Sleep didn't come easily when Venali finally laid down after dropping everything off. And when it did, he had no shortage of bad dreams. Like normal, it was of his parents, though this time..it was different.
He was in the throne room again, his father unconscious as well as beaten and bloody at the steps leading up to the throne. His mother laid a few feet away, doubled over in pain and sobbing as she clutched her arm to her chest. A young Venali was being held by two guards, tears streaming down his face as he tried to yank himself over to his parents. "Mama," He sobbed, looking towards her before turning his eyes to the throne, "Don't, please, I'm begging you."
Normally Eldon sat there, in this nightmare, but this was different. Venali realized that now as he looked at the vantage point. Instead of being brought back to his younger body..he was the one sitting on the throne. No. No, this couldn't be right. Internally he was panicking, as he looked at the hands that held the sword in front of him. As he felt himself stand, he realized they weren't the rough worn hands of his uncle. It was his own hands, the slim fingers giving it away clearly. He was the one holding the sword.
As his body stood, he felt trapped. Nothing he tried was stopping himself from moving forward. He couldn't control his feet as he stepped forward, the sword feeling weightless in his hands. No. He couldn't do this. He couldn't kill his parents. But Venali couldn't make a noise to stop himself, he couldn't turn away or drop the sword. And he couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his own face as he watched the sword slice through the air. And once again, like every other nightmare, his father crumpled to the ground. Dead.
His mother's screams still sounded like they did when he took his younger form, and the painful cries and sobs from the young Venali sounded even louder. He couldn't watch his mother's death too. Again, Venali tried to stop himself, fully aware of the weight of the sword in his hands this time when it cut through the air. And just like that, his mother was dead. Only now could he drop the sword, which he did without hesitation, raising his hands shakily as he stared at the sight before him. Then, as fast as he was brought into the nightmare. He was gone.