All Zayne sees is a world of ice and snow. He steps over dozens of bodies, blood still dripping from his hands. With a wave, dark crystals pierce through several others still struggling.

There are no screams. It's so quiet that only the sound of his own footsteps could be heard. Further before him, there is only a shivering little boy.

Zayne stands before him, his shadow looming across the little boy's blood stained face.