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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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
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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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.
