Finn was dreaming. He was running through a forest made of glass. The razor leaves littering the floor sliced his bare feet, and he nearly impaled his foot with fallen branches multiple times. He wasn't sure why he was running, but he knew that he had to keep going. Someone's life depended on it. Day's? His own?
Where am I going!? he cried into the glittering canopy. His voice echoed off of the jeweled forest, the tinkling of the leaves intensifying his attack on the still silence around him.
An explosion of noise stopped him in his tracks, a single leaf edge painfully digging into the soft spot on the sole of his foot. He barely noticed. The shattering had come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, bouncing, amplified, off of the crystalline trees. Finn carefully rotated, scanning the forest around him to no avail. The glittering forest was blinding; sunlight burned through and reflected off of the rippled leaves, threaded its way through tendrils of delicate, winding glass vines, assailing his sight.
Another explosion, this time much closer. It was the trees. They were shattering, splintering into a million deadly razors hurled into every direction.
Eyes wide, Finn's body moved before his mind gave the order. He was running again, faster than before. His feet stung, and he had just enough time to wonder about the trail of blood he was surely leaving behind before a shard of glass whirred past his shoulder, striking a tree just ahead of him. He dove to the ground by instinct rather than by choice, as the tree began to fracture.
It was a supernova of crystalline, sparkling shards bursting outward into the forest to collide into more. Like dominos falling, trees all around him burst and exploded in a dazzling wave of destruction, colliding into each other and falling apart into flashing apparatuses of death and glittering razor dust. The brilliant debris rained down upon him, falling, some gently and others dangerously, on his arms and his back. All he could do was lay there and hope for the best. A hope that, now he was still and could feel each and every individual cut, was harder and harder to focus on. Finn could even feel his blood running across his feet, dripping into other cuts and pooling in the lines and crevices etched into his flesh.
Finally, the deafening roar of shattering trees was over. Finn struggled to sit up, glass digging into his hands, arms, and knees. Now that he could feel again, he wasn't sure how to proceed. The forest floor was littered with the glinting deadly blades of glass.
The sky was the setting for a [celestial] tug-of-war match. The sun dragged the light below the horizon, as dusk followed from the east in its wake, unable to match the day's strength. The sun was setting. Lustrous rays of scarlet streaked through what was left of the crystal forest, racing back home to the sun's glowing embrace, leaving Finn alone in the dark, with a deadly path before him.