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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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
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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
