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The King of Dreams Chapter 109
Matthew flapped his wings, gliding silently above the rooftops as he continued tailing Constantine. She moved with purpose through the streets, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her long coat, occasionally glancing over her shoulder as if she could sense something watching her. If she did, she didn’t let on.The raven perched on a streetlight as Constantine paused at a small occult shop, its windows dimly lit by flickering candlelight. She pushed the door open, and a tiny bell jingled, announcing her arrival. Matthew swooped to a nearby tree, peering inside through a dusty window.Inside, Constantine exchanged words with an elderly man behind the counter. He wore thick glasses, his long white beard curling like smoke from a dying fire. The conversation was hushed, but Matthew’s sharp ears caught snippets.“You don’t just find books on binding entities lying around, love,” the old man muttered, rubbing his temples. “You sure you want to go digging into this?”“Got no choice, ma
The King of Dreams Chapter 110
Matthew, determined to uncover the truth, flapped his wings and swooped closer to Constantine’s window, perching on the ledge just outside. He could see her inside, tossing and turning in her sleep, her face contorted in distress. Whatever nightmares plagued her, they were relentless.Just as he was about to take another step forward, a surge of dark shadows erupted from the room, slamming into him like a forceful wind. The impact sent him spiraling backward, his feathers ruffling as he barely managed to regain balance in midair."Bloody hell!" he cawed, shaking himself off. "What was that?"The shadows loomed menacingly around Constantine's home, writhing like living tendrils, barring his approach. It was as if they sensed his presence and rejected it outright.Matthew steadied himself and tried again, this time keeping to the darkness, hoping to slip past unnoticed. But the moment he drew near, the shadows lashed out again, pushing him away with an invisible force. It was clear—some
The King of Dreams Chapter 111
Morpheus and Matthew emerged from the swirling portal, stepping into the grand halls of the Dreaming. The air was thick with the scent of ancient tomes and the distant hum of whispered dreams. Lucien stood by the towering bookshelves of the library, her keen eyes scanning a thick volume in her hands. She looked up the moment she sensed Morpheus’s arrival."You returned sooner than I expected," Lucien remarked, closing the book gently. "Did you find out what’s happening with Constantine?"Morpheus’s expression was unreadable, his posture rigid. "There is a barrier around her apartment—one that repels even my presence. It is unnatural. Something is at work here, something tied to the Rune." He turned his gaze to the endless rows of books that lined the Dreaming’s library. "I need you to search the ancient records for any mention of the Gatekeeper of the Rune."Lucien’s brow furrowed slightly as she considered his request. "The Gatekeeper of the Rune... the title itself is rare, if not u
The King of Dreams Chapter 112
The grand library of the Dreaming was unnaturally still, as if the very air held its breath. Shadows danced along the towering bookshelves, flickering in the candlelight as Lucien meticulously combed through ancient tomes. The weight of responsibility pressed upon her, heavier than the boundless knowledge surrounding her. Matthew perched on the cluttered desk, his talons gripping the polished wood. He watched as Lucien worked, flipping through brittle pages with practiced ease. He let out a low caw, breaking the silence. “So, what’s next? We keep reading until our eyes fall out?” Lucien didn’t look up, her fingers tracing an old sigil on the parchment before her. “No, Matthew. We need information that books cannot provide.” Matthew ruffled his feathers, suddenly wary. “Uh-oh. That sounds like you’re about to ask me to do something.” Lucien finally looked at him, her keen eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re perceptive. Yes, Matthew, I need you to return to the waking world and w
The King of Dreams Chapter 113
As Matthew circled above Constantine, keeping to the shadows, an unsettling feeling prickled at his senses. He had been watching over the waking world long enough to recognize when something felt wrong.Then he saw it.A figure moving in the darkness, not following Constantine, but simply existing in the waking world in a way that it shouldn't. At first glance, it looked human—tall, shrouded in a long coat that blended into the night. But there was something off. The way it moved, fluid and deliberate, as if it weren’t entirely bound by the rules of this realm.Matthew’s instincts screamed at him. That thing’s from the Dream.He had seen plenty of nightmares and creatures of the Dreaming in his time, but this one was different. It shouldn’t be here. And more than that—he knew, with absolute certainty, that Morpheus hadn’t created it.It moved without sound, without presence, a shadow slipping effortlessly through the gaps of reality. No one in the waking world noticed it. They walked
The King of Dreams Chapter 114
Sister Agnes led Constantine through a narrow hallway, past the ancient stone walls of the cathedral, until they reached a modest office. The room was lined with bookshelves stacked with fragile tomes, their leather bindings cracked with age. A single candle flickered on the heavy wooden desk, casting shifting shadows over the scattered parchments and manuscripts.Constantine stepped inside and took off her coat, draping it over the back of a chair. She glanced at Sister Agnes, who was already pulling a thick, dust-covered book from the shelf.“You’ve been keeping books like these under a church?” Constantine asked, raising an eyebrow. “Bit ironic, don’t you think?”Sister Agnes placed the book on the desk with a soft thud and gave her a knowing look. “Knowledge is not evil, Johanna. It is what people choose to do with it that matters.”Constantine smirked, sitting down and flipping open the heavy tome. The pages crackled under her fingers, filled with Latin inscriptions and arcane sy
The King of Dreams Chapter 115
Matthew hesitated before hopping onto the windowsill, his claws clicking softly against the wood. He ruffled his feathers, trying to shake off the unease that had settled over him since witnessing the strange entity in the waking world. He needed to talk to Constantine.“Uh, hey, Constantine,” he said, his tone uncertain.Constantine, who had been pacing the room, stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Her expression was sharp, her eyes narrowed. "Matthew?"She folded her arms, studying him with suspicion. "Why do I get the feeling you've been watching me?"Matthew shifted on his feet, his wings twitching. "Well, uh... because I have."Her brow arched. "And why exactly have you been *monitoring* me?" Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that suggested she was already piecing things together.Matthew sighed. "Look, it's not like I wanted to skulk around spying on you. Morpheus sent me to keep an eye on things. He’s worried about you."Constantine exhaled through her no
The King of Dreams Chapter 116
Constantine’s fingers tightened around the worn pages of the spellbook, her eyes scanning the ancient text with practiced intensity. The flickering candlelight barely illuminated the curling script, but she didn’t need perfect visibility—she needed time. Time that was slipping away as the shadows outside pressed against the barrier she had cast.Matthew flapped his wings nervously, perched on the back of a chair near the window. His sharp eyes darted between the shifting darkness outside and Constantine’s unwavering concentration. “Uh, Constantine,” he croaked, “not to rush you or anything, but those things out there? They don’t look like they’re just here for a friendly visit.”Constantine didn’t look up. “Yeah, no kidding,” she muttered, flipping to another page. The spell she needed was somewhere in this mess of cryptic Latin and half-smudged ink. Her fingers traced the text, her mind racing. Matthew ruffled his feathers, eyes wide as he watched the shadows writhe. They weren’t mo
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Chapter 169
Ten years later the Dreaming shimmered beneath an amber sky, its rivers flowing with starlight, its towers carved from forgotten songs and ancient memories. In the heart of the realm, on the edge of a balcony made of glass and moonstone, Constantine stood, her coat fluttering softly in the breeze that didn’t belong to any weather system but to the breath of dreams.She felt the hum of the Rune at her side, though now it no longer throbbed with warning or shadow. It was quiet—obedient, almost serene. She had long since mastered it, fused it with her essence, and become something more than human… yet not quite Endless.Footsteps approached from behind, deliberate and elegant.“I thought you hated balconies,” Morpheus said, his voice as calm and infinite as ever.Constantine gave a small smirk. “I did. Until they stopped meaning danger.”Morpheus moved beside her, his presence familiar now—not just a god of dreams, not just a ruler of an infinite realm, but her companion. Her equal.“Thi
Chapter 168
Daniel stood beneath a silver-blooming tree, its petals drifting lazily through the air like soft flakes of moonlight. Matthew the raven had flown ahead to scout the next curve of the path, but Daniel lingered in the soft hush of the moment. Behind him, the Dreaming shimmered in ways that couldn’t be described—only felt.He turned as Morpheus approached silently, his long shadow trailing behind him like a veil of stars.“Do you regret it?” Daniel asked.Morpheus tilted his head, his dark eyes studying the young man closely. “Regret… is a waking world emotion. But I know the weight of choice.”Daniel hesitated, his fingers brushing the smooth bark of the tree. “If I say yes… to the Dreaming. If I choose to be its next ruler—what happens to my life in the waking world? What happens to my mom?”“You are not bound by time or place as others are,” Morpheus said softly. “You are made of both realms. A bridge between them.”“But bridges are meant to connect, not live,” Daniel replied. “Can I
Chapter 167
The kitchen smelled faintly of rosemary and coffee, though neither had been brewed that morning. Lyta sat at the table, her hands folded tightly in front of her, her eyes fixed on the old clock above the stove. The second hand ticked like a distant heartbeat. She hadn’t moved in some time.From where she sat, she could see the garden through the window—the cherry tree where Morpheus had stood. He was gone now, or perhaps merely unseen again. The air felt ordinary, but Lyta knew better than to believe in appearances.The back door creaked open.Lyta didn’t turn. “Did you speak to him?”“Yes,” came Daniel’s voice—quiet, full of thought.Now she turned, eyes wide with the weight of anticipation. Her son stood just inside the doorway, his shoulders hunched slightly, as though he’d been walking through centuries. His face was pale but calm. He looked older than he had just an hour ago.“You remember him,” Lyta said.Daniel gave a small nod. “I do. Not everything. But enough.”Lyta stood sl
Chapter 166
The sun filtered softly through the curtains of Lyta Hall’s modest home, golden light falling across the floor like blessings. The house was quiet. A stillness had settled over it since the early morning, when Daniel had gone for one of his long walks. He was taller now, with eyes too thoughtful for someone his age and a silence that often made Lyta ache.She sat at the kitchen table, fingers wrapped around a cup of tea long gone cold. Her eyes stared through the steam, through the walls, into memory. The years had been kind in some ways, harsh in others. Daniel had grown, as boys do, but there was always something in him—something that shimmered beneath the surface, something not quite of this world.And Lyta had known. She’d always known this day would come.The air in the room shifted, stilled even more. The shadows along the edges of the room stretched, deepened. The light dimmed—not harshly, but like dusk arriving early.He stood behind her before she heard his footsteps.“Morphe
Chapter 165
The sky above Hell was not a sky at all, but a vast, churning storm of ash and fire. Mountains of bone reached toward it, and rivers of molten hatred carved paths across a land that screamed in silence. Nothing here grew. Nothing here lived. Yet it pulsed with eternal motion—restless, ancient.Morpheus stepped through the obsidian gate alone, though Matthew flew above him, circling in tight arcs. The raven’s feathers twitched with unease.“I hate this place,” Matthew muttered. “Seriously. Every time we come here, I swear the heat gets worse. And those things with teeth for eyes were *staring* at me.”Morpheus said nothing.He walked toward the obsidian steps of Lucifer’s citadel, where reality bent and recoiled in the presence of pride made flesh. The doors opened without a sound, their carvings writhing with scenes of ambition and fall, endless betrayal, and cold beauty.Lucifer Morningstar stood at the top of the stairs, waiting, arms folded across a regal black coat that shimmered
Chapter 164
The chains cracked like thunder splitting across a void.Flames peeled back. The Realms of Fire shuddered as Destruction stirred. His eyes opened fully—vast pools of molten gold that held the weight of ages. Power rippled from him, not chaotic, but vast. A silent storm.Azazel screamed.“No!” the demon howled, fire bursting from his twisted form like a crown of rage. “You don’t understand! If he’s freed, he will burn all! Destruction *is* the end!”“You fear him,” Morpheus said, stepping forward, shadows clinging to his cloak like mist. “Because he is more than you ever were.”Destruction's voice rolled out, slow and steady, shaking the very ground beneath them.“I never asked to be your weapon.”The gold-and-flame bindings trembled, then shattered.In that instant, Destruction rose.He stood tall—taller than any of them remembered, broad-shouldered and ageless. His red hair swept back like flickering embers in a breeze, his skin luminous with the heat of stars. He stretched one arm,
Chapter 163
The Realms of Fire were alive, not with breath but with hunger. Every stone whispered, every gust of ash howled with the echoes of consumed worlds. As the Endless and their companions moved deeper, the flames recoiled—not from fear, but recognition. They knew who had come.And then, the fire opened like an eye.He emerged.Azazel.He took no single form. A writhing mass of flame and teeth, wings that folded and unfolded from every direction, and a voice that scraped like metal over bone. His many eyes blinked from within his own inferno, each one a different shade of malice.“Well, well,” Azazel hissed, his voice echoing in the very air. “I expected one of you. *Not all.*”Morpheus stepped forward. He did not raise his voice, but his presence swelled like a rising tide. “We are here for Destruction.”Azazel’s laughter burned. “You’re too late, Dream. He *is* destruction now. All I did was remind him what he was meant to be.”Constantine stepped beside Morpheus, the Rune aglow on her h
Chapter 162
The Dreaming was quiet in its breath, the way a cathedral holds silence after a prayer. Morpheus stood at the highest terrace of his palace, shadows draped across his shoulders like a second cloak. The stars wheeled in slow silence overhead.He did not summon Lucien and Constantine with sound—he did not need to. They were both already moving toward him, drawn by the same disturbance humming through the realm.Lucien appeared first, her book pressed to her chest, brows furrowed. She never arrived in haste, but tonight, she was nearly breathless.“M’lord,” she said. “The ripple—was it Daniel?”“Yes,” Morpheus answered.Constantine stepped from a veil of dream-smoke moments later, still barefoot from her meditation chamber, the Rune pulsing faintly against her wrist like a resting heartbeat. Her eyes were alert, wary.“Did something happen?” she asked.Morpheus turned to face them both, the weight of what he had to say already shaping the atmosphere. Even the sky above them seemed to lea
Chapter 161
Daniel tossed in his sleep, the blankets tangled like vines around his legs, sweat shining on his forehead. Lyta had just checked on him not long ago—tucked him in, brushed hair from his brow, kissed him gently. The child was still recovering from his strange disappearance, still unconscious for hours at a time. But what she didn’t know—what no one could truly understand—was that Daniel hadn’t fully come back alone.Something had awakened in him.Something ancient.The air around his sleeping body rippled gently, unseen by waking eyes. Dreams hummed under his skin. The Dreaming stirred around him like leaves brushing his thoughts. But now it wasn’t the Dreaming that called to him.It was pain.And not his own.He felt it like a thread burning from the stars, winding into his chest and pulling—gently at first, then with increasing urgency. He didn’t understand the source, but it throbbed with a weight that felt… *familiar*. Not in face or form, but in resonance.Another Endless.A kin.
