The King of Dreams

Chapter 2

The 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.