His breath catches in a gasp of horror followed by a thinly vocalized whine as Benedict grips his own arms: his fine clothing in tatters, feet bare and up to his ankles in dark, murky floodwater.

"No," he cries brokenly, his desperate gaze landing on Sennara-- perhaps she has an explanation, perhaps it's her fault-- "no, I left, I left...!"

The dream-within-dream revelation, perhaps I've been here the whole time, perhaps what I imagined as my life after was the dream and now I've woken up, it's all enough to cripple the resolve Benedict has held onto throughout the illusion's turning. He sinks to his knees with a broken sob.

Water laps at a brazier, its coals smoking and threatening to go out.