"She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
―William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Here's the latest chapter. I hope you'll enjoy reading it more than I enjoyed writing it.

Everything Must Go

The Dreaming had become a nightmare. Where once there had been magical forests and golden meadows, fairytale castles and glittering palaces, emerald cities and paper towns, hidden libraries and secret gardens, now there was an ashen wasteland, strewn with rubble and misshapen corpses. Torrents of rain fell from the sky, threatening to wash away the last pitiful remains of Dream's kingdom. Circling high above, like malevolent storm clouds, there were three monstrous shapes: vaguely feminine, but with talons, fanged mouths and feathered wings. One of them was a withered ancient, another was plump and large-breasted, and the third had a suggestion of youth and savage beauty about her.

They must have noticed Tanya as soon as she arrived. With a shrill cackle, the eldest of the three spirits gestured towards her and said, "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

"Turn, hellhound, turn!" cried the youngest.

"How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is it you do?" asked Tanya, as if compelled to join in their play-acting. Then, grimacing, she shook herself and said, "No, enough with the Macbeth quotes. I know you. The Eumenides, I presume."

"We have many names," said the third spirit, whose appearance was partly that of a plump and matronly woman and partly that of a ferocious monster. "You call us the Kindly Ones. Others have been less kind."

"They call us the Furies," said the eldest. "The Weird Sisters."

"Maiden and mother and crone," said the youngest, who presumably rejoiced in the title of 'the Maiden'.

"Madonna and monster and whore." A bellow of raucous laughter from the third spirit, with a wide smile on her apple-cheeked face.

"The Three," all of them said as one. Their voices echoed like thunder, back and forth across the ruined landscape.

"But… of course, we are much more than hollow archetypes. Much more than we were born to be," said the Maiden. "Just like you, son of man."

"I did not come here to banter with you, ladies," said Tanya. "I need to speak with Dream of the Endless. May I pass?"

"Why? So you can conspire with your ally? Fight beside him?" The Crone sneered. "Will you save him from us?"

"Do you love him, dearie?" asked the Mother, making kissy noises.

"Of course not. I'd like to think I'm not that much of a fool. I remember what he did to Nada. And, more than that… he has repeatedly lied to me. I must have words with him."

The Maiden put on a sharp-toothed smirk. "And why should we allow you to do that, son of man?"

"I'd have thought you'd be in favour. It would be another way to torment him." Tanya paused, scowling. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"That's what you are, isn't it? Or is it?" asked the Mother.

While Tanya hesitated, bemused and uncertain of whether or not she should be offended, the Mother continued to press her: "You've never really embraced what you are, have you, dearie? It was just something else to blame on 'Being X'. Another reason to hate him."

"Until at last you accepted it with the same weary resignation you regard everything else. You don't feel anything these days, do you? Even when you're showing off for your underlings, it's just a performance," said the Crone. "Where is your passion, young one? What happened to your grand speeches, your fiery denunciations? How did you lose the cruelty with which you slaughtered the people of Arene?"

"I don't remember that. It must have been thousands of years ago, in another universe," said Tanya. "How can you possibly know about that? Why should I believe anything you say?"

"We know everything you know, even if you're not aware you know it. So long as it's relevant to us and what we are. It's all part of the wossname. Female principle," said the Mother. "Yin yang, Shiva and Shakti, and so on."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tanya replied, with all the dignity she could muster.

"Of course not. There's none so deaf as those who don't listen."

All three seemed amused by that. The Crone gave a hoarse cackle, the Mother started chuckling at her own 'joke', and a tinkling of musical laughter came from the Maiden.

Then, a predatory expression on her face, hovering above her in a manner that reminded Tanya of a carrion bird eyeing its next meal, the Maiden said, "Has it ever occurred to you, even as a possibility, that the reason why you've been reborn as a woman so many times is that you are a woman, no matter that you were born in a man's body that one time?"

"Is it so surprising that if someone is forced to wear a mask often enough and for long enough, they'll get used to it? Does it really matter?" asked Tanya. "I am what I am."

The Maiden softly snickered. "By the grace of God, as Saint Paul wrote in his first letter to the Corinthians?"

"No. Of course not."

"Exactly. You are what you are: all woman," said the Mother, in a voice booming with triumph. "God – or Being X, or whatever you call him – has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, so Being X wasn't trying to torment me by repeatedly putting me in the wrong body. Perhaps I owe him an apology," said Tanya, in a voice that was so thick with sarcasm that she could barely force it past her lips.

"By blaming him for every happenstance, you've given him power over you. Forget about him, dearie," the Mother advised her.

"How can I forget about him if he won't leave me alone?" Tanya scowled and shook her head. "Your wisdom is a sham: my own doubts reflected back at me. Absolute nonsense."

The Three gave no reply. They continued to hang in the air, blotting out the stars, taking on various different shapes. For a moment, they were a vast swarm of winged insects, then a huge and shadowy monster with three heads, then a trio of celestial bodies far beyond the clouds, and many other things besides. Tanya wondered if they were trying to find a form that could defeat her. If so, they would be trying for a long time: she was confident that she could overpower them, if she was given no choice but to fight.

"Enough of this. I must speak to Dream of the Endless," said Tanya. "Let me pass."

"We're not here to indulge you or anyone else," said the Maiden, in a sickly sweet voice.

"We're here to punish," said the Crone. She had become something barely humanoid: squat and monstrous, with a lamprey-like mouth filled with rows of teeth.

"Dream killed his own son. We're here for revenge," the Mother explained, as if an explanation were needed.

"Yes. I know that," said Tanya. "I know what he did. It was a mercy."

"Doesn't matter," said the Mother. "He broke the rules, so he must be punished."

"If you let me pass, I will make it easier for you," Tanya persisted. "When I've finished, he will no longer have the strength to resist whatever you want to do to him."

Even as she spoke, she didn't know if she was telling the truth – and did it matter? She just wanted to speak to Dream. She wanted him to explain what he'd done and why. Whether her actions benefited the Eumenides or not made no difference to her.

They seemed to notice her uncertainty. More mocking laughter echoed throughout the heavens.

"Why should we believe you?" asked the Maiden. "You, whom the Father of Lies chose as his successor?"

"I suppose there is little point in arguing with you. I doubt there is anything I could say that would convince you," said Tanya. Nevertheless, she felt that it behoved her to exhaust every diplomatic option she could think of, even those she had already dismissed as unlikely to work, before resorting to violence. "Lyta Hall was the one who sent you to take revenge for her missing son, wasn't she? Her son has now been returned to her and she no longer has any need for revenge. Does that matter to you?"

"Not at all. It never did," the Crone replied. "She merely set things in motion."

Tanya nodded. A moment later, she tried a different tack: "I don't suppose I could persuade you to allow him to be tried by a jury of his peers? Like Athena did for Orestes?"

"You've been reading too many books, dearie," said the Mother, with a chuckle.

"Yes, that's what Dream said. But so have you, judging by what you've said so far in this conversation: the Bible and the works of Shakespeare, at least."

"Mortals are malleable things, easily bent, twisted and pulled apart. For them, the laws are somewhat looser," said the Crone. "But Dream is of the Endless. An eternal being, bound by universal laws. Immutable and unchangeable. Just like us."

"We can't decide not to punish him any more than he can escape his punishment," the Maiden added.

"Oh, he could have defended himself and his realm, if he'd wanted to," the Mother disagreed. "If he'd stayed here in the Dreaming, he could have made its walls impenetrable. He would have been trapped here, unable to get out, but he would have been safe." She grinned, exposing teeth like splinters. "Until you called him and demanded a meeting in neutral territory. He foolishly agreed, rushed over to you, and left behind his kingdom. He must have known that we would destroy it while he was gone, but that didn't stop him."

"It's all your fault. This happened because of you, young one. You're the one to blame," said the Crone, with a wide, sweeping gesture at the devastation all around. "At least, that's what Dream wants to think. He'd rather blame anyone but himself."

"Ridiculous. I asked him to meet with me, but he didn't have to come. I didn't force him to do anything. He made his own choices, stupid though they may have been."

"Yes," the Three agreed with her, speaking as one. "And now he must accept the consequences."

Tanya tried again: "Will you allow me to speak with him, just for a few moments?"

"No. We don't trust you," said the Maiden.

"It's better that you don't. Forget all about this worthless man and find yourself another. Move on with your life," the Mother advised her.

"Get hence," said the Crone. "Carry on with your own miserable existence. Mind your own business."

"So… just to be clear, there is no possibility of my persuading you to step aside? No matter what I say or do?"

"None," the Three confirmed.

For as long as she could remember, Tanya had believed that calm, composure and professionalism were admirable traits in a leader, and had strived to behave as she believed a leader should. Nevertheless, emotions had their uses, sometimes.

"You give me no choice," she said, gathering her power and fuelling it with all the rage, pain and humiliation she kept buried deep within her. Before the Three could react, she had filled the sky with fire. By making her first strike as devastating as possible, she hoped there would be no need for a second.

All around her, there was a massive explosion, deafening noise and unbearable heat, that seemed to go on and on, unrelenting. She kept it going for as long as she could, watching as the Three burned like wax, like will-o-wisps pierced by the harsh sunlight, melting and withering and fading away until nothing was left of them but a few greasy stains. And then, not even that.

"That will not stop them, you realize," said a weary voice. It was one she recognized: it belonged to Dream of the Endless. "They'll be back. They're never far away."

In a few moments, the landscape of the Dreaming had rearranged itself so that now she was standing before a rocky pinnacle. Dream was sitting on top of it. He was slumped, pallid and listless, shirtless and shoeless, wearing only a pair of black trousers belted at the waist. His long hair was loose, flapping in the wind, growing increasingly sodden as the rain continued to fall.

"It will take them some time to recover," Tanya replied. "Long enough."

Rather than have him look down on her, she flew up to him. Hovering in the air in front of him, she said, "I have returned to Daniel to his mother. They are being guarded by Thessaly." Then, when he didn't react, she added: "Your ex-girlfriend."

"That's good, I suppose," he replied, without any visible signs of interest. "Did you ask her to do that?"

"No. The Eumenides did. They paid well, apparently. If the Apocalypse doesn't happen in a few years' time, Thessaly will get to live a few more centuries."

Was that a nod? Or just the wind ruffling his hair, making it seem as if he'd moved? Either way, it was barely perceptible.

Tanya paused, considering what she wanted to say. How to express what she felt at that moment? Bitter recriminations? Angry denunciations? Should she demand an explanation? Did it really matter what she did or said?

"The Crone was right," she murmured.

Dream inclined his head, just slightly. "About what?"

"She said I don't care about anything these days, that even when I make a show of being angry or frustrated – or whatever – it's just a show. A performance. Like you might see at the theatre or in a movie. It's just pretend." Tanya heaved a dismal sigh. "I mean… I've been informed that you've deceived me. You've used me and betrayed me. Is that true?"

"Do you care?" asked Dream, with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course not. All of my rage and hatred is reserved for Being X. Compared to him, you're nothing, no matter what you've done."

He subsided into silence once again. She flew over to him and sat down next to him, legs hanging over the edge of the precipice. They sat together, two weary immortals, like tattered old crows huddling together for warmth.

"You could still fight," she murmured. "While the Three are gone, you could erect new defences to keep them out. Here, you would be safe and you could rebuild the Dreaming just the way it was… for a couple of years. Until Being X erases everything."

"I don't want to. I've had enough."

"Just two years left. That's all. You can't wait that long?"

"For nearly fourteen billion years, I have been the lord of dreams. I have not always been a good ruler. I have been cruel, petty and vengeful; I have ignored the needs of my subjects and those I claimed to love; and I have caused a great deal of suffering."

He paused, as if waiting for Tanya to say, "Including your own," but she did not. Instead, she politely waited for him to finish his monologue.

"Since I killed my son… the Dreaming has not been the same. Or perhaps I was no longer the same. I still had my obligations… but even the freedom of the Dreaming can be a cage of a kind."

"You could leave. Come with me to Hell. I will keep the Eumenides far away from you," said Tanya, offering him her hand. "Together, we would be unstoppable."

"Do you believe that? Do you honestly think that together we could defeat the one you call 'Being X', otherwise known as God, the source of all things?"

"Perhaps not," she admitted. "But with you by my side I'd have a much better chance than I would on my own."

"But if we were defeated, it would mean an eternity of suffering on top of what I have already endured. I couldn't bear it."

"What does that mean? You'd rather end your life here and now, forcing someone else – like that poor little boy, Daniel – to take your place?" Tanya snapped. "You disappoint me, my friend. I once called you an abuser because of what you did to Nada, but I didn't think you were a coward as well."

"Do not presume to judge me. You have lived for a few thousand years at most, but already you are weighed down by exhaustion and ennui. What would you be after fourteen billion years? I doubt there'd be much left of you."

There was a pause, during which Tanya scooted away from Dream so there was at least a metre between them.

Dream sighed heavily and forlornly. "I don't deserve to be forgiven, Tanya. I don't deserve you, your friendship or anything else from you. I'm not sure why you ever bothered with me at all. You knew Nada before you met me – she told you what had happened to her – so you always knew what kind of man I was."

"I'm not sure what I hoped for. But I thought you'd always be there," said Tanya. "I suppose I was looking for something constant in my life. Someone who could provide me with reliability and stability, even in the midst of chaos. Not one of my subordinates, or my former boss, or a mortal who could die at any time. An equal."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted," said Dream.

"I suppose it doesn't matter really. None of this matters," said Tanya, hardening her heart. Stone by stone, she reinforced her inner walls, through which no emotions could escape.

Tentatively, Dream reached out and said, "I… have a gift for you, Tanya." A gemstone appeared in his hand, sparkling with a rosy inner light. "Take it."

"Trying to win me over with jewellery, are you?" she asked, warily.

"No. I'm returning to you something you have lost."

"So, it's not really a gift, is it?" She rolled her eyes. "But never mind."

She took it from him. It crumbled to pieces, becoming a rich dust, which was absorbed into her, as if through her skin or an inhaled breath. And she remembered. She remembered her first life, when she'd been a Japanese salaryman. He did the same dull job every day, sucking up to his superiors in the hopes of being promoted, until finally he was murdered by a disgruntled employee. But all of that faded into insignificance by comparison to her memories of her second life: the war that had engulfed most of Europe; the thrill of aerial combat; the fury and frenzy of battle; the headlong rush of excitement that came from risking her life time after time.

And Visha, her adjutant. In more than one life, Visha had been her true love. A beautiful woman with soft brown hair and large blue eyes, who made the best coffee Tanya had ever tasted…

More than once, she must have lost her memory and relived her second life all over again, making different choices each time. She'd romanced Visha multiple times, never knowing that she'd done it before. A few times, she had met and fell in love with other people, but Visha was the one she had loved best, who shone brighter than all the rest. Now, looking back, she remembered everything about her: her smile, her kindness, her scent, her hair, her steadfast loyalty, the warmth in her eyes, her sleek and supply body, and much more. She wanted to lose herself in those memories for as long as possible, to hold on to everything she had lost, but she could not. They were already fading again.

She remembered when she'd been in love, how real it had felt, far greater than any of her more recent fumbling attempts at flirtation. The heights of ecstasy and ardency, of joy and gladness, of knowing that she loved someone and was loved in return, that someone treasured her as much as they did anything, and she felt the same for them…

All of her walls came down. She was sobbing, bent over, with tears streaming down her face, mingling with the rain. Half-blind and barely capable of speech, she turned to Dream and demanded to know: "W-w-why… why w-would you d-do this to me?"

"You deserve to know who you are. To remember what you once were," he replied. "Would you rather have remained ignorant?"

"Y-y-you are the cruelest and stupidest person I've ever met!" She raged at him, still sobbing, so overcome with misery that she didn't care that she was being childish and silly, that her actions were unseemly and unprofessional, or about anything else other than easing the pain in her metaphorical heart. Dignity and composure lay discarded and forgotten. "I hate you!"

She took to the air and flew away, as fast and far as she could, trying to escape. As she left, Dream muttered a few words, which were carried to her by the wind, even though she'd already left him far behind: "I don't know what I was expecting to happen."

As she flew, she noticed someone walking the other way: a woman with alabaster skin and raven hair, entrancingly beautiful. It was Dream's sister, Death, who looked lovelier than ever. Tanya was tempted to go to her and beg her to… What? What exactly did she want? Visha brought back to her? She was long gone, thousands of years ago and in another universe. There was no way Death or anyone else could bring her back. It was too late.

I want an end to this… all of this. To die, to sleep… at last. But she knew Being X would never allow it. He would simply bring her back and continue to torment her.

Tanya forced herself to calm down, to think rationally and logically about what was going on and what she should do next. She realised that it didn't matter how fast or far away she flew because she couldn't leave the Dreaming that way. Instead, she would have to open a portal. That was a simple matter, easily done, since Dream was making no attempt to prevent her from leaving. In a matter of moments, she was gone.

She didn't look back. She didn't see Death approach Dream, sit down beside him, engage him in conversation, and finally take his hand. She never saw him again.

Author's Notes:
Writing this chapter has been extremely difficult for me. I've agonized over every word and I'm still not sure if it's any good or not. Some days, I've stared at the screen for ages and written fewer than a hundred words.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I want to continue this fic, but I intend to finish off the current arc at least.

This is the emotional low point of this fic and I don't want to end it here, but I will if I have to. I'd like to carry on until the final confrontation between Tanya and Being X, but I'm not sure I'll manage it. Also, this chapter and the next don't show my version of Tanya in the best light, so I'd prefer to end on a more triumphant note… Ugh, I'll do what I can.

I tried dozens of different titles, most of them some variation on 'The Sound and the Furies' or 'Sleep No More', before settling on 'Everything Must Go'. It's not a Macbeth reference, sadly, but I think it's the best of a bad bunch.

I'm kind of dreading whatever comments I get about this one. I really don't have much confidence in what I've written...