Morpheus moved through the Dreaming like a shadow carried by the wind. His form shifted effortlessly between the realms of thought and existence until he reached the familiar path leading to the House of Mysteries and the House of Secrets. Cain and Abel's domains stood as they always had, timeless yet shifting, held together by ancient tales and whispered truths.The lanterns flickered as Morpheus approached, his presence making the air heavier, stirring the very foundation of the land. The door to Abel’s home creaked open before he could even knock, revealing the wide-eyed man clutching Goldie to his chest. His expression was a mixture of excitement and fear, as it always was in the presence of Dream."L-Lord Morpheus!" Abel stammered, stepping back and almost tripping over his own feet. "What an honor! We weren’t expecting you! Well, not exactly expecting, though we always keep everything ready in case you should visit—"Cain’s deep chuckle came from behind him. "Oh, stop your nervo

The Dreaming pulsed with anticipation. Every shadow, every ripple in the mist carried the weight of something inevitable. War was coming. The Endless had trained, Constantine had embraced the Rune, and yet, there was still one missing piece. Lucifer. Morpheus sat in his throne, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable as he gazed into the shifting void beyond his chamber. He could summon his siblings, command the denizens of his realm, but Lucifer Morningstar was not one to be called upon lightly. Lucien stood beside him, hands clasped behind her back, watching her lord in contemplation. “You will need him,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm. Morpheus inclined his head slightly. “Yes.” Lucien hesitated for a moment. “Then how will you reach him? Lucifer does not answer to summons.” Morpheus did not reply immediately. Instead, he raised his hand, letting the very essence of the Dreaming swirl around his fingertips—silver mist and shifting darkness bending to his

Matthew soared through the darkened sky, feeling the rush of the wind beneath his wings as he left the Dreaming behind. The shift between realms was seamless—a flicker of motion, a sensation like slipping between the cracks of reality. Then, suddenly, he was in the Waking World. The air was heavier here, filled with scents of earth, smoke, and life. The distant hum of a city thrummed in his ears. He banked right, angling toward the streets below. “Alright,” he muttered to himself, scanning the city. “Food, food… where do humans get their food?” His sharp eyes locked onto a marketplace—a small, bustling area still alive with activity, even at this hour. Warm, golden lights glowed from stalls, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread curled into the air. Matthew swooped down, perching on the wooden beam of a nearby stall. The vendor, a burly man with tired eyes, was slicing a loaf of bread. His back was turned. Perfect. The raven hopped forward, eyeing a piece of warm, cr

The streets were alive with movement, but to Morpheus and Constantine, the waking world felt oddly hollow. People moved around them, wrapped up in their own lives, unaware of the cosmic forces walking among them. The air carried the scent of rain, though none had fallen yet, and the city buzzed with its usual blend of urgency and fatigue. Morpheus walked with an unhurried grace, his dark coat billowing slightly in the breeze. Constantine, by contrast, moved with a casual yet alert gait, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her trench coat. The Rune around her neck pulsed faintly, reacting to unseen forces that lurked just beyond their vision. “So,” Constantine began, breaking the silence between them. “What’s the plan, exactly? Just keep walkin’ around till the Emptiness decides to show up?” Morpheus did not look at her when he spoke. “It will find us.” Constantine scoffed. “Brilliant. Real solid plan there, Sunshine.” Morpheus finally turned his gaze to her. “It will be

Constantine felt the gut-wrenching pull of Morpheus’s magic as the Dark Hold unraveled around her. The sensation was unlike any teleportation spell she had ever experienced—smooth yet utterly disorienting, as if she had been caught in the in-between of existence and nothingness. When she landed, her boots scraped against the ground, and she immediately tensed, hands instinctively clenching into fists. The Edge of the Dreaming stretched out before her, vast and incomprehensible. This place was different from the rest of Morpheus’s domain—where the Dreaming was filled with wonder and shifting landscapes, the Edge was a realm of uncertainty. Here, reality shimmered and fractured, a thin veil between something and nothing, between creation and destruction. Then, it arrived. A chilling silence spread as the Emptiness coiled into form behind her, shifting and writhing like liquid darkness. It was not a being, not in the way demons, angels, or even gods were. It was nothingness itself,