von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit

Corinthian is remade, portioned by his lord, a share of Nightmare. A young monster, nestled in the dark of Dreaming, closing all his mouths on the memory of vitreous bodies, muscle, ligaments, difficult to cut, his teeth crushing, crunching, blinding men alive.

The taste remains. Saltlike.

He licks his mouths and moves when his new lord calls. A soft thing, almost as new as he, radiant with beauty. Dream of the Endless, Dream who is not who made him and yet shoulders his function, the same way Corinthian is not who walked the earth for his own arrogating pleasure. They are both old and new, same and other.

Corinthian kneels before his lord and wonders about his maker. He of Night and Time, brother to the Endless and the Furies, he who could not outrun his blood. Was he as beautiful as Dream? Corinthian knew him only for a moment. All his life. He grazes his glasses. Morpheus fashioned them for him, placed them on his face, touch of father.

He gazes up at Dream.

Show me the realm, little Nightmare.

Yes, Lord.

Corinthian leads him through the gates of horn and ivory and they walk under the starpierced dark, Dream’s robes rushing in the breeze like white bird wings, and a scent sillages behind, sweet, intoxicating nightblooming jasmine.

Lord, you encompass all Dreaming. Why do you need me to show it to you?

Dream stops, eyelids cast down for a moment, then he looks at Corinthian with such openness, the world seems to still around them.

I encompass. But I don’t yet…know.

Dream opens his palms as if to receive the world.

But you know. You are a part of it.

So are you, Lord.

Not in the same way. I was human.

A pang shoots through Corinthian. He turns away.

Perhaps so was I, he says, quiet. For a time.

Dream slides his arm around Corinthian’s, falling into step with him.

Yes, he says, gentler than Morpheus ever was.

Dream is warm beside him, unlike the marble cold of his maker, but in his eyes the same universe, one star richer. Corinthian slides his thumb over the back of Dream’s hand, brushing the soft hair of his arm, and Dream looks, smiling like the infant Corinthian cradled in his arms mere days ago. Dream does not yet understand all the meanings of touch. Slowly, Dream cups his cheek, bends forward and presses a kiss onto Corinthian’s mouth, burning all the breath from his lungs. Corinthian kisses back, ready to open his lips and lick, but Dream pulls away, face relaxed, still smiling, unaware of the noise in Corinthian’s chest.

Show me the shores.

Did he ever kiss Morpheus? The forest of his first memories obscures. He can only taste the want for it.

They walk. Night arches around them. And there the shores sink into blackest star swarmed ocean. Calm waters. Corinthian hums. Here his siblings roam, all dreams and nightmares that move sleeping humanity. Dream strides onto the single pier that reaches into the waves, and slowly Corinthian follows. A thrum beneath his feet, the siren song of earth fills his ears and pours into him like blood. He gnashes his teeth. Dream does not notice. His hand curves around the memory of a blade. It lies in the palace. It presses against his hip. Corinthian strokes a finger over steel. How easy it would be to leap into the waters and flee his neophyte lord—

Dream turns to him.

Thank you.

Escape lithifies. Lucienne’s words ring through his skull: You broke his heart. Good, he thinks, remnant of his first self, in butter-soft agony.

A glint shines in Dream’s black eyes.

You betrayed him.

Yes.

You won’t betray me, Dream says.

Not tonight.

No. Dream comes to him like uncreation came to him. Softly.

Warm fingers stroke Corinthian’s cheek. All his mouths are hungry.

You’ve changed, Dream says.

He changed me. I had no say in it. Corinthian thinks of Morpheus’ pale hands and their violence, and how he ached for it. No, not he. The first.

Dream smiles.

That’s just life. I know little of it, but this is certain. Things happen to us. The universe moves us. Molds us. Breaks us. Mends us. We live.

Or die, Corinthian says.

Yes, Dream of the Endless nods, but what’s Death? My sister knows this: We are part of a greater whole. Even I. And one day all life will end and the universe will be cold. We cannot outrun Entropy. All love and joy will be forgotten. All dreams dreamt till the last.

His thumb caresses Corinthian’s cheekbone.

It will be like we never were.

He steps closer.

But we were. And that matters.

He frames Corinthian’s face with both hands.

You matter.

Corinthian slides a hand over Dream’s left.

To me.

Words unmake him. Words bind him. He breathes three breaths from three mouths and the old glass-shard in his belly that is first Corinthian wonders how much he matters. If he mattered to him.

Yes, Dream says simply. Eyes as dark as all the night sky. What would they taste like? Human or Endless?

You held me and protected me. I’ll never forget.

Corinthian didn't think about it, only did what felt right. Like the first. Or not like the first at all?

I’m not sure…who I am, Corinthian says.

Dream does not need to answer it, but does anyway,

Nor I. But we have time. We need not know now.

He slides his hands from Corinthian and steps around him, then looks at Corinthian over his shoulder, smiling the same bright smile like when Corinthian held him as an infant.

We can find out together. If you like.

Perhaps Corinthian does like it. He bares all his teeth. Dream’s smile widens, joy dancing in his eyes. Not human. The new Lord of Dreams and Nightmares is softer, yes, but his beauty has a share in terror, and it draws Corinthian in. Inevitable, like it drew him to Morpheus. Like it will always draw him.

Now, show me the forests, Nightmare.

Perhaps there are no ends. Perhaps there are only ends.