2023-05-28 03:36:34The following evening, after a party at Magnus' house, there were no guards available to watch over Morpheus. Alex volunteered to keep an eye on the captive deity. He ascended the stairs with determination and entered the room where Morpheus was imprisoned.
In the darkened chamber, Morpheus sat within the sphere, his head lifted. As Alex approached the door, he called out, breaking the silence. "Hello," he greeted, stepping closer to Morpheus. "It's Alex, the son of Magnus," he introduced himself, hoping to establish a connection with the enigmatic figure before him.
Uncertain of Morpheus' ability to communicate or comprehend, Alex expressed his concerns. "You see, I don't know if you can speak or understand me, but I just wanted to ask: Are you alright in there?"
As Alex anxiously awaited a response, Morpheus, driven by a mix of annoyance and anger, turned his head towards him.
Alex paused, contemplating the situation before speaking to Morpheus. "No, of course, you are not," he acknowledged, recognizing the distress Morpheus must be feeling.
With a sincere tone, he apologized on behalf of his father, Magnus, and sought to provide insight into his father's motivations. "My father is not a bad man," Alex explained, "He simply wants his son back from the dead. Or, at the very least, he hopes you could grant him something, or even just have a conversation with him."
Alex continued, his voice filled with earnestness. "I assure you, if you can do any of the things my father asked of you, he would release you without hesitation." He hoped that conveying his father's intentions would foster understanding and empathy between Morpheus and Magnus.
Morpheus stared at Alex, his gaze unwavering, but he remained silent. Sensing the weight of his remorse, Alex spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I would let you out, if I could," he admitted, his words tinged with regret and helplessness.
An echo reverberated from behind, and Alex's heart sank as he recognized the voice. "You would, would you?" Magnus' voice cut through the air, filled with suspicion and anger. Fear gripped Alex, and he slowly turned his back to face his father, dreading what would come next.
Magnus, consumed by his frustrations and desperation, seized Alex by the arm and forcefully dragged him out of the room. With a forceful push, Alex tumbled to the floor, trembling with fear.
Magnus loomed over him, his walking stick pointed accusingly. "What were you doing down there, huh?" Magnus demanded, his voice sharp and filled with indignation.
Trembling, Alex stammered his response, desperately trying to appease his father. "Nothing, father," he managed to utter, his voice quivering with fear.
In that moment, he realized the precariousness of his situation, caught between his loyalty to his father and his sympathy for Morpheus.
"You were plotting his escape, weren't you?" Magnus accused, his voice laced with anger and suspicion. "Conspiring against me?"
Alex's heart raced as he desperately tried to assure his father of his innocence. "No, father, I would never do such a thing," he pleaded, his voice filled with sincerity. "I swear, Morphe didn't even say anything. I was only trying to understand him."
Magnus sternly warned his son, his voice filled with urgency. "If Morpheus were to escape, he would slaughter us all. We must not underestimate his power." As he scolded Alex, a tapping sound drew their attention to the window.
Magnus glanced in its direction to see the Raven and his frustration erupted. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation intensify.
"Maggy, what's happening? What's wrong?" a lady hurriedly approached the room, concern etched on her face. Magnus retrieved his gun and replied with frustration, "It's Jessamy. I've been trying to shoot this wretched bird for ten years now." He aimed the gun at the raven perched nearby, but it swiftly flew away, evading his grasp.
Magnus then turned to his son, handing him the gun, a test of loyalty in his eyes. "Shoot the fucking bird," he commanded, his brow furrowed with expectation, before abruptly leaving the room.
Alex ventured outside, determined to find the elusive bird. Unbeknownst to him, the raven observed his every move, waiting for the right moment.
As Alex continued his search, the raven swiftly flew back into the house, guided by an unseen force, its destination clear: Morpheus.
Within the confines of the sphere, Morpheus felt the presence of the raven, and a smile spread across his face.
The raven cautiously peered through the hallway, ensuring no one was in sight. Seizing the opportunity, it gracefully glided through the corridor, its sharp eyes catching sight of Magnus engrossed in one of his reading sessions—the very room the raven had intended to reach. With a subtle movement, the raven concealed itself, biding its time.
As soon as Magnus exited the room, the cunning raven seized the opportunity. It swiftly fluttered over to a nearby table where a box of matches lay.
Skillfully grasping a matchstick in its beak, the raven ignited it against the rough surface of the wall, creating a tiny flame.
With precision, it dropped the lit match onto a nearby curtain, igniting a small fire that rapidly began to spread.
The room soon filled with smoke, catching the attention of two male guards who rushed in to assess the situation. Witnessing the growing flames, one guard exclaimed, "Should we call the fire brigade?" The other guard, filled with a mix of disbelief and determination, responded, "We are the fire brigade!"
As the guards battled the spreading flames, their attention consumed by the task at hand, the raven seized the moment.
Swiftly and silently, it flew beneath the room where Morpheus was imprisoned, sensing his presence within.
Morpheus, with his head raised, caught sight of the raven, and a faint smile graced his lips, recognizing the bird's persistent efforts to aid him.
The raven, determined to free its master, attempted to use its beak to break the unyielding glass of the sphere, but its attempts proved futile.
In the midst of this struggle, a gunshot rang out in the room, shattering the tense atmosphere.
Startled, the raven scattered in a flurry of feathers, leaving behind traces of blood on the surface of the sphere's glass.
Morpheus, filled with a mixture of despair and anger, gazed upward and saw that it was Alex who had fired the shot.
A wave of conflicting emotions washed over Morpheus. His gratitude for the raven's valiant efforts mingled with his sorrow for its sacrifice, now marked by its blood on the glass.
Turning his attention to Alex, he regarded him with a mix of curiosity and cautious hope. The situation had taken an unexpected turn, and Morpheus pondered what this could mean for his own fate and the fate of those involved in his captivity.
Entering the room, Magnus took in the scene with a mix of frustration and disappointment. His eyes fell upon Alex, and he wasted no time in berating him, "You idiot! You could have shattered the glass!" Magnus snatched the gun from his son's hand, clearly displeased with his actions, and ordered him to clean up the aftermath of the chaotic events.
As Alex's gaze shifted towards Morpheus, he couldn't help but notice the fury burning within the Dream Lord's eyes. It was a gaze that held the promise of swift and merciless retribution, ready to exact its toll on Alex's very existence.
Morpheus was seething with anger, his emotions swirling within him, and while he yearned to unleash his wrath upon the one who had caused him further suffering, he found himself bound by the constraints of his captivity.
The room was filled with a tense atmosphere, the air heavy with unresolved tensions and unspoken consequences. Morpheus, unable to act upon his anger, could only delve deeper into the depths of his own seething emotions.
Alex gingerly picked up the lifeless body of the raven, its feathers stained with blood, and silently exited the room.
The savagery of Morpheus' captor bespoke a world whose dreams, in his absence, turned darker still.
A world that would soon be at war again.
A world still ravaged by the disease that doctors named encephalitis lethargica.
Some begged for sleep that would not come, others lived as perpetual sleepwalkers. Most slept without waking.
On a bright afternoon, Alex lounged in the garden, basking in the warm embrace of sunlight. He had a somber expression on his face, lost in his thoughts. As he tried to soak in the rays, the tranquility was interrupted by the approach of Paul, the maid.
"Sorry, sir," Paul apologized, aware of disturbing Alex's moment of solitude. Alex slowly opened his eyes and acknowledged Paul's presence. "What's that you are reading?" Paul inquired, curious about the book that had captured Alex's attention.
Struggling to sit up, Alex let out a grunt and replied, "I'm afraid I'm doing more sleeping than reading at the moment." He felt the weight of weariness and exhaustion pressing upon him, the toll of recent events taking its toll.
With a gentle smile, Paul offered a helping hand to support Alex in standing up. "Have you read 'Vile Bodies'?" Paul asked, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Now that'll keep you awake," he playfully suggested, hoping to ignite a spark of interest in Alex's weary eyes.
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Alex heard the sound of glass breaking from a distance and hurried inside at the sound. When he heard a woman sobbing and saw Magnus storming out of a room, he quickly hid.Concerned, Alex entered the room and inquired about the cause of distress. Through tears, the woman replied, "I'm going to have a baby." Alex's face lit up with joy, and he exclaimed, "Ethel, that's wonderful news!" He smiled warmly and offered his heartfelt congratulations.Sniffling, Ethel shared, "He wants me to get rid of it. In fact, he's calling the doctor right now." Her words were filled with sadness.Alex offered a gentle presence, comforting Ethel in her distress. She glanced at him, her expression softening. "I will be fine," she said, managing a smile amidst her tears.Late at night, Ethel swiftly packed her belongings and stepped into the waiting car, driving away from the scene.Upon entering his room, Magnus immediately noticed the absence of Morpheus' vestments. It dawned on him that Ethel had taken
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With a hint of regret in their voice, Alex's elder self said to Morpheus, "I could have sought after wealth or power, just like my father did." Alex said, "But all I ever wanted was to be free from your grip," with a broken heart."Alex, my dear," Paul cried as Alex sat down in a wheelchair, his hands firmly holding the device. Alex asked Paul to "please take me upstairs."As the wheelchair glided steadily across the circle, it left a visible line, shattering the once unbroken formation. Paul halted momentarily, casting a backward glance at the disrupted circle, realizing its demise. Then, his gaze shifted upward to meet Morpheus', acknowledging him with a nod and a smile, before departing from the room.Morpheus observed the broken circle, a sense of relief washing over him. Leaning forward, he directed his attention towards the guards stationed nearby. "Our Dracula still remains tight-lipped," remarked the female guard, engrossed in her novel. Curiosity piqued, the male guard inquir
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"A mystical dragon flies across a village with trees, a river, grass, and two houses in the land of dreams."The dragon landed on a roof and commanded Gregory to go immediately. 'You're going to trip and get wounded,' a man gave the dragon orders."The man said, "That's it."The dragon Gregory came down to the ground grumbling. It was speaking to the man in its own language. The man inquired, "Are you sure?"As a response, Gregory snorted.He laughs.The man stroked the dragon and said, "Good boy, Gregory, Good gargoyle."The man yelled for his friend's name and ran in his direction, calling out, "Cain, come quickly."While using a shovel to dig a hole and wearing glasses, Cain muttered to himself, "Blasted, bulbous,bilge-bubbling bollocks."The man yelled, "Cain!""What do you want, powder-brain? Do you not realize I'm working?" Cain answered in a stern manner."We have guests," the man said.Unexpectedly, Cain turned around to check for the visitors' location. "where?"Morpheus an
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"Do you believe you're quite ready for this, your majesty?" she inquired, making Lucien concerned about Morpheus. "You haven't navigated these seas in a while.""Do you think I've forgotten how?" Morpheus questioned."No, but..." Lucien sighs.In the midst of a pitch-black, calm sea with ominous clouds, they were both standing on a long, narrow wool bridge. The ebony seas seemed to go on forever, motionless and lifeless.Morpheus, a tall figure with a regal bearing, stood with piercing eyes and flowing dark hair framing his features, looked out into the black sea."I can't ask The Fates for assistance without providing them with something in return," Morpheus said as he turned to face Lucien. "Nothing remains from the Dreaming." Morpheus had made up his mind.He explained, "I have to gather my offering from other people's dreams.""I understand. It's just that, in your absence, these waters have become darker, treacherous, unsafe," Lucien murmured worriedly."Morpheus advanced to the
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Morpheus stood at the gates of the Dreaming, his long cloak billowing slightly in the ethereal wind. Perched upon his shoulder, Matthew the Raven flapped his wings restlessly, sensing the weight of the journey ahead. The decision had been made—Morpheus would go to Hell.“You sure about this, boss?” Matthew asked, cocking his head. “I mean, it’s not exactly a friendly place.”Morpheus remained silent for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on the horizon. “Lucifer may hold the answers we need. The emptiness is unlike anything I have encountered before, and if there is one being who understands the absence of hope, it is he.”Matthew sighed, shaking his feathers. “Well, I guess if we’re doing this, we might as well do it quickly. No offense, but Hell ain’t exactly my vacation spot.”With a simple motion of his hand, Morpheus called upon the shadows, and within seconds, they were engulfed in darkness. When the void lifted, they stood at the gates of Hell.Before them loomed the colossal ir
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The echoes of Death’s departure had barely faded when Lucien stepped out from the shadows of the grand hall. Her appearance was deliberate, her expression as serious as it had ever been. She approached Morpheus slowly, the faint sound of her footsteps swallowed by the vastness of the Dreaming’s palace.Morpheus, still deep in thought, did not turn to greet her immediately. He stood by one of the massive windows overlooking the surreal and ever-shifting landscapes of his realm, his back straight and his gaze distant.“She is gone,” Lucien finally said, her voice soft yet firm.Morpheus turned slightly, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the Dreaming. “She is. And she has confirmed what we feared—the emptiness is not a mindless force. It reacts, evades, and perhaps even fears. But why does it avoids her…” He paused, his words trailing off.“That,” Lucien said, stepping closer, “is something I believe I can explain.”Morpheus turned fully to face her now, his dark eyes narrowing
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Death’s domain was quiet and solemn, a place of peace rather than sorrow. Unlike her siblings' realms, it did not weigh heavily on those who entered. The air was still, imbued with a sense of finality and closure. Death sat on a simple bench under a lone tree, a notebook resting on her lap. She absentmindedly scribbled her thoughts, her mind preoccupied with the chaos that had overtaken existence.The situation was growing dire. The emptiness—a force that defied comprehension—was not only corrupting dreams and waking lives but was also interfering with her work. Souls she collected were incomplete, their essence hollowed out as if some vital part had been stripped away. It troubled her deeply.For a moment, she paused, tapping her pen against her notebook. She gazed out at the horizon of her domain, where faint whispers of departing souls lingered.“This isn’t right,” she muttered. “It’s never been like this.”A summons tugged at her consciousness. Another soul required her presence.
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Despair entered her gray and shadowy domain, the oppressive atmosphere weighing down her already burdened shoulders. The walls of her palace were adorned with rusted mirrors and remnants of forgotten sorrows, each reflecting the emptiness of the souls she represented. She sat on a low stool, her barbed hook clutched in her trembling hands, as Desire followed behind, their golden eyes scanning the room with a mixture of boredom and unease.“This is a bad idea,” Despair muttered, her voice low and rasping. “A terrible idea.”Desire sighed dramatically, leaning against one of the crooked pillars. “Tell me something I don’t already know, sister. Dream has always been reckless, always so full of himself. This is just another one of his grandiose schemes to make himself the hero.”Despair shook her head, her fingers gripping the hook tighter. “It’s not just recklessness. It’s desperation. He’s asking us to risk everything. To pour out the very essence of who we are. What if it doesn’t work?
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Morpheus returned to his palace in the Dreaming, his thoughts heavy with the revelations from his conversation with Death. He stepped into the grand hall, its towering ceilings adorned with stars and clouds in constant motion. The Dreaming felt different now—quieter, more fragile. The usual hum of dreams was subdued, as if the realm itself was holding its breath.Lucien, his loyal librarian, stood at the foot of the throne. Her expression was grave, and she clutched an ancient tome bound in weathered leather. She bowed slightly as Morpheus approached.“My lord,” Lucien began, “I have found something. It is not pleasant, but I believe it may provide the answers we seek.”Morpheus gestured for her to continue, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “Speak, Lucien. What have you uncovered?”Lucien opened the tome, flipping through its yellowed pages with meticulous care. The text was written in an ancient, almost indecipherable script, and the illustrations depicted swirling vo
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Morpheus paced his throne room, the weight of Despair and Desire’s findings pressing heavily on his mind. His siblings’ experiences with the shadowy emptiness only confirmed what he had feared—something ancient and malevolent was encroaching on the realms of the Endless. It was no longer confined to dreams or desires; it was spreading like an insidious disease, touching every corner of existence. He stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on the swirling mists beyond his windows. "Lucien," he called. Lucien appeared from the shadows, a stack of books clutched in his hands. "My lord?" "I must speak with Death. She will have seen signs of this chaos among the souls she collects. Hold the Dreaming in my absence." Lucien nodded, though his expression was troubled. "Be cautious, my lord. If this force can affect Despair and Desire, there’s no telling what it might do to the others." Morpheus said nothing, stepping into the shadows and vanishing from the Dreaming.Morpheus materialized i
Chapter 63
With the oppressive weight of the waking world hanging over them like a black cloud, despair and desire crossed the boundary once more into the Dreaming. They had found nothing tangible in their search, but what they had found—the omnipresent void, the shadowy figure—could not be disregarded. In his throne room, Morpheus stood poised like a statue, waiting. Lucien was standing close by, his hands clasped, his face displaying the strain of the Dreaming's problems. The atmosphere was instantly altered by the arrival of Despair and Desire. "You've come back," Morpheus said in a soothing yet tense voice. "What have you found?" Despair took a while to speak. The sound of her barbed hook clinking on the floor echoed throughout the large room as she dropped it at her feet. "It's everywhere," she said in a hollow voice. The emptiness permeates every aspect of the waking world like a plague. I can't even touch them. Their hopelessness is phony and unfounded. Morpheus looked at Desire,
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With their opposing energies creating an unseen tension between them, Despair and Desire silently left the Endless gathering. The scenery changed to a drab gray as they left the Dreaming and entered the real world. The sounds of life, such as laughter, conversation, and the rustle of leaves, were muted and faint, and the air felt heavy, as though the world itself had lost the ability to feel. This was a familiar world to Despair. She flourished on the silence, the emptiness, and the crushing weight of it all. As she watched the waking world go by, she absently dragged her barbed hook across her palm. "It's already here," she muttered in a gravelly, low voice. "The void. They feel as though it is a second skin.But Desire was not impressed. With a smooth, melodic voice that was brimming with derision, they answered, "It's always there, darling." That is the state of humanity. Yes, emptiness, longing, and yearning. However, this... feels different.They entered a busy city street and
Chapter 61
Tension reverberated through the Endless's great hall, a place unconstrained by time and molded solely by the essence of its occupants. As solemn as the night sky, Dream sat at the center of the group. Death was standing to his right, composed but with an unwavering determination. Desire sat on his left, their face a mixture of contempt and laughter. Despair was there in the shadows, hardly perceptible but always there, gripping her barbed hook with shaking fingers, her eyes displaying a silent, all-encompassing agony. "This cannot go on," Dream started in a steady but irritated tone. "Mortals are no longer dreaming as they used to in the waking world. They don't have any imagination, hope, or even nightmares while they sleep. The Dreaming is in pain and disintegrating. It has an impact on everything. Desire twirled a golden strand of their hair and laughed softly. Dream, you're always so dramatic. Maybe the mortals are just sick of your little fantasies. Perhaps they've discovered
