2023-05-28 03:37:36With 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 inquired, "Why do you persist in calling him that?"
Morpheus extended his hand towards the male guard, who was instantly captivated by the gesture. Meanwhile, the female guard excused herself and proceeded to the restroom. The male guard, feeling a sudden drowsiness overpowering him, found himself transported into the realm of dreams, standing on a picturesque beach.
In this dream state, he witnessed Morpheus approaching him with a graceful stride. Morpheus stooped down and scooped up a handful of sand from the beach. Startled by this action, the male guard instinctively reached for his firearm and aimed it at Morpheus. However, in the physical world, his shots were directed at the spherical glass, shattering it into fragments.
Morpheus breathed a sigh of relief, a glimmer of hope illuminating his eyes. As the female guard hurriedly entered the room and witnessed the unfolding scene, she rushed to intervene, desperately trying to prevent the male guard from firing his weapon. However, Morpheus had already made his escape, slipping away from their grasp.
Outside the shattered sphere glass, Morpheus stood amidst a radiant light, with the wind gusting around him as dark clouds gathered overhead. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, the female guard commanded Morpheus to open his hands and raise them in surrender.
Unperturbed, Morpheus released a gentle breath, blowing the sand he held towards the guards. Instantly, the guards succumbed to a deep slumber, their bodies surrendering to the sand's mesmerizing effects. Morpheus turned away from them, facing the ominous dark cloud, and with a graceful motion, he lifted himself upward, gradually dissolving into the thin air until he vanished completely, leaving no trace behind.
Alex awoke from a restless sleep, his heart racing as if he had just escaped a haunting nightmare. He sat up in bed, his breath ragged, and then slowly rose, feeling a compelling urge to leave his room. Stepping into the hallway, he called out for Paul, his voice echoing through the empty corridor. He continued onward, driven by an unknown force, until he reached the staircase.
In the midst of his journey, Alex caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror. To his astonishment, his reflection portrayed his younger self, as if time had rewound itself. A mixture of surprise and curiosity filled his eyes as he examined his rejuvenated appearance. "Well, hello there," he greeted the feline companion that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The cat responded with a soft "meow," its voice echoing through the hallway. Bewildered by the unexpected presence of the cat, Alex muttered, "Where did you come from?" His mind perplexed, he stood in the hallway, trying to unravel the mystery of the cat's sudden appearance.
Intrigued by the cat's presence, Alex silently trailed behind it, climbing the stairs until they reached an empty room. The cat gracefully settled itself upon a chair, fixing its gaze upon Alex. Perplexed, Alex observed the feline, attempting to comprehend how it had made its way into his house.
As Alex cautiously approached, a profound transformation occurred before his eyes. The cat metamorphosed into the King of Dreams himself—Morpheus. Draped in a coat as dark as night, his eyes emitting an ethereal glow, Morpheus' countenance brimmed with a potent blend of anger and determination. Seated upon the chair in the dimly lit room, he exuded an undeniable aura of power.
"Hello," Morpheus welcomed Alex with an intense voice, his words reverberating in the space. Alex's voice trembled with fear as he managed to stammer out, "It's... it's you. You're... you're free." The weight of realization and trepidation hung heavy in the air as Alex recognized the significance of Morpheus' newfound freedom.
Morpheus rose from the chair, his figure towering over the room. "do you have any idea what it was like?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and anguish. "Confined within a cage for over a century, stripped of my freedom!" With each word, Morpheus steadily advanced toward Alex, his presence becoming increasingly overwhelming.
Terrified, Alex retreated, driven by sheer fear. He stumbled backward, desperately trying to create distance between himself and the approaching Morpheus. The magnitude of the situation weighed heavily on Alex, as he remained clueless about the consequences that awaited him.
"Do you grasp the extent of the devastation you have caused in your world?" Morpheus questioned, his voice resounding with intensity. Alex, consumed by terror, could only muster a feeble response, "I'm sorry... I... I didn't know. Please..." His voice trembled with fear, his face a portrait of sheer desperation as he begged for his life.
"Your punishment," Morpheus declared solemnly, "shall be a gift. I give you this" As Morpheus spoke, a remarkable transformation unfolded before their eyes—Alex's aging process reversed rapidly, and he grew younger with each passing second. Time itself seemed to retreat from his being.
"I grant you the gift of eternal sleep," Morpheus continued, extending his hand adorned with a handful of sand. With a single exhale, he blew the sand toward Alex, who succumbed to a deep and peaceful sleep. Little did Alex know, this slumber was a gateway to the realm of dreams.
In the physical realm, Alex shuddered restlessly upon his bed. Paul, overwhelmed with worry, called out to him with tear-filled eyes. "Alex, Alex, please wake up," Paul pleaded, desperately attempting to rouse him from his unconscious state.
More than a century of tortured sleep, of Dreams and Nightmares running riot was coming to an end.
Corinthians sat in a darkly lighted room, his anxious and uneasy gaze fixed on the window. Fear gripped Corinthians' voice as he mumbled, "He is free, He is out of his cage," knowing that Morpheus would probably continue what he started with him.
Slowly, he rose from his seat, using a handkerchief to delicately wipe away the blood that stained his eyes.
With a deep breath to steady himself, Corinthians cleared his throat and spoke, his voice laced with a blend of apprehension and determination. "So I'm afraid I'm gonna have to run," he addressed the black-skinned man seated silently before him, his eyes absent, the result of Corinthians' disturbing actions.
The man remained helpless, unable to see the world around him.
In a horrifying act of desperation, Corinthians had plucked the man's eyeballs and implanted them into his own sockets in order to retrieve information.
Corinthians approached the mirror with caution, his empty eye sockets blinding him. Instead, he had eyes that seemed to be black buttons stitched into his eye sockets, giving him a ghostly, disturbing atmosphere.
"I'm not gonna stop until I've reshaped this world to look just like me," Corinthians declared, his voice tinged with a blend of determination and a chilling resolve. He adjusted the black glasses he wore, concealing the unsettling sight of his eyes.
In the realm of dreams, Lucien ran tirelessly through a dark clouded desert, wearing a black jacket and a white glasses. She desperately called out, "Sir, sir!"
As Lucien approached, she discovered Morpheus lying unconscious upon the darkened sand. Overwhelmed with a mix of sorrow and concern, she softly spoke, "Oh, my goodness, Sir, it's me. It's Lucien."
Morpheus stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open at the sound of the familiar voice. A wave of relief washed over him as he recognized Lucien's presence. With a weakened voice, he mustered the strength to call out her name, "Lucien."
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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 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
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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 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.
