A black aura encased Morpheus, stifling the air and strangling his lungs. He lifted his fingers one by one as pressure bore down on him from above, grinding his spine into the ground. It was suffocating, but he was one of the most powerful of the Endless. With a burst of strength, he pushed up through his arms, slicing through the shadows entombing him, and stood. As he shifted and broke free, the fog gradually vanished around him.

There was a dense viscosity in the air as Morpheus examined his surroundings.

The night sky was twinkling overhead, the stars shining amongst the vastness of space. Each star puckered brightly against the dark canvas behind it as if they were windows to another galaxy. Silver dust blanketed the ground, along with bits of crumbled rocks and pieces of stone. Morpheus inquisitively knelt to touch the silver rocks, his thumb running along the jagged edges, recognizing them as moonstones.

His brows creased as he glimpsed over to his right. His lips parted in bewilderment as he incrementally came to stand – he was looking at the Earth. It radiated with the delicate shine of the sun's light, reflecting in its hazy atmosphere. Traces of verdant evergreen land and rich cerulean oceans peeked through white fluffs of clouds as they effortlessly drifted across the marble.

He gaped at the Earth, startled by its overwhelming presence. It was equally astounding as it was unnerving.

Dream reversed to glance behind him, only for the bafflement to continually riot through his buzzing mind.

Standing on his left were the ruins of the Moon Kingdom.

Alena's former home.

The Moon Kingdom was said to be the glowing heart of the galaxy, brilliant and ever-shining with an indescribable light. Lore claimed that the stone of the palace walls used to illuminate like the Moon's natural glow, drenched in the rays it amassed from the sun.

The ancient architecture of the Moon Kingdom was the most exquisite sight to behold.

Now, it was in fragments.

The silver rocks of the palace were aggressively spewed across the Moon's surface. There was not a single piece of the once grand structure intact. Sky-scraping columns were piled on the ground, and everything that once was, was now in shambles. Some old stones still drifted in the air, but it was ominous.

The Chaos Demon, a beast of obscene intergalactic power, had obliterated the magnificent place. The ruins graphically depicted the pain it left in its wake. Hopelessness hauntingly plagued the Moon as if the screams of those slaughtered still lingered in the air.

Morpheus noted a very indisputable observation— he was physically on the Moon. This was not a projection of his mind or body, but Morpheus' feet were firmly planted on the gravel of the floating rock.

How could he have gone from The Dreaming, merely seconds ago, to being physically here?

A hush fell over him, and his skin prickled.

It was eerily silent.

Where was Elara?

The realization hit him like a train, his seafoam hues widening as he rotated around himself in alarm. Morpheus had walked through the Onyx Door with Elara in tow, but now, she was nowhere in sight.

Was she transported to the exact location as he was? Where could she be?

Panic wretched through his chest, knowing how terrified she was to enter this world. He had only seen her with that same fear when she awoke from her nightmare that very first night. Not even Marcus elicited that kind of horror.

As a few answers clicked within his mind, his chest began to respire more rapidly.

It made sense why he couldn't enter Elara's nightmare that initial evening, now standing on the Moon. She was usually within his realm when she dreamed — like the one he had induced, as well as the field of tulips from moments ago. When she identified that ominous gateway, she told him she had crossed it before she experienced a nightmare.

However, she wasn't encountering a typical nightmare.

Some parts of her nightmare were similar to dreaming, such that her body was still asleep in her London apartment. But a more sinister piece to the puzzle became evident when she waded through the door — Her soul was transported.

Elara had been kidnapped from The Dreaming.

The invasive doorway was so powerful that it could take her very being and displace it into another location in the universe, in this case, the Moon. She was soul-projecting without her intention and was at the mercy of whoever controlled the doorway.

Why was she led to the desolate landscape of the former Moon Kingdom? Why couldn't she say 'no' when it manifested in the field? Why could she not remember this door when she awoke?

One small answer led to an entirely new series of questions.

Morpheus took a step into the ruins as he initiated his search for her, as well as unveil anything that would give him an inkling of how this came to be. There should be nothing that can distort his realm without his permission, let alone steal a dreamer and cast their mind somewhere outside their planet and physical form.

The King of Dreams had a sinking sensation that he would discover the answer here.

At that moment, he heard a dreadful shriek of distress, cutting sharply through the air. It was a call so exceedingly painful that it rattled the ground itself and directly drilled at his chest.

Elara.

His heart beat wildly as what was his was screeching in agony. His legs moved on their own with haste, hearing her cry out one more time. It sounded like she was nearby but distant at the same time, as if her cries reverberated outwards for miles.

He had to find her.

She was screaming as if her flesh was being yanked off her bones, or her limbs being burnt… or worse.

Dream strained to travel to where she was located utilizing his sand. As he attempted to pull his energy together to transport him, he discovered himself unable to move. He glowered in frustration after he tried a second time and failed. Reluctantly, he would have to find her on foot. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

He rapidly veered through the crumbled castle, through a demolished staircase, and into what used to be the main entryway. Marble floors were broken and cracked, leaving the ground uneven. The large dome above was splintered with bits of the night sky peeking through. Pieces of shredded, bloodied fabric hung from the cracked dome, drifting in the stale wind. The Chaos Demon had indeed terminated all life from this place.

He urgently swerved throughout the castle, scouring for Elara with anxiety stirring in his chest.

Where was she?

Another scream. A blood-curdling shout shook him to his core as it echoed throughout the ruins. His chest tightened like a vice clamping down on his lungs.

He felt helpless.

Morpheus moved again, this time finding his way through to the desolate remains of the garden. The leafy grass was gray, flowers no more. Everything here was lifeless. The Moon Kingdom was said to have the most glorious gardens in the universe; now, it was the most dreadful. Lining the quiet garden was an uprooted stone pathway, twisting with cruel black vines.

His eyesight fiercely darted, combing for her.

And just at the edge of his vision, he fixated on an unconscious, inanimate shape.

Wrath tumulted viciously through his veins at the sight. His breath died in his throat.

Elara was chained upon a raised platform, bound against a black wall with ancient inscriptions along the top and bottom. Shackles were secured to her wrists and ankles, restraining her movement. Blood seeped out where the metal touched her skin and trickled down her pale skin in cruel, glistening raw streams.

She was in the gown she had worn in her dream with Morpheus, the white dress with the gold bodice. But here, the dress was in complete shreds, as if it was clawed through by massive talons. The coloring, normally ivory, ranged from a pale red to deep ruby. Wet blood stained it, still shimmering from being fresh.

She suddenly gasped for air; traces of blood bloomed at her hairline, and the thick crimson fluid trickled down her temple.

Morpheus' fists tightened as another element of the mystery snapped into place. Elara was petrified to enter this nightmare and had every right to be afraid. Morpheus concluded, looking at her limp shape, beaten and bloodied – that this was her authentic primordial soul being tormented. It was never simply a nightmare. Elara was actually tortured by each terror that she ran.

She had experienced this for ten years.

Ten years of agony were ruthlessly inflicted upon her soul… all because Morpheus was imprisoned and could not prevent the soul-kidnapping from occurring. If he was never captured by Roderick Burgess, perhaps he could've thwarted this. But now, something was so powerful that it could perform this violent act even after he had returned.

But more importantly, why were they targeting Elara?

While her material body might not be here, the depth of damage impaled on her soul was more than any human should ever receive, even once. If this is what she endured every time in her nightmares, it was a miracle she wasn't a shell in the Waking World.

How did she survive this for so long? It was incomprehensible that she awoke every day and resumed everyday life.

Elara should be in a coma. Even moreso, she should be dead.

Lightning danced through the sky around where she was entrapped. Thunder clapped above, the sound booming with ferocity. The wind was viscously whipping around her, causing what little shreds of her dress to sway. The lightning blasted down and impacted the black wall, instantly shocking Elara. She recoiled in misery, screaming as the power tore through her flesh. A fresh mouthful of blood burst from her lips, the liquid now seeping from her ears and nose as well.

The lightning cruelly danced in the reflection of Morpheus' storming eyes as his rage and panic surged in tandem.

He had to get her out now. He broke into a sprint.

Elara's body was unmoving when he finally got to the platform where she was shackled. He couldn't tell if she was breathing as he approached her limp, battered form.

"Elara, Elara, can you hear me," Morpheus uttered, his hands coming up to lift her drooping skull. Her lids were hardly open as he anxiously ran his fingers over her cheeks, only for her head to slump in his grip. Her neck and chest were covered in sweat, her body still. He attempted to wake her, wiping away the blood he could, but she was lifeless. He discerned her pulse's faint, weak thrum by the base of her neck.

Morpheus went to her shackles, using his strength to try and break their hold. They were constructed with old metal, and along the thickness of the restraints were ancient binding runes. These runes were similar to the ones Roderick Burgess employed to trap him. His heart plummeted into his stomach, a sickening realization slapping him.

He could shatter the binds if he concentrated harder, but he needed to uncover a permanent solution to this terror. There was no time to lose on temporary fixes, and he would waste a great deal on breaking her restraints.

The Dream Lord stepped back, summoning whatever knowledge he had to calculate a way out of this. If she entered this space whenever she had her nightmare, Elara always returned to her body, did she not? She said she had recurring nightmares very often. Was the harm imposed not permanent?

Morpheus loathed his only conclusion, but he had to gamble her life to free her. He believed that whatever her soul was experiencing would not affect her physical form. Her mind was going to be in pieces, but she seemed alright after years of this unending torture. He had to assume that she would be okay one more time, despite her painful experience. Her bodily self was safe. If it wasn't, he would have heard from Matthew by now.

His anger boiled within him, pledging that the creature behind this would receive every ounce of his relentless rage. He was going to rip apart whoever did this to Elara. But his vexation wouldn't rescue her right now. All he could do was discover something to prevent this from transpiring again.

Morpheus took one hard look at Elara. His hands cradled her sweaty, bloody face, brushing away the brunette hair plastered to her skin. His lips came to skim her damp forehead. With all the intensity of the universe, Morpheus promised, "I will get you out of this."

He carefully released her head out of his grasp, her skull and body dangling like a bloodied and beaten rag doll. Feeling unsure of his decision, he forced his determination to snap into place as he started the path away from her.

He didn't realize that the darkness came crawling out from underneath the platform the second he turned his back.

The King of Dreams had to think quickly. He was alone on the Moon. He had to be innovative. What could he find that wasn't obvious? What could aid him?

He knew one location in the Moon Kingdom that was legendary and often spoken about in lore that followed its collapse. It was a place of worship on the Moon, where all of its essences were stored– it was supposed to be the central energy that gave the Moon its glow. It was a temple of sorts, known as The Sanctum, and he couldn't be far from where it was. He broke out into a sprint to locate it, his coat flailing behind him.

The darkness began to twist up Elara's legs.

He ran onwards and onwards, using his immortal strength to propel him. He dashed through one archway and then another before the space opened up to a shattered temple Sanctum. The night sky glimmered through a splintered atrium above. Pillars surrounded a central dais, some still standing while others were stumps.

Morpheus couldn't even believe what he was witnessing before him.

There was another door.

Floating above the central platform was a pristine ivory door, unmarred and in immaculate condition. It had golden inscriptions and masterful artistry along the front, and at the very top of the door was a bright golden Moon, sparkling. On the front of the door was a star, glowing faintly. Luminous rays bled through the cracks, peeking out where the door met the frame.

The door seemed out of place with the rest of the ruined kingdom. This door was here for a reason, disjointed from space and time.

He could discern a low chant whispering beside his ear, in his head, in his heart.

The darkness wrapped around her waist.

Morpheus' breath grew shallow as his mind somehow pieced together what this could be. His mind drifted to Alena, how moonlight ran under her skin like this door pulsed with brimming energy. This was the answer he had been searching for. He instinctively knew, he just knew, that the answer to her death and where The Great Power was behind it.

The door drew him in, beckoning him closer as if wrapping him in an embrace. To the truth. He slipped into a trance and neared it. The light increased in intensity, almost outstretching from the door to pull him in.

The darkness enclosed her throat.

He heard the rhythmic chanting from behind it grow louder, a hum that was perfectly in pitch with the pulse of his heart.

A sudden shriek of pure torment tore through the sky as lightning and thunder roared above. Morpheus whipped his head back and could still faintly see Elara through the breaks in the castle.

A new form of energy had emerged from where she was kept. A cyclone of dark shadows swirled directly around Elara, and lightning was aggressively striking within it. His eyes enlarged as the gust of wind was so powerful that he detected its force from his far distance away. Dream heard a cry from Elara that would torment him for the rest of his days.

Water pricked his sight, but Morpheus planted his feet, unmoving. He had made his decision. This door was one of the most significant objects he could ever find. It was more important than anything else in existence. His mission was overriding all logic.

There were greater forces at play.

Morpheus was required to see what was behind this door for the universe's sake.

With the star illuminated on its front, he knew it would be the answer to what happened with the Chaos Demon that fateful night. He knew within his core it would reveal where The Great Power was— the same power that created him and the rest of the cosmos, existence, reality, dimensions… It was the energy that started it all.

Morpheus moved closer as the light reached for him, whisking around his hand with heat. The low chant behind the door boosted louder, and a thrumming of drums was beating in his ears, drowning out everything else. As he extended his hand to touch the sparkling essence, he sensed its immense power dusting his fingers like starlight.

He was possessed by the allure of the Moon Door. He had to have located it.

A shrill wail from Elara ripped through the air, the worst he had heard since he entered this torturous place. What caused him to waiver is that, unlike her last cries, she had explicitly screamed, "DREAM!"

Morpheus didn't shift his gaze from the door at her desperate call, but a single tear had escaped his eyes at the symphony of her distress. She begged him to save her, but he did not move from where he stood. This was larger than humanity. This was greater than himself.

With the decision made, Morpheus strode right up to the doorway before him, leaving Elara alone, and the light consumed him.


The King of Dreams never slept. He simply didn't need to rest the way mortals do. He did not grow tired or old or hungry, and it was not something an entity of existence required to sustain any part of their daily life. They just lived and went on. They were Endless.

So when Morpheus discovered himself lying flat in a bed of dead tulips, he was thoroughly confused. His head pulsed as his eyelids blinked open, his pupils resizing as they focused on blades of gray grass and decaying petals. His hand reached out to graze one of the gray, crumbling flora. With a slight flick of his wrist, the flower bloomed, rejuvenating itself into a bright seafoam color.

Morpheus employed whatever strength he had to force himself upwards and sit. He tilted his head around, discovering that he was alone and in The Dreaming. The Onyx Gateway had vanished from the plane; its dark essence was gone, and the sun was now shining down on him. He set his pounding head into his hand, his palm cooling the throbbing that coursed through him.

He always remembered everything, yet he knew he had forgotten something important. He realized that his memory was failing him, and he pressed the inner corners of his mind to try and resurface what just had happened. His skull was thumping like a jackhammer, only for one bit of information to reveal itself.

The Moon Door. Morpheus remembered standing before a glowing white door adorned with the crest of the Moon Kingdom. There was a shimmering light leaking through, drawing him closer. But, when his fingers skimmed the door, he simply could not recall what had transpired. He let out a frustrating groan at his physical and mental pain, shaking his head as he willed himself to think harder.

What was behind that door? Did he ever get to see what was behind it? Did he find the answers he sought out and simply forgot?

He lifted his weak head from his palm, glancing around the desolate land of broken flowers. However, one bright green flower stood out, glowing from his revival.

"Almost, but not exactly."

Elara.

He forgot about Elara.

Morpheus immediately thrust himself to stand. He let his energy swell within him as he initiated his transport to the Waking World with his sand. The wind whipped about his form, the dead flowers lifting into the air, intertwined with specks of golden sand, and circling him due to his incredible force.

How could he have forgotten her for a single moment?

It was just about daybreak Monday morning when he materialized in her apartment. Everything was ominously still. He didn't hear her crying or moving, and he heard no sounds.

He investigated her living room and kitchen, uncovering nothing of significance. He hurried into the bedroom and instantly focused on the mattress, hoping to find her still sleeping. It was empty. The covers were lifted back as if she had already awakened. Morpheus' brows wrinkled in confusion when he heard a tiny sound echoing from the bathroom. He hurried over to the door. When he flicked on the bathroom light, he immediately collapsed to his knees.

Elara was sprawled on the floor, the stench of vomit prominent and trailing into the toilet. Her body was shaking vigorously as if she were seizing. Her clothing was wet, soaked all the way through from perspiration, and her hair was plastered to her damp face.

"Elara," Morpheus gasped in shock. His hand immediately cradled her neck, giving her support as he lifted her body upwards to sit against the wall. Blood leaked from her nose, hitting her lips before dribbling to her chin. He brushed away the hair from her sweating face, running his fingers soothingly over her scalp. Her coloring was exceedingly pale, her lips a muted shade of blue. Her tremors slowly ceased as she leaned against the wall, but she was in terrible condition.

Morpheus was mortified.

"Elara," he expressed again, and finally, her dull gaze flickered up to meet him. He couldn't tell if she could register who he was.

He used his essence to push health and healing into the woman's body, as he had in the past, only to find that it was rejected this time. His brows narrowed as he tried again, but it seemed like a wall was between him and her, and he couldn't heal her pain…

"Can you hear me?"

He wasn't sure if she was coherent. Her half-lidded eyes followed his face, but she did not answer him.

Morpheus' heart plummeted as he instantly lamented his decision on the Moon. He had assumed that she had woken up with all her past nightmares and would continue with an average day. He never thought, for an instant, that the dreams would detrimentally affect her health in the Waking World. He incorrectly calculated that because it was her soul, it would operate the same way as a dream— if you're hurt, it doesn't affect your living self.

But he was wrong.

He was so very wrong.

And his decision deeply impacted Elara's physical well-being. She looked like a corpse.

His gut indicated to him that this was the worst nightmare she's had, and the anguish she experienced actually damaged her soul so severely that her material form harbored the hit. Morpheus could not mend someone's soul. He had the choice to save her from pain and could've freed her, but he openly did not.

His hands cradled her face again, his thumbs sweeping under her eyes and cheeks. She barely had any reaction to his touches. His finger ran over her lip and chin to wipe away the blood, only for her to watch him with an unfazed stare.

Morpheus scowled fully, regarding his insides clawing within himself. Should he notify her friend Diana, who was a human nurse? His powers were ineffective in healing her, and likely mortal medicine wouldn't do much better.

His arm securely gripped her back and supported her neck, his other arm lifting her by her knees. As carefully as he could, he raised her in his hold, her head plummeting against his chest like a dead weight. He carried her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, laying her softly on her mattress.

Her clothing was soaked from sweat— this was something he should change.

His fingers moved to remove her wet shirt, only for Elara's hand to snatch his wrist abruptly. She gripped it firmly with strength that Dream didn't know she had, especially in her weakened state.

Morpheus was bewildered, finding Elara glaring at him. She swallowed thickly, her focus menacingly narrowing at his face.

"Get. Out," She spoke angrily, her grasp still squeezing him.

"What?" Morpheus jerked his head, his words taking a moment to register what she had finally expressed.

"Get. Out," She recounted, sneering at him, sharp with each word.

He scanned her in bafflement, his lips parting to try and formulate a response. All he could think of was, "Elara—"

"You left me," she seethed through her teeth, her voice brimming with her anger.

Morpheus' mouth separated further in disbelief. Emptiness filled his chest at the culmination of her rage. She was mad at him. She was furious at him.

His heart dived. "I—"

"Don't," She spat, cutting him off. She finally let go of his wrist, using her hands now to help push herself to lean against her headboard. Her arms gave out from her lack of strength as she crumpled back onto the bed. Morpheus reached out to help her, only for her to snap. "Don't touch me."

"Elara," Morpheus nearly begged, watching her struggle to sit up against the back of her bed frame. "Let me help you."

"You could've," She whispered darkly, acid clear in her pitch, her body now weakly sitting upwards.

He didn't consider she would be hurt like this from her nightmare. He had made that decision.

And yet, Morpheus, to some extent, still thought he was correct in his determination on the Moon. With his boundless and grandiose knowledge of reality, unlocking the Moon Door was the most paramount thing in existence. Without Elara in play, this would've been much simpler. He would not have cared about what or who was injured in the fallout of his selection.

But now the cost was Elara's health, and her present unyielding pain challenged everything he once believed. In his entire reality as Dream of the Endless, he never once dared to think he was mistaken in his judgment. And in this present moment, staring at her adamant suffering, Morpheus' insides grew raw in compounded agony.

He caused her misery, and his choice was to inflict this pain. He would have to live with the decision he made.

"I didn't know that your nightmare would affect you like this," Morpheus admitted, his fingers tightening into fists. He spoke honestly, "I would have never left if I knew."

Elara let a weak, cruel chuckle escape her dry throat to interrupt his plea. She tilted her head as she voiced, "I was being tortured. You said you were going to protect me, and you walked away. I trusted you."

"I promise you, Elara, I was only trying to protect you."

"I don't want your promises if they mean nothing," Elara sharply hissed, her hues growing redder as a single tear escaped her, dripping down her jaw.

Morpheus' fist clenched tighter, his expression hardening into stone. He backed away from the bed, regarding the shame fostering within him. He was enraged at himself.

What was Elara worth to him when up against the potential creation of the universe?

There was a time a Morpheus would've scoffed at such a question - the source of power trumps all. But now, he was feverish at the idea and detested that answer. For once in his existence, he doubted his decisions and the reasoning behind them.

He thought of the mental security Elara sincerely offered him when no one else would. He imagined her mouth pressed against his, her optimistic eyes and effortless smile exuding compassion imbued with everlasting warmth. He relished how much she mended his soul and kissed away the internal torment of his imprisonment. He recalled how she motivated him to create more fantastic and extraordinary dreams than he ever had in his past.

In those moments with her, nothing was worth more to him. As he regarded her tearful face before him, he realized he would do anything to stop the onslaught of sadness.

Since Elara battled to free him, she unfailingly made him a better person daily. And yet when he was given the option to demonstrate how much he'd change, he failed. He went against his vow to protect her and chose to pursue his typical, selfish habits.

In that instant, Morpheus understood he had made the wrong call.

Elara's resentful hues contracted. "If you're so concerned about my trust, why don't you answer me one question."

The King of Dreams did not like games, but at this point, he would do anything to soothe the anger on her face. He would answer her question. Morpheus had a grave countenance, now guarding the whirlwind of emotions he withheld, and nodded in agreement.

The woman's hues misted, her bottom lip trembling. Her hands grasped the bottom of her wet shirt, but the resilience of her gaze never swayed.

She stared right into the swirling eyes of Dream as she asked, "Who is Alena?"


We are halfway through! I am currently writing chapter 22, the final chapter, and my heart is just in pieces.

Please leave a comment below :) Your consistent support is endlessly my motivation.