A grin twisted Cyrus's face as he landed upon the stones of the Dream Gate. He was home. He scarcely needed to think of it; his form twisted back into the darker one he had designed the previous night as he raised his hand—and blasted the actual gates off of the entrance. The wrought nests of metal went flying, cutting and crumpling into the stone of the staircases across the island. He had power again.

Crouching, he leapt up into the air with all the superhuman force his new legs would allow and bounced off one of the pillars the gates once hung from to crush one of the heads of the fountain's dolphins and land in the water, a crack stretching out from his point of contact. He hopped out of the water onto the fountain's edge and, with slow deliberate steps, walked along it. With a single sweep of his hand, he felled five trees, allowing them to tumble upon the ruins of the Doors and dip into the fountain. He flicked a few fingers in the opposite direction, and a wave of destruction flowed out: It tore gashes in the cobblestones and ripped up the grass; one of the longer reaching threads scarred a tree.

Here, he wasn't pained by a defective heart nor flawed bones; he could devour whatever he pleased, and he was not subject to the mercy of pathetic humans. Free of that skin and all its burdens, here, he could become whatever and whomever he pleased; his wishes were at his fingertips. He was a god once more, or at least, a part of one. He was conscious of the fact that he was not whole, but that didn't matter. Neither did the fact that the Dream Gate, given enough time, had a nasty habit of repairing itself. He was home, and all one need do to see that was look around.

Or rather, he was close to home. Having had his fun with more grandiose displays, he went to the edge of the Dream Gate, leaving cracked, dead trees and grass in his wake, and peered down into the Dark Ocean. He could still feel his connection to his realm, but it was faint and weak; he certainly couldn't tell the state of it like he usually could. That would require a closer investigation, something he could only do from the safety and quiet of his chambers.

He didn't give his leap into the black sea a second thought.

He doubted anyone would interfere with his journey. He had no Ideya to attract the attention of his 'marens, and clearly, they were rather incompetent in keeping Visitors out of his chambers as it was. If one did happen to cross his path… Well, he would deal with that as it came.

Cyrus had made it to his chambers safely and without interference. Good. Just the way he wanted. As he approached his chamber doors, however,he paused. What was that?

Though shielded by his hood, his eyes narrowed, and his lip curled with disgust. Was that gum? Had some Nightmaren dare to defile his chamber doors by sticking gum on it? How disgusting. The fact that the gum held a note was no redeeming factor. With a flick of his fingers toward him, he brought the note to him and turned the gum to ash. He clasped his hands behind his back as his eyes flicked over the contents of Chamelan's note.

His eyes narrowed, and the note crumpled into a ball. He snatched it from the air and threw it into his chambers, not caring if it fell into the unknowable void below, before following suite; he took a couple steps in before leaping to his throne in a single bound. The doors to his chambers slammed shit behind him.

Dammit.

Dammit!

Another first level lost; why was it so hard to keep the damn things under control? Chamelan's claim of Reala's intentions meant nothing. Cyrus sunk back in his seat. He would have to keep a close eye on Selph and Strato, but hopefully, they were made better. He couldn't count on anything, though; even the second levels would probably have to be scrutinized. He couldn't afford any more flaws in the system.

Clenching his hands into fists, he released a breath and tried to release his tension. He tried once more. This would have to be something he discussed with the others when he saw them again. For now, another matter lay before him. His purple eyes began to glow, so bright to pierce even the shadows of his hood, and so did the purple markings upon his hands. He reached out, and thus tapped into the very infrastructure of Nightmare. His one true home.