2023-05-28 03:39:07"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 edge of the bridge, knelt down, and looked down at the water.
"These waters are as much a part of me as I am of them," Morpheus said, releasing his sand-filled hand. "Gregory's sacrifice won't go to waste." Putting sand on the quiet sea, he claimed.
As he poured the sand, shadows and light emerged. Morpheus discovered his own reflection in the water, smiling and sporting blazing eyes. In a horrifying form with luminous eyes.
The appearance of Morpheus' shadow in the sea astounded and scared him."
The hands of Morpheus and his image in the sea were extended in the direction of one another, Morpheus approaches the water's edge.
Morpheus was dragged deep into the sea by the reflection.
Sand and dim light floating together deep within the ocean.
"You were right, Lucien," Morpheus reflected to himself. "The Dreams and Nightmares no longer appear to recognize their master. I shall remind them and take what I need from them."
Morpheus took control of the situation in the water, reached out his hand as he gazed below, and saw a picture of farmland.
As his hand suddenly and massively grew in size on the farm, taking the bridge, Morpheus said to himself, "Since one meets The Fates at a crossroads, I find myself in the dreams of a Cambodian farmer."
"The Hanged Man represents surrender and sacrifice for the greater good.
The gallows come from a young Japanese cinephile, her head full of British horror films."
Morpheus was hanged and released into the water by soldiers in the dreams, making use of water for transportation.
"The river is stronger and moving more quickly than I remember," he thought to himself. "I need to concentrate, open my eyes, and see what The Fate requires."
Suddenly, he found himself in a room beside a serpent and its egg.
A symbol of transformations of life, death, and rebirth.
The serpent almost bit Morpheus when he squatted down next to it. Morpheus opened his coat and used it to encircle the serpent.
The egg was taken by Morpheus. "Now, it is up to The Fates," he remarked.
In a cold, dark, and historical area was Morpheus. "I, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, summon The Fates... The Three-Who-Are-One," Morpheus summoned The Fates as a woman appeared.
Morpheus continued, "The One-Who-Is-Three. The Hecate." Morpheus laid a bow after the three women appeared.
Clotho - beginning of life, Lachesis - presence existence, Atropos - end of life.
They exist outside the bounds of time and space.
The Fates may appear as elderly women, each representing a different aspect of destiny, either old or maiden
"Morpheus, it's been a while. You look thin, love. Are you eating? Are you hungry?" Lachesis asked.
"He is, but not for food. Look at him. He wants something," Atropos declared.
"You've found me out. I do want something. I need your help," Morpheus said, using a calm voice.
"Help? Oh, listen to him, please. Like you helped us against Circe?" Atropos stated in a commanding tone.
Lachesis adds, "Circe is old business, sister-self."
"And he did bring nice things," replied Clotho.
As Morpheus offered Atropos a present, she extended her hand to accept it.
The serpent emerged from Morpheus' coat and into Lachesis' arms.
"Before opening her lips widely to allow the serpent to be swallowed by The Fates," Lachesis commanded, "You may ask us three things."
"After they had swallowed the serpent," Clotho stated, "And you get one answer from each of us."
Morpheus bowed briefly and said, "Thank you, ladies."
"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" Morpheus softly questioned.
The Fates gave him a vision that revealed who is holding his satchel.
It was purchased in London. Clotho stated in a heavy tone, "Last purchased by a magician by the name of Johanna Constantine.
Morpheus repeated, "Constantine," and thought to himself, "I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago."
"You said last purchased? Does she still have the sand?" Out of curiosity, Morpheus enquired.
"Dream, you know better than that," Clotho softly chided him, calling him with a grin on her face. "You get one question, one answer," said Clotho, her voice heavy with echo.
Morpheus apologized.
He said, "My second question."
Lachesis encouraged, "Go on, dear."
He questioned, "My helm, what happened to it?"
He was given yet another vision on the magical usage of his helmet.
"It was given to a demon in exchange for an Amulet of Protection," Lachesis responded.
"To which demonic entity was it traded?" Morpheus inquired.
Lachesis smiled as she gave Morpheus the warning, "One question, one answer, love."
Morpheus asked his last question from Atropos.
"My ruby, who has it now?" he asked.
Showing Morpheus baby John and his mother, Ethel.
"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son," Atropos replied.
Morpheus asked for the location to find them but got The Fates angry.
"You have asked your questions!" Three-in-one said with voices heard in one face. Their faces kept switching on one body. Their voice echoed with thunder in their voice and vanished.
The Fates speak to Morpheus with a sense of wisdom and authority, their words carrying great weight and significance.
"Footsteps approaching."
After the confrontation with The Fates, Lucien picked up an egg that Morpheus had taken from The Dreaming and approached Morpheus where he was standing.
Lucien remarked, "My Lord, you didn't give it to The Fates."
"Because it was not meant for them," Morpheus replied as he turned to face Lucien.
Raindrops falling in a sandy cemetery. An arm emerged from the grave.
After killing Abel with a shovel, Cain buried him.
When Abel climbed out of the tomb and saw an egg in front of his grave, he excitedly carried it. Abel was drenched in rain and plastered with sand.
Abel calls Cain "brother."
"Thanks for burying me in such a shallow grave this time," Abel placed the egg on the table, "And for this."
"Who gave you an egg?" Cain was shocked.
"You did," Abel replied.
He was told by Cain that he didn't give him any eggs and that he had no reasons for doing so.
"As an apology for murdering me," Abel said.
"When have I ever apologized for murdering you?" Cain asked.
[Egg cracked.]
Excitement from both of them.
"Oh, Cain, look!" Abel gasped.
A baby dragon hatched.
"It's a baby gargoyle!" Abel's expression was filled with excitement.
After realizing that Morpheus had provided them with the egg, Cain was not impressed.
Cain was enraged, saying, "If he thinks leaving this creature on my doorstep makes up for Gregory."
"Do you believe Lord Morpheus is where he came from?" Abel asked.
"Who else, you moron?" Cain slandered.
Cain reassured himself, "He's trying to buy us off with a baby gargoyle."
Abel told Cain that Morpheus has noble intentions.
With the adorable newborn appearance, he temporarily lost control.
"He's pretty adorable, isn't he?" Cain gave the dragon praise.
"I believe I'll call him Irving," Abel said in reference to the dragon.
Cain repeated the name.
"You gully-guts, you can't give a gargoyle the name 'Irving'," said Cain.
"I like it," said Abel.
Cain muttered angrily. He took a book off the shelf. Abel was told that the dragon's name had to begin with a "G."
Instead, Abel opted to call it Girving.
A hot iron was pulled out by Cain out of frustration, and he used it to slay Abel.
The gargoyle was covered in blood.
"You don't pay attention, do you?" Ethel questioned as she went on. "Attractive males rarely do. They might not have to," she thought.
"Ethel, are you flirting with me?" he asked, turning to face her.
She replied, "You asked me where the tools were, and I told you I don't have them."
"Given your amazing accomplishment, I find that hard to believe," he continued.
She smiled.
She poured herself a glass of wine and asked, "Do you think that the only way a woman can be successful is by using magic? Supernatural and sexist. You really are a nightmare, aren't you?" Ethel became drawn to him.
Corinthians wasn't convinced the tools didn't help her in succeeding and keeping her from looking her age.
"Now who's flirting?" She said while sipping her wine.
They starred at each other as Ethel smiled.
"When I left Magnus, I traded the sand and helm for my life in America," she explained.
"And the ruby," he asked.
"The ruby. As you know, it does have the power to make Dreams come true, but it also makes Nightmares come true," her voice trembling. "My son, John, took the ruby from me, and then the ruby took John," she added.
"Hmm…. Well, where is it now?" He asked
"I don't know. Don't want to know," she replied.
Still not believing a word Ethel said, Corinthians took off his glasses, revealing his button eyes.
He cleaned his knife before going up to Ethel and asking her if he could take her eyes out so he could collect everything.
"You will regret this. I promise you," she said fearfully.
Corinthians scoffs, "what makes you think that," he asked.
She confronted him and held out an eye amulet towards Corinthians, saying, "I don't need Dream's tools; I have my own."
He sees it and screams as he gets broken into pieces and disappears.
After the scene, Ethel left in comfort.
Previous Chapter
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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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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.
