A choked gasp escaped Lycaon's throat as he suddenly sat up in his bed, pushing the covers slightly off of his body to cool off his sweating body. The thiren brought a hand to his forehead, breathing heavily.

"Just a dream, only a mere...fragment of my imagination..." Lycaon whispered to himself, letting out a soft sigh. He didn't understand why those memories started resurfacing again. His younger days, when he belonged to the Mockingbird...the face of his now nemesis still engraved in his memory. He thought it was all in the past, but the recent events made those bad memories resurface again.