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The King of Dreams 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,
The King of Dreams Chapter 64
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
The King of Dreams Chapter 65
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
The King of Dreams Chapter 66
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?
The King of Dreams Chapter 67
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 pre
The King of Dreams chapter 68
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
The King of Dreams Chapter 69
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
The King of Dreams chapter 70
Morpheus stood at the threshold between realms, the veil between the Dreaming and the waking world thin enough for him to pass through unnoticed. The air around him was thick with uncertainty, yet he did not waver. His destination was clear—Constantine.He stepped forward, the shadows pulling away as he materialized in the waking world. The city was alive with a dull hum, neon lights flickering against the damp streets. He had no difficulty finding her; she was always near the darkness, always walking a fine line between the living and the dead.Constantine sat in a dimly lit bar, nursing a whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The place reeked of cheap alcohol and desperation, a place where lost souls came to drown themselves in oblivion. She sensed him before she saw him, her sharp instincts kicking in as she turned in his direction."Well, well, look who decided to drop in. Fancy seeing you here, Dream Lord." Her voice carried its usual mix of sarcasm and exhaustion, bu
Latest Chapter
Chapter 169
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
Chapter 168
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
Chapter 167
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
Chapter 166
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
Chapter 165
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
Chapter 164
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,
Chapter 163
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
Chapter 162
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
Chapter 161
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.
