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wingedblooms · 3 months

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Blooming dreams

Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than emperors. (Mary Cantwell)

This meta is a continuation of my thoughts over the years, but especially the ones expressed in the following links. Please be aware that there are major hofas spoilers in this post and avoid if needed.

Secret, lovely seer / Forbidden secrets

A rose in the thorns / The flower of life

Seer, wise woman, witch / Three sisters witches / Starborn light

Since my first meta, I have been fixated on Elain’s connection to the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (let's call her Wyrd) and her potential powers, including sight, shapeshifting, and healing. They are all related when you’re talking about Wyrd, though I am not here to say what I have written is what Sarah has planned. This post is more a love letter to Sarah’s mystical and earthy depiction of Elain and what I would love to see in her story based on all the seeds she’s planted (and if there is an actual magical bean seed involved, I’ll love her all the more for it). Thanks especially to @psychologynerd for previewing this fever dream of a post.

I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (acotar)

From the first book in the series, Feyre recognizes that Elain views things differently. She views things that are sad and dark with hope, and that’s why Sarah has called her the quiet dreamer. It’s a strength that sets her apart. I like to think that’s also what the Cauldron—though warped by the Asteri—saw when she was forced into its womb.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes and I wondered if it may have recognized Elain as a kindred spirit, some echo of its Mother form. A creator, life-bringer. Were the waters of the Cauldron more like Silba’s Womb—a darkness of creation, sweet and lovely—when Elain was immersed? Or is it possible that when Elain entered its dark womb she viewed it differently than her sister? Did she see a wounded creator to help rather than an enemy to combat?

Elain’s hopeful perspective might be why it gifted her with such powers, powers that we know allow her to see differently than others. And since it may have enhanced her unique perception, I wonder if it also enhanced her ability to bring life and beauty into the world. As a gardener, Elain is well acquainted with the task of envisioning her garden and then getting her hands dirty to make that vision a reality. Dream and reality are entwined in gardening, just like her Sight.

“She loves to garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when–when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.” (acowar) If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground. (acowar) She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers–or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar) If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar) “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this…I think the world needs more gardens.” (acowar)

As we saw in acosf for Nesta—a new type of warrior who forges magical swords and retrieves the Harp from an ancient fortress (the Prison) connected to the Starborn—these descriptions are clearly meant to foreshadow what occurs in the sisters’ stories. While Nesta is a freshly forged sword, Elain is blooming life in Illyria. And what do we learn in hofas?

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.” Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?” [...] “All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

We receive confirmation that the Cauldron is associated with the sister peaks, as I suspected, and Ramiel in particular as @merymoonbeam has previously suggested.

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. […] “The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.” [...] “They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.” (hofas)

In Forbidden secrets, I theorized that Elain’s powers might allow her to map the secrets of the land in order to heal it and @offtorivendell discussed magical mounds in her theory on reviving dusk. It seems like the Asteri did indeed leave secrets behind, which might explain why certain places continue to be forbidden and barren. But we are given hope that they do not need to remain that way. In hofas, Bryce wakes and wields the land belonging to her Starborn ancestors on the Prison island:

And precisely as Theia had gifted her own power to Silene … perhaps Silene had in turn left that same power here, to be claimed by a future scion. One by one, rapid as shooting stars, the thoughts raced through Bryce. More on instinct than anything else, she dropped to her knees and slammed her hand atop the eight-pointed star. Bryce reached with her mind, through layers of rock and earth—and there it was. Slumbering beneath her. Not firstlight, not as she knew it on Midgard—but raw Fae power from a time before the Drop. The power ascended toward her through the stone, like a glimmering arrow fired into the dark— [...] Like a small sun emerging from the stone itself, a ball of light burst from the floor. A star, twin to the one in Bryce’s chest. Her starlight at last awoke again, as if reaching with shining fingers for that star hovering inches away. With trembling hands, Bryce guided the star to the one gleaming on her chest. Into her body. White light erupted everywhere. Power, uncut and ancient, scorched through her veins. The hair on her head rose. Debris floated upward. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was the evening star and the last rays of color before the dark. Azriel had nearly reached the tunnel. Another flap of his wings and he’d be swallowed by its dark mouth. But at a mere thought from Bryce, stalactites and stalagmites formed, closing in on him. The room became a wolf, its jaws snapping for the winged warrior— The rock had moved for her, as it had for Silene. “Stop him,” she said in a voice that was more like her father’s than anything she’d ever heard come out of her mouth. Azriel swept for the tunnel archway—and slammed into a wall of stone. The exit had sealed. Slowly, he turned, wings rustling. Blood trickled out of his nose from his face-first collision with the rock now in his path. He spread his wings, bracing for a fight. The mountain shook, the chamber with it. Debris fell from the ceiling. Walls began shifting, rock groaning against rock. As if the place this had once been was fighting to emerge from the stone. [...] From far away, she could sense it: the things lurking within the mountain, her mountain. Twisted, wretched creatures. Some had been here since Silene had trapped them. Had been contemplating their escape and revenge all this time. She’d let them out if she restored the mountain to its former glory. And in that moment, the mountain—the island—spoke to her. Alone. It was so alone—it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in this thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it…it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from its slumber, and such wonders would spring again from its earth— (hofas)

The mountain–Bryce’s mountain–speaks to her, asking her to open her heart to it so it can finally rise from its slumber. Cue internal screaming, my friends, because this language was intentional and it might finally explain Elain’s conversation in this scene:

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)

Elain’s hearing is a source of concern after she is Made because it is unusually heightened; she hears so many things, usually connected to the nature around her as @silverlinedeyes theorized. Like calls to like, and so she might be able to hear the beating heart of the land around her, even as it slumbers. Perhaps that is why her eyes were drawn to the barren ground in Illyria.

Vesperus, an Asteri trapped in a glass coffin below the Prison, tells us more about the connection between the Cauldron and the land:

“I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. Bryce rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll call you the Evening Star, too. Happy?” “Is it not fitting?” A wave of long fingers capped in sharp nails. “I drank from the land’s magic, and the land’s magic drank from me.” [...] Vesperus folded her hands in her lap. “A planet that was once green, as this one is.” “And that wasn’t good enough?” “We grew too populous. Wars broke out between the various beings on our world. Some of us saw the changes in the land beginning—rivers run dry, clouds so thick the sun could not pierce them—and left. Our brightest minds found ways to bend the fabric of worlds. To travel between them. Wayfarers, we called them. World-walkers.” [...] “Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron…” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

This should come as no surprise because we saw this play out in acowar, but the Cauldron is tied to the soul of their world. The term soul is intentional, and we will return to it in a bit, but I started to wonder in Forbidden secrets about that connection. The influence of Wyrd is especially clear in the sacred peaks, where the Asteri left behind their secrets. Could Elain unravel the Asteri’s magic from the slumbering heart of the earth, and unbind the Cauldron as a result? Or will she need to go to Cretea to retrieve and purify the magic of the Asteri from the Cauldron like a healer would, in body and in spirit? (Hello, Nephelle celebrations, let’s go.) Nothing feels more right than seeing our strong-willed gardener get her hands dirty as she rips out the Asteri from the root, or beating heart, of their world. Sarah may have even hinted at this role for Elain as she describes getting into her mind for her book:

“There was literally ivy everywhere: in the garden beds, wrapped around the trees, crawling up the sides of the house. So I went into this obsessive, I-need-to-rip-out-every-last-strand-of-ivy-before-I-have-this-baby mode. And I remember the entire time I was ripping out the ivy, and trying to get some semblance of order into the garden beds, I just slipped into Elain’s head. Elain is a gardener, and everything I did during those weeks became research for her book. I’m not even joking. Elain’s now going to have dreams about ripping ivy out and the ivy creeping in through the windows to strangle her at night, because let me tell you, that ivy does not want to go.” (Sarah’s interview in acofas)

English ivy is an aggressive invader and its hosts decline over time before they die. That’s exactly what the Asteri are: aggressive invaders that feed off of their hosts, warping the power of the land for their sole benefit, until it begins to wither away. In hofas, we learn that the Asteri hid their power throughout the land, including at the root of sacred mountains:

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.” (hofas)

And we see the moment Bryce discovers that Vesperus has hidden her power in the root of the Prison mountain, which is what sustains her and weakens the land:

Bryce clutched the Starsword tighter. Its power thudded into her palms like a heartbeat. “But why store your power here? It’s an island—not exactly an easy pit stop.” “There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.” […] “Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.” […] “Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer…She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.” Vesperus peered at her bare feet, the rock beneath. “Theia never learned how to access the power I cached beneath my palace. She had no choice but to leave it there, buried in the veins of this mountain. Her loss—and my gain.” Oh gods. There was a fucking firstlight core here, far beneath their feet— (hofas)

These thin places are where ley lines—highways for magic and communication—overlap, allowing travel for those who are suited to it (wayfarers). Starborn and Asteri alike seem to be suited to these places, and have used them to store their power, causing the land around it to wither.

“Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.”

All of the sister peaks thrum with power and are at odds with the land around them. Barren. They might all be thin places, interconnected through ley lines...and hiding a cache of magic in the root (heart) of their souls.

Bryce’s ancestors, separated by the Void, planted clues for those with the gifts and vision to see it.

What had looked like etched seas or rivers of stars now filled in with starlight, became … alive. Moving, cascading, coursing. A secret illustration, only for those with the gifts and vision to see it. (hofas)

A secret carved in stone. What secrets remain under other sacred mountains, such as Ramiel? Is it any coincidence that Enalius, who defended Ramiel, was the owner of Truth-Teller? Or that the Cauldron is depicted there? Who would be equipped with the gifts and vision to uncover those secrets and finally set the soul of the land free, like Bryce?

“Light blasted up through the blades into her hands, her arms, her heart. Bryce could hear it through her feet, through the stone. The song of the land beneath her. Quiet and old and forgotten, but there. She heard how Avallen had yielded its joy, its bright green lands and skies and flowers, so it might hold the power as it was bid, waiting all this time for someone to unleash it. To free it. […] Helena had bound the soul of this land in magical chains. No more. No more would Bryce allow the Fae to lay claim over anything. “You’re free,” Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure, inherent magic beneath it. “Be free.” And it was. (hofas)

Helena bound the soul of Avallen in magical chains. Doesn't that sound like what the Asteri did with the Cauldron and the land? There are so many hints that Elain is set up to address this plot, but the one I find the most compelling is given by the Under-King when he confirms who Urd (Wyrd) is:

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin…they were like tattoos.” […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Now, doesn't that sound familiar?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

The statues are essentially the same and Wyrd has already been described in terms that evoke the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (Forces That Be). And Nesta just happened to feel the need (fateful tug?) to place Elain’s rose—a symbol of life and joy and beauty—right next to Urd, and drew our attention to it again in the final scene of her story. What do you want to bet that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, gave her favorite gardener the gifts and vision she needs to make her dream of building more gardens, of breathing life and beauty into the land, a reality?

Sarah has confirmed that the main female characters in her books are helped by others, usually a love interest and friends. So who might be foreshadowed to help Elain?

I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. (acowar) - “I’ll help you,” Nesta offered. But Elain shook her head. “Nuala and Cerridwen will help me.” Then she was gone–shoulders a little squarer. - It was three by the time the others went to bed. [...] Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas)

It’s no coincidence that the characters closest to Elain possess unique powers that complement her own and relate specifically to the elements of Stone Mother. Azriel learned to speak the language of shadow and wind and stone, while the half-wraith twins are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone as @psychee92 discusses here. Their magic likely thrives in thin parts of the world. It also isn't a coincidence that Nesta noticed and wondered this:

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)

Their beautiful, wraith-like team has the gifts necessary to traverse the slumbering heart of the earth as easily as foreign courts, which is a hard combination to find and is uniquely suited for Elain’s mission to release the Cauldron and land from the magical chains of the Asteri. Especially since we learn that Bryce uses both blades of the Starborn to free Avallen from its magical chains:

On an exhale, she plunged the weapons into the slits in the eight-pointed star. The small one for the knife. The larger one for the sword.

And like a key turning in a lock, they released what lay beneath. (hofas)

They even help Bryce rid the land of the Asteri and their core of power, creating a larger void to devour the one the Asteri set in place. Back in acowar, as many have noticed, Sarah already planted this moment between Azriel and Elain:

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife. (acowar)

She and Azriel seem to represent the balance of light and dark in the Starsword and Truth-Teller, as @merymoonbeam theorized. The Starborn blade—the one belonging to Enalius—is a bridge of connection between them. Bryce leaves the Starsword (Gwydion) and Truth-Teller with Nesta, encouraging her to learn about her connection to the Starborn (eight-pointed star). That might mean the Archeron Starborn connection may happen after all. I could see Elain wielding those blades when needed, activating their magic as she seemed to do with Truth-Teller, to release the land from its magical chains. It would also be interesting if Elain and Azriel functioned like the Made blades themselves, releasing the Asteri’s chains with their own blend of raw magic, and watching joyously as life blooms in earnest again.

Once they remove the magical chains of the Asteri—on the land and their sacred Cauldron—perhaps we’ll also discover what exists between Elain and Azriel at last:

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports–likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City–the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…” (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, @elriell and others have written extensively about mating bonds, so I won’t discuss that in depth here. Essentially, Feysand and Nessian appear to have bonds that are true in spirit, and they are described as living threads of pure golden light between their souls.

Thread after thread of pure golden light flowed into him, and he met it with his own. Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful. (acosf)

This living light reminds me of the dawn, which is associated with healing and new beginnings. When Feysand and Nessian bind their souls together in these scenes, the dawn is invoked each time:

Feysand

…I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world. (acomaf)

Nessian

Cassian roared as he came, and the sound was the summons of a hunt, a symphony, a single clear horn playing as dawn broke over the world. (acosf)

And when Azriel first sees Elain in his bonus chapter, her hair is unbound and she appears like the dawn, gilded in living light on the longest night of the year.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

Is it possible that, with Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land, her own threads of life are similarly chained, or warped? Perhaps when Elain clears away the Asteri’s power, we will finally see the truth blooming between them: threads of golden light twining together in an endless, earthy melody.

#hofas spoilers #hofas #acotar #crossover theories #elain archeron #azriel #nuala and cerridwen #urd goddess #stone mother #mother cauldron fate #forbidden secrets follow up #healing the land #she has the gifts and vision #elriel #elain x azriel #this was written like a fever dream #i may need to reblog more later

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unabashednightmarepizza · 2 years

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𝐻𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 | Morpheus( Dream) x Goddess!Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! Here is me and my newest fic! It resembles a lot to the Khonshu one I had written but this has another time line and is different than the other! Ever since I watched the first episode, I couldn't help but want to write for him even though I have requests but don't worry! I will write everything you all requested!

Series Masterlist

"You should stop with that edgy look, my love. Though it gives you that mysterious vibe that I love, you should have a change."

Hearing his Queen's teasing voice, Morpheus couldn't help the chuckle that left him and turned to her with a teasing smirk pulling on his lips. Her golden clothes, quite contrasting his own, hugged her body right and gave her the godly power she held. She was contrasting him in many ways. Her warm smile, kind eyes that eased souls, her benevolent heart that helped those in need for many centuries and how she always found a way to entertain him...

It all made him fall in love with her more.

" You say that, but it was the other way around the last time we were together, my Queen."

"I never said I didn't like it, it definetly does things to me~"

Slithering your arms around his neck and playing with his black hair softly, you kissed his cheek while his hands were busy rubbing the soft fat around your hips. Chuckling at your playful smile, he admired the golden color that complimented your figure. "Needy, aren't we?"

"Is it wrong of me to show my love to my husband?"

"Not at all, love... Though I wonder if you'll stay here or go back to your Kingdom?"

Nodding your head absentmindedly at him, you looked at the ruby hanging off his neck and touched the small juncture between his neck and shoulders which elicited a gasp from him. " I don't know... Maybe I'll stay here a bit with Lucienne or maybe I'll wait for my knight in black coat~"

Shaking his head at you, you smiled when he uttered a whispered I can't believe you and continued to lay little pecks with a frown at remembering your Kingdom and how you resurrected them back. It was hard work, exceeding your powers and creating a new realm out of dust took a toll on your body, knocking you out cold eventually.

But with the help of your brothers and your husband, you were better and on the throne of your people.

"Jokes aside, I need to return back to Asgard. There are a lot of paperwork to do."

Kissing your forehead softly, he smiled on your skin which made you smile as well while holding his bigger hands in yours. "Don't tire yourself out, my love. I need to go now, I'll see you at the dinner..."

And here it was, the reason you came to his realm in hurry. Ever since the start of the day, your heart and soul was in distress. There was this feeling of a spider crawling inside you, a dread that filled your very being. Heimdall tried to soothe you with gentle words, saying that he didn't see anything happening to either you or Dream but another news that you learnt earlier that day was the main reason of your twitching and anxiety.

You were with child.

The topic of kids wasn't a foreign one, you two talked about it once or twice. He wasn't against it but not fond of it either. He was fine without a baby and he wanted to cherish you as much as he could... Even though it has been centuries ever since you two married.

And that was how you ran to Death and Lucienne for advice. Death wasn't of help, she was so happy for you and Dream that she just hugged you close, happy that their family was expanding. You awkwardly hugged her back and ran at the first chance to Lucienne who tried to console you and tell you that Dream would be ecstatic at the news, and the fact that the baby was a part of you and him would be the icing on the cake.

Now that you were thinking about it, the sight of a chubby baby with his jet black and fluffy hair, maybe your eyes and nose, running in his Kingdom and playing with their uncle in your Kingdom... I guess having a baby wouldn't be that bad...

Watching Dream's back and how it flexed under his coat while he was holding his famous helm, you rubbed your slightly bloated belly and smiled down softly. Your baby bump wasn't that obvious but you were curious how Dream wasn't able to sense the life growing inside you.

"When are you going to be back, my love?"

Walking down the stairs that led to twin thrones that was the opposite of each other, Jessamy also perched on Dream's shoulders. You could swear that the raven was smirking at you as if she knew what was going on.

"Hopefully, I'll not be gone for long. It's just, Corinthian is causing trouble in the Waking World. Surely, he won't be much of a hassle... Are you okay? Do you need my help?"

Hearing his rich and raspy voice, and trying to stop yourself from blushing even after years of marriage, you shook your head at his worry and took his hands between yours, rubbing the black and silver marriage ring. "No, I just... I have a bad feeling about this. Be careful, okay?"

Normally, Dream would have teased you but seeing your eyes shake with worry, he took fast steps and took your face between his much bigger yet softer ones. He rubbed the underside of your eyes softly and smiled down reassuringly, somehow feeling something was going on after you also voiced the same worry Lucienne did.

"Nothing will make me stop from coming back to you, my queen. I swear it... I'll always find my way to you, through the love we have and the craving of our existense..."

Smiling through hooded eyes, you nodded at his words, feeling giddy. "You better, mister... And, I have surprise for you. Though I don't know if you'd like it."

"Why keep me waiting when you can tell me now?" He cocked a playful brow at you, and you shook your head with a pout. "I said, it's a surprise. Why would I call it as one if I wanted to say it right now?"

"Fine, fine... I shall use it as a motivation then, perhaps alongside with this."

And while he kissed you deeply, you couldn't have known that it would be the last one you two shared in 100 years.

If only you weren't already getting weaker, you would have went to him before you stopped feeling him in the realms and saved him.

But neither of them happened.

It has been months now that Dream was gone, as if his existence was erased completely. The days that spent without his loving embrace, especially while being heavily pregnant, were getting harder and harder but at least, there was still someone with you.

Lucienne had been the biggest help you had, alongside with Death, but the lovely woman refused to leave you all alone. She knew your brothers and some of your people didn't like your marriage with the King of Dreams and Nightmares, and you would potentially face discrimination for carrying his babies, even though they were just little and innocent beans, so she always stood right next to you.

If something ever happens to me, please protect my wife... Lucienne, I wouldn't allow myself to live if something happened to her.

"My Queen, would you like to have some meal? Or perhaps, I could escort you to your bedroom?"

Turning your head away from the view of your home decaying and crumbling down, you gave a soft yet shaky smile to the woman that became a sister to you and waved your hand to decline her offer. Even though you were grateful for her help and companionship, especially when the kingdom you adored was being destroyed,you didn't want to be babied all the time. Sure, being pregnant was hard but feeling weak was even worse.

"I'm just pregnant, Lucienne. Though it makes me weaker every time, I need to sit here and make sure that at least the palace stays intact..."

"My Lady, You are the creation and life... Your mere existence is the source of everything in this Universe but... the burden of this Kingdom is heavy on your shoulders, one that isn't yours."

Her words hang heavy on the stiff air of the library that became a sanctuary to you, heart beating erratically. You understood the meaning behind her words, ever since Dream disappeared, the Dreaming had... started to crumble. The staff and the residents had slowly went away, some for the search of their Lord, some thinking he had abandoned them to fend for themselves.

The only thing that kept the Dreaming going was your presence, and for fear thet the only reminder of your love would perish, you stayed. Even if the realm was eating your powers away.

" I'm the Queen of this realm, as much as I'm the Queen of Asgard... I don't want my home to perish, for him to see it on the ground when he comes back..."

"My Lady, our home is you and our lord but... He would be even more devastated if he saw the state you were in... Besides, the little ones need you well and alive, my Queen."

As if to make her point clear, there was two little kicks inside your tummy which made a small yet tired smile blossom on your face. Lucienne watched you rub the tender skin of your belly with a sad look, feeling helpless at not being able to help you. It has been almost 10 human years ever since Dream was captured and as soon as you felt his aura disappear, you started to investigate with Lucienne and Jessamy. None of you knew what exactly happened and how a mere mortal was able to capture Dream but seeing him like that, resembling a wild animal captured... waiting for a chance to attack... being robbed of his tools...

And when he finally saw the illusion of you standing far away from the glass he was being held, he saw how bad all of this were weighing on you.

The illusion of you wasn't pregnant, but Dream was able to see the changes on you. Sulken eyes, dark eyebags, the weight loss...

And the worst was when Jessamy was killed, and if Dream took it bad... You took it even worse.

After all, it was you who wanted her to investigate more, going as far as making her enter the basement and eventually lead her to her demise, even if it was done unknowingly.

"Do you think... He knows that I haven't left him? That she would forgive me?"

"My Lady, I'm sure that my Lord knows how much you care about him and his well-being... As for Jessamy, she loved you and cared for you more than anything. Even my Lord... I'm sure that she doesn't hate you."

Lucienne only shook her head at the far away look on your face but knew that no words would be able to console you, and the fact that she had to watch you, her Lady consume herself with shame and guilt was eating away at her too. She was aware that no words would be able to soothe the pain you were feeling, no support would make it better...

Except Dream, that is.

Not wanting to worry her even more, already feeling bad for making her almost loose her sanity, you stood up slowly and turned to look at the scenery of the grey world in front of you. "Let's go and keep searching, Lucienne... My birth is coming closer and I don't want to slack off... Besides, I can't really see what's in front of me so you'll have to help this lady."

And with an amused chuckle from Lucienne, the librarian and the Queen of two realms walked hand in hand, with support and love for each other. Looking at the woman walking next to her, Lucienne swore to protect the last remaining part of her home with everything in her, even though you were stronger than her.

For the promise she had made to you and her lord.

Rubbing the skin of your belly, neither she nor you would have known that the Lady of the Dreaming, Queen of Asgard and the only reason the Dreaming was still standing would disappear soon after her husband.

Leaving no trace after her.

When Alex's wheel wiped away the spell keeping him locked up, at first, Morpheus didn't know what to do. It has been over a century ever since he was captured, and felt like it has been even longer that he had seen his wife. For 105 years, she was the reason he held on to his sanity, he had watched people come and go, while he remained the same. Paul and Alex came for one last chance to speak to him, but unknowingly, they had sat a very angry Endless free...

Someone who watched his bestfriend, companion die... Someone who was chained away from his love... Someone whose freedom was taken away.

But now? It all had come to end.

Standing up slowly and manipulating the dream of a guard, he destroyed the glass around him with the little remaining power and even if his heart was begging to return back to his love...

He had to punish those who wronged him.

Morpheus thought that punishing- or in his words, blessing- Alex would bring satisfication to him, making him pay for what his father did... Trully a waste, he said to Alex. To pay for a father's crimes...

But the realization that he was free, free to go and see his one and true love... Set a new kind of fire inside him, one that made him force himself to open a portal to his realm.

Only thing he didn't consider was falling down on his face and eating some sands.

"Sir? Sir!"

A feminine voice, which sounded way more worried than it was supposed to, reached Dream's ears and for a second, he thought that all of these were some nightmare he was having, imagining the voice calling out to him of his precious wife's...

Even though he wasn't completely able to dream like others did.

With a soft gasp, he opened his eyes and jolted awake which alerted the librarian who had been worried for a century and Lucienne grabbed a hold of his hands to let him know that he was finally at home.

"Lucienne..." said Morpheus weakly, still breathing heavily after using all of his powers to his limit and with a happiness that was a miracle to see on his usually cold face.

"Yes, my lord... You're finally home." said Lucienne breathlessly, finally happy that at least someone was back.

Pulling him up to his feet, Lucienne watched her lord walk up to the huge gates of the Dreaming with an anxious look. She knew that he would immediately ask for answers as soon as he saw the state the realm was in, that he would immediately ask for you and your whereabouts, his loyal and loving wife.

But Morpheus was smart and he sensed that something was very wrong. The aura, air of his once alive kingdom seemed like it was dulled and almost destroyed but the worst was...

He couldn't sense your life energy, your heart that only beat for him.

He didn't want to assume things, even though his heart was beating painfully and his eyes started to sting and get glossy at the possiblity that you were gone, he knew how you were. Loyal, loving, strong... No one in any realms were strong enough to take you down and for that, something must have happened...

And he was adamant on learning what it was and where you were.

Before he could've opened the gates and stormed in the palace you two had created happy memories, he stopped when Lucienne's anxious voice reached his ears. " Forgive me, sir but... the realm is not as you left them..."

But no words would have prepared him for the scene in front of him. His palace was in ruins, the once lively gardens and waters and streets were damaged heavily and the air was thick with...

Death.

With slightly wide and blue eyes and voice thick with emotion, he turned to look at his loyal librarian. " What happened here? Who did this?"

She shuffled on her feet and her eyes wandered to where her Queen would mostly sit at, contemplating how to explain everything. " My Lord, you are the Dreaming and Dreaming is you. With you gone for as long as you were, everything began to crumble and decay."

"What of the residents? The palace staff?"

"Gone, sir. Most are gone."

" Had they so little faith in me? That I wouldn't return?" said Dream, a vengeful fire inside his blue irises that screamed for payback.

Lucienne wanted to come clean to him, about how his absence affected the residents and the realm. How everything went down and... what happened all those years ago. But she didn't have to worry more, since Dream asked her the question she despised to answer.

"Where is my Queen, my wife? Did she also..." Morpheus couldn't help but sound fearful, he didn't see his wife over than a century when he promised her that he would be back as soon as possible and even joked with her to remove all of her worries away from inside the eyes he had fallen madly in love with. Did you cry after him? Mourn him? Or mayhe you hated him so much that you didn't want to see him at all? You were always the one to care about honesty the most, had he broke it? But surely, you knew what happened to him... right?

Lucienne, seeing her king with so many emotions and the turmoil they were creating in his already fragile mental state, couldn't dare to keep her silence anymore and with a heavy heart of not being able to keep her promise, looked at his eyes and what he saw there, utter sadness and helplessnes made him realize that his absence affected much more than he thought.

But her next words almost made the strong Endless' kness buckle and collapse on the sand beneath his feet.

"My Queen hasn't seen anywhere for 85 years, my lord. She said she had paperwok to do in Asgard but no word had been heard from her ever again..."

#sandman imagines #sandman x reader #the sandman #morpheus imagines #morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream x reader #death x reader #desire #destiny #asgard #queen reader #goddess reader

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thebatshitcrazyfangirl · 10 months

Text

Sleep Of The Corrupt- Morpheus x Goddess!Reader

Hello all! Sorry for not posting in a while, I had some health issues and struggled to get back into my writing schedule. But I am back now!

Summary: “Sleep Of The Just” AU. While searching for your daughter, Elaina, you’re summoned and imprisoned by Roderick Burgess. Mistaking you for Death, he demands the resurrection of his son and other unworthy gifts. Instead of fulfilling his demands, you make him realize his horrific mistake.

TW: None really. Cosmic horror (heavily inspired by H. P. Lovecraft). Some fluff, some angst.

WC: 8.4k (Oof…)

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

“Ellie!” You shouted down the palace corridors and in every room, frantically scouring from top to bottom for your little girl- only to come up empty.

This wasn’t like her. Your daughter never ventured beyond Fiddler’s Green and the House of Secrets. No matter where she wandered, Elaina was always under the trusted supervision of dreams, while you and Morpheus tended to your realms and responsibilities.

An irritated huff heaved from your lips as you strode down another corridor. This stressful game of hide and seek was beyond exhausting. Alas, you and Morpheus have no choice but to play.

The abrupt sound of a slamming door clapped through the air like thunder, ascending into the rapid approach of Morpheus’s footsteps.

“Any sign of her?”

He shook his head. “None. The dreams and nightmares have found no sign. Even Jessamy has had little luck.”

“We’ve been searching for hours. How have we not found her?” You huffed in distress, wringing your hands as your thoughts spun in overwhelming worry.

If she was nowhere to be found, then wouldn’t that mean- No. Elaina couldn’t leave The Dreaming on her own… Not unless-

Your heart sank, crumbling into lifeless dust at the horrific possibility. Stressful tears glazed your eyes, lighting your nerves ablaze in a dreadful panic.

“Love, we’ll find her.” Hands warmer than sunshine caressed your shoulders in soothing circles. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. Effective as always, your body slowly relaxed in his arms; against all maternal intuition blaring like an alarm, begging you to search for your daughter. “It’s likely she just wandered off farther than usual.”

“Beyond a dream’s reach?” You muttered dejectedly into his coat. “What if she’s not even here?”

“That shouldn’t be possible unless she had an escort. Besides, where would she go if she had the chance?”

Your eyes grew wide. There was a realm Elaina was highly affiliated with, one she loved to visit every chance she could.

Your birthplace. The Waking World.

“How did we forget?” You grumbled, suddenly pulling yourself from the embrace.

“Forget what?”

Unlike Morpheus and his siblings, your divinity was gifted to you nearly two decades ago, after the former Goddess of Chaos passed her crown and abilities down to you. The succession ultimately stripped you of most of your mortal life; all except your loving parents.

“If she could go anywhere, would it not be The Waking World? To my parents?” You asserted, turning down the corridor in bolting strides.

You both knew how much your parents adored Elaina. Since the day she was born, they were instantly wrapped around her little finger. They spoiled her rotten and treated her like a princess, showering her with new toys and pretty dresses every chance they could.

There was rarely a weekend or holiday where they didn’t invite you and your family over for dinner, or offer to keep Elaina for sleepovers and day trips. (Perhaps to give you and Morpheus some ‘alone time’; hopefully resulting in more grandchildren, you theorized.)

“It’s a valid theory, but an unlikely one,” Morpheus argued as he caught up to your hurried pace. “My dreams are always watching over her. They would’ve noticed her leaving with an escort.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s still a possibility, and far more favorable than others.” You paused your pace and spun to face him; already expecting the heavy skepticism gracing his features.

“One hour. Allow me one hour to search my old home, while you continue the search here. Please,” you negotiated and pleaded with a desperate look in your glistening eyes. “For the sake of my sanity. Before we consider the very worst.”

Morpheus sighed in thought, considering every outcome of your plan.

As much as he loves and adores you, you were still the embodiment of Chaos. He couldn’t deny the potential havoc your mere presence could wreak on The Waking World. Even with your totems, which stabilize and hinder Chaos’s effects, it was still risky. Especially during a world war.

However, if you remained true to your word and wore your crown and pendant, an hour in The Waking World would hardly cause any impact.

“One hour, and not a moment more.”

You smiled in victory, launching yourself to the tips of your toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I won’t be long.” You promised, before disappearing in a whirlwind of black fire.

You stood before your parents’ home, dark and eerily quiet; not a soul to be found.

Must be out at the tavern, or visiting a friend, you reckoned. An irritable groan rumbled in the back of your throat as you strode down the road with tears brimming in your eyes.

Every hope you had crumbled into dust. Your worst fear has come to fruition. Your little girl was missing; only protected by the Fates’ mercy, wandering whatever realm in careless adventure.

What if she’s hurt? What if I’m too late? What if-

Breathe.

You halted your feverish pace; standing in the gentle trajectory of a cool breeze. It whipped through the sleek satin of your crimson gown in flowing waves, effectively cooling you down.

It was oddly refreshing; recollective in a way. Your thoughts slowly simmered down into a hushed calm, refined to focus on your next move.

“Ellie!” A child’s voice echoed in the distance.

Your vitals halted, skipping several beats as your eyes bulged out of your skull. It couldn’t be, could it-

Your feet moved on their own, taking off into a violent sprint through poorly lit alleyways and side streets.

With every step, the distant, delighted giggles grew louder and clearer, filling the crisp air and echoing into the inky night. You rounded every corner frantically, chasing after the laughter like your life depended on it. Please be her, you prayed. Please be her…

The series of small streets led you straight to the laughing culprits- two young girls swinging on a swing set in a park. Of tangled midnight and sunshine tresses you could instantly pick out of a lineup.

You could finally breathe, praising all the stars in the sky that your daughter was safe. You should’ve known Shivering Jemmy was watching over her, upholding her role as Elaina’s self-sworn protector. The little Lord of Chaos has never left her side since she was born, destined to be her partner in crime from the very beginning.

“Where did you find this place? It’s amazing!” Jemmy exclaimed, thrusting her legs forward to swing higher.

“My grandma brought me here when I stayed over last week,” Elaina said, kicking a rock with her filthy slipper from under her lavender nightgown, thickly caked in mud and grass.

The little vein on your forehead was about to pop. You and that nightgown are getting scrubbed with a brush when we return home…

As quietly as you could, you approached the girls and leaned against the swing set’s A-frame with your arms crossed.

“A bit far from home, are we now?” You said suddenly.

The girls nearly jumped out of their seats. Jemmy dragged her bare feet against the gravel, sputtering to a halt. As white as phantoms, they slowly turned to face your impending wrath.

“H-hi, Mommy…” Elaina greeted in uncertainty with large (E/C) glossed over in a silent plea as her lower lip jutted out in a quivering pout.

“H-hello, Your Grace…” Jemmy muttered quietly with a bowed head.

“Are the play gyms at home no longer to your liking?” You asked with a stern edge to your tone.

“N-no, no, it’s not that!” Your daughter exclaimed, flinching at her loud, impolite tone. A solemn frown fell over her face. “It’s just… I had so much fun when Grandma brought me here, I wanted to show Jemmy. I won’t do it again, I promise! Please don’t be mad, I’m really sorry…”

A small, sad smile twitched on the edges of your lips. You should be angry, you know. You should scold her for disappearing from The Dreaming. You should forbid her from leaving the palace for at least 10 years; solely for the stress and upset her little adventure sparked.

No, you were far too relieved to be angry with her. Jemmy, on the other hand, was a different story…

“I’m not mad.” You shook your head as you settled in the empty swing beside your daughter, swaying back and forth in a gentle rock.

“However, you cannot wander off like this again, Ellie. Not even with Jemmy. Realms like The Waking World are not like The Dreaming, it’s very dangerous to be alone here. That’s why it’s important that someone like me, Daddy, Grandma, or Grandpa are always with you when you’re here. Do you understand?”

Elaina’s dark brows furrowed at your warning. “Why is it dangerous here? Are there monsters?”

Your gaze shifted, falling on the amusement gleaming in Jemmy’s eyes. Oh, if only Elaina knew the irony in her interest…

As products of Chaos, you held the ability to bend Reality itself to create unspeakable horrors and magnificence alike. Powerful in every sense, it struck fear in those who knew the vast scale of your prowess.

Because of this, you’ve been called a monster more times than you could count. Shivering Jemmy even more so. Often by those who were more monstrous than you could ever be, ironically.

“In a way… Most beings are friendly and kind, but some are cruel and monstrous. Some that wish to hurt others…” You said with caution, not wishing to scare her. “That’s why you always need to be careful here. Alright?”

“Okay.” She nodded through a yawn. “Can we go home now?”

“Of course.” You smiled as you stood, holding a hand out to her. “It’s far past your bedtime, sweetheart-”

Here in the darkness…

A chant echoed in the recesses of your mind, growing increasingly louder with every step you took. You froze, suddenly paralyzed by excruciating pain unlike any other. It felt like you were being ripped apart-

Here in the darkness…

You fell to your knees, eyes glistening in fresh tears, choking and gasping for air. What’s happening?

“Mommy! What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Elaina cried, crouching beside you, watching in complete terror as grainy smoke slowly engulfed you.

Here in the darkness…

It took all you could not to scream. The smoke was like a torrential current, pulling you under with unbridled force. You don’t know how much longer you can hold on…

With the last of your strength, your eyes locked with your most trusted Lord of Chaos. “G-get Mor-phe-us!”

You let go- suffocated in unfeeling darkness.

Here in the darkness…

“I give you a coin made from a stone.”

‘What is this place…?’ You stirred in the void.

Here in the darkness…

“I give you a knife from under the hills, and I give you the blood from out of my vein…”

‘Ugh…’ The void lightens in a crimson hue.

Here in the darkness!

“I give you a song I stole from the dirt, and I give you a feather pulled from an angel’s wing for you to lift up into the heavens…”

Slowly, you ascended from the depths, towards a growing light.

Here in the darkness!

“I summon you with poison!”

You choke; your floating body contorting in unbearable pain.

HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!

“I summon you with pain!”

‘Yes. Very much in pain…’ You screamed silently into the void, thrashing against its soul-crushing depths.

HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!

“I open the way, I open the gates…”

‘Let me out!’ The light grows brighter, blinding and burning…

HERE IN THE DARKNESS!

“I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar, Allatu, Morax… Maborym calls you. Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!”

Cold and hard as Reality’s forge, you fall from your otherworldly prison onto stone tiles with a sickening thud. Your ruby crown slipped from its place atop your head, and your matching ornate pendant smacked harshly against your jaw and clattered into your tresses from the brutal impact.

A pained hiss huffed against the stone faster than you could stop it- a sharp ache erupted on the side of your skull in strong, harrowing waves. Faintly, you could feel blood seep in thick rivers from the fracture’s wound, tangling your disheveled strands and staining the tiles below.

You winced at every sharp shift of jagged bone mending back in place; slowly subsiding into a dull throb beating in sync with your pounding heart.

Had you retained your mortality, you would be lucky to be alive, or hindered with severe mental impairments. It was a wonder you were still conscious, even with your godliness rushing to your aid.

The room erupted in hushed whispers and startled gasps. You peeked under the strands of hair slipping over your face. Archaic summoning, based on the binding circle and sigils used. Black robes and hoods? Occult perhaps? Cold stone floor and no windows that you could see. A cellar?

“Alex?” The caster’s voice called out. You slammed your eyes shut as a shadow loomed over you. “Alex!”

You cracked an eye open, as small, timid footsteps slowly approached beside the caster. His face was hard to see, but from their stature, they were young. Perhaps five years older than Elaina, if you were to guess.

“Get that crown for me,” the man barked. “But be careful. Don’t break the binding circle.”

Heedful hands reached forward and gently untangled the woven strands around the crown’s ornate frame.

“Hurry, boy!” The boy gasped in panic, ripping the last few strands free with a sudden tug, and handed it to the man.

“Hmm. Gold and rubies.” The caster inspected it before handing it off to one of his disciples.

You repressed the urge to smirk. They must not know who you are, or the true purpose your jewels served…

“Now the jewel. There.” The man pointed to the dazzling gem around your neck. The child reached forward and snatched the ruby. “Good.”

Fools, you nearly broke your façade.

“Well, let’s see what other treasures you have for us.” The caster said with beaming eyes, as he reached forward and grabbed the neckline notch of your fiery bell sleeve.

“What barbarity…” Your amusement loomed through the air with the cold, harsh sting of venom. The grip on your sleeve was abruptly released with shaken gasps and scuffling footsteps. You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling over with a triumphant grin aimed at your captor. “Disrobing a vulnerable woman? What a disgrace you must be to your lover and mother.”

The man smirked, an unspoken equal to your taunting quips. “Awake, are we?”

You nodded, shifting to your knees under your crimson skirt. “I’ve been. Your spell work is impressive, however, flawed.”

His smirk fell with disdain, rousing your own. “Though, I suppose it performed as intended… Somewhat.” You rose to your feet, radiating the very essence of power- of a true goddess. “So, what do you want?”

“I captured you under the laws of magic. Therefore, I command you, Death, to return my son Randall, who died in the Gallipoli Campaign. If you give him back to me, alive and well, I’ll release you from this binding circle. A fair deal, wouldn’t you agree?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, suppressing every mocking quip running through your mind.

Oh, this is rich!

“Barbaric and benighted… I’m afraid your demands are impossible to fulfill.” You smiled, enjoying the fallen look plastered on his face. “Death cannot revive the dead. Especially souls long passed on and corpses reduced to dust and bone. Your efforts are fruitless, Summoner.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, nor the entire truth. There were other ways one could revive the dead- albeit at an extravagant cost, often a life for a life, or paired with severe consequences. Something he may have considered, given his talent in magic. Perhaps he refused to get his hands dirty or aimed at cheating the age-old rules of magic.

“Resurrect him,” Your summoner pressed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “If you wish to regain your freedom, you’ll answer my command.”

Your jaw clenched in your simmering irritation. “Do we speak in different tongues? Death leads souls to the afterlife, not back. Therefore, your request demands what cannot be done. No matter how untimely, Death makes no mistake. Your son was destined to die that day, and you cannot change that!”

Your summoner reeled back in disbelief, abhorred by your words.

Calm down…You sighed deeply, recollecting yourself from your burst of anger. “Please forgive my harsh words, it was incredibly insensitive of me. You have my condolences, I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child. But death is never the end. When your time comes, you shall be reunited with your child on the other side. That’s the only solace I can provide.”

“So, what can you give me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Since you refuse to fulfill my request, I ask this in compromise: If I were to let you go, if I promise to give back your jewels… Power? Wealth? Immortality? Is there anything you can offer me?” The caster asked with a supercilious smirk.

Your lip curled in disgust. He’s demanding ransom for your tools now? Divine rewards for your freedom, for your totems’ theft, for ripping you away from your daughter?

“All I will offer is my word not to curse you and your followers.” You snarled in rising fury. “Release me and return my belongings and I shall forget this encounter ever happened. You’ll live out the rest of your days in peace, so long as you never cross paths with me or the Endless again.”

His eyes hardened at your harsh tone, visibly dissatisfied with your offer.

“Take the deal.” You hissed through gritted teeth. Your totems’ absence was taking its toll. Chaos’s full effect ran rampant in your veins like pure adrenaline, fanning the flames of latent corruption and masked madness, engulfing all semblance of morality and sanity in mayhem’s blaze. “It’s my most generous offer, given the circumstances. Consider yourself fortunate. Had you summoned any other member of my family, they would not be as kind.”

“Well, then. Make yourself at home in your binding circle. Until you are ready to comply, I’ll enjoy the gifts you’ve already given me.”

A cold, dark cackle echoed throughout the room, sending devastating chills down the followers’ spines. Many glanced at the exit, ready to sprint from your sinister presence at the drop of a hat. “You truly believe a chalk drawing will contain me?”

Scarlet lighting pricked along your fingertips and sparked the surrounding air ablaze in midnight cosmic fire. With each flicker, your power spun hazy tapestries of bleeding crimson stars and humming supernovas, emanating a horrific sense of fear your summoner had never experienced.

What fools they were, they realized too late.

This wasn’t Death. The caster realized in horror, unable to look away at the eldritch magic spinning from your fingertips in glowing waves. “W-what a-are you?!”

“Reality’s nightmare, so to speak.” You smiled darkly, watching the flames of Chaos roll from your fingertips in curling wisps. “You should’ve taken the deal, Magician. All this could’ve been prevented…”

With a twist of your wrist, the golden binding circle floated from its stone canvas and twirled around you at waist level. The gold cracked in a ruby-red glow, streaking slowly around the ring in lightning-like divots.

Your summoner stumbled back with eyes wide in disbelief, watching in horror as weeks of preparation fell effortlessly on the verge of destruction.

A devious, taunting smile curved across your lips, savoring the fear in his eyes.

With a flick of your wrist, the binding circle shattered.

“Why is it that when something goes awry in this prison, I’m somehow to blame?” The Corinthian huffed in disinterest, twirling his bloody blade while rocking lazily in his chair. His mud-covered heels propped up on the library table, dragging sludge in crusty streaks across the grain.

Lucienne wrinkled her nose at the mess, glaring daggers into the nightmare’s skull.

“Given your rogue nature and hatred of me, it’s hardly unreasonable to question your potential involvement.” Morpheus nearly growled from across the table.

The search in The Dreaming resulted as you predicted: Elaina was nowhere to be found.

Evidently, the Corinthian’s whereabouts were a bit of a mystery. Morpheus was aware of his murderous escapades in The Waking World; kidnapping, amongst other horrific crimes, was hardly beneath him.

Morpheus gritted his teeth and dug angry crescents into his palms. If possibility became reality, if the Corinthian hurt Elaina in any way, he wouldn’t hesitate to condemn him to fate worthy of his monstrosity. Morpheus already had more than enough reason to destroy his creation, why not make him beg for his demise?

“You really think so ill of me?” He chuckled, tapping the tip of his knife against his smiling lips. “See, if I truly hated you, I would’ve found some way to be rid of you once and for all, and kill that spoiled little brat. As for that powerful beauty you call a wife, I might keep her around for my entertainment… I’m certain she’s a screamer in more ways than one.”

“Do you wish to be unmade? Watch your tongue if you value your existence.” Morpheus hissed through his teeth as his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

A mocking laugh fell from the nightmare’s lips. “Is that your favorite threat? You’ve over worn its impact long ago. It’s just another one of your empty threats-”

“Enough!” His voice boomed in a burst of sinister rage, reverberating in powerful, poignant waves. The library shook with an earthquake’s wrath, toppling magnificent chandeliers and infinite bookshelves to the floor into crashing heaps.

“I’m in no mood to play games, Corinthian.” He warned in a dangerous tone. “Did you harm my daughter? Yes or no?”

All amusement fell from the nightmare’s face, slouching in his chair with a huff. “No.”

“Did you abduct Elaina?”

“No, I didn’t take your kid.” He asserted with an aggravated sigh as he lifted his feet off the table. “As much as I hate to rat myself out, I wasn’t in The Dreaming much today. If you don’t believe me, there are eyes all over your domain, right? Ask any of them if they saw me today; especially before your kid disappeared.”

“Where do you claim to be when Lady Elaina disappeared?” Lucienne inquired.

He smacked his lips together in thought. “Out.”

“So, The Waking World then? Indulging your bloodlust, no doubt-”

“My point is, I had nothing to do with Elaina disappearing. It may come as a shock, but the brat is terrified of me. Every time our paths crossed, she’d dart in the other direction. She’d never let me anywhere near her without screaming her head off.”

He chuckled to himself. “How ‘bout that… The King of Nightmares’ kid is easily frightened. Heh. What a treat...”

Silver eyes scanned the nightmare’s demeanor in harsh scrutiny. All taunting remarks had vanished (mostly) and his inflection felt genuine (for once!). Though he was a brilliant liar and skilled manipulator, Morpheus felt inclined to believe him.

And it drained him of all hope.

Perhaps he was too confident in the Corinthian’s involvement; too focused on ending this heartbreaking search.

He just wanted his little girl home; safe and sound.

“Daddy!” A child’s voice screamed at the top of their lungs, as the pitter-patter of tiny feet rumbled through the library.

Morpheus’s sunken heart leaped in his chest- whipping his head around with enough force to snap his neck.

Please be her…

Instant relief washed over him in icy waves; darting across the piles of strewn books and broken glass, with tangled midnight tresses, and speckled from head to toe in a thin layer of grime, was his missing daughter.

“Ellie…”

He fell to his knees with his arms extended wide in welcome, careless of the glass shards cutting through his pants. Tears streamed down the young girl’s face in trembling rivers. She sprinted as fast as she could into his outstretched arms, waiting to engulf her shaking frame in a bone-crushing embrace.

He could finally breathe, as mountains of stress and worry dissipated into thin air.

His hope was restored.

Elaina was home.

“I told ya it wasn’t me…” The Corinthian remarked snidely, shifting back in his seat with blatant disinterest and boredom written on his face.

“‘I’m sorry! I’m s-s-so sorry!” She sobbed in breathless heaves against his shoulder.

“Darling, you’re safe. That’s all that-”

“No!” Elaina cried, ripping herself out of his arms. “There-therewasthisstrangesmoke-and-and-Ididn’tknowwhattodo! Thisisallmyfault! WehavetogosaveMommybeforeithurtsher!”

“Take a deep breath and calm down.” He said in a soothing voice, wiping her streaming tears away with his thumb. “Now, tell me what happened-”

“Ellie!” Another child’s voice called from outside the library. “Where are you?”

Jemmy?

Ragged blonde hair scurried through the entrance. Her wide, mischievous eyes now shimmered in odd distress as they fell on the scene. Without a thought, she sprinted over the scattered mess at a frantic pace and latched a relentless grip on Morpheus’s coat sleeve.

“Come on! Let’s go! Let’s go! We gotta help her!” Jemmy exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve and dragging him towards the door.

Confusion distorted his handsome features. Never had he witnessed these girls behave so distraught and hysterical.

“Girls, tell me what has happened!” He demanded, tugging his arm out of Jemmy’s grasp.

Elaina sniffled. “S-Something took Mommy…”

And just like that, all sense of relief lit furiously ablaze once again.

He froze; stunned and dumbfounded, with wide eyes shining in panic. A deity’s capture was unheard of. Cosmic divinities, such as the Endless and unique gods like you, made virtually impossible prey; even by magical means.

Your captors were either formidable foes or fools graced by dumb luck.

A forced smile curved across his lips; despite his worry and rage crashing over his being in devastating waves. Despite every compelling desire to hunt your captors down like animals and inflict a hell worthy of their actions. (If you hadn’t already). Despite everything, the need to protect you and Elaina took precedence above all else.

“Elaina,” he called out softly. Her tearful (e/c) eyes gleaming with guilt and panic met his own, sending a twinge of pain straight to his heart.

“Don’t believe for a second that you caused this. In no way is this your fault. Dry your tears, darling. I’ll bring her home.” His hand wiped the lazy streams rolling over her cheeks and tucked her dark locks behind her ear.

“Alright.” The Corinthian huffed as he emerged from his seat. “You got what you wanted. The brat’s safe. Can I leave now?”

“You may,” Morpheus grumbled, glaring lethal daggers at the nightmare. “Leave The Dreaming again, and I will uphold my every threat. Remember, my dreams are always watching...”

The Corinthian rolled his eyes beneath his glasses; falling on Elaina with a sinister smirk.

The young girl squeaked in distress and cowered into her father’s chest. Morpheus wrapped a protective arm around her in a makeshift shield, glaring a look of a thousand threats at the nightmare.

An animalistic growl rumbled from The Lord of Chaos like ominous thunder; quick to root herself between her best friend and The Corinthian’s vile gaze like a defensive wall.

“Heh. See you around, kid.” He laughed as he sauntered out of the library.

In slow shifts, Morpheus relaxed; only daring to drop his arms from around the frightened girl when every trace of the nightmare’s presence had vanished.

The theatrics of his departure consumed more time than he’d liked. There was no telling what sort of torture you were enduring; or inflicting. He needed to leave soon. Your safety and Reality’s stability depended on it.

“Darling,” Elaina lifted her head with a frown at his gentle tone. “I want you to stay with Lucienne until I return with your mother. Alright?”

With a sniffle, she nodded; throwing her arms around him in one last hug. “Be careful, Daddy.”

He smiled, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Always.”

Pain. Infinite agony.

Swallowed whole by the corrupted dark and vast emptiness, Burgess crumbled to his knees under the pressure of dreadful despair and maniacal lunacy. The vast abyss resonated in a tormented cacophony of his followers’ frightful screams and deranged cackles. Some begged for death, while others wreaked in its promise. What horrors could warp their minds to such a degree?

“How does it feel, Summoner?” your voice echoed beyond the distorted cosmos.

Burgess stared into the abyss with panic; all rational sense failing to comprehend this cruel reality.

“Confined in an endless cage of my creation…”

This shouldn’t be possible… This cannot be possible! How did it come to this? He followed the grimoire’s instructions down to the punctuation! How could the ritual mistake the Angel of Death for a Chaos Goddess?

With what little strength remained, he lifted himself to his feet. In his hurried desperation, he stumbled- trampling over his writhing followers, either falling into Death’s welcoming embrace or shoving them to their untimely end.

An extended hand shot out instinctively to catch his fall, colliding with the barrier’s edge. Burgess smiled, reveling in the faint glimmer of hope coldly brushing against his fingertips.

So even reality-manipulating deities have their limits, the man mused. How pitiful.

With the wall as his guide, he lurched into a sprint.

“Is this not the fate you designed for Death?”

Boom…

Colossal footsteps rumbled like a devastating earthquake. His teeth chattered and knees wobbled under its violent intensity, he clung to the invisible wall for dear life.

“Had you been competent enough to catch her?”

Burgess shuddered at the brutal chill in your taunts and ridicule. What had he done to be punished so harshly? He only sought after what any grieving parent dreamt of achieving by any means necessary. Any entity with a shred of decency or compassion would recognize this!

No, he supposed a chaos demoness like yourself could never understand. Your monstrosity was beyond mercy and reason.

“Ignorance is bliss, my foolish summoner…”

Boom…

Intense tremors reverberated in such ungodly strength, Burgess was surprised the vibrations didn’t shatter his bones. He needed to move; he knew. Your footfalls were drawing near, albeit at a sinister snail’s pace. Staying put was suicide, running away guaranteed grave injury in his old age.

As the rumbles died, Burgess bolted. He gritted through the strain ripping at his joints, desperate to get away. If he could somehow evade your wrath and wait out your patience, perhaps he had a chance of escaping with his life and sanity-

BOOM!

His balance rocked and wavered in a fatal stumble; stomach clenching in surprise, quickly throwing a hand out to catch his fall. But found nothing.

With a screech, Burgess fell.

The inky darkness faded into a spectacle of roaring colors and freezing devastation. He screamed, twisting and contorting in an oscillating tunnel of blue and purple clouds twinkling in stardust, plunging into the heart of the universe; the soul of reality.

“Wandering blindly into the dark unknown, far beyond this vast and magical reality…”

Fearful eyes widened as the screech of rushing comets and planet-sized meteors whistled past him in blazing intensity. Stars around him buzzed and blazed in a sweltering dance of dust and light, raising thick beads of sweat on his brows.

Burgess couldn’t move, barely able to shield himself from the bursting blaze of dying stars. Fiery cinders seared like blazing bullets through clothes and bones alike. His cries of excruciating pain and babbling pleads fell on deaf and uncaring ears.

Utterly helpless, an unfortunate victim of reality’s wrath, he plummeted further into the maddening dark.

“Stranded before otherworldly truths and horrors mankind was never meant to witness…”

Swirling galaxies and glittering supernovas warped into a scarlet hollow faintly cracking in thunder’s roar. It emanated a heinous stench- something akin to burning brimstone and rotting meat. It seemed to loom in thick, noxious billows, weaving through the bloody chasm with strange sentience.

A living creature this far down?

Through watering eyes and bile burning his throat, he observed the strange fog dancing in helical patterns through the void. They seemed to move with purpose; for what, he did not know. Besides spreading its horrendous funk.

An improper omen, Burgess realized quickly; a vague warning of what waited in the darkness below. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what real horrors lingered beyond the shadows of time and space.

His eyes widened in their behold, witnessing firsthand the unholy creatures of madness and nightmares.

Beyond misty trails and beats of thunder, the raucous, high-pitched cries of a thousand broken flutes blared in a toneless tune. It was deafening- maddening; ringing in his eardrums like amplified tinnitus.

To his right, short humanoid creatures with pale gaunt faces and fibrous bat wings swarmed a twister-covered islet. They flailed in a strange dance, almost mindlessly, to the blaring broken wail. The rampant vortices easily swept their fluttering bodies in their currents- even that failed to hinder their ridiculous dance.

To his left- may the gods have mercy- colossal tentacles coated in thick scales and blister-like pustules emerged from the dark in sluggish sways. Their scale was incomprehensible; one languid swipe could destroy planets! The godless beast could swallow entire star systems, he feared.

“Lest what semblance of sanity rots into chaos and madness.”

Burgess’s eyes fell forward, to his sanity’s dismay.

Before him was the center of it all. The creator of beasts. Primordial madness.

It was an eyeless cyclopean entity; a bloated and unsightly mass of bulbous knots covered in leathery tendrils and mucus-like sludge. Rows of razor-sharp teeth lined the infinite orifice masking its featureless face; ready to devour any careless creature that fell into its jaws.

Much like Burgess.

His lips peeled back in a hopeless grin under his powerful sobs, cachinnating in a crazed chorus under the flutes’ insipid tune.

So this is the truth behind madness? Behind reality itself? He wondered in chortling delight, falling straight into the jaws of fate.

Oh, he couldn’t wait to tell Randall of this wondrous truth! Of all the majestic, abominable marvels lying dormant at reality’s edge!

This truth… Reality’s glorious truth! It was far superior to power or wealth, beyond the hollow values of humanity and sanity’s restraints.

Here, he was a tiny insignificant speck about to be swallowed by a cosmic leviathan, and never felt more doomed and freed.

***

You hummed with a smile, hovering above the crafted reality with amusement in your fiery eyes. The nonsensical ramblings of madmen never ceased to amuse you. Especially those driven to the brink by your own hand.

A low chuckle spilled from your lips. Oh, how you missed this! Basking in chaotic corruption was such an invigorating thrill! You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so free; so unhinged.

Fiery darkness danced at your fingertips in weaving flicks, fabricating every twinkling star and horrid monstrosity alike. This reality is becoming one of your favorites, you think. It was inspired by the terrifying dreams Morpheus had created for an aspiring writer in America. You were captivated by the concept of unfathomable deities from the depths of the cosmos, able to influence sensitive minds through dreams and evoke chaos and madness with their presence alone.

You wonder what inspired the idea…

Screams of pain pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced into the void- oh, how wonderful! Your summoner impaled himself on a colossal tooth in the monster’s gullet.

You laughed in sadistic delight, watching him wriggle and writhe in his last heaving breath.

Well, that’s no fun…

With a jerk of your finger, Burgess slid off the tooth in a sickening squelch as the gaping cavity in his chest laced back together like a corset- just enough to keep him alive a little while longer.

Much better! Now then, what else could you inflict on your pompous captor-

“Love, that’s enough.”

You froze; paralyzed by a voice softer than silk. All baleful thoughts halted in their fiery rant, instantly snuffed out by calming tidal waves.

A gentle hand slipped past the cosmic flames’ flicker and curled over your own- silencing every violent and vengeful desire Chaos had spurred in an instant.

His joy clashed with your rage. His hope battled your despair. His light defeated your darkness.

Regretful tears rolled in rivers down your face and fell into the corrupted reality below. How could you have strayed so far? How could you abandon all the goodness that he taught you?

How could you let yourself become the monster so many believed you to be? Including yourself…

You gripped his hand as tight as you could, clinging to the warmth of his touch, terrified of letting go. Of losing control again.

Guilt washed over you with a hurricane’s wrath. Your actions reverberated like a torturous echo; the screams of terror, the pleas for death, the horrific pain your rage created…

What have I done?

In resisting flickers, the blazing black flames slowly suffocated into a dying hush, compelling Reality’s unravel.

***

“Argh-”

THUD!

“Ugh…” Burgess stirred in the bone-shattering pain coursing through his body. He groaned into something cold and hard like concrete- The belly of the beast? The bottom of reality?

He lifted his head with a sharp jerk, his forehead gleaming in a sheet of sweat and eyes wide with madness- darting in hyper dashes all over the room.

How odd… Wherever he was, it took the likeness of his cellar. No- that can’t be right! Perhaps his new surroundings were so unfathomable, his mind replaced its nonsense with memories.

His thoughts cackled as he rolled onto his back in a careless flop. How curious… The clarity of his memories was exquisite! Insignificant details seemed to burst off of the constructed reality his memories painted. Every speck of dust and cobweb beamed with undeniable certainty; even his (surely) deceased followers writhing and groaning in their stupor beside him seemed too real.

“Love, it’s alright,” Morpheus whispered softly over your muffled cries.

“I-it happened a-again… It’s a-all m-my f-fault…”

A furrow creased Burgess’s white brows; he didn’t recognize that voice. This was a memory! He was certain! Who was this man? How did he get into his head?

Burgess turned his head towards the voice with a twitch in his neck and sparkling paranoia in his eyes. The man was tall like a tree with a face paler than snow and dressed in a black darker than the night sky. He nearly towered over a woman dressed in red, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace and holding her close to his chest.

Another entity perhaps-

That woman! The ethereal goddess of Reality’s truth! Is she an alternate version of the other deity? Was this still a memory, or did she submerge him into another reality? One with secrets that demanded to be explored?

No! No! No! His mind still spiraled in the truth of his former plane of existence!

His sanity would surely combust if he faced another truth!

“…let’s go home,” Morpheus said, and you pulled from his embrace with a sniffle.

“M-my totems…” Your tearful eyes glanced at Burgess with strange sorrow.

What for? He should thank you! Praising you, worshiping the ground you walked on for opening his eyes to reality’s wonderful truth!

The man’s steel eyes followed yours, hardening instantly with contempt.

“I’ll handle it.”

Burgess jumped back with a trembling hiss like he had been burned by the entity’s searing stare. His eyes of steel seemed to pierce far beyond flesh and bone, beyond the blood pumping erratically in his veins, and the fluttering ventricles beating out of his chest. He pierced something much more hallowed and precious. Cold and relentless, it intended to punish several lifetimes over.

Billows of fine sand suddenly engulfed the entities into a grainy vortex. His trembling arms were quick to shield his face from the sand’s whipping wrath.

As quick as it appeared, the wind died down- and the entities had vanished.

Burgess did not sleep that night.

He couldn’t- he wouldn’t. No- they’ll be waiting for him in his dreams! Those eldritch monsters beyond reality’s veil, lingering in the chaotic dark… Waiting. Biding their time for God knows what.

To swallow the universe whole? Wreak chaos and destruction to every plane?

He paced his study in a hysterical flutter. The pleas of his followers and physicians, even the desperate cries of his son couldn’t reach him. Their voices were all drowned out by the blaring sound of cracked flutes.

It was stuck in his mind, playing on a relentless loop like a tortuous record. Ear-splitting and harmonious, a monotonous symphony!

No! He refused to let his guard down. The dark couldn’t be trusted!

Burgess halted in his pace; dashing to his desk and grabbed a pen from its well.

Godless. He sprawled messily over a loose page. Those abominations were far beyond any god’s reach. Perhaps they were gods themselves…

“How could I be so blind? Randall-” He spun from his desk, facing a cheerful young man in military attire sitting comfortably in an armchair across the room. “My boy, don’t you see? Those monsters must be gods! Everything- molecules, elements, magic!- it all stems from them somehow-”

Meow…

For one blissful, merciful moment of clarity, the consuming madness within him froze in dead silence. A small sense of rationality glimmered in his eyes like diamonds, turning cautiously towards the subtle mew.

Black as night, sat a cat in the lurking shadows just beyond his study’s threshold. Its slitted eyes shone like a freshly minted sixpence in the moonlight. What a magnificent little creature.

Burgess approached the dark feline slowly in cautious measures. His canines pierced the thin delicate tissue of his lips with more force than he knew. Faint crimson streams trickled undetected down his chin in lazy rivers, too immersed in the creature before him to notice.

With a lithe leap and a skip of the man’s heart, the mysterious feline pranced with grace down the corridor. Burgess stuttered in his dash, nearly tripping over the ornamental runners striping the hardwood as he staggered into the hall.

The cat seemed to wait for him; patiently perched on the ornate curtail of an iron-wrought spiral staircase. How odd…

“Wh-what d-do yo-you want?!” The feline only blinked its moonish eyes; unfazed and uncaring, it ascended the staircase.

Every few steps, it would cast those strange eyes over its shoulder, as if it was assuring he followed into the attic space. A sweat broke over the old man’s brow, he heaved in anxious whimpers as paranoia hindered his every step. It was impossible to think; the thunderous pounding of his heart muffled his thoughts, fanning an overwhelming sense of fear like a rousing fire-

Perhaps this was an envoy of sorts from Reality’s Protectress; perhaps to open his eyes once again.

What was there to be afraid of? He knew the Truth; the Goddess protects the Truth; Therefore, She will always protect him!

Anticipation outweighed anxiety; he dashed up the stairs behind the cat with a maniacal smile smearing his face.

His eyes locked on the cat’s back, watching in wild mania as it strutted towards a black ornate chair seated in the corner of the circular attic. It hopped and circled the cushion, sitting powerfully tall in its center; somehow radiating the elegant essence of a king. The feline flashed its silver-slitted eyes in its rest, blinking at Burgess in a torpid blink.

“Hello.”

A dark voice suddenly called out, inciting a surge of fear and dread within the madman. His eyes grew wide and tumbled back in shock, mumbling incoherent huffs and babbling nonsense. Sitting before him sat a shadowy man with eyes of angry white stars burning into his skull.

The man from before, the one that comforted the Goddess. The one that embedded unwavering fear into his soul.

“N-no…” The man shook at the shadowy man as tears of terror rolled down his cheeks in trembling streams. “Please! Have mercy! I beg of you!”

“Have you any idea what you have done? The torment you inflicted on your own mind and to her?” The dark deity asked calmly, with striking eyes sharpened in rage. He rose from his black throne to his full intimidating height, slowly approaching the whimpering madman sobbing on his knees. “Can you even fathom the damage you could’ve done to your world?”

Those eyes… Colder than ice and sharper than a knife. Utterly relentless in slashing his delicate soul into ribbons! What had he done wrong to deserve his wrath? She gave him a gift! The gift of sight, of freedom, of Reality’s Truth- the glorious Truth!

Burgess cackled through his tears; all fear dissipating under the blissful warmth of this bestowed knowledge. This painful, burdensome, unholy knowledge.

“It was a wonderful mistake! I sought the Angel of Death- instead I gained something much, much more valuable! That woman- that Goddess! She opened my eyes and showed me horrors I can never unsee! They live in my mind now and feast on my brain- how incredible! It hurts! It hurts… Her reality is too cruel, too monstrous to bear. Please, have mercy on me!”

Morpheus frowned at his ramblings, cocking a brow in confusion.

What Chaos ravaged his mind? What reality had you created for this man?

“If her Reality is too cruel, perhaps my Dreams will be kinder.” The deity said as a sudden gust of wind whipped through the room. Through wide, fearful eyes, Burgess watched as wisps of dark thundering clouds emerged from the attic’s shadows, splitting the air in storming light.

The man shrieked as the looming storm drew closer, throwing his arms over his head in panic.

“Don’t fret. Your punishment shall be a gift…” Morpheus reassured, lowering himself before the cowering madman. “I give you this… The gift… of eternal… sleep.”

A hand unfurled before the entity’s lips, blowing sparkling waves of golden sand across Burgess’s eyelids.

Eyes of lead drooped in slumber’s dark embrace, screaming in a nocturnal silence that stirred his raging mind. With no fight left, Burgess surrendered to his nightmarish fate.

***

“Father! Father! Please wake up! Please!” A hysterical child cried, shaking Burgess’s arm as he whimpered and thrashed in his sleep.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” A blonde woman asked, dabbing the chilled sweat from the man’s wrinkled brow.

“Blood pressure is normal, lungs are clear, no fever, no signs of trauma… His coma has no apparent cause, I’m afraid.”

Morpheus loomed like a shadow in the bedroom’s threshold with a cold glint in his eyes as they fell upon the sleeping man. His punishment was kindness; entrapped within the darkness of sleep, he was free from the Chaos that ravaged his mind, unable to hurt or capture another soul ever again.

For targeting Death, for ripping his wife from the arms of their daughter, all in the name of a reckless endeavor- this was the most compassion he could muster for this horrid man.

Neither in Dreams, nor in Reality, will you ever know peace again, Roderick Burgess.

He slipped down the corridor like a thief in the night, set to reclaim your stolen jewels.

Luminous moonlight streaked The Dreaming’s sky in pearlescent radiance, shining brightly in harmony with twinkling stars on the midnight canvas. Most nights, the cosmic brilliance elicited a sense of wonder and happiness; even more so when wrapped in Morpheus’s arms.

But tonight, it felt cold and empty; a terrible reminder of the horror you conjured.

You leaned on the balcony’s stone rail, bathed in the silver light with a cheerless frown aimed at the stars. Harsh thoughts swarmed your head like berating bees, slowly eating you away into an emotionless husk, numb to everything around you.

“Love?” A warm hand brushed over your shoulder, hardly shaking you out of your thoughts.

“Did that man lose his mind?” You asked in a sorrowful voice, eyes still pinned on the vale below.

“He did.” Morpheus said reluctantly as a sad frown claimed his features. “However, from what I gathered, grief and obsession has taken a drastic toll on his sanity. Madness was destined to claim him with or without your hand.”

“And what of the others?” Your question quivered over a lump in your throat.

His hand fell from your shoulder, gripping your fidgeting hands, and tracing soothing circles into your skin. “Flustered. But they’ll recover. They’ll only remember what occurred as a harmless nightmare.”

Your brows twitched in a brief crease, a faint twinkle glossing over your eyes, but only for a moment. So distinct, but unmistakable under his observant gaze; the faint embers of hope flickering in Chaos’s torrential gale.

“Here.” A hand slipped into his coat pocket and retrieved your pendant, glinting in gilded opulence under the silver moon. A sigh of relief fell from your lips with a thankful smile. Morpheus stepped behind you, looping the necklace over your front and fastening the clasp behind your neck.

You closed your eyes as the pendant fell over your heart, basking in the waves of relief flooding through your chest, washing away every speck of dread and despair weighing you down.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, (Y/n). After all they’ve done, they were more than worthy of your wrath.” He said, spinning you around to face him as he pulled your crown from his pocket. “In this instance, your corruption was just.”

He gently placed your crown atop your head with his hands falling to cradle your cheeks. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, sealing it with his own.

Your eyes fluttered shut with a smile, as all turbulent thoughts fell in peaceful silence. Numbness and despair melted away into joyful warmth, as all you could feel now was Morpheus.

Your light in the darkness. Your hope in despair. Your Dream in this chaotic nightmare.

Feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!

#The Sandman #The Sandman Fanfic #the sandman netflix #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfiction #lord morpheus #Morpheus x You #morpheus x y/n #goddess!reader #light angst #the sandman fluff #horror

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popping-your-culture · 10 months

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I dream, you dream, we all dream of Jeannie. 😍

#i dream of jeannie #barbara eden #goddess #legend #smoke show #forever crush #gen x crush #blonde bombshell #television #60s tv shows #thirsty thursday #thursday motivation

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two-hands-toward-the-sun · 5 months

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OKAY so in the comics whenever dream talks to anyone, they hear it in whatever language they speak or are most comfortable with (in dream's words, "you hear what you need to hear"), and now i'm thinking about how when dream comes to calliope at madoc's place...that's the first time calliope has heard greek spoken to her in more than sixty years.

#going to rewatch this episode with my friend on thursday. jury's still out as to whether i'll survive #the sandman netflix #the sandman #dreamuse #dream x calliope #calliope x dream #otp: you came. you called.#we don't get much worldbuilding as to how gods n goddesses in the sandman verse learn/experience language #so i'm going to opt for like. maybe they have an accelerated ability but they still have to learn it #and they still have a concept of a native language #for the sake of giving myself these feelings

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sarafangirlart · 4 days

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Haven’t seen any Aphrodite x Hephaestus fanart

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inkymagpie · 2 years

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The Book Keeper Pt 1: The Dream is Crumbling

Summary: You are the daughter of Thoth, Egyptian God of knowledge and writing. Three centuries ago you were appointed to the head of the New Alexandria library; once thought burned in a great fire it now holds all of the knowledge that was ever written by man. But when books start to go missing, and even worse are found burned beyond repair you realize something sinister is occurring.

Pairing: Morpheus x f!reader

Chapter Rating: General

Overall Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Angst

Chapter Summary: Days went by, and then weeks and then months, Dream of the Endless did not return to the Dreaming; and you began to get more and more concerned letters from Lucienne. Her normal pristine penmanship becoming more scratchy, fear evident in her writing.

The Library of Alexandria…a pinnacle of knowledge, a testament to the wisdom that the Gods bestowed upon humans through their scholars, their muses; a bastion for all those that sought out the unknown, the lessons of both the Heavens and earth. A gift so generously given only to be squandered by human folly and greed.

Mortals can be such fickle creatures.

It is said that the Library burned to the ground over two thousand years ago; the casualty of humans and their need to conquer their need for power. Razed in a war brought on by an Emperor from a foreign land; and it was thought that the books that had burned and the knowledge that they contained was lost forever. And it was…at least to mortals.

As the fires spread and scholars wept, the Gods had predicted this and had delivered the scriptures from the mortal realm back to the kingdom of the Heavens. New Alexandria, a beckon of knowledge now reclaimed and protected by its benefactors; and its caretaker, Thoth, God of the Moon, of scriptures and writings.

For more than millennia and the better half of another Thoth watched over the Library; its corridors and sections ever growing and expanding as time went on…But then Thoth was gifted a child from his devoted wife Ma’at.

Most Gods were known to have many sons and daughters, who then in turn had sons and daughters of their own and so on and so forth, but you, you were the only daughter of Thoth…His only child.

He watched as you grew, taught you of his realm, the realms of others, of humankind; and of the ancient ever presence of the Endless. He taught you the gift that knowledge was, how it shaped both past, present and future. And he taught you the importance of protecting it, so that it might be forever preserved.

However despite his teaching you viewed the importance of knowledge somewhat differently from your father, and at times it brought about tension between the two of you.

You became a Goddess of curiosity, of inquisitiveness finding more in common with mortals than Thoth would care for you to have and you spent much of your time cavorting about on earth, partaking in human customs and curiosities. And with your inquisitiveness and witnessing of the tribulations that man faced you also became a creature of compassion.

Thoth supposed you must have gotten some of that from your mother, though you were definitely more of a handful than she. He deemed that it was high time that he appointed you to a station, and perhaps that would settle you down some.

Around the turn of the century of 1600 to 1700 he gifted you with one of the most important appointments of all: Head Librarian of the Library of New Alexandria. At first you had been disgruntled by the fact you would be spending most of your time in relative solitude, no longer able to have the freedom to galavant around in the mortal realm with such frequency. But as the first decade went by you realized how much you loved being the caretaker of the knowledge that spanned all the way to the dawn of man.

You had always loved to read, how could you not? But the books and scriptures that had always been read to you or presented for you to read had usually been about great events in history, famous ballads and sonnets; epic tales of trials and tragedy. But now as the curator you had access to every story, large and small and you found yourself more fascinated by the very human stories; like a friar that had lost his sandals in the river while washing them. Or a man in a dimly lit tavern that said that he would never die.

The day to day life of mortals was fascinating and they all were so different, no two were exactly alike and you find that to be just as interesting if not more than the rise and fall of an empire. It was just so…human.

During your first century as Librarian you got to see a great number of important visitors; some other Gods, ones that you knew since childhood. Others were fae folk and beings of various magical prowess. But the most interesting guest to grace the halls of New Alexandria was an Endless.

He had arrived with your father one morning and you had watched with great curiosity as your parent spoke in soft tones with him; your father had eventually beckoned you over and you obeyed eagerly.

You had never met an Endless, though you had read about them and of course heard tales. You observed him keenly, non too covertly which had caused your father to scold you for being rude. But the Endless had gazed upon you with a look of amusement, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. And when he spoke his voice was as warm and as rich as honey and just as soothing.

“So you are the keeper of the books.” He had asked.

“Y/n and yes I am,” you bow quickly, watching him still. “Who are you? What realm are you from?”

“I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares and as my title would suggest my realm is The Dreaming.” He replied with a subtle fondness.

“Are you here for knowledge? I have a strict return policy.” You reply puckishly.

Thoth gave you a pointed look, and tapped his quill on the lip of the parchment board in his grasp. Ah, another warning.

“I like to make sure that the books are cared for, looked after.” You corrected hoping to appease your father.

“More should follow that practice.” The Endless nodded his head sagely. “And in a way, yes I am here for knowledge.”

You cocked your head at this, curious.

“The Dreaming has a vast library of its own and I believe it would be beneficial to share that knowledge across them.” He said.

You had heard of the Library of the Dreaming, after all Gods were born in the Dreaming, originally stories themselves brought to life by humankind.

“Might I see it?” You had barely been able to contain your excitement, the idea of seeing the stories yet untold by all living things, what a treasure that would be to witness in person.

“Perhaps one day my child, when the time comes.” Thoth spoke and gave a small nod to the Dream Lord.

“A raven will be in contact with you.” The Endless continued before you had anytime to pout. “They will bring you news of the Dreamings collection as well as ferry desired literature.”

“I will allow you one of my Ibis to do the same Y/n, until your sacred animal manifests.” Your father added.

You had gazed at the ground somewhat ashamed; your sacred creature had still not come to fruition, your worship still young and growing had not yet bore you a beastial symbol.

“I will take my leave Thoth, God of the Moon and Scripts.” The Endless said before he turned to you. “Y/n”

You bristled at that, your station as a goddess was rather small this was true, but he seemed to disregard it entirely.

“And you Morpheus, Shaper of Forms, King of Dreams.” Thoth nodded.

And as the being called Morpheus began to disappear into a cloud of white gold sand his gaze landed on you again.

“I suspect Lucienne will be most interested in speaking with you.” He commented.

“Who is Lucienne?” You called out but he was already gone, sands disappearing into the ether.

You had blinked, thinking for a moment before crossing your arms with a huff.

“He seems a bit-“ your father quickly interrupted you with a look. “…lovely.” You gritted out instead; insufferable you’d rather say.

“This will be a great honor, a partnership with one of the Endless.” Your father turned to leave. “I have the utmost trust that you will face the task with diligence and logic.”

You had watched as your father left the Library, heading back out into his kingdom.

You of course were diligent about your work…but you couldn’t help but take great pause with logic…

____

The smell of weathered pages, bound in leather and pressed paper and permeates the air; a comforting, familiar scent that you had come to love since childhood. The golden light of sun cast through the stained glass windows, casting rivers of iridescent colors across the worn limestone floors of the vast library. When you were given the appointment of head librarian of New Alexandria, Ra had bestowed upon you a gift that while the Library was in your father’s domain of the Moon, a kingdom ever beneath the star sky of the cosmos, you would always have the light of sun grace the halls of your station.

You sigh happily, a thermos of hot tea with milk and sugar in your grasp; you had popped into your favorite tea shop in the mortal realm; you didn’t think your father would be too upset with just a little visit; and innocent one no less! They also made the most delightful breakfast foods there and you took another bite from the pastry you had purchased as well; whoever said the God’s dined on ambrosia had never had Welsh cakes.

You walk further into the expanse of the ever growing library, enjoying your morning treat as you wait for your tea to cool. You hear the flutter of wings and you watch as a kingfisher flies overhead chortling at you, a rolled up parchment paper in its grasp.

You had been expecting a list of possible Gods from Lucienne. While most were never more than dreams, some came to fruition and would be more than figments of imagination and become beings of history.

The kingfisher drops the scroll on your very messy (though you insisted it was organized chaos) desk and lands on a tall reedy piece of drift wood you had set up as a perch. Next to them stands a large ibis, ever watchful of the recent addition to the library.

It had been over two centuries now that the ibis your father had bestowed upon you had aided you in your task, now more of a sentinel, ever keen and observant. Your worshippers had finally bestowed upon you a sacred beast. And while not as prominent or as distinguished as perhaps your fathers ibis or Anubis’ jackal, the kingfisher was a delightful creature that many mortals associated with the freedom and curiosity you so possessed.

You trill gently to the bird and tap their beak affectionately as you come to your desk, it trills in return and ruffles their feathers. You bow to your father’s ibis who ducks their head to you and begins to walk out into the library having completed its duty of making sure you hadn’t gotten lost gallivanting across the realms.

You sit down and begin to unravel the parchment paper, the kingfisher preening themself as you start to read the list from Lucienne, ready to document everything for the Library records.

Being a relatively new Goddess yourself having only come about during the time of the printing press it was still strange to see the concept of potential additions to new and old pantheons. Mortals were always coming up with new concepts to believe in, to worship; some more prolific than others.

Not too long ago you had seen ideas for gods and goddesses of steam after the industrial revolution had spread across the globe. Now it was electricity with the invention of the light bulb (something that you heard Thor was a bit sour about).

You laugh as you read some of Lucienne’s little quips and notes in the margins of her list as you document the ideas formally to fresh pressed papers. It was something that you had both started to do; an entertaining thing to lighten the mood, that and your frequent book exchange you had started doing for the past hundred years. In fact you were almost done with the last book she sent over, perhaps you’d finish it up tonight and tell her about your thoughts in your next letter.

Shortly you come to the end of the list. It didn’t appear that any of the new potentials were manifesting yet past dreams, though you think that perhaps something might happen with the idea of electricity since mankind fancied it so.

You sort the notes and give the stack to the kingfisher to take to the record's section (which now had sprawled far beyond their initial wing of the library). As you hand the papers over, twine forms along the left edge of the papers binding them together, the date appearing at the bottom right of the first page's corner. You would set them in the proper records book later.

As the kingfisher takes off into the belly of the library, you quickly gather up the personal letter that Lucienne also included with the list. You always took great joy in reading about the happenings of the Dreaming. Gods did dream but they didn’t enter the kingdom unless invited, or so your father said. Lucienne had visited you far more times in your realm than you had ever visited her in her lords (which you could count the total on one of your hands, and on one of your fingers). And you hadn’t even seen the Dream King himself while you had attended.

You begin to read through Lucienne’s letter, smiling at the mentions of Mervyn and how he always managed to strike a nerve. You had decided long ago that you would very much like to meet him in person as he sounded like quite the character. You flip the page and continue to read.

You frown at the mention of something more sinister than usual. A rogue nightmare…while it was true that Luceinne had told you about how colorful and at times creepy the Shaper of Forms creations could be, she had always said that they remained in the Dreaming. But here she was saying that he was out in the world of men, preying upon them. You made a note to check the stories of life to see if you could find anything more about this creature and if he had affected the history of man.

You breathe a small sigh of relief when you read that the Dream Lord had left just this morning (or perhaps it was night? Hard to tell sometimes when dealing with the mortal realm) to deal with the matter. You are sure that with the quick intervention that the stories of men will not be too affected.

However you could sense some sort of apprehension in the words that Lucienne wrote. You grab a stack of fresh papers and a fountain pen and begin to write back to Lucienne, hoping to ease your friend's worries. Perhaps you would send back a book as well; a favorite of yours to give some comfort.

Surely it would all be fine…

Days went by, and then weeks and then months, Dream of the Endless did not return to the Dreaming; and you began to get more and more concerned letters from Lucienne. Her normal pristine penmanship becoming more scratchy, fear evident in her writing.

And you yourself began to fear as well…the mortal world was suffering, even the other Gods whispered of a sleeping sickness that plague mankind. Your father continued to bathe the night sky under the light of the moon, but there were no dreamers to be found in its beams.

The library was changing…the stories of mankind becoming something that you feel they never should have been. Countless books now filled with the same suffering; from the pages of a young girl that could no longer find sleep to the pages of a doctor overwhelmed and doing anything they could to find a cure… an answer.

But the thing that scared you most was the pages of those that didn’t wake up; day after day the papers remained blank. Thousands upon thousands of mortals' life stories filling with blank chapters.

Your father had told you that Destiny had a path and to not interfere; if this was the history that mankind must write then it must be written. You had been quite angry with him and whoever this Destiny was…cruelty like this was not something you could bear to see. It was then you also realized that if mankind was suffering then what horrible fate was the Lord of Dreams facing; what horrible cruelties were befalling him that the whole of humanity ailed.

This had to end…

But it didn’t and months then turned into years.

Your letters to Lucienne became so commonplace that one of the Dreaming ravens and your kingfisher had started passing by each other while delivering notes. You had begun to slack on your own duties as a curator and instead of simply documenting and protecting the vast wealth of knowledge you began to pour through it. You looked for anything you could find, hints in the life books of mortals of where the Shaper of Forms had gone. You had also started to disobey your father more and more as well…traveling to the mortal realm in the light of Ra so that your father would not see you in the path of the moon.

And then one day…

“Miss Y/n!” You hear a frantic voice, it’s oddly familiar and you rapidly look up from your research. If you hadn’t been sitting you would have fallen on your behind.

Lucienne stumbles towards you, a waning portal flickering weakly behind her as she gains her footing.

“L-Lucienne?” You are still shocked she’s here in person; she never left the Dreaming to enter your realm unannounced.

“Please Y/n, I know that I did not send word but-“ she ducks her head.

You’ve never seen her so distraught and your heart aches as you worry she might begin to cry.

Quickly you stand and rush to her side.

“What is it, Lucienne, please what’s wrong?” You beg her to tell you, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, urging her to look at you.

“The books… they are all disappearing.” She says her eyes watery as she looks up at you and you feel her hands shake as she takes your other hand in hers. “Whole sections of the library; they are gone.”

Behind her the portal flickers and dissolves into the air. She drops to her knees and you follow, easing her to the cool stone of your own library.

“I used the last of my magic to get here…to seek your aid.” She says.

“Can the books move realms?” You ask quickly.

“I believe that they can, there are millions of them though.” She replies, brow furrowing.

“Can we gather residents of the Dreaming to help us bring the books here?”

“The residents have all left, save for myself and a few others.” You stiffen; they’ve all gone?

You knew that dreams and nightmares had been abandoning the crumbling realm but you didn’t know it had become such a mass exodus.

“We’ll gather those that are left.” You turn your head and whistle to the kingfisher that is by your side in a quick beating of feathered wings. “Gather your friends from the mortal plane please, bring them here and ask them to make haste.” You whisper to them and kiss their soft head.

The kingfisher coos and with the flutter of its wings takes off.

Slowly you stand, facing where the portal Lucienne came through had disappeared; you close your eyes and focus. Plucking at the threads within the ether, pulling them taught, weaving them together until a golden path is spun before you that leads directly into the library of the Dreaming. Lucienne watches, eyes softening and tense posture easing slightly.

“Thank you Y/n.” She says looking up at you, the thankfulness clear in her deep brown eyes.

”You are my dear friend Lucienne, I would do anything for you.” You reply and hold your hand out to her. She takes it, a soft smile on her lips as she stands.

You look to the glittering pathway, you wonder briefly if your father would be displeased with this action. You are, after all, interfering with another realm, however you doubt he would want to see a millennia of knowledge decay… you decide that you’ll deal with it later.

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Morpheus x Elemental Queen Reader, where after he is freed from Burgess Manor & while he is on the hunt for his tools, stumbles into the Reader's realm & finds himself surrounded by her elementals. He's brought before her & he meets the elusive & powerful immortal elemental queen. They become allies & she helps him along his journey. They soon become inseparable. Sometime after Dream learns his enemies have been defeated by her & her vast armies. They get married & have an family together.

I love getting to write two badass rulers falling in love and joining their kingdoms together! 😍😍😍 Sorry for the long wait, I hope you enjoy reading it!

Dream of the Endless wasn't expecting to have much trouble in retrieving his tools. After the century he spent in isolation and silent torment all he wanted was to repair his home, to regain the lost power he'd been denied for so long. So you can imagine his surprise when instead of being taken to Hell to retrieve his helm, he and Matthew arrived in a lush forest. All around them there was life, sunlight and warmth, tall fields of grass and raging rivers, animals watching them as they made their way down the neatly paved path. "I gotta say, this isn't what I thought Hell would look like."

"This is not Hell," Dream stated, weary eyes watching as the animals turned away from them, vanishing into the forest brush. "I do not know where we are, nor how we arrived here."

"Maybe you've lost your touch a bit," the raven offered. "Not to imply you're not capable or anything it's just, uh, been a while from my understanding."

Dream looked down at the bird as he hopped through a pile of leaves, the seasons shifting the further they walked along the path. He could sense eyes following them, sense power flowing through the forest and wrapping around him. For a moment he expected that power to crush him, it certainly could given his weakened state, but it didn't. Instead it swirled around him, feeling and sensing all that he was before it was gone and the forest grew eerily still.

The loud rumbling of the trees made Dream and Matthew stop walking as the trees around them grew closer, closing the gaps between them and forming a thick barrier. The bark on the trees twisted and peeled, revealing faces each different in every way but the same in one, their eyes watched Dream and their mouths moved in slow utterings that filled the air with words, a language he did not understand. The path behind them was gone, blocked by the faced trees.

"It appears we are to meet whatever force is responsible for bringing us here." Dream continued down the path, trying to ignore Matthews questions and the sound of the trees shifting behind them, forcing them to continue forward. Their voices, the words, were not possible to ignore and he found himself searching him mind trying to place what language it was they spoke, but nothing came. Either he did not know it or it was one he'd known once but forgotten as the eons passed.

A large tree, roots as tall as the forest around them, sat tall and proud on an island. Crystal clear waterfalls fell from the edges of the island and into a deep crevasse that surrounded the tree, but Dream could see some of its roots acted as bridges, carved and ornate with statues of wood and ice and rock standing guard. The path vanished, the trees forming a straight line behind them and leaving Dream with only two choices, cross the bridge or remain here and wither.

As they crossed Matthew examined the statues, commenting on how intimidating they looked, but Dream was more focused on the tree. Leaves of every color filled its thick branches, vines of silver and gold wrapped around the trunk, glowing with the bright sunlight hit them and casting marvelous kaleidoscope shapes around them. It was beautiful, this whole world that'd he'd just stumbled upon was something he'd never seen before, not even in dreams.

As they neared the tree an ornate door grew more noticeable, two statues of dull embers and molten lava waited for them. When Dream stopped at their feet, their eyes moved, looking down at him with glowing fire. One spoke in the same language as the trees did, it's voice no more than a low growl. When he did not answer, the other spoke, this time in words he understood. "Who are you?"

"I am Dream of the Endless. King of dreams and ruler of the nightmare realms." He said, head held high as the statues looked at one another. "I seek an audience with whatever sovereign you serve, for I fear I know not how I came to be here."

Both statues growled and looked at Matthew, pointing to the small bird. "Your messenger shall go with your message. You will remain, Endless."

Matthew grumbled. "Any ideas on what I should expect?"

"No." He knelt down to the raven and sighed. "Inform whoever rules this realm of the mistake that has happened and tell them we merely seek the exit."

"Got it."

"Matthew," Dream stopped the raven, fear curling in his chest along with memories of Jessamy. "If they should try to hurt you, leave without me. You will be able to find a way to navigate out of here."

The raven scoffed. "I'm not going to abandon you, boss. Just sit tight, I'll be back before you know it."

Matthew hopped up to the guards feet and looked up at them with a nervous cough. The gate behind them opened just enough for him to fit through and then closed tightly behind him. Dream waited, the heavy feeling in his chest not once relenting until the doors opened wider and Matthew came flying down a pair of ornate stairs. The guards stepped to the side and bowed to him. "It seems you have been deemed worthy of an audience, Endless one. Speak with caution."

The raven cawed as he grew closer. "That went better than I expected."

"What manner of being rules this realm?" he asked as they began walking up the stairs.

"I'm not really sure how to describe her..." Matthew chuckled. "She was surprised by the news, but she didn't seem too upset."

"A queen then?" Dream hummed softly. "Is she a fairie?"

"Again... I'm not too sure on what's what. I've only been around for like a day, remember?"

They walked in silence after that until the stairs brought them to a large room at the top of the tree. The ceiling was merely a canopy of leaves and hanging vines holding glowing crystal chandeliers. A long white rug spread across the floor in front of them all the way across the room where a throne stood tall, the right was fire and wood with green leaves and embers floating behind it while the right was stone and ice with decaying branches and jagged crystals growing out of it. Standing before the throne, raised up on the taller steps was a woman, the queen of this land he presumed.

Two large wings of green earth and blossoming flowers spread out from her back, long hair woven between them in an elegant braid. Her skin was covered in veins of green on her hands, but as the veins moved up her arms they shifted to brown and red and blue. She turned toward him, her eyes capturing his and stealing the breath from his lungs. She turned, the jewels that hung in her hair and on her long gown twinkled and clacked together softly. Dream was frozen, rooted in place as she looked at him. She was far more beautiful than he was expecting.

"You are Dream of the Endless." Her voice echoed around him, power washing over him like a powerful gust of wind. "Brother of Destiny and Death."

"You know my siblings?" He asked, voice weaker than he'd meant it to be.

She tilted her head. "Only a few of them. I stopped allowing your kind into my domain after your wretched sibling, Desire, came and abused my hospitality." Dream silently cursed his sibling as she took a powerful step toward him, head high and eyes devouring every inch of him. "Have you come to do the same, King of Dreams?"

"No." He bowed his head reverently. "In truth, I do not know how we came to be here. My sand was meant to take us to Hell."

"Hell," she mused. "A terrible place to visit willingly."

He chuckled, the sound bringing a softness to her face. "It is, but I have unresolved business with the Morningstar."

The queen looked thoughtful for a moment. "It is odd then, that you would end up here. My realm is well hidden, even to beings such as yourself."

"It is beautiful," Dream said, looking up at the leaves and gesturing to the view from the open spaces in the branches. "I've not seen anything like it before."

"High praise, coming from one that sees all the fantasies of men."

Matthew cleared his throat from his perch. "Think you can help us find our way out of here, uh, your majesty?"

The woman held her hand out, beckoning the raven to her. When Matthew landed on her arm she smiled brightly, eyes looking over the sleek feathers of his companion with wonder. "Such a beautiful raven you make. Was the transition difficult?"

"Transition?" Matthew repeated. "I, um, I'm still kinda new to all this."

"Oh, forgive me," she said. "I can help you. So long as you leave me with something."

There is was, Dream thought. "Name your price."

"A promise." She looked up at him. "That you not tell others of what you've seen here, nor of how to find this place."

Oh... Dream nodded his head. "I promise."

She moved toward the open skyline, the branches bending to her will as she gestured out toward another path of ice and snow. "The way out is through the mountains. It is a ways to walk, but if you wish it, I shall accompany you."

"It would honor me," he said, bowing deeper to her.

True to her word, the goddess walked beside him, shouldering his raven the majority of the walk. They made conversation with one another, sharing things between two rulers. Dream thought it would have been more difficult to talk to her, but it wasn't and he found himself wanting to talk to her forever. She was beautiful and kind and he'd not met any like her in all the years of his exitance. At the end of the path she kissed his cheek and pressed a hand to his chest. "I wish you luck on your journey and offer you this warning, on the path ahead you will be faced with choices, ones that will decide your fate. When the spirit returns to his place and the tremors cease, choose the kinder path."

She sounded like The Fates, riddles and unsaid words hanging between them as he took her hand in his, keeping it pressed to his chest. "Will I see you again?"

"If you so wish it." She said with a smile. "First you must choose wisely."

Dream went about his quest, recovering his lost tools and saving his crumbling realm. When faced with Lyta Hall, the goddess' words echoed in his mind and he found himself waiting. He allowed the two to say goodbye and instead of offering Lyta a vague warning, he offered her a promise. Her child would be watched over and kept safe from any that would do him harm. After dealing with The Corinthian and setting everything right with his subjects Dream found himself thinking of the goddess more often, wondering if she would visit him or if she'd forgotten about him entirely.

As if she'd heard his thoughts he entered the library one morning to find her standing there, speaking with Lucienne as his librarian studied her wings, fresh with new flowers and moss. They greeted one another fondly, and each day that passed after that they spent with one another. He would visit her realm and she would visit his. One day upon his arrival into her realm she was not there to greet him, none of her elemental statues or trees or even animal companions met him either.

A faint smell of smoke and blood tinged the air around him, and he found himself running down the path toward her palace. Lucifer and Desire were both set on ruining him, of bringing him and all he loved to the ground. It wouldn't be difficult for anyone to find her if they'd watched him closely enough, something that he should have been more careful of. There across the guarded bridge she stood, wielding a spear of the elements she commanded, the blood of the demons that had attacked her realm covering her dress and arms. She looked at him and smiled, strong and brave and absolutely beautiful. Dream knew then that he loved her and all he could think of from that moment on was how he could make her his queen.

As it turned out, that wasn't difficult. After the first attack, the goddess let loose a wave of her power and effectively smote his enemies. Any that lived, Desire most of all, got the message loud and clear. Dream was hers now, and anyone that tried to move against him would meet her in battle and they would lose. Peace, a thing he'd not truly been able to feel in so long, finally filled The Dreaming. In that peace her realm and his became one, as they did.

Now when Dream would enter his throne room, her throne sat beside his and his wife helped him create new dreams and nightmares to gift to the world of men. And so it would be for eternity.

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