The coffin and the black tower disappear. You find yourself sitting on a plush brown leather couch in a well-appointed office. A human male with silver-streaked brown hair sits at a desk, fingers laced together. "So, tell me, Eucharius, do you still have the dream?" Eucharius blinks once, looking side to side. "Every now and again," he hazards, turning his head to face the man at the desk. "It's a fairly common theme, even if it does express itself more...elaborately...in your case," the man says. "We all feel, every once in a while, that things are falling apart."