Visualize having the best, most exquisite night of complete sleep. You wake up rested and feel the whole night of slumber when your eyelids open to greet the sunlight streaming through your room. It's a morning when you feel so incredible that you don't need caffeine(but make coffee anyways). You assemble the bed with all its multiple pillows and even crisply fold the extra blanket at the foot of the bed. There are no aches in your body and no bags under your eyes, and you are positively rejuvenated. The weather is brisk but not too chilly, perfect for bundling. The leaves transformed into a myriad of burnt reds, vibrant oranges, and cheery yellows.
For one of the very few times in her life, Elara awoke this exact way.
Without any alarms, Elara's lids fluttered open at 9:30 AM on Sunday as if she had just had the most sublime massage in the world. The sun's rays shined perfectly into Elara's room, casting tiny specks of light to dance along the walls.
She stretched her arms overhead, letting her muscles extend to the entire length of her body. She then curled up into the blanket, a tranquil smile fanning on her lips.
Last night, Morpheus accompanied her home, which was one of her life's most mentally tasking yet fantastical evenings. She spent the entire day miserable and raring against her emotions, but thankfully, those toxic thoughts were short-lived.
A blush wriggled across her cheeks at her memory of the night, recalling how passionately they united under the streetlight. He finally declared some growing feelings for her, and her heart unfailingly surged to meet him. Elara touched her mouth where he had permanently scorched her — his kisses were magnetic and bruising. The lingering sensation of the kiss was like a stamp on her heart, pulsing with each beat.
But luckily, the night didn't end there. Morpheus continued to walk with Elara when they eventually exited the park.
Morpheus started to open up to her as they meandered through the streets on the way to her apartment. He became more easygoing, less edgy, and willingly revealed some of the elaborate dreams he had been constructing since his return.
He had described one of his most recent dreams - a pegasus whose wings were formed of rainbows, whose stride left a prism of color in its wake. He also depicted a nightmare with the build of a human but only had a mouth for a face.
Elara had asked him how that nightmare would see, to which he replied, "It just will."
Elara offered some improvements to his designs as he shared them. Surprisingly, he was receptive to her edits and took no offense to his extraordinary imagination- in fact, he asked her for more revisions as they continually ricocheted ideas, merging their thoughts and amassing to something new for his creations.
Morpheus told her he would "carry out our changes tonight," and his specific choice of words made Elara bloom with warmth. Our changes.
They also conversed about his favorite dreams that remained in The Dreaming during his absence. She learned about Lucienne and Mervyn Pumpkinhead, two devoted followers of the Endless. Morpheus spoke about them like old friends, and there was a fondness in his rich tone.
"I would like to meet them both one day," Elara had told him.
Morpheus nodded his head. "I'm sure they would like that."
It was a fascinating notion to understand what Dream actually did on a day to day. Elara rolled in her blanket, contorting her sheets around herself as she mentally waded into the more complex part of their conversation.
Elara had asked Morpheus, "You seem to be completing a lot of dreams. Isn't that hard to do?"
The King of Dreams evenly replied, "It is my service– it is my role in existence. It is what I am required to do."
The woman had grown quiet for a beat, hesitating before she presented her next question. She wasn't sure how he would react, but Morpheus had encouraged her with a measured tone, "Is there something on your mind?"
Elara bobbed her head, taking a steadying breath. "The other night, you told me about how you thought you lost your purpose while imprisoned."
She visibly noticed Morpheus' jaw click for an instant, but he had quickly softened. His focus dropped to hers as he regarded her, allowing her to resume.
"With all the new dreams and nightmares, do you feel like you have your purpose back?"
His brows dropped. "Why do you ask?"
Elara had shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. "What you went through was terrible. You were locked away with your self-deprecating thoughts for a century. Immortal or not, that really damages everything you are." She sighed deeply, then persisted, "It might not be my place, but I'd like to know if you're feeling better."
Their walk had evolved to a slower pace, and the air between them crackled with anticipation. The stars were sparkling overhead, and the wind whistled with a song. Nature was conducting a melody tonight, adding musing crickets and crumpled leaves scraping the pavement to the evening's sounds.
The night's symphony filled the short stretch of silence between the two. Elara was astonished when Dream decided to answer her.
"I am still… processing a lot of it." Morpheus' bright hues locked onto hers as his lips assembled the right words. "Thankfully, many Dreams and Nightmares have returned to The Dreaming. But I am uncertain if it's due to their fear of me or because they respect me as their King."
Elara had listened intently, noticing how ethereal his skin looked under the glow of the moon overhead. His expression depicted such lightness as he continued, "I find myself wishing to be better for my realm than how I left it. I am still bound to the laws, and adjustments within those ordinances have been challenging, but I am trying to make things better day by day."
The woman smiled brightly at his words and detected his gaze once more fixated on her mouth. Her legs almost gave out at the indication, but she mustered a meaningful reaction, "I think they are fortunate to have you. To have a King is one thing, but to have a King who is willing to change for the happiness of their people is unprecedented."
Morpheus' lips had bent faintly at her words, and she desperately longed to see that small smile again. Even the tiniest, most minuscule grins made her insides liquify.
The conversation of her intimate dream was still unspoken between the two.
Lingering.
Waiting.
Heat unfailingly welled in her abdomen in her because of it.
When they arrived at her building's front door, Elara rocked onto her heels as she faced Dream. He made her feel so limitless with how he articulated about his creations, how he wanted to do more for them, and how he didn't want to disappoint those in his realm any longer. Despite how horrific it was, it seemed like his imprisonment made him a more benevolent ruler.
Elara curled up tighter in her bed sheets, sighing as the last moments of the memory whisked through her mind. Last night, her entire street was empty– it was as if Morpheus ensured they had privacy.
The evening was immaculate, with the wind encircling them and the moon glistening overhead. It was one of those times in the movie when the lady asked the guy if he'd like a nightcap upstairs.
But Elara was actually scared shitless to suggest time in her apartment alone. She remembered distinctly how tight her chest was in his presence, and she was sure she'd collapse any minute.
Instead, she had taken a step into the Dream Lord, memorizing his scent of honey and pine, as she raised onto her toes to press her lips on the side of his cheek gently. Her fingertips came to rest lightly on his jaw on the opposite side, tenderly brushing the skin. Morpheus' breathing caught in his chest, and she saw his lids slip shut.
It took a lot of effort to pull away from Morpheus in that second. Her mouth lingered near his face when her lips parted from his cheek. The air grew tangible between them as Morpheus' lids remained closed, as if imprinting this moment in his mind. Elara's breathing became difficult, her heart thumping furiously in her ribcage from her bold gesture.
His eyes blinked open and locked onto hers when she fully stepped away. She saw an intensity building in his stare unlike anything she'd ever seen before, and a tingling sensation cascaded about her neck.
She let her lips expand wide across her face. "I'll see you around?"
The King of Dreams nodded, allowing a tiny smirk to crack his lips as he answered, "Sleep well, Elara."
His smile was like warmth extending all throughout her.
Elara replayed the recollection over and over in her head, tossing in bed with her own smile plastered fully on her mouth. He was dangerously addictive, and her attachment was evolving more so by the minute.
For the first time, Elara was unhappy that she didn't dream last night. She was anxious to see him again, and it caused an itch to form that she couldn't scratch on her own. She wanted to know everything about him – the conversation they had last night was just a tease to the vast expanse of his world.
She had set out to Bodleian Library on Sunday mid-day to discover more, well, as much as someone could learn from a book. Luckily, working at Breckett Publishing, she could access multiple private libraries across London. Duke Humfrey's library, a particular collection within Bodleian, specifically had an extensive collection on mythology. Elara figured that's where she should initiate her exploration.
The woman entered the front doors of the enchanted building, always with wonderment in her visage when she arrived there. Oxford was the most prestigious school, and its libraries were second to none.
The smell of old books was probably one of her favorite scents, and it reminded her of snuggling next to a window with hot chocolate on a snowy day. The library was built using deep oak, with tall stacks lining the walls and small individual tables sprinkled in the middle. The library had two stories, the second with a balcony overlooking the center tables below. The roof had giant archways adorned with golden twisting flowers and petals. On the ceiling were small paintings, more like emblems, of books and scrolls.
Elara wandered through the stacks with admiration and anticipation tickling behind her ears. Did Dream know everything within these shelves? What would it be like to know everything?
She made her way to a small nook within the library. It was nestled in between a few large stacks, private and quiet. She found a single desk with a green lamp in the center for better lighting. Elara dropped her bag on the chair to claim her spot as she meandered away to the mythology section nearby.
Elara couldn't precisely find mythology on The Dreaming, and it seemed like Dream's realm was not something humanity had yet documented. She pulled a few texts about ancient gods - Egyptian, Greek, Norse, or anything that would be worthwhile. She scanned the index of each book to find something about dreams before selecting to keep the book with her.
By the time Elara finished scaling the shelves, she had only about 4-5 texts to review and now on her small table. However, the hair stood on her neck, beckoning her to search for just a wink more. Elara concentrated on the shelves around Greek Mythology, aware she's already reviewed this stack. But, the second time around, she honed in on a title she hadn't seen earlier.
"The Book of Beginnings: A Dreamer's World." The book was so old that the binding was weakened and frayed. Her fingers lightly pulled the older novel off the shelf, finding it in much poorer condition than the others. It appeared very ancient. Elara gently opened the cover, gazing at the title page where the ink had faded. Her eyes narrowed at the writing, unable to distinguish the author.
She walked back to her table, fingertips carefully flipping through the worn pages, its old scent brushing her nose. She sunk into her chair, clicked the green lamp on, and found herself trapped by the book.
The entire novel was about the Greek God Morpheus. It described Morpheus as the bringer of dreams, hope, despair, peace, and terror. It explained how dreams shape the lives of all living beings and how their dreams were the motivation for action.
Chills ran down her back as the book described how greatly he had influenced humanity and their choices. Morpheus was described as an immensely powerful being; she honestly didn't comprehend how infinite he was. There were tales about the Iliad and Agamemnon, along with Zeus being the puppetmaster of the great war. Elara would have to ask later about the validity of this and if he actually knew the God of Lightning. She nearly overlooked how cosmic he was – he was no mere man.
Her mind soaked up every word of the withered pages; however, one chapter stood out to her in particular. It was entitled Calliope and Orpheus, the wife and son of ONeiros. ONeiros was a common name Morpheus went by, according to this book.
It went into depth about how Zeus' daughter, the Goddess Calliope, Homer's Muse, fell in love with ONeiros, and the two were married. They always met privately to preserve the spark and had a son together.
Elara understood Morpheus was ancient and likely had various and numerous lovers before her. Regardless, she couldn't stop the pangs of jealousy contorting up within her and casting doubt. How many lovers did he have? Did he have lingering or prominent feelings for another person? Would he cast her away if Calliope or another former lover returned? Elara could never amount to a goddess, let alone one of Zeus' daughters. Calliope was likely very beautiful, as the book illustrated.
Elara roughly shoved the self-critical thought down— she would spiral into chaos if she crossed this path. She didn't have a right to be jealous of who he was with in a prior relationship, only if it directly impeded her own blossoming connection.
She restarted the text.
It clarified that their marriage ultimately fell apart, and ONeiros became a reluctant, resistant father to his son, Orpheus. It was as if he washed his hands clean of his association with Calliope and their child.
It then detailed the disturbing tale of Orpheus and his lover Eurydice. Eurydice died tragically on their wedding day, and ONeiros gave no aid to his son to bring her back. Because of it, Orpheus traveled to Hell to retrieve his wife, on the condition that if he left Hell without looking back, Hades would return Eurydice to him. Unfortunately, Orpheus glanced behind him at the threshold of the living world, and his wife was dragged back down to Hell. Orpheus lost his body and was forced to continue his life as a severed head, loveless and isolated.
The Book emphasized how ONeiros' aid could have avoided this entire tragedy but remained aloof, petty, detached, and uncaring to his offspring and former wife. It raised a series of troubling questions.
Would Orpheus' fate be different if Morpheus had helped his son? Was this his true nature? Would he cast her away when she no longer served him as quickly as he did his son and former wife? What other characteristics of him did she not know? Did he have any other children or marriages?
Elara swallowed, her forehead resting in her hands before she scratched her jaw. This was a vindictive tale she'd expected from Greek Mythology– they were usually extraordinarily tragic… but she had difficulty associating it with the immortal she passionately kissed last night under the stars.
Once more, she vehemently repressed the sordid thoughts of uncertainty. She would come to her conclusion about Morpheus on her own, not influenced by fanciful tales of an unknown author. If there was anything Elara knew from her job, it was when to identify exorbitant stories that likely were imprecise.
Elara understood her heart and admitted what she felt for Morpheus was genuine. She couldn't live her life based on old biased stories that may or may not be valid. And if these tales were true, who is to say that Morpheus hasn't changed since?
Elara would define her own truth with him, just as she always had. She could only hope that Morpheus would do the same.
Her hands carefully closed the book and set it down on the old wooden table. As she did, her sight fixated on an engraving on the desk's oak. Her dark hues examined the raised letters, only for her to realize that it spelled out Lancaster.
A hush fell over the library as her fingers dusted over the puckered wood. Her heart sunk in her chest as she immediately pieced together that it coincided with Jason's last name.
Her forehead bunched, only for her face to drop into her hands. Of course, Lancaster would be written on this desk. Duke Humfrey was named after Humphrey of Lancaster, a Duke who had passed and was related to King Henry IV. Elara shuddered off the sensation of mystery, understanding there were hundreds of Lancasters in London. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that Jason said he studied here for a period of time.
Her hand grabbed her neck, attempting very hard to suppress her trickling anxiety and suspicion of her coworker. Her life wasn't like one of the books she read, and there was no way the two were related. That just… couldn't be.
"Pl-please. I want to see my mom," A small voice cried.
"No."
"Where am I?"
"Where you wanted to go," A smooth sound growled from the darkness. There was nothing to be seen, but a slight rattling of chains echoed in the empty space.
"I... I can't see anything," the voice wailed. "I want my mommy."
"No."
A burst of cruel laughter bellowed, the noise of the chains shaking violently from its captive prisoner.
"H-help," the weak voice whimpered, hiccuping and sobbing clear within his pitch.
"No one will hear you if you whisper."
"H-HELP!"
"Scream louder."
"PLEASE," The tiny voice shrieked, his breath trembling and his chains rattling. "SOMEONE HELP."
Little did the small voice know that no one would hear him and no one would ever listen to him again. They just fancied seeing them squirm before they feasted.
Morpheus has a substantially tricky time concentrating on the repairs to The Dreaming. After he returned Saturday evening, all he could create were sceneries that reminded him of Elara.
His powers were limitless as he composed fields of every kind of flower, enchanted castles, mystical forests, and entire universes within The Dreaming. It was the most empowered he had been in eons, and the image of her rosy cheeks roused him to build. She was his inspiration.
Yesterday, when Matthew informed him of her lone walk home, Morpheus didn't think twice before he drifted into the Waking World to locate her. After his conversation with Death, he knew he had to pursue what his heart was feeling— he couldn't even stop himself, rules be damned.
At first, he attempted his best to reel in his urges and remained reserved with the brunette. He tried to be a gentleman, as his last bout of control was almost nonexistent. He was battling himself the entire walk, the temptatious allure of her unbearable.
However, when Elara thoroughly misinterpreted his restraint as coldness, he knew he had to rectify the situation. He couldn't let the disorder disrupt her face for a moment longer, and he needed to kiss her.
His veins were significantly ignited within him, raging as the sensation of her lips rushed to the forefront of his mind every time he closed his lids. Morpheus' chest heaved as he thought about her petite body in his grip, her delicate hands evoking fires and searing his chest. Her luscious scent of roses and jasmine consumed him, surfacing a deep ache for her with each breath he took.
It was nearly inconceivable to pull away from her last night. She was a flame he could no longer smother. He burned to kiss her again.
Still, they persisted in their walk home, and Elara's reflective intellect glimmered like the stars.
She asked him about his dreams and what inspired him to create them. Her questions were thought-provoking and provided some noteworthy improvements to his ideas. Elara's affluent intelligence was endlessly bewitching to him. Her mind was as captivating as her soul.
But, what continuously stunned him the most, was the overwhelming necessity for Elara to mend his pain from his imprisonment. It was rejuvenating to share the monologue he barred away within his head– his hopes for his realm and how he wished to rule differently in his new age.
Morpheus never had the opportunity to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. He refused to bond deeply with... anyone. Morpheus usually raised his guard and scoffed off anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was renewing to confide in Elara, and he surprised himself with how vulnerable and safe he felt.
Every word she uttered, the secure space she uniquely offered, only solidified that he was right to disobey the cardinal rule: That he cannot fall in love with a mortal.
His rapidly developing affection was too significant to control.
When they got to her apartment building, he was imbued with the need to create magnificent dreams. Elara then did something unexpected; she tenderly kissed his cheek to say goodnight. Her soft lips had pressed against his face, and her fingers traced his jaw gently. When she drew away, her sweet breath had ghosted his mouth. Morpheus had to suppress the urge not to haul her into The Dreaming and fully claim her. She was testing his restraint, and he was nervous it would fail.
One particular issue kept whirling through his mind throughout their dynamic conversation. He noticed that continuously, Elara intertwined self-doubt in her suggestions. She would present an idea, which was consistently clever, and then cast some form of unintentional insecurity on the same concept.
Dream realized that she still didn't entirely see her worth. Morpheus would spend his days correcting her mentality, demonstrating to her how greatly she had become an essential part of his existence. He would make her understand what he saw in her, and he could not control himself any longer.
She was so much more than simply a woman.
She was his.
And when he detected her presence enter The Dreaming on Sunday night, he instantly went to visit her. To his delight, Elara was in a dream, not a memory. In fact, Elara had wandered into the fantasy he had explicitly built for her the day prior.
A floating piece of land was in the middle of the open cerulean sky. The lush emerald grass swept across the plane, with multi-colored tulips blooming from the ground and swaying in the wind. Butterflies were circling above, whose wings glittered like a prism of colors. As they flapped, the sparkles sprinkled down onto the ground and saturated the tulips with a vibrant glow. Running through the grass were streams of crystal water with the tiniest shimmering fish moving through, causing little bubbles to rise to the surface. The stream flowed into a large pond where a free-flowing waterfall poured rainbows into the pool.
Elara sat beside one of the rivers, wearing a simple white dress. It was thin-strapped with a curved neckline, tight to her torso, and flared from the waist down. Her hair was longer, coming down to her mid-back, and half of it was pinned up. Morpheus almost thought she was a siren or nymph, her hand running through the twisting waters. Watching her caress the water was a sight to behold.
Morpheus' boot stepped onto the tulip-covered land, and if on cue, Elara's head lifted to find him.
Her pink lips parted, chestnut hues wide, before the radiant smile he knew effortlessly crept across her face. She stood barefoot and made her way over to where Morpheus had entered. She had vitality in her step, her hair swishing after her, her pearl skin basking in the golden sun.
"Hi," She breathed a few feet away from him.
"Elara." His tone was measured, although he was straining exceptionally hard to repress his grin. He became frivolous about their closeness, and they were in his realm now, where he was King. He could make anything come true here and make her most extraordinary fantasies a reality.
He held out his palm open and upwards. "Show me where we are." He already knew, but he desired to see it through her eyes.
Without hesitation, her delicate hand lifted and clasped his. They started to move together through the meadows of iridescent tulips as Elara guided him around the dreamscape.
"This is really you?" Elara questioned, regarding the grass between her toes as she strolled beside him. Her hand was small in his, their fingers intertwined. The sunlight shimmered down on them, enveloping them.
His thumb stroked her hand, glancing down at her. "It's me."
He noticed the goosebumps sneak up her arm from the gesture. Elara leaned into Morpheus, her body shifting nearer to his as they strode along. It was so normal and serene to walk in a dream with her. He could smell her, like roses and jasmine — it was intoxicating. He ensured every flower he created in her image captured that same fragrance.
Elara's free hand came to grasp his forearm, drawing him to herself. "Did you… find anything in my dreams?"
Dream gave her hand a subtle squeeze, his gaze scanning the field before him before flitting to the small woman by his side. She looked like a goddess as a blush began to heat her cheeks. He knew they had yet to talk about her fantasy from the other night, and it likely weighed on her for days. It was time to address it.
"Every dream has many intricacies," The King explained. "The Dreamer is often focused on a singular sensation or experience. While you were occupied, I encountered some irregularities, and I intend to follow up on what they are."
He had never precisely explained to Elara that her dreams were memories of Alena's, and it didn't seem necessary to make her think her thoughts were not hers. With how many times she's relived the memories in her head, they might as well have always been hers.
Elara had peered up at him as if searching for any emotion that could've escaped his face about his own experience. He struggled to reign in the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth.
"Your dream," Morpheus lowly answered, "was- "
"I'm sorry." Elara cut him off, clenching his hand tightly and stopping him. Morpheus explored her face as she reddened deeper. "I… I didn't tell you what my dreams were about, and I might've blindsided you with what you saw."
Dream's hand trailed up her arm, ghosting along her skin. He brushed her brown hair away from her shoulder, eliciting new small bumps along her arm.
"You need not apologize for what you dream, Elara."
Her chestnut orbs locked with his as if pleading not to be angry at her omission.
His hand rested alongside her neck, drawing her in as he sensually whispered in her ear, "I very much enjoyed your fantasy." He only wished to be a participant next time.
When he pulled away, Elara appeared like she was about to faint. When she registered the heaviness of his words, solace soaked through her. Her lips fanned into a stunning smile, a twinkle of seduction peeking through.
The two again peered outward to the field, her focus locking onto a tulip near their feet. Elara bent down and plucked it, tugging it from where it bloomed. She extended it high into the sunlight before positioning it right next to Morpheus' face.
"Almost, but not exactly," She mused, flickering back and forth between the tulip and him.
Dream cocked his head narrowly, inquisitive. He took the flower from her hand, examining the incandescent petal.
"Your eye color." Elara dreamily added, "It looks like you have the entire cosmos in your eyes. It's tough to replicate, and I've been trying for ages to get it right."
"Ages?" Morpheus smoothly questioned, passing her back the flower.
"You've been the man of my dreams for what seems like forever," the brunette muttered, only for her eyes to widen. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, the flower dropping to the ground, her head jostling in disbelief. Alarmed, she exclaimed, "Why don't I have a filter?"
He became light as he prodded, "I am the only man of your dreams?"
"Yes, I mean no, I mean yes?" Her hands shot up again to seal her mouth, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.
For the first time in centuries, Morpheus let himself completely smile at her flustered state. The grin reached up to his kaleidoscopic hues in a way that was unfamiliar to even himself. It was reassuring that he was the only being her heart desired, which reflected heavily in her dreams. That devotion was enticing to him.
Elara contorted into bewilderment at his unusual jovial expression, her hand dropping to tap his arm momentarily as she giggled, "Oh my goodness, did I just break you?"
"Elara," Morpheus beamed, his gaze complete with warmth. "In dreams, you can speak your mind and heart freely. I created this realm so humanity could have a place to be themselves entirely without judgment. You can voice what you would not in the Waking World."
Elara tilted her head subtly, her brown hair falling past her shoulders and swooping in front of her collarbone. She let her hands fall back to her side as she smirked. "Honestly, I feel really, really cool standing here with you. I also really hate that I can't control a single damn thing coming out of my mouth."
Morpheus scanned her knowingly, the remnants of his smile still stamped on his face as she embarrassed herself again. It was a marvelous thing to watch. The brunette shook her head, tucking a strand of chocolate waved locks behind her ear. She shakily exhaled before she started to step forward, and Morpheus followed suit.
They strode through the fields in peace, breathing in the fresh air and aroma of the flowers.
"You know," Elara expressed, breaking the silence. "I… don't really know who you are."
The sunlight above grew sparse as clouds started to swirl in.
The Endless kept his hands behind his back, clasped. "Most don't."
He observed the girl next to her, noticing her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt. She was nervous. He saw her bite her lip before she spun to face him. Dream halted to listen, ever so curious about what she was mulling over in that ingenious head of hers. Her lips parted in the way he had memorized, her brown hues sincere, and she seemed fearful of rejection.
"I want to know who you are," Elara breathed, the wind picking up around them. The tulips rustled in their places, the sun fading in and out behind rolling clouds. "I want to know everything about you."
His pulse quicked enormously at the admission, finding her affection, once again, binding. He regarded his immense urge to kiss her right there. Morpheus instead held his face as calculated as possible. "I will tell you as much as you'd like. In time."
The faint dismissal read clear as day on her. Her mouth shut into a tight line, and her jaw clicked beneath her skin. Her vision cast towards the ground, nodding her head weakly. It was then that the flowers around them started to erode.
The sunlight was abruptly gone, and the arms of lightning in the sky began to claw downwards. A storm manifested in the beautiful landscape within seconds, churning around the terrain ominously. A rumble of thunder echoed near them as the wind gathered speed. Morpheus summoned his essence within The Dreaming to control the oncoming blitz, but The Dreaming oddly did not react. Morpheus scowled as he knew this wasn't his doing, and it was highly unsettling to feel The Dreaming unresponsive. He was monarch here; nothing should stop him from controlling the reality they were in.
He narrowed in on the sky, witnessing how assertive the wind had become and how the dream encircling them was morphing into a desolate landscape.
He pivoted to Elara, whose face was now remade with petrified dread. She was concentrated behind him, not at him, the color of her skin rapidly fading. Morpheus turned to see what she was staring at. Behind them was a gigantic onyx stone door, now materialized within the field of dying tulips. It had ancient inscriptions, older than time, and it seemed to have a heavy aura outstretching from it. It was a dense feeling like you had inhaled tar into your lungs.
"I have to go," Elara whispered hypnotically and started towards it.
"What is this?" Morpheus asked steadily, grabbing her arm to stop her advancement.
"It happens every time," Elara murmured, tears newly pricking her, her vision never shifting from the onyx entrance. "I don't have a choice, and I must go through."
"You do have a choice," The King of Dreams replied, his grip firm.
"It always ends this way," Elara barred her teeth, almost wincing in hurt as if she were preparing herself. The stone entrance roared, and the Dream Lord knew this, and the storm was not from his realm. He was unsure of which domain it hailed from, but it was wildly breaking the laws of The Dreaming. This was a direct violation of many reality rules of reality… and summoned Elara.
"Answer me this," Morpheus quickly spoke, urgency pouring into his tone, "When I couldn't enter your nightmare, did you walk through that same door?"
"Yes," Elara frailly answered, her feet beginning to move again.
"Why haven't you told me about this before?" He had released her arm, and she continued her slow steps to the onyx door. The entryway bellowed as if demanding that she approach it. Elara was tearful and afraid; her eyes were trained on the blackness and nowhere else.
"I forget."
"What is behind it?"
"I don't know."
"Elara," Morpheus entreated, his voice level; however, panic drastically surfaced within him.
"I'm scared," She whimpered, but she persisted in approaching the door. It appeared as if her body were not hers, as her legs stopped her right before it. She swallowed, and it creaked open without her even touching the stone. Morpheus stood beside her, the field surrounding them now a pile of dead, wilted, gray flowers. The butterflies had fallen, and the waterfall was empty. The wind whipped violently around them, and the thunder cracked above their heads.
He put his hand on her shoulder, and for the first time, he braced for the unknown. But he wouldn't let Elara go through it alone. His chest tightened with unease. As the onyx stone creaked open, blackness fired from within and wrapped itself firmly around the human and the Endless, encasing them in darkness and dragging them through.
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