Dream made preparations for the mara's talisman to be adjusted while she conducted her business with Lilith. During such, he saw everything that Matthew saw. His raven did a fine job at keeping discreet.

He had to admit, he was very impressed with Scylla's resistance to the succubi that tried to seduce her. He had no part to play in it, but he did wonder if her heart really did change.

He heard everything, even when the succubi tried to cast him in a bad light for rescuing Calliope. It was common for them to try and bend the truth, to cause doubt. While the Muse would always have a piece of his heart, the damage to their former marriage was done. That relationship could never be rekindled, and perhaps that was more because Morpheus still felt responsible for his son's torment.

With the altered pendant and a tome in hand, he waited at the demolished alter until Matthew came into view, flying towards him. In the distance, Scylla could be seen walking in the direction of the gardens.

"I think it went well," Matthew said in approval, perching himself on a gnarly, green willow closest to Dream.

"It appears so," he said. He didn't saying anything more, but he was pleased with the results. Scylla behaved herself, which spoke mountains of her improvement. Her abilities were also returning to her, as well.

Once she stood in front of him, Morpheus handed her the book first. It would no doubt look familiar to her. The bindings were made of an ornate, worn, iridescent leather of purple and turquoise. On the front of it was the symbol of the triple goddess, embellished in faded pearls. On the side, where a lock usually would be, there was a socket shaped the very same as the necklace.

She possessed the key for this grimoire the entire time.

From the gardens, Scylla cast her protection spell to hold her end of the bargain with Lilith. As she spewed oit wirds belonging to an old language long forgotten, a blue haze began to cast across the amethyst sky. The colors blended together like an ethereal, oil spill.

The incantation was short, but it had to be repeated numerous times for the Lunar Shield to cover all of Lilith's realm. It was clear that performing the task was taking a lot out of her. Her breath would get heavy, her words chopping, as if she was wincing, and soon, she collapsed to the ground, but only when the spell was definitely complete.

Morpheus hurried to her side, scooping her into his arms effortlessly before they would return to the Waking World in a sandstorm. He laid her down on the sofa in the sitting room. It was nighttime, and so, he took a few moments to ignite some candles to give the room light.

"Matthew, tell Lucienne of our progress," he instructed the raven before he could get too comfortable.

"Will Scylla be okay?" The bird tilted his head in concern as he watched Dream set down the spellbook.

"Of course," Morpheus said. "The spell simply exhausted her. Nothing I can't remedy. When you're done, take this to Gault." He handed the necklace to the raven, who tucked the chain into his beak once more. "I have already given her instruction as to who this goes to." Thankfully, with more and more of his cohorts returning to The Dreaming, they had a net of allies they could reach out to, as well. Gault, as fate would have it, was once good friends with a mage in Hecate's royal guard, and he was still out there somewhere.

"And Matthew," Morpheus added, using a sprinkle of sand to bring the fireplace to life, "you might want to wait until morning to return here." The bird made an amused, muffled sound before he would take flight through the open window.

At this point, Morpheus was able to redirect his attention to Scylla as she grunted from the couch. A loud thud concerned him as he rounded the furniture. She had rolled off and fell to the floor.

"Are you alright?"

"No," Scylla growled now, and it was then that he saw the pain evident in her face through the veil of her long, orange hair. She suddenly yelled in pain, as if she was being burned alive. "It feels like fire... like... something's tearing from the inside out..."

Morpheus dropped to her side, and he understood. Her kind was particularly gifted in magic, but it came with a price. It was one of the reasons why she lived off of the sexual energy of people. That was the pain killer, the life source that allowed her to survive.

He'd let her feed it from him, and if he had it his way, he would be her only source. He could handle it.

"I'm right here," he said softly, pulling her gently onto his lap. He would sit her up, and as she writhed in pain, he hooked an arm beneath her back to keep her upright. "Take what you need."

For a moment, it seemed as if Scylla was at peace. The pain was still in her face, and her green eyes welled with tears. It pained him to see her like this. Through the silence, he kissed her, and he hoped it would wisp away her agony.

Then, suddenly, she pulled back, and again, she winced.

It was hard to hide how taken aback he was. She actually withdrew from him, even after the night they shared previously? It only took him a moment to realize that Lilith's words might have weighed on her mind still.

"I don't want to take anything from you, Morpheus," she said. The defeat in her words practically shattered his heart. "I don't want that for you, or for me..."

"You'll only get sicker if you continue to refuse," he pressed. Perhaps Scylla couldn't die, but suffering was still a concept even for the immortal.

Scylla hesitated, and that window of reluctance gave Dream just enough time to try and change her mind. With her still mounted on his lap, he hooked his fingers around the black chiffon of her dress, pulling open the front of it to expose her breasts to the fire raging in the hearth. He kissed her neck and her shoulder, pulling her back against him. He always desired her, but his determination to simply keep her alive and healthy was what fueled him in this very moment. Though, he couldn't deny that watching her skin radiate beneath the flickering light made his libido rage.

She melted within his embrace, pivoting her body in such a fashion that he could feel her press against him. He bit his lip, his hands grazing down the fabric of her gown as gravity did the rest to allow it to fall off her arms and around her waist. He trailed a constellation of kisses along her shoulder blade, grasping one of her breasts. As his thumb stimulated her nipple, he finally roused a moan from her - the blissful sound that did him in every time. What more, it also meant that her discomfort had been cast aside.

Leaning against the front of the sofa, he folded up the skirt of her dress. Firelight danced on her thighs as he undressed her, and he could feel the heat on her skin beneath his fingertips. The room felt hot, so much that he had to remove his own layers. There on the black, flocked rug, he took her again, and ecstasy shook him to his core as he filled her. Her body rocked against his thrusts, now that it was void of all hurt.

He ran his hand through her long curtain of hair. As pleasure struck a certain degree, he couldn't help himself but to pull on it, but that only seemed to thrill Scylla even more. Her head reared back from the tug, her moans of pleasure slightly restrained as his free hand reached around to heighten the stimulation between her thighs.

When Morpheus felt her tighten around him like a vice, it was all he could do not to give in right then and there. Every note of delight was like a symphony. In that moment, she was the loveliest creature on the face of the earth. And for all his recent shame, it was finally clear to him. The feelings she created inside of him didn't come from a place of betrayal, but of joy. Even though her actions had caused him pain in the past, she was making up for it now, and she gave him hope that things could surely be different.

They both fell into a place of complete bliss as they found release from their tensions, and as their bodies came down from their high, he released a content sigh into her hair. Scylla turned to face him, and her arms wrapped around him.

"Thank you," he heard her whisper. He smiled faintly, the side of his face pressed tenderly against hers. She had never thanked him for anything during their turbulent connection. Dream said nothing. He didn't need to in order for her to understand that he would do it again.