#morpheusxoc

The Avondale Coffee Club hummed with the rich aroma of freshly ground beans and warm pastries, morning sunlight streaming through wide windows to paint golden rectangles across worn wooden floors. Nell sat at her favorite corner table, fingers unconsciously worrying the silver bracelet at her wrist as she watched the familiar rhythm of baristas crafting elaborate drinks behind the counter. She still carried the warmth of the meadow in her chest, the lingering brightness of having said yes to him there. Every so often, her gaze flicked between the door and her phone before she caught herself, cheeks warming at her own impatience. A cooler note threaded the light, September tucking crispness under the warmth.

She’d chosen her outfit carefully that morning: crisp white linen trousers that moved like water when she walked, paired with a classic navy-and-white striped long-sleeve shirt that made her feel effortlessly put together. White leather sandals completed the look, comfortable enough for walking all day, polished enough for confidence. She felt good in her skin today. Or maybe that had everything to do with the person she was about to see.

She glanced at her phone again, the seconds stretching. “Okay, ten o’clock means ten o’clock, right? Even for cosmic entities?”

The bell over the door chimed. The space shifted as if the air itself made room for him. Morpheus crossed the room with quiet purpose, dark eyes fixed on her, and slid into the chair across from her. Her pulse jumped, nerves fluttering before she could rein them in. They had already shared time together, both in the waking world and the Dreaming. But this was different. This was deliberate. This was a first date. Did that qualify as a reason to give in to nerves?

“Points for using the door,” she said, her smile tugging wide despite herself. “Very incognito.”

“I considered materializing beside the pastry case. I was advised that would be… unsettling. The door seemed polite.”

Nell laughed, picturing éclairs levitating in a panic. “Yeah, let’s not traumatize the croissants on our first date.”

He looked different in daylight, more approachable somehow. Gone was his usual severe coat, replaced by dark jeans that fit him perfectly and a simple black button-down with the sleeves pushed up to reveal pale forearms. The casual clothes didn’t diminish his otherworldly presence, but they softened it, made him seem almost… within reach.

Morpheus surveyed the intimate space with curious eyes, taking in the mismatched vintage furniture, the local artwork scattered across exposed brick walls, the gentle murmur of conversation from patrons nursing their morning caffeine. “This establishment has considerable charm.”

“It’s my favorite hideaway.” Nell stood, energy buzzing through her limbs. “Let me introduce you to the joy of overpriced coffee drinks. Fair warning, I’m ordering us something ridiculously fancy. You only live once, right?”

His expression shifted, something almost amused flickering across his features. “I am immortal.”

The words might have broken the spell, but instead of pulling back, Nell felt herself push forward. Her laugh wavered between amusement and awareness, the reminder of what he was catching briefly at her chest.

“Right,” she admitted softly. “Sometimes I forget.”

She hated the flicker of distance that crept in when she said it, like naming the truth might break the spell.

He tipped his head, gaze steady. “Then remember this instead. I am here.”

Something in the way he said it, simple and absolute, smoothed the moment. Warmth unfurled through her ribs. She nodded. “Coffee?” She rose before the air could turn too fragile.

When she returned with two iced dirty chai lattes crowned with lavender sweet cream cold foam, Morpheus accepted his glass with the careful gravity of someone handling a relic. He studied the swirling foam and cinnamon dusting before taking a tentative sip. His eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of surprise in his star-bright eyes. “It appears elaborate.” But there was something nearly pleased in the way he considered the taste, as if he found its layers worth the effort.

“The best things usually are.” Nell leaned back into her chair, wrapping her hands around the chilled glass, watching him over the rim. Her nerves hummed, but curiosity pressed through. “So, tell me about you. Not the Lord of Dreams stuff, just you. What makes you happy?”

Morpheus was quiet for a long moment, gaze distant as though sorting through millennia of memory. “I find fulfillment in stories. In dreams that inspire mortals to create, to love, to become more than they believed possible. The moments when someone touches something greater than themselves and is transformed by it.”

Warmth bloomed in Nell’s chest at his answer, but she couldn’t help a crooked smile. “That’s… very Lord of Dreams of you.” She leaned in, eyes bright with mischief. “But what about the you under all that? Favorite food? Secret hobby? Ever had a goldfish named Steve?”

His eyebrow arched. “What of you?” His attention fixed on her with that intensity that always made her feel both exposed and treasured. “Tell me about your family.”

“Wow, straight into the deep end.” She breathed in lavender and chai and let the words come. “I had a really happy childhood. My parents were incredible, loving, and supportive. Dad loved mythology, so they named me Penelope after Odysseus’s wife. Steadfast and a little stubborn. Though I prefer Nell.” Her shoulders eased with the memory. “He used to tell me stories about the Greek heroes, his voice like music at bedtime. Mom taught me to bake and never lost her patience, even when I managed to coat the whole kitchen in flour.”

“They sound remarkable.” A thoughtful look softened his features. “Penelope suits you. But I believe Nell suits you more.”

Nell grinned. “I thought so too.” She drew in a steadying breath. “My parents were great. Until I was fifteen, and a drunk driver ran a red light. One second I had this perfect little family. The next, I had nothing.”

His voice gentled, compassion carrying in its timbre. “I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

“The worst part wasn’t losing them,” she admitted. “It was discovering no one else wanted me. Relatives, family friends... they all just… vanished. Foster care’s hard enough when you’re older and the cute factor’s worn off.”

Silence stretched for a beat, heavy as stone. Something ancient flickered in his eyes, protective and sharp. “Your experience was difficult.”

“The family I ended up with made sure I knew I should be grateful for basic shelter and three meals a day. They had a talent for reminding me no one wanted me.” A bitter laugh broke free. “After a few months, I got myself emancipated. Figured I’d been taking care of myself anyway.”

"Such cruelty is unfortunately familiar to me," he said quietly, and something in his tone made her look up, seeing pain that mirrored her own reflected in star-bright eyes.

Without thinking, Nell started to reach across the small table, her hand moving instinctively to offer comfort. But the formality that seemed to surround him like armor, the careful distance he carried, made her hesitate. She pulled back, fingers curling against the tabletop.

He noticed. After a breath that felt like a decision, he reached instead. His hand covered hers with steady warmth, reverent and grounding. The contact sank into her, heat traveling up her arm, a weightless steadiness that eased something she hadn’t realized was tight in her chest. His thumb brushed once across her knuckles, a quiet promise she hadn’t expected.

“I am told one offers compliments during courtship.” A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, endearingly earnest. “You are… luminous. Is that correct?”

Color rose to her cheeks for an entirely different reason. “That’ll do.”

He didn’t rush the silence that followed. His hand stayed, steady and warm, leaving the invitation to speak open between them. The air seemed to wait, as patient as the Dreaming itself, until she found her voice.

“Sometimes family isn’t blood. It’s the people who choose to stick around. My best friend Bryn did. Meeting her changed everything.” She didn’t pull away from his touch, finding unexpected solace in the connection.

“You speak of her with great warmth.”

“She saved my life. Not dramatically, but by being there. By believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. By reminding me I was worth caring about.”

Morpheus was quiet for a moment, fingers tracing gentle patterns across her knuckles as though memorizing the shape of her hand. “Perhaps that is what makes mortals so remarkable. Your capacity to save each other, simply by choosing to stay.”

Nell glanced toward the window and, for the briefest moment, thought she caught a shift in the light outside, as if a shadow had passed by. Nothing was there when she blinked. A trick of the morning sun, she told herself, but unease pricked at her before she let it go, turning back to him.

She looked at him, warmth spreading through her chest at his words. "I could sit here talking with you all day, but..." She smiled, mischievous again. "I did promise you'd love what comes next."

"Then I am entirely at your mercy," he replied, that hint of amusement flickering in his eyes again.

“Dangerous thing to tell me,” she said, warmth sliding pleasant and total through her.

As they stood to leave, she felt the comfortable weight of his attention, the way he moved instinctively closer as they wove through tables and other patrons. The morning had settled something between them. Shared stories and gentle touches weaving into a foundation that made what came next feel less like a leap and more like a step forward.

The walk to the train station was pleasant, the late morning air warm but not yet oppressive. Nell tucked her arm through Morpheus's as they navigated the sidewalks, partly because it felt natural, partly because she wanted to keep him close amid the stream of pedestrians.

"You sure you don't mind taking the train?" she asked as they approached the station entrance. "This line runs mostly underground and can be jarring for someone who's not used to it. We'll transfer to our usual line once we're downtown proper."

He glanced toward the stairwell, amused by the tide of commuters. "I have already determined a preference for any route that keeps me beside you." His tone lightened. "And I am curious. I find your mortal transportation methods... illuminating." His eyes lingered on the way bodies pressed and flowed through the turnstiles with practiced efficiency.

She laughed. "Most people just call it practical. Though I admit, the trains during rush hour can feel like a special kind of purgatory."

On the train, their legs brushed as the car swayed around curves, each contact sparking awareness she couldn’t quite ignore. Nell was hyperaware of his nearness, of how utterly still he seemed in the press of humanity, otherworldly in his calm, yet seated shoulder to shoulder with her like any other passenger.

What unsettled her more was how no one else seemed to notice him. Their gazes skimmed over him, slid past as if he were just another shadow among shadows. Even when a businessman jostled against his arm, the man’s eyes skipped aside as though unwilling to focus. To them, Morpheus was a trick of the light. But to her, he was all sharp lines and presence, every breath and brush of his hand grounding him in the world. She saw him, and she wasn’t sure which of them that startled more.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, catching the way she worried at her bracelet.

Nell hesitated, then offered a soft smile. “Just that I hope you’ll enjoy our next stop.”

His hand found hers in her lap, fingers intertwining with gentle certainty. He rubbed slow circles against her palm with his thumb, the intimate gesture sending warmth up her arm. "As long as I'm with you, I'm certain I will."

His touch steadied her racing thoughts, grounding her in the moment. Against the rattle of the train and the chaos around them, the warmth of his palm against hers felt like a promise; that this was real despite its impossibility.

The Art Institute rose before them like a temple to human creativity, its bronze lions standing sentinel over the museum steps. Nell felt the familiar thrill that always accompanied this place, her sanctuary and escape from the chaos of everyday life.

"I'm a member here, so we're covered," she mentioned as they climbed the steps, her hand still warm from his touch.

Morpheus looked genuinely curious as an attendant scanned something on Nell’s phone before allowing them admittance. "A member? What draws you to this institution specifically?"

"It's my favorite place to decompress, though I don’t get the chance nearly often enough with my schedule." Excitement bubbled up in her voice as she grabbed his hand again, marveling at how natural the gesture felt. "Come on. I want to show you my favorite painting first."

She led him through galleries filled with centuries of human expression, their footsteps echoing off marble floors. The cool interior was a welcome relief from the warm day, and Nell felt herself relaxing completely for the first time in days.

When they reached Bartolomeo Manfredi's Cupid Chastised, Nell stopped, her face lighting with the kind of joy reserved for reuniting with old friends.

"What draws you to this piece?" Morpheus asked, though his gaze lingered on her expression longer than the canvas itself.

"It's the incredible use of light and shadow, and the narrative complexity," she said, pointing out details with animated gestures. "Manfredi captures this moment of vulnerability and consequence. See how the light hits Cupid's wings here? And the way the figures are arranged creates this sense of inevitable justice. It's powerful, the idea that even love itself can be held accountable for its actions."

Her enthusiasm spilled out, bright and unguarded, and Morpheus found himself smiling. In all his eons of existence, he couldn’t recall the last time someone had shared their passion so openly, so generously. The simple joy of it caught him off guard, surprising him with its intensity.

They moved on, hands brushing occasionally, until they paused before Elihu Vedder's The Fates Gathering in the Stars. The painting's swirling cosmos and ethereal figures seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy that made Nell’s breath catch.

Morpheus studied the work with genuine intrigue. "This depiction of the Fates is extraordinary. Vedder understood something of their true nature."

"It's fascinating how he explored life, death, and what comes after. The way he captures fate's role in shaping destiny..." Nell trailed off, suddenly aware of who she was standing beside, of the gravity in his presence. "I suppose you'd know better than most about that kind of responsibility."

A prickle lifted the fine hairs on her arms. Even love can be steered, she thought, and she edged instinctively closer to him.

"Indeed," he said, his tone carrying quiet weight. "Though I find mortal interpretations of such concepts often more insightful than the beings themselves realize."

As they moved through the Greek, Roman, and Byzantine collections, Morpheus placed a protective hand at the small of her back, guiding her gently around other visitors. The gesture was subtle, unconscious, but it sent a flutter through her chest, tenderness blooming in unexpected places.

"You must have complicated family dynamics," Nell observed as they paused before an ancient relief of gods and mortals intertwined.

"That is… an understatement." A wry smile touched his lips. "Though I hold special fondness for Death and Delirium."

"I think I've met Death at the hospital," Nell said thoughtfully. "She seems... warm, despite her role. Kind, even."

"It is her way," he agreed. "She finds joy in transition, comfort in completion. Death believes every ending is also a beginning." His expression softened, almost wistful. "Delirium is different. She is bright and sideways, tender in ways that do not always look like sense. When she loves you, the world tilts toward wonder."

Nell’s lips curved. "I'd love to meet Delirium someday. She sounds intriguing, if a bit unpredictable." She hesitated, then grinned. "But hopefully I won't have to meet the others anytime soon."

Morpheus chuckled, the sound low and genuine. "Destiny is as he must be. He speaks only in inevitabilities and possibilities. As for the rest…" His expression darkened, quiet but firm. "Perhaps it is best if our paths do not cross."

They found a bench in a quieter gallery, settling close together as afternoon light filtered through tall windows. Surrounded by centuries of human creativity, their own connection deepened with every shared glance and every brush of touch.

"This was perfect," Nell said softly, leaning slightly against his shoulder. "Thank you for indulging my art geek tendencies."

“Thank you for sharing something you love with me,” he replied, his voice carrying a weight that made her look up. His hand lifted as though to touch her face, but instead he smoothed a crease from her sleeve with reverent precision. The restraint itself felt like a promise. “It has been… illuminating,” he added softly.

Her smile curved, playful again, easing the tension. “Good illuminating or bad illuminating?”

"The very best kind," he said, and his smile transformed his entire face.

As they prepared to leave, Nell felt a contentment she hadn’t known in years. This was more than a date. It was the careful construction of something precious, uniquely theirs in a world that often felt too vast and uncertain.

The art around them bore witness, each piece a testament to the human need to create beauty, to leave a mark that outlasted flesh. In Morpheus’s presence, Nell felt folded into that eternal conversation between dreams and reality, between what was and what could be.

He offered his arm, almost formal. “Allow me the pleasure of escorting you to your next wonder.”

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, heat blooming low and steady. For a moment they simply stood there, suspended in the hush of the gallery, before the doors opened onto sunlight.

Outside, afternoon light pooled across the museum steps. Her phone buzzed with tomorrow’s schedule. She muted it without looking and smiled up at him. Wonder felt more urgent.

Chapter Nineteen Teaser:

“So we’ve done the human dating experience,” she said, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere while her fingers unconsciously sought his in the grass between them. “How do the Endless usually… connect with others?”

Next Chapter

The sunlit meadow unfurled before Nell like a living painting, golden light filtering through air thick with the perfume of wildflowers. Butterflies with wings like stained glass drifted between purple lupines and white daisies, their lazy dance hypnotic in the drowsy warmth. She settled beneath the familiar weeping willow, its trailing branches creating a natural curtain around her sanctuary, and breathed in the sweetness of this place that had become theirs.

Something felt different today. The grass beneath her fingers seemed more vivid, the colors more saturated, as if someone had turned up the contrast on the world itself. Somewhere in that brightness, there was the faintest ripple in the air, like the prickle before a summer storm.

Morpheus appeared beside the ancient tree, cool shadow falling over sun-warmed earth. "You seem particularly content today."

Nell turned toward him, genuine pleasure lighting her face. "There you are. I was hoping you'd show up." She patted the soft grass beside her, noting how the blades seemed to shimmer at her touch. "Join me?"

He settled next to her, closer than usual, the familiar scent of rain and starlight wrapping around her like an embrace. Something flickered in his star-bright eyes, anticipation mixed with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

"I have a proposition," he said, his voice careful, formality thinning at the edges.

She raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Should I be intrigued or worried?"

"I would like to take you on what mortals call..." he paused, as if testing the words, "a date."

Warmth bloomed in Nell’s chest, spreading outward until she felt giddy with it. "Are you officially asking me out, Dream of the Endless?"

"I am." The admission came with that increasingly familiar hint of a smile, the one that transformed his austere features into something almost boyish. "The choice is yours, though I confess I hope you say yes." He reached, then paused, and simply smoothed a leaf from her hair. The restraint felt like a promise.

"Well, in that case..." She let the moment stretch, enjoying the way his posture tensed with uncertainty. "Your place or mine?"

Relief flickered across his features. "Why should one exclude the other?"

As he spoke, the air around them shimmered like heat waves rising from summer pavement. The colors of the meadow deepened further, the butterfly wings catching light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Morpheus’s gaze sharpened, focusing on the subtle changes with fascination.

"You've influenced this dream, Nell."

She blinked, startled. The realization hit her like cool water, unexpected and slightly overwhelming. "I didn’t mean to. Is that... okay?"

"More than okay." His voice carried genuine wonder. "Few can alter the fabric of dreams without intention, without training. It speaks to something rare within you."

The warmth of his praise lingered, wrapping around her… yet beneath it, a sharper current stirred. She flexed her fingers against the grass, watching the blades spark and sway as if listening for her will. For a heartbeat, she imagined the whole meadow reshaping itself at her whim. The thought sent a strange pang through her.

Not fear, exactly, more the sharp awareness of laying a hand on something vast. It was gone almost as soon as it came, swept under by the golden rush of anticipation, like deep water disappearing beneath sunlit waves.

The air seemed to still for just a moment, as though the meadow itself was listening. Somewhere in that hush, there was the faintest sense of being seen; softer than a shadow, lighter than a breath. She told herself it was nothing, just a side effect of dreaming, but the thought lingered, quiet and stubborn.

"I’d love to go on a date with you," she said, the words coming easier now. "And as it happens, I traded shifts with a coworker, so I’m free today. Perfect timing."

They rose together, standing in the meadow’s ethereal light. The comfortable silence between them hummed with anticipation.

"How about meeting at my favorite coffee shop around ten?" Nell said, excitement bright in her voice. "The Avondale Coffee Club on the corner of Elston and Belmont. You can’t miss it - big retro sign."

Morpheus nodded, something mysterious in his expression. "Agreed. From there, we shall let the day unfold as it will."

The meadow pulsed gently around them, responding to the shift in their connection. Nell felt her familiar insecurities dissolve like sugar in rain, replaced by something brighter and more substantial.

"Looking forward to it," she said, her smile radiant enough to rival the dream-sun overhead.

"As am I," Morpheus replied, his voice soft but carrying the weight of eternity.

With one last look at the dreamscape she’d unknowingly transformed, Nell allowed herself to sink fully into the joy of the moment. Tomorrow would bring new questions and the thrill of seeing where this could lead, but here, now, in this place between sleeping and waking, there was only the sweet anticipation of beginning something new.

Nell surfaced from the dream smiling. The apartment felt unusually hushed, as if the city had turned itself down for her. Morning moved easily around her. She did not question it.

Chapter Eighteen Teaser:

Coffee, sunlight, and the thrill of firsts. Sometimes even the most ordinary mornings can feel extraordinary.

Next Chapter

The evening air at Piazza Bella carried the rich perfume of basil and garlic, weaving through the hum of conversations drifting across the bustling outdoor patio. String lights cast a warm amber glow over weathered brick and wrought iron tables, where Nell and Bryn had claimed a corner spot overlooking the sidewalk. Between them lay the remnants of their feast: bruschetta reduced to olive oil-stained crumbs, half-finished plates of farfalle and spaghetti carbonara, and a bottle of prosecco that caught the light like liquid gold. A cool edge threaded the warmth. September had arrived, not quite sweater weather yet.

Bryn twirled her pasta with practiced ease, watching the foot traffic of students and couples meandering past. “So, how are you feeling about going back to nights tomorrow?”

Nell chuckled, absently folding and refolding her cloth napkin. “Good, actually. You know I prefer nights to days. It’s worth the adjustment.”

Her phone buzzed against the table. Despite her best effort at casualness, a smile tugged at her mouth.

Bryn paused mid-bite, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, what’s that about? You’ve been checking your phone every thirty seconds since we sat down.”

“What? I haven’t been—”

“Nell,” Bryn cut in, setting down her fork, “you just smiled like you won the lottery and found out Pedro Pascal was single.” She extended her hand across the table. “Phone. Now.”

“Bryn, it’s nothing important—”

But Bryn was already leaning forward, nearly knocking over the flickering votive candle between them. “Is Mr. Cosmic Entity texting you?” She snatched the phone before Nell could react, grin widening as she scrolled. “Oh my God. Listen to this: ‘The evening feels incomplete without the sound of your voice.’ ”

Heat rushed into Nell’s cheeks as a group of high school students passed their table, laughter spilling past like a tide. “Give it back!”

Bryn ignored her. “‘ I find myself wondering what thoughts occupy your mind in the quiet moments. ’ And here: ‘Your absence creates a stillness I had not noticed before.’ Nell, who talks like this?”

“He’s… expressive,” Nell muttered.

“Expressive?” Bryn’s laugh was bright and infectious. “The man writes like he’s spent centuries reading Victorian poetry out loud to himself. But okay, I’ll admit it; kind of swoon-worthy.”

Nell lunged for her phone, but Bryn kept it just out of reach. “Wait. Your responses are adorable too. ‘That’s sweet, but you can just say you miss me.’ And then he says, ‘Miss seems insufficient for what I feel.’ Girl. He has it bad.”

Finally reclaiming her phone, Nell clutched it protectively. “He just… talks differently.”

“Most people don’t exist outside time and space,” Bryn said, sipping her prosecco. “But look at you. When’s the last time I saw you this happy?”

“Actually,” Nell said, leaning forward, “I haven’t told you about the thing yet. He walked me home from the hospital after my last shift.”

“In broad daylight?” Bryn’s brows shot up. “I thought he was all shadows and mystery.”

“He can appear however he wants. Jeans and a t-shirt, blending right in.” Nell’s smile softened. “We took the L together. He was so out of his element, but he was trying to understand my world. When we got to my apartment, there was this… I don’t know. Just a strange feeling in the air for a second. Then he cupped my face and kissed my forehead. Like I was something precious.”

Bryn’s grin faded, her expression softening in that way that meant she was about to drop the jokes and tell the truth.

“And that’s kind of the problem,” Nell said quietly.

Bryn leaned in. “Go on.”

“I’m… ordinary,” Nell whispered. “And he’s this ancient cosmic being who’s known queens and goddesses, someone who can reshape reality without blinking. Who am I to be with someone like that? I don’t want to lose myself in it. I’ve been down that road before, letting other people decide the shape of my life. I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.” If this was written for me, was there any choosing left? “What if this isn’t my choice at all? What if it’s fate’s?”

Bryn set her glass down with a soft clink, her tone cutting clean through Nell’s spiral. “Stop right there.”

“What?”

“Stop riding the express train to Self-Sabotage Central.” Bryn covered Nell’s hand with her own. “You’re terrified because someone finally sees you, really sees you, and that’s rare as hell. You’ve been measuring every risk since the day I met you, Nell. Maybe it’s okay to choose something without knowing how it ends. Choice is still yours.”

“I’m still just human,” Nell murmured.

“Maybe that’s exactly what he needs,” Bryn replied. “Someone real. Someone who bleeds and laughs and makes terrible jokes at inappropriate times. Did it occur to you that maybe you’re the extraordinary one? That forehead kiss? That’s not how someone treats ordinary.”

Nell’s phone buzzed again, startling them both. She read the message, her expression softening like wax near flame: I hope your evening brings you joy. I find myself looking forward to your dreams.

Bryn grinned. “Still dramatically poetic, but undeniably sweet.”

Nell typed her reply with renewed steadiness: Having a wonderful time with Bryn. Looking forward to dreaming too.

“You just told the Lord of Dreams you’re looking forward to dreaming,” Bryn said, smiling.

“Yeah,” Nell replied, smirking. “So?”

Bryn laughed, lifting her glass. “Never change, Nell Carter. Never change.”

Nell clinked her glass against hers. “To cosmic romances and friends who keep me grounded.”

“To friends who remind each other they’re worth loving,” Bryn added.

The city hummed around them: conversations, car horns, a faint trace of music on the breeze. And for all the unknowns that lay ahead, Nell felt anchored by the table between them, by a friendship that could weather anything, even the pull of the Dreaming.

Chapter Seventeen Teaser:

In a place where the air hums with possibility, a question is asked that could change everything. What begins as a simple meeting may set the course for something far greater than either of them imagined.

Next Chapter

Morpheus entered the gallery where his siblings’ sigils were kept, a place that breathed in shadows and memory. The chamber’s vastness could not be measured in mortal terms; its walls were more suggestion than stone, stretching upward into a darkness where pinpricks of starlight shifted and rearranged themselves with each breath. Every sigil floated within an ornate golden frame, suspended in midair like a fragment of captured light. They hummed faintly, each tone unique, their combined resonance threading through the floor and up into his bones.

He walked the length of the room unhurriedly, his fingers brushing lightly along the gilded edges of each frame. The air grew heavier with every step, shadows leaning toward him, as though drawn to the gravity of his intent. He knew exactly what he had come for.

The sigil he sought waited ahead, patient and inevitable.

Desire’s sigil, a black heart of glass, pulsed with a slow crimson rhythm, each beat a subtle flare of warmth in the surrounding air. He reached for it, hand hovering for a fraction longer than necessary before closing the distance.

The instant his fingers touched its surface, the gallery shifted. Heat bloomed across his skin, not the honest heat of sunlight, but the intimate, cloying warmth of breath against the back of the neck. The space itself seemed to lean in toward him, reality warping until the air thickened like honey.

"Well, well." Desire’s voice curled through the shadows, sweet as syrup and edged like a blade. "Did you miss me, Dream?"

Morpheus did not turn. His voice was cold and precise. "I know you have been watching her. Whatever game you are playing, Nell is not a pawn to be moved."

Desire’s laughter swelled around him, light and knowing all at once. "She’s an intriguing piece. Full of potential. I can’t resist. Lovely little neighborhood she has, by the way; I had the best view from the rooftops last night."

Morpheus’s eyes narrowed, a shard of memory sliding into place. The faint stiffening of Nell’s shoulders outside her building, the slight tilt of her head toward the rooftop, the way her breath had quickened though she said nothing. She had felt them. Even without seeing, she had known.

"You will not touch her."

"So protective," Desire purred. "How very predictable. But tell me, does she know? Does she know how much of her life was shaped before she was even born? Or do you prefer she believe it’s all her choice?"

“Touch her and you will answer to me.” The words landed with the weight of iron gates slamming shut.

Desire stepped closer, the heat of their presence wrapping around him like silk pulled too tight. "You guard her so carefully, yet you cannot shield her from the truth forever."

Before he could respond, the air shifted again. The cloying heat thinned, replaced by a steady, cool clarity that broke through Desire’s suffocating presence like a clean wind after a storm.

"Enough, Desire." Death’s voice carried both edge and comfort, the kind that could cut and soothe in the same breath.

Desire’s golden eyes slid toward their sister, lips curving with false fondness. "Oh, dear sister. What would I do without your interruptions?"

"You’ve been warned before," Death said evenly. "Back off."

"I’ve been playing this game longer than you think," Desire replied, unfazed. "I’ll keep my distance… for now." They began to dissolve into shadow, their smile lingering like perfume. "Play the protector. I prefer inevitabilities. Love, duty, absence, loss. You know the order."

When the last trace of their presence dissipated, the heat left with it; the gallery exhaled, relieved.

Death stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"I did not summon you, my sister."

"You didn’t have to, Dream." Her voice softened. "I’ve been watching. Destiny says you’re wrestling with choices. Consequences."

A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Of course he did."

"Be careful," she continued. "The heart follows its own logic. Do not let duty choose for you."

"I will not allow anything to harm her."

"Then be ready for what happens next."

When she left, the gallery seemed to exhale, the silence folding back in on itself. The sigils hovered in their golden frames, each one a reminder of powers that could shape worlds yet never understand the quiet, persistent pull he felt toward Nell.

Desire’s words tried to cling to him like smoke. He told himself they were false, yet some buried part of him could not entirely let them go.

Perhaps I am reckless.

For eons, his duty had been unshakable. But Nell had begun to loosen truths long buried beneath the weight of the Dreaming. Was he guarding her for her sake… or for his own? And if he lost her, what else would slip through his fingers?

He would not set a guard on her. Not yet. Love asked for trust. Duty asked for vigilance. He chose both: quiet wards that would not cage her.

The thought settled in his chest like a stone, heavy and inescapable. Yet with the weight came a spark. Faint at first, then flaring into something sharp and steady. There were forces older than kingdoms moving against them, but he would not meet them as a passive witness. His heart, long kept behind the walls of duty, could be a weapon as powerful as any sigil.

Should anyone try to take her, they would learn the full measure of the Lord of Dreams, and the cost would be theirs to pay.

Chapter Sixteen Teaser:

Over dinner with a trusted friend, doubts take shape and truths are spoken. But in the space between laughter and confession, Nell begins to wonder if the pull she feels is choice… or something written long before she could decide.

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