amidst the remains of an ancient battlefield.

The stench of rot, smoke in the air, and all the blood that painted the ground, it was nothing new to Price. But there was always a figure standing in the center of it all. Someone familiar, that Price knew he had to reach. But he always woke up before he could.

Not today.