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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Burden

Chapter 8: The Mist Waits

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

I finished earlier than I thought I would, so enjoy the early chapter release y'all!

TW: Violence, confrontations, The Fates, Desire, blood, Dark Daunt, cliffhanger

Rose Walker was having an odd day. So much had happened in such a short time, and the girl wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response would be to cry in joy or to scream in frustration. She had family left, a Great Grandmother that seemed to want the same things that she did. Jed back home and safe, and them to all be a family once again. Now she had the resources to start truly looking for her brother and, hopefully, to bring him home once and for all.

“I’ll just get Lyta. Be right back,” Rose said in answer to one of the new people added to her odd little circle.

“Rose,” a voice called out to her, soft and young.

She stopped walking for a moment, quietly questioning whether the voice was in her head or actually coming from within the home. “Rosebud,” another voice said, maternal and warm.

“Rose Walker,” a third replied, cold and older.

She felt afraid and uncertain for a moment as her feet carried her forward to the closest door, the only logical place one could whisper to her from. Once she opened the door, she was greeted by three figures clothed in black.

“Hello, Rosie,” the youngest said.

The second smiled. “Come in, my butterfly.”

“You are at a crossroads, Rose Walker.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Names, names, names,” the eldest among them said, waving her question away.

The youngest smiled sweetly. “Each name is but a single aspect of the whole.”

“Be satisfied by the trinity you have, love. You wouldn’t want to meet us as The Kindly Ones.”

“We can only caution you, sister.” The youngest looked darker. “We can’t protect you.”

A chill ran up Rose’s spine as she asked, “Protect me from…”

A maternal laugh echoed around her. “From life, my posy.”

“And the things that hover beyond life.”

“Thrashing themselves against it,” the eldest finished.

“Beware dreams,” the youngest whispered. “And houses. And trees.”

The cold voice sighed. “You ask the wrong question.”

“Had you asked the right one, we could have warned you against The Corinthian and the ghost of mist that haunts his steps.” The warm voice said.

“Told you about Jed,” the young voice continued.

“And about Morpheus.”

The light turned on, and the figures vanished before Rose’s eyes, almost as if they’d never been there… and maybe they hadn’t.

He stood in the center of the throne room, staring at the steps that Daunt had stood on. Dream had spent every free moment searching for The Forest, to no avail. The realm had either vanished entirely or closed itself off from him, as Daunt had after that day in Fiddler’s Green. Sadly, he was more inclined to believe the latter to be true. His head spun with the sheer number of concerns plaguing him, awaiting to be addressed. Dream of the Endless felt like he had back in the Burgess basement, only somehow worse. He felt he was being pulled in every direction, forced to split his focus between dire events, and feared no matter what he did, one or more would slip through the cracks and result in yet another loss for him to bear.

“My lord,” Lucienne’s soft voice called him from the dark corners of his mind as she approached with a book. “Forgive me for intruding, but I have the volume you requested.”

“Yes,” he sighed, taking the heavy leatherbound book from her hand and moving to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, hoping the vision of her bloodstained gown would fade from memory if he was not looking at them. “I assume it holds nothing of use as all the others.”

His librarian nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so.”

“Jed Walker is still in the realm of the living, but I cannot find him.”

“No. Nor I, my lord.” She answered.

“All humans are connected to The Dreaming.” He shook his head. “They spend a third of their life here. Breaking that connection would require knowledge. And power.”

“Then it may interest you to know that the last nightmare Jed Walker had before he disappeared was of Gault.”

“You think she severed him from The Dreaming?”

Lucienne nodded. “I do.”

“Why?” He questioned.

“Because he’s not just any child, is he?” She replied. “He’s Rose Walker’s brother. She is the Vortex.”

Quiet footsteps echoed in the empty throne room as a dark figure walked toward them. “Excuse me. I am Rose Walker. What do you know about my brother Jed?”

Lucienne turned to Dream with wide eyes and an open mouth. Daunt’s words echoed in his ears. Sight alone will not tell you her secrets. He stood and smiled. “You are welcome here, Rose Walker.”

She looked around for a moment before asking, “Who are you?”

“You have somehow dreamed your way into an audience with Lord Morpheus. The King of Dreams,” Lucienne answered sternly. “And now you must go.”

“Lucienne.”

His librarian sighed. “She shouldn’t be here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “No, but I should like her to stay.

Rose Walker was indeed the vortex. Dream could feel it swirling around her. Power and mystery and something else, something that felt familiar. Lucienne’s apprehensive demeanor did not shift while Rose stood in his realm. He could not blame her. After all, a Vortex was a volatile and uncertain thing. Matthew agreed to watch over her in the Waking World, and as Rose Walker returned to her bed, Lucienne gave Dream a look. “Are you certain this is wise, my lord?”

“Gault must be found one way or another,” he answered carefully. “Leave Rose Walker to me, Lucienne. In the meantime, continue your search of the library for anything that may lead us to The Forest.”

The Corinthian enjoyed tea. He enjoyed the smell of the soft floral notes and earthiness and found the taste to be almost comforting. Though he’d never allow himself to linger on why he enjoyed such things, a lingering nagging voice in the back of his mind told him repeatedly. It reminds you of her. This was, of course, a voice he smothered when he was able. Instead, he smiled beside Unity, listening to her so easily give up the information he needed. It was inconvenient that Rose Walker had returned to America, but The Corinthian didn’t mind much.

If she was the key to his permanent freedom, he’d go to the ends of the earth to find her. Daunt’s white form stood before him, bathed in the light from the window, but that light did not touch her. Instead, she dampened it with her presence alone. “What do you fear more, I wonder? Not finding your vortex in time or having her deny you as all others have.”

As he walked out of the old home, he clenched his jaw at her presence beside him. “Answer me, nightmare.” She insisted. “Answer me, betrayer.”

“I’m not scared of anything,” he spat at her. “Not some fuckin kid, not Dream, and certainly not you.”

Laughter echoed around him as the sky grew dark with storm clouds. He turned to face her, to find her gone once again, but before he could even breathe, he felt her cold hand wrap around his neck. Long nails bit into his skin as she leaned in closely and whispered. “You should fear me, dear Corinthian.”

He tore himself away from her, searching for the white maiden in the open streets. “Mine will be the last face you see.”

“My lord,” Lucienne called out as she approached with confident steps. “May I help?”

Hunched over the table, he glanced up at her. “Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?”

She nodded. “And Jes Walker. But I shouldn’t think there’s anything in those you don’t already know. Except perhaps-”

“Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room.” Dream sighed. “What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?”

“Did you read about Unity Kincaid?” She asked, turning away from him to fetch another book. “The day you were imprisoned, there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up. Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the “sleepy sickness.” The day you returned, she woke up.” She set the book down in front of him. “Rose Walker is her great-granddaughter.”

He hummed. “Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex.”

“Is that not a possibility?”

“Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena,” he stated with a smile. “No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen.”

Lucienne’s eyes narrowed as she thought about his words. “Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?”

Dream sighed. “My instinct says no, but tonight, when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?”

Lucienne held up a hand to stop him. “There is something else, my lord.”

“What is it?” He asked, reading the way her face tightened as she spoke.

“I know every book in this library,” she began, turning away from him and retrieving something from a nearby shelf. “I know this library and these books and… yet…” she returned, holding a pale book in her hands and offering it to him with a saddened face. “Somehow, this one has been hidden from me for eons. It should not be possible.”

“And yet it is,” he said, gently running his hands along the white bindings, glistening with jeweled leaves of green. On the first page, The Great Tree was illustrated in deep tones of brown and emerald, surrounded by the smaller trees covered in mist. It was almost as if he could feel the leaves beneath his fingertips and the cold mist caressing his skin. It was almost as if this book was alive.

Lucienne looked at the beautiful thing with fondness and apprehension warring in her eyes. “I’ve tried to read it, but it’s… Incoherent.”

“How so?”

“Most of the pages are blank. There appear to be remnants of words written on some, and other pages or paragraphs are perfectly legible. The words, however, make little sense given all that is missing.” She shook her head and sighed. “Only the illustrations remain intact.”

As Dream flipped through the pages, studying the little words scribed here, he stopped at another picture. Daunt, or rather a drawing of her, white amidst a sea of dark colors. His heart felt heavy in his chest the longer he looked. “This will not tell us where she is.”

Lucienne’s soft eyes met his as she spoke, “No, my lord, it won’t. But…"

“What is it, Lucienne?”

“One of the illustrations seems to depict what happened to her… What kept her from reaching you the day she left.” He handed the book to her instantly. If there was a way to learn what befell her on his behalf, he had to see it. He had to know.

The librarian quickly flipped through the pages before holding the book back to him with downcast eyes. There on the red-stained page were three words… Daunts last words. “My dear Corinthian.” The image showed her standing on a bridge, holding his nightmares cheek as The Corinthian pushed his blade into her chest.

Dream drew in a deep breath as The Dreaming rippled with the rage that filled his heart. “The Corinthian…”

Lucienne bowed her head lower. “It is my fault. I should not have given her his location nor asked her to seek him out.”

“No.” He breathed out, tears welling as his finger glided across the worn page. “The fault lies with me. She would not have been vulnerable had I failed my duty to retrieve the nightmare.”

“My lord…” she whispered. “If this image is corrected, then… is Daunt not… dead?”

“No.” Dream looked up at her, meeting her wet eyes with his own. “Death told me she’d not been called to The Forest for Daunt. Daunt herself told us she was lost.”

Lucienne shook her head. “My lord, that… vision… that apparition spoke in naught but riddles. If it was truly Daunt, then she is not in her right mind.”

“Perhaps she is not,” Dream replied solemnly. “But the fact still stands that she lives. She lives, and I will find her if it is the last thing I do in this existence.”

That night he accompanied Rose in her dreams to search for Jed Walker and Gault. That night he had the chance to examine the vortex up close. Dream had expected Rose Walker to be impressive, but the way she adapted to her newfound abilities as a Vortex was surprising, even to him. She found her way through the dreams of those closest to her, following his advice and asking questions, seemingly wanting to learn from him. Most impressive was her ability to stay focused through each dream, never losing sight of her purpose within them and never seeking to abuse the power she held.

She led him to Gault with ease, and once his nightmare was back within his grasp, he ensured she would not be free to defy him again. He did not regret his harsh punishment of the shapeshifter, but he did feel an unpleasant knot form in his stomach after his less-than-kind treatment of Lucienne after the fact. Still, he moved forward. Too much demanded his attention to focus on keeping his realm safe. The notion of that seemed simple enough until a crack appeared in the stained glass window above his throne, and the entire palace shook violently around him. After that, all he could do was watch in horror as the cracks grew before his very eyes.

“Loosh? You in here?” The pumpkin head made a quiet noise of apprehension. “Sorry, boss, I was just looking for Lucienne. See ya.”

“Wait.” He ordered. “Why were you looking for Lucienne?”

“Oh, well, we just had some minor seismic activity and a little, you know, damage I wanted to report.”

“Then why not report it to me?” He asked.

“Uh, because you’re busy?” Mervyn offered. “While you were away, Lucienne started taking care of that stuff, so I figured why bother you when-”

A dark feeling curled around him, nearly squeezing all the air as he said, “Mervyn if The Dreaming has been damaged in any way, I will be the one to address it.”

The floor shook, and the cracks spread throughout the windows and up the stone walls. “Oh, for crying out loud. Do you want me to fix that for you? Or will it just keep happening?”

“It will not keep happening because I will find the cause of the disturbance, and I will eliminate it. Thank you, Mervyn.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” the handyman replied before turning and hurrying in the opposite direction.

Dream returned his eyes to the glass as it continued to crack. He would not watch his realm crumble again. The halls shook around him as he made his way to the library with hopes Lucienne would be able to provide him with some information on these tremors. “Lucienne?”

She stood off to the side, re-shelving books with a slightly pensive face. “My lord.”

“I have come to return these.” He handed her the books, their eyes meeting in an awkward stare. “And to assess the extent of the damage from the recent disturbances.” She said nothing, merely watching him as he bent down and picked up a stack of fallen books. “Have you any idea as to what caused them?”

“I assumed it was you, sir,” she said almost coldly.

“Me?”

“Making further improvements to the realm… now that you’re back.” She clarified as she brushed past him.

Dream sighed quietly. “Lucienne, when we last spoke, I did not mean to imply that your efforts beyond the library are without value.”

“Oh?” She questioned, clearly frustrated.

“I merely wish to relieve you of responsibilities with which, had I been here, you would never have been burdened.”

“I see.”

“And in that time, did you experience any… similar seismic disturbances?” he inquired offhandedly, looking at the book he still awkwardly held, only peeking up at her.

I did not.”

“Have you any… theory as to their origin?” He pressed cautiously.

At last, Lucienne set down the stack of books she held and turned to him. “Speaking strictly as a librarian? I do. But you won’t like it.”

“Go on.”

“I know you’re waiting to see if the vortex will lead you to The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green. The way she led you to Gualt.”

“She may yet still.”

She scoffed. “Yes, but while you’re waiting, she’s putting cracks in the foundation.”

“Rose Walker has visited this realm before and done no damage,” he pointed out. “This is something else, something new.”

“Perhaps, but if there is something new in The Dreaming and you did not create it, how did it get here?” She asked. “This is the vortex. I assure you.”

As soon as he could, Dream found Rose Walker’s dreams and watched her closely as the landscape marred with cracks and the house he’d not built appeared before him. Lyta Hall was indeed pregnant; by the look of it, she and her dead husband had somehow managed to find a way inside his realm in secret. He would be furious. How could he have been so blind? How could he have allowed a vortex to cause such chaos just to aid him in mending his own troubles?

Matthew cawed beside him. “So, what do you think?”

“Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors.” Dream ordered. “And that I am taking care of it.”

The raven took to the skies quickly as he moved forward, entering the house with ease and staring down the spirit that had found its way here. He knew, without Dream having to say a single word, the spirit knew that his time here was up.

Lyta and Rose entered, laughing with one another. “Hector, look who’s here.”

Both women slowed as they looked at him. Lytas face was drained of the happiness that had been there moments ago, while Rose looked confused. “Lyta, you remember I told you about Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams?”

“What do you want?”

“He wants us to leave,” the spirit answered.

Rose looked at her dead friend and then back to him. “Why?”

“Because a ghost cannot escape his fate by hiding in The Dreaming. Nor can a living human being escape her grief here.” He shook his head. “Do you not see the damage your presence has done to this realm? I cannot allow you to stay.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“You belong with the dead,” Dream answered. “You must go to the place appointed for you. I’m sorry, but you must say your goodbyes now.”

Lyta exhaled a shaking breath and shook her head. “No. I’m not losing you again.”

The spirit approached her with a sad smile. “I love you so much.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the woman insisted, pressing a kiss to her lover’s lips. “Get out of our house!”

“Lyta-”

A soft chill stilled the harsh words on his tongue as mist swept across the floor. Dream turned to look at her lithe figure standing in the room with them. Daunt did not acknowledge him or Rose or even Lyta, only the spirit once named Hector. She raised a pale hand, covered in frost and frozen vines, toward him as she whispered, “Come.”

“Hector!” Lyta cried out, taking hold of the spirit’s arm as he began to turn toward the specter.

“She’s here for me.”

“You can’t go with her. You can’t go!” Lyta cried. “I can’t… not again.”

“What is lost will always be found.” Her words were cold, carrying the chill of the mist and frost. Dreams’ heart stuttered at the sound of it.

“Daunt,” he whispered her name like a desperate prayer, a plea to her. Hear me... Look at me.

Her head turned in his direction, and even from behind the veil that shrouded her face, he could feel her eyes. He almost dropped to his knees then and there in the crumbling dream Lyta Hall, and her dead husband had built, but she turned away from him and once again beckoned the spirit to her.

Hector spared Lyta a look before pressing a kiss to her lips and cradling her round belly in his hands. “Tell the baby I love them. Never let them forget just how much I love them.”

With a weak sob, she nodded. “I won’t, not ever.” She sobbed as she cupped his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the spirit whispered. “Goodbye.”

He turned and lifted his palm into Daunts. A wave of mist and distant wolf howls echoed all around them. Dream took a half step forward at the familiar sounds of The Forest’s call - of Daunt’s call. The spirit let the mist wash over him with a content sigh before he vanished from sight. Rose held her friend closely but never looked away from Daunt as she remained.

“Child born of death and dreams,” Daunt said, her voice echoing like ocean waves. “Evil will seek it out to steal its power.”

“No!” Lyta shouted, turning her head toward the white figure. She shook her head, holding her stomach tighter. “No.”

Rose rubbed her arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe.” She looked at Dream desperately. “Right, Dream?”

He was frozen for a moment, still looking at her, before he nodded stiffly and looked at Lyta. “So long as I live, no harm shall befall your child. Not in the Waking World and not in dreams.”

The woman didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she nodded and eased into Rose’s arms.

“We are running out of time,” Daunt said to him.

“Then help me,” he pleaded. “Open your realm and let me in.”

She tilted her head. “Only you hold the power to do so, Dream of The Endless.”

“What do you mean?”

“My realm was never closed to you,” she answered.

Dream sighed, stepping closer to her. “I do not understand.”

Daunt lifted a frozen hand to his face, her thin fingers traced over his eyes. “You do not need to understand. You only need to see.”

Mist slid through his fingers and smoother gently across his cheek. Gone again from him, the crumbling dream was all that remained. The two looked sad when he turned back to Lyta Hall and Rose Walker. Sad for him. Lytas’ eyes held an understanding beneath her deep anger and loss. Rose spoke, “Who was she?”

“An immortal being,” Dream answered simply. “One that is not your concern.”

“You care for her.”

A painful longing exploded within him as he turned away from them and said, “This dream is over.”

When he finished repairing the damage to his realm, he sought Lucienne out. Matthew would have already delivered his message, but Dream owed his librarian an apology. “Lucienne?”

“My lord. There’s something I must tell you,” she said as she hurried out from around the corner.

“And I will listen. But, first, you must let me tell you that… you were right.” He said softly, noticing immediately how her eyes looked up at him with light and hope renewed inside them. “The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was… wrong to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana.”

“You were not entirely wrong, sir. She’s found them both.”

“What? The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green? Where? How do you know?”

“Fiddler’s Green told me.” She looked over to the shelves at the man… at Fiddler’s Green as he emerged from behind the racks.

He bowed. “Apologies, lord, for having left.”

“Why?” He asked, desperate to understand what he’d done wrong. “Why did you leave? I trusted you. You were the heart of The Dreaming.”

“No, sir. You were the heart of The Dreaming. And you were gone. I was curious. And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here.” He sounded so vibrant. “Which is why I’ve returned because… he’s murdering them.”

“The Corinthian?” It wasn’t shocking to learn of his nightmare’s recklessness.

Fiddler’s Green nodded, face twisting in disgust. “He appears to have built up a cult of worshipers who kill for pleasure, endangering the Waking World and the life of a friend called Rose Walker.”

“The Corinthian has found Rose Walker?”

“Yes.”

Lucienne shook her head. “Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose?”

“You must tell me where they are.”

The Corinthian stood at the podium, delivering a confident and proud speech inspiring the room of pathetic and deluded humans to imagine their atrocities. Dream stood in the aisle, watching his creation with ill-tempered rage swimming in his chest. The nightmare noticed him quickly but did not stop his speech until he’d finished. Always doing things on his own terms, Dream thought silently, for a brief moment admiring the determination he had forged. But was it not that determination that led him to plunge that knife into Daunt’s chest? To betray the one he called friend?

“You disappoint me, Corinthian,” Dream said through tight lips. “You and these humans you’ve inspired and created… disappoint me.”

His words visibly struck his creation as he bared his teeth. “I’ve done my best to be what you made me.”

“No,” he replied with a slight chuckle as he walked toward the stage. “You’ve done your worst, which was in so many ways what I had hoped. You were my masterpiece. A dark mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.”

“That’s what I am,” The Nightmare nodded, straightening his back as he turned to face his creator. “That’s what I’ve done.”

“No. Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century infecting others with your joy of death, but what have you given them? What have you wrought?” His anger began to seep into his words. “Nothing. Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all.”

The Corinthian scoffed, cocking his head ever so slightly. “So what now? You send me back into their dreams?” He pulled a knife from his jacket, a knife not unlike the one he’d used on Daunt, and shook his head. “Cause I won’t go willingly.”

“A knife against a dream?” His voice was dark wind and shadow as he stepped towards his creation slowly.

“You don’t think dreams can die? Let’s find out.” The Corinthian insisted.

Dream held his hand out, drawing upon his power. “Enough.” The sand moved at his feet as The Corinthian stabbed his knife into his outstretched hand. The pain startled him back and to his knees as he looked down at the wound. “How?”

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker,” The nightmare said with a wide grin. “She’s taking your place at the center of The Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleepers’ minds, and now they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired.”

“No.”

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.”

“Then she’s not beyond my reach.”

The Corinthian shrugged. “Oh, I think she is. Now that she knows you’re planning to kill her.”

Dream pushed himself into the horrific visions molding together just as she and her brother turned towards him. “You need to wake up!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rosebud. You’re the one with the power now, not him. This is your dream.”

“It’s his dream for your world,” Dream corrected.

The Corinthian smiled at Rose. “Then let’s make it yours. Whatever you want, Rose. A blank canvas!”

The dreams of her brother and the other humans vanished, and Rose’s eyes went wide with fear. “Where’s Jed?”

“Jed’s fine. He’s upstairs, asleep, he’s right next to you. This dream is yours now. The Dreaming is yours now!”

“The Dreaming is yours? Is that what he told you?” Dream demanded coldly.

Rose looked up at him, confusion evident in her eyes. “He told me you were gonna kill me.”

“Did he tell you why? When a vortex brings down the walls between dreams, she creates a single volatile dream that will collapse in upon itself, and take the waking world with it. Your world. Everything and everyone will die.”

The Corinthian bent down to Rose’s ear. “Don’t believe him, Rosie.”

“It’s happened before. I failed in my duty, an entire universe was lost.”

“He can’t kill you if you kill him first.”

“Killing me may save your life, but it won’t save the lives of those you love.”

“I’m tryin’ to keep you alive here!” The nightmare growled, the playful mask he bore slipping at last.

“I’m trying to keep your world alive,” Dream argued.

The Corinthian growled, “You have to choose one of us, Rose!”

“Enough!” She shouted above their noise, waves of power rolling off her and amplifying her voice. Rose Walker looked to The Corinthian. “If I’m as powerful as you say I am, then I will find my own way. In the meantime, the walls go back up.” She lifted her hand, willing the walls between the dreams to return.

A loud groaning sound echoed all around them as the mist began to overtake the room. Rose drifted back closer to Dream as everything around them changed. “What is this? What’s happening?”

Trees, gnarled and dripping with blood, surrounded them as dark figures moved in the woods, and all manner of noises surrounded them. The tree roots wound around The Corinthian’s limbs as The Nightmare tried to take a step back from the figure in white that now stood at the treeline. “Daunt.”

Dream wanted to reach out to her, to speak to her, anything, but Daunt was not herself. Her blood-covered form was no more than mist and bitter frost. Instead, Dream took hold of Rose’s arm and pulled her behind him. “At last,” Daunt said softly, but her voice sounded anything but. “You have come to see the damage caused by your hands.”

The roots of the trees began to squeeze the nightmare tightly. He groaned as his bones began to creak beneath the wood. “This is still your dream Rose.”

The figure in white turned her head, and ice crept along Dream’s form under her gaze. “No.”

Rose shivered from behind him and quickly uttered the words she’d heard him say, “This dream is over.”

“NO!” Daunt screamed, lunging forward as the dream vanished.

Standing back in the hotel, his nightmare breathed a relieved breath and stood once again as Dream looked down at his now-healed hand. His nightmare removed the dark shades that shielded the rows of teeth from view. That anger that filled him became unbearable as he looked over at the nightmare with watering eyes. “She trusted you, loved you, and you betrayed her.”

The Corinthian sneered. “You, of all people, have no right to judge me, Dream. After all, you drove her away in the first place! If you think I’m going back to The Dreaming with you-”

The floorboards beneath their feet began to tremble and crack. Mist filled the room as tall trees tore through the floors, and The Forest started to bleed into the Waking World. The Corinthian looked around him with stoic features as roots quickly began overtaking everything in the room. Standing in the crowd, Daunt breathed heavily, the veil gone, revealing her bleeding chest and wide eyes. “You do not get to leave me again, Corinthian.”

“Daunty,” the nightmare said softly. Roots twined around him as she walked up the stage and past Dream to stand in front of his rouge creation, the creation that had betrayed her.

“Have you any idea what it was like?” She demanded. “Knowing all this time that it was you that plunged the blade into my heart. That you… my friend… would doom me to this.”

For the first time, Dream could see the sorrow and pain in the nightmares eyes as he looked up at Daunt. “I’m sorry.”

A sob escaped her throat as everything in the room grew colder. “LIAR!”

The roots stabbed through The Corinthian in various places, digging deep into his body. He took it all with a sheer grit of his teeth, never looking away from Daunt as she stepped closer to him, a blade… the blade poised in her hands and pressed against The Corinthian’s chest. “Do it.” He told her. “I deserve it.”

Dream moved closer to her, ignoring the way it stung his skin. “Daunt…”

“No,” The Corinthian told him. “Do it, Daunty. Finish me.”

“Was it worth it?” She demanded, her gaze shifting to the humans that sat in the crowded room. “Was all this worth it?”

“The only thing I regret is what I did to you,” The Corinthian said carefully.

“Regret?” She questioned, deathly quiet. “You do not know regret… not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

“Daunt,” Dream called out, hoping to pull her from the darkness that echoed in her words.

The blade flashed in the dim light as she drove it through The Corinthians ribs, twisting it as she knelt down, leaning her head closer to the nightmare and listening to his pained noises. “Look into my eyes, betrayer. Look and see what you wrought.”

He seemed to shake the longer he met Daunt’s gaze, the stoic features of his face twisting into pain and sorrow. The trees closest to her caught fire, and the sounds of fear and screaming. “Daunt…”

“You did this!” She screamed, tearing the blade from his ribs and stabbing him again.

The Corinthian bowed his head, pulling the blade from his flesh and holding it out to her. “Please.”

A sharp and pained scream echoed around Dream as Daunt fell back slightly, holding her chest as the wound began to bleed once more. She sobbed quietly, holding her hands to blood and crying as she looked to The Corinthian. “I trusted you…”

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t…”

Daunt wept, “I cannot kill you, dear Corinthian. No matter how much you deserve it. Our fates are sealed, yours and mine.”

The Corinthian’s lips quivered as he looked back up at Dream. “Finish it, Dream.”

His voice was low, nearly hoarse, as he spoke, “I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“I do it to taste what it’s like to be human.” The Corinthian admitted. “You don’t care about humanity, none of them. You can’t even bring yourself to care about her. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or you might actually feel something. I am not the problem, Dream.”

With a look to Daunt, whose form slowly began to be overtaken with frost, he replied, “You are right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

The sand swirled, glowing red as it ate away at his masterpiece. Daunt lifted her hand to his cheek, and he looked down at her as the last remnants of him faded. The Corinthian smiled at her, a soft smile, one he’d never known the nightmare to show before now. “Yours is the last face I will see.”

Daunt held the tiny skull of his nightmare in her bloodstained hand, standing slowly and turning to face him. More blood streamed down her cheeks as she cried tears of red. She placed the skull in his hand, and she whispered before he could even utter a word. “Find us, Dream. Please.”

And just as suddenly as she’d appeared, Daunt was gone again from his sight. His hand curled around the skull as he turned to the crowd of his creation’s flawed inspiration and shook his head. “And you… who call yourselves collectors, until now you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right. But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgment upon you, that you shall know from this moment on exactly how craven and selfish and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those that mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time.”

They all rose from their seats and walked, dazed, out of the room. Dream looked around him at the lack of trees, mist, and all Daunt had brought with her. He closed his eyes and silently swore he would find her.

Rose Walker was not only the vortex but the child with the blood of an Endless. A child born of his sibling’s games. As soon as Dream had laid eyes on the dark heart she’d pulled from her chest and given to Unity Kincaid, he knew it. With a swiftness powered by his rage alone, Dream entered his gallery and grabbed the heart on the wall. “Desire. I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Talk to me.”

The faint image of his sibling’s wide red grin shinned from within the stone. “Why, sweet Dream. This is a surprise. Almost an event, I might say.”

“Good. I’m coming through,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“You are?” They questioned, a slight pitch of fear entering their voice before they chuckled. “But of course. You know you’re always welcome in my chambers.”

The glossy red of Desire’s realm was hideous. He’d forgotten how much he detested the vivid color and how pungent the sickeningly sweet smell of summer peaches was. Dream took slow, deliberate steps closer to his sibling, who lounged in a chair in their gallery. “Lovely to see you,” they purred. “Can I get you anything you desire?”

“I desire nothing from you save some answers,” he replied tensely.

“Ooh, is this a test?”

“Unity Kincaid should’ve been the vortex of this era. But someone took advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex, and I would be forced to kill it.”

Desire’s smile widened. “Was I really that obvious?”

“No,” Dream answered, circling them. “You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“Well, that’s high praise coming from you.”

“What did you truly intend? That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

They laughed. “This time, it almost worked.”

It was no secret that he and Desire loathed one another, but Dream hadn’t thought they would stoop to such drastic whims to see him dead. With a scoff, he shook his head. “My sibling, we of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.” Standing behind them now, his voice lowered, threatening and dark. “And you and Despair, and even poor Deliruim would do well to remember that.” He pulled their head back by their light hair and looked deep into the golden eyes that now flared with anger and fear. “Mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. Do you believe yourself strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

“No,” they said in a trembling tone.

“Remember that next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs,” he whispered to them as his eyes trailed away from their golden irises to the red bitemarks that marred their hand. His hands tightened in their hair. “Where did you get those marks?”

“Is it not obvious, big brother?” They sneered with a smile. “Our lovely Mistake sends her regards.”

“What have you done with her?”

Desire’s smile widened. “So predictable, big brother.”

Anger laced deep into his voice. “What did you do?”

“I merely gave her what she always wanted.” Their golden eyes flared. “An end to her pitiful excuse of an existence.”

“You would dare to raise a hand against her?”

Desire scoffed. “She is no Endless. She is a Mistake. One that refused to see reason.”

“Where is she?”

“Right where I left her,” they answered. “In that pathetic little forest of hers with that stupid mutt.”

“How did you find it?”

Desire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, you still haven’t been to see her? How sad. From what I hear, she doesn’t have much time left.”

Dream released their hair, practically throwing them forward as he turned and strode back down the hall he’d arrived in. “If Daunt dies, I will be back for your head.”

“Give her my best,” they called after him. “She looked rather ill when I last saw her.”

Daunt was alive, he reminded himself. She was alive, and he would find her. He would not lose her again.

It had been weeks since he’d finished his business with the Vortex and Desire. Months and still, there had been nothing to help him find her. He scoured every book and dream, desperately searching every corner he could reach for her to no avail. The ember of hope he’d held all this time slowly began to dwindle as the days passed… as he grew closer and closer to facing the horrible reality that he’d failed her.

Matthew had followed him to Fiddler’s Green, as the bird was known to do now that he was no longer shadowing Rose Walker, making comments on his incredibly sullen behavior, but Dream didn’t care enough to answer him. Instead, as he stood among the green fields and the flowers and the memories of their moonlit dances and conversations, Dream cared about nothing else but her. He wanted to see her again, to hold her in his arms and to beg for her forgiveness… to tell her, the real her, that he loved her and that he had for quite some time.

He stared out at the peaceful meadow for a moment longer before turning to leave. There was nothing for him here. Or was there? He halted almost instantly at the sight of white standing in the trees in front of him. The white stag stood between two large trees, watching Dream. Matthew looked over to where his master was staring and quietly asked, “What’s that thing?”

“A creature I thought had long abandoned this realm,” Dream answered as the stag turned away and began walking into the forest. Something inside him forced his feet to move, to follow the creature into the dark woods.

“Oh! So we’re following the weird lookin thing?” Matthew cawed loudly, taking to the sky to fly after them.

The trees grew closer and closer together, and darkness began to make it difficult to follow the creature forward. Mist rolled over Dream’s boots, and a chill seared his skin, forcing him to halt. This was not Fiddlers Green. This was nothing of his realm. “The Forest.”

A few steps ahead of him, the stag looked back and huffed, its breath visible in the frozen air, before it continued forward, stepping over the gnarled roots. Dream moved, too, a newfound desperation in his steps as they emerged from the thick trees into a small glen of frozen moss. Death and blood hung in the air all around them. The hollow resembled that which he’d seen in the short dream Daunt had influenced.

The stag took a half-step forward, a small frozen twig snapping beneath one of its hoofs. The sound echoed far louder than it should have, filling the silence with it. A heartbeat passed before a black shadow lunged out of the trees and dug its claws into the stag’s back, clawing and biting until the poor creature collapsed and its blood coated the white ground. Dream stood perfectly still as the beast tore into the stag’s flesh and devoured the steaming meat.

“Holy shit,” Matthew breathed from a branch beside Dream. The beast’s head turned, revealing two grey eyes locking onto Dream. It turned, claws clutching the stag’s body tightly, and let out a loud screech. Blood and spit coated its sharp teeth as its foul breath wafted to Dream’s nose.

The beast gave little to no warning before it pounced, claws tearing out of the carcass and slicing through the air as it made its way toward him, ready and willing to take the killing blow. White shot out through the forest, slamming into the black creature and forcing it onto the other side of the clearing. Growls and barks echoed through the trees before suddenly all grew silent. Matthew flew down from his perch, hopping toward the stag cautiously. “Where the fuck are we?”

Before Dream could answer the birds’ quiet question, the white blur returned. It leaped from nowhere and pinned Matthew to the snowy ground by a wing. The bloodstained teeth of the white wolf, marred with scars both old and new, chomped as he raised his head to look up at Dream. One eye was blue, crystal, and starry, while the other was faded gray and scarred. “What manner of demon are you?”

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