Placing The Blame

by cwacwa

Summary:

After escaping captivity, escaping Roderic Burgess, Morpheus had to find his belongings. Only, it turns out he left a significant portion of his power with his friend. And because of the vortex, he must quickly regain it.

Or,

Morpheus doesn't know what to do or how to feel, luckily Hob is a patient, immortal man.

please check the notes 😭🙏

Chapter 1: something unexpected

It was wrong. Irrational. Impossible. Yet when I followed Rose Walker and her friend to this house, a house in my kingdom. Which I didn't even sense, didn't notice. In dreaming. I am dreaming, and dreaming is me. Why didn't I sense this place? Was it the Vortex? Is Rose Walker's power so powerful that it disrupts my very being?
Watching from afar, the silhouettes of the two women receding into the distance, I also sensed the presence of something alien. Something that shouldn't be there. Despite the overwhelming presence of the Vortex, something was wrong.

The revelation washed over me like a cold wave.

A soul.

A soul that should have been in the Land Of The Dead long ago.

Hector Hall.

"Tell Lucienne... I think I've found the cause of our problem. Tell her I'll take care of it too."I told the Raven, to which he merely squawked and flew off to complete his assigned task.

I appeared inside, in Hector and Lyta Hall's dream home. The man sitting on the couch jumped slightly. When he recognized me, he stiffened and paled. As if he had something to fear. It was only the natural order of things.

"Hector Hall, this is not your place."I said as calmly as I could."You've been dead for a long time. You can't hide in my kingdom from the inevitable."His hands began to shake, so he hid it by clasping them together. He swallowed; it wasn't necessary in a dream, but his nervousness was palpable, so I took the gesture as a sign of fear.

"Dream... Lord Morpheus," he began, clearly considering his next words. "I... I can't leave. My wife is here, this is my place, my home. Please let me stay here."He practically begged, and I pursed my lips, preparing for denial.

"The place of the dead is not in dreams. You can't stay here."I tried to keep my tone as pleasant as possible. I wanted him to understand me. I turned toward the approaching, clearly joyful women. They would arrive soon. Hector clenched his fists, a few tears streaming from his eyes. He glanced in the same direction as me, the pressure draining from his shoulders as he saw his wife approaching.

"May I say goodbye to her?" he asked, his voice trembling, and I clenched my fists. I shouldn't have allowed this to happen. Hector Hall should be dead, yet his soul now sits on the couch to my left. I'd been gone too long. The possible and the impossible have blurred in my realm. Entities from all realms had the opportunity to enter. If only I had had the strength to resist my tormentors. At that thought, an image of Roderick Burgess, a glass cage, my prison, flashed before my eyes. I tensed and took a quiet, shuddering breath, clenching my fists. Not now. I don't have time to allow myself this. The man next to me seemed to take my silence for approval, as he simply sat on the couch, his hands clenched, his eyes wide, slowly filling with tears.

Rose Walker and Lyta Hall entered the house, laughing and clearly happy. Until Rose noticed me. Her expression fell.

"Hector, we have a guest!" Lyta Hall announced cheerfully, looking toward Rosa. Confusion flashed across her face when she saw me.

"Lyta? Remember how I told you about Lord Morpheus? The Lord of Dreams?" Rosa began. I looked at the women with the most compassionate gaze I could muster. I guess I failed.The pregnant woman looked at me with even greater confusion, instinctively placing her hands on her stomach.

Defending the being in her womb from… me.

"He wants us to leave," Hector announced, his voice trembling softly, glancing toward his wife.

"What? Why?" Vortex asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Then I quickly composed myself and, following the man's lead, fixed my gaze on the women before me.

"A soul cannot escape its destiny by hiding in dreams."Everyone in the room gave me surprised and sad looks."And a person cannot escape grief. Don't you see the damage your presence has caused?" I looked around the room, my gaze wandering to the cracks in the ceiling and walls. Deep inside, I hoped they would understand. They would understand that I had no interest in my own, but in their safety. Without Dreaming, all of humanity would perish. I couldn't let that happen, so I gathered myself and assumed the role of ruler, King of Dreams, King of Nightmares, one of the Endless. That's who I was. I couldn't afford sympathy or try to understand their feelings. Time was running out. I lowered my gaze slightly to the ground.

"I can't let you stay," I added a little more quietly, mentally berating myself for it.

"Can we do something?" Hector asked, hope in his voice. Why was he still fighting? I'd explained the situation to him. I couldn't let that thought take root, so I quickly replied.
"You belong to the world of the dead, that's where you must go." I turned to him. At my words, he lowered his gaze. He understood.
"I'm sorry, but it's time to say goodbye."
He nodded, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. I suppressed a sigh at the unpleasant situation. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been so weak. The 100-year prison was my fault. If I hadn't been so confident, if I hadn't let my guard down, none of this would have happened. It's my fault.

While I was pondering, Hector rose from the couch and approached his wife, snapping me out of my thoughts. She placed her hands on his head, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her husband, and defiance flashed in her eyes.

"You're not going anywhere..." she said to Hector with a fierce tone that brooked no argument. "Get out of our house!" She raised her voice at me, making me frown. A faint tinge of anger coursed through my veins. Their house? This is my home. My place. My source of power. By kicking me out, he's acting like a hotel room guest kicking out its owner.
I've longed, dreamed, and waited for my return here longer than this woman has walked this earth. It's unacceptable. But beyond the furrowed brow, I couldn't bring myself to resurrect anything else. Rose tried to say something, but the time had come. I reached out to Hector, slowly sending his soul back where it belonged.

Lyta objected, Rose pleaded, but unfortunately, that's the way of things. The longer his soul remained in my realm, the greater the damage would be, and I can't afford any more.

The man's soul vanished into thin air, Lyta crying. I didn't want to cause her any more pain than she already had, but I had to inform her of the rest now. The woman, clutching her stomach again, glared at me with hatred. I forced myself to relax my facial muscles to appear harmless.

"Your husband died long ago. He was a ghost, and this is a dream."
Sobbing, Lyta looked at her unborn child, and I followed her with my gaze.
"The child is yours. For now. It was conceived in dreaming; it belongs to me," I announced.

"What?" the Vortex asked in disbelief.

"One day I'll come for it."

I wanted to end this as soon as possible. End this conversation, end all these complications, end the Vortex. I simply wanted to rest. Lucienne had suggested it to me right after my release, but I couldn't afford to let my land fall into ruin while I healed my wounds. The dreaming had to go on, and I with it, and with myself.

"You won't do that," Rose said in a rebellious tone, directed at me. "You can’t…"
If only they could understand that it's not in my best interest to cause them pain. Children born of me or in my land are not like other children. They can inherit gifts. Some so powerful that they condemn themselves to the wrath of the gods. I clenched my fists at the thought of Orpheus. My eyes stung and my head began to ache; this shouldn't be possible. This must be the work of the vortex.

I held out my hand.

"The dream is over."

Chapter 2: something left behind

I found myself in my throne room, already preparing to relax my muscles, even just a little.

"You killed my friend."

I turned around in surprise, my body tensing again. A Vortex appeared behind me. In my throne room.

"How did you get here…"
Panic took over. No Vortex had ever been powerful enough to move right behind me without my knowledge.

"In front of his wife, and you threatened to take her child."

I had to control myself.

"Do you know why this happened? The growing vortex is tearing down the walls between the kingdoms." I raised my voice, and Rose's eyes widened.
Panic and a mounting headache prevented me from thinking clearly. It shouldn't be like this. I'm not human to have a moment of weakness.

"I didn't ask for this!" She raised her voice, which intensified the headache.

"It doesn't matter!" I said without thinking. Rage boiled beneath my skin.

"You are to stay away from me or my friends." The vortex's interference increased. I turned fully toward her. I need to calm this down somehow. My head feels like it's about to explode.

"Rose, listen..." I began calmly, panic evident in my voice.

"I'm listening," she said angrily. "You said the vortex can create worlds or destroy them." I narrowed my eyes. The pressure of the disruption on my being was too great. "Therefore, I suggest you leave my world alone." My limbs began to tremble, and my breathing, which should have been calming me, visibly quickened.
"Rose..." I began again, I still have a chance.

"The dream is over."

With the vortex's departure, my legs finally gave out and hit the floor with a thud. She had no right to use abilities that only I had the right to.

I fell to the ground, my eyes closed. My consciousness slowly began to fade. I groaned silently in pain. I hadn't felt this way in… My whole body tensed anew, remembering the glass cage and my tormentor. Every part of my form went on high alert, as if waiting for a repeat of the events. Even though I knew the man was dead, I still couldn't calm the thoughts and the terror the memory evoked.
Desire would probably have a blast seeing me so weak and fearful of what we were meant to serve. I clenched my fists. Dreaming trembled with the pain of mine. I heard a voice. Someone was calling me. I opened my eyes slightly, and my body stiffened to the point that each blink sent waves of pain through my being. A transparent barrier materialized around me. It's happening again. I'm trapped again. I'll be stuck here for 100 years again. Again I'll be used, exposed, watched like a wild animal. Again the voice. Someone is calling me.

With eyes wide in terror, I looked around the room from behind the barrier. A figure loomed over me, constantly shouting something.
It was shouting too. It kept shouting. Constantly. The figure above me probably saw the terror etched on my face, because it quickly fell silent. Finally, I began to feel my body. Wetness on my cheeks and on the floor beneath me, nails digging into my palms, teeth clenching so hard that my jaw began to tremble with the effort.

I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. The barrier around me burst like a bubble. I blinked a few times, still curled up on the ground. The nameless figure who had previously preferred me turned out to be Lucienne.

She knelt beside me and began to look me over in panic, looking for injuries. Which was very strange, since I couldn't possibly have any physical injuries.

"Lucienne…" I began, my voice hoarse from crying. I wanted to feel anything other than this devouring emptiness or pain.

"My lord, are you alright?" the librarian began with a worried look. "I felt the shock. The entire kingdom felt it." She frowned and reached out to grab my hand, but quickly pulled it back with resignation.

"I… I'm not sure," I replied, looking down at the ground. Lucienne's hands, visible from my perspective, clenched. "Forgive the shock."

I slowly rose to my feet, though my arms barely supported my weight. I hoped she would ignore this moment of weakness. The assistant extended her hand, wanting me to accept her help. To let her help me, but I couldn't. Not when I already felt so utterly powerless. Not when so much had happened in my absence. Finally, I stood on my feet, leaning against the rise leading to my throne.

"My Lord," Lucienne began. "I think it's time for you to take back the last of yourself," she said, and I clenched my fists and grimaced imperceptibly.

"That won't be necessary." I staggered toward the throne.

"Of course... only that... My Lord. You are immensely needed by the people, and by us as well, and yet I can't shake the feeling that your strength is fading with each passing day."
I bristled as I sat on the throne.

"That. Won’t. Be. Necessary," I said sternly, and Lucienne lowered her gaze with a slight grimace.

"Of course, my Lord." She nodded and walked away as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn't just writhed on the ground. As if I hadn't just cried a pool of tears. This arrangement suited me. I only sincerely hoped the rest of my subjects wouldn't ask questions about the slight earthquake in the kingdom.

I closed my eyes, trying to sort it all out in my head. The vortex, the Corinthian, my strength, the last bit of me. I couldn't just take it away. I knew Lucienne was right. I had to visit him soon to reclaim what was mine, but I couldn't imagine it. How could I explain myself? Would I even have to explain myself?

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. I was so exhausted. I hadn't allowed myself a break from the pain, hadn't escaped this cursed captivity. I had too much work to relax, even for a moment, and now this vortex. I opened my eyes. Lucienne was right. I had to reclaim what was mine. As soon as possible.

The headache wouldn't go away. I had to endure it.

Notes:

Well, here's the second chapter. I'm actually doing pretty well with all these TikTok edits, speaking about inspiration, not content😅. Again, I hope you liked it and I hope you'll leave comments. I'm still working on the next chapter, but I'll have plenty of time to finish it soon. Again, I hope you liked it and it wasn't as shit as I think it is 😅🩷🩷

Chapter 3: something found

I materialized in the tavern managed by Hob. After deciding to demolish our old meeting place, Hob, wanting me to find him, had opened a place not far from our old meeting place. I'd been to this tavern before, but never with the unease I feel when walking towards the right table.

The man looked up at me, and his gaze softened. A smile spread across his lips, making me purse my lips. He'd grown a light beard since our last meeting; it suited him.

Over the past 600 years, his appearance had changed constantly, something I'd noticed, but I never intended to comment on. After all, fashion is constantly changing, and my appearance hasn't stayed the same either.
I approached the table without taking my seat. When Hob Gadling saw the expression and look on my face, the grimace vanished. He rose from his seat at the table and reached for me, but quickly recoiled.
"What happened?" he asked with concern, which was strange because he didn't usually talk to me that way. Maybe I just hadn't noticed before.
"Were you crying?"

I touched my cheek to confirm his words. Indeed, undried tear tracks still adorned my cheeks. I felt embarrassed and lowered my gaze.

"My well-being isn't important, and the things I did aren't in your best interest," I replied, defending my pride. I felt like I had to defend myself. I didn't know why, it was just Hob. A friend. Hob narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists.

"If you've come to see me for the second time in a year, then damn it, something must be up. Not that I mind," he added, rubbing his hand across his face, embarrassed by his own words.
"Would you like to sit down?" He gestured to the chair in front of him, to which I glanced up and nodded.
I sat down in the chair, my posture tense. I didn't know where to begin, so I looked down at my hands again. Hob sat across from me, staring at me expectantly. When he saw I had nothing to say for the time being, he began.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, and I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Did he know yet why I was here? No, he couldn't. I hadn't told him that I'd left a large portion of my power in the bracelet he now wears on his right hand.

"About tears," he added, pointing to my face. His, on the other hand, was adorned with concern again.

"No, we don't have to," I replied quickly, and he pursed his lips.

"If you don't want to, I won't force you. But why exactly did you want to see me? I mean, it's not that it bothers me, I'm actually happy for your company. God, what am I saying..." He covered his face with his hand and sighed. I became even more confused. "The thing is, I don't know much about you." Damn, I don't even know your name, and there's the fact that you didn't show up at our last meeting, but you did later, and now you do." He looked out the window and took a sip of his beer, then looked at me.

"Care to enlighten me?" he asked, and I made eye contact.

"That's knowledge you don't need to possess. Besides, why are you so interested in this? I came here to pick up something I left at your place a while ago," I replied, and he bristled even more.

"I'm interested because we're friends, for fuck's sake!" He sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry, your attitude just annoys me."

I frowned.

"What was that supposed to mean?"
He looked at me over his mug and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you serious? I don't know your name, who you are, I don't know anything about you. You never talk about yourself. Seriously, are you some kind of demon or something?" He narrowed his eyes, suspiciously.

"I'm not, I've already said that," I replied, unable to bear his gaze.

"So what are you, tell me?" He relaxed, his eyes expressing sadness. Because of me. I pursed my lips and looked at the people around me, then returned to Hob. He smiled encouragingly at me and extended his hand. I looked at it.
"Friends?"

The bracelet flickered with my power, and I frowned. It shouldn't do that. It shouldn't show in any way that it's anything but ordinary. I'd instilled too much power into it.
Hob, seeing my thoughtfulness, stopped smiling but didn't lower his hand.

"When you're ready, buddy."

My gaze locked on his again, and for some reason, I relaxed slightly.

"I…" I began, though I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to say. I glanced at the man just entering the bar and smiled slightly, which made him look confused and immediately lower his gaze, as if in fear. The smile instantly fell from my face and my gaze returned to my hands.

"I'm not human. I'm not what you imagine I am."

"Really?" he laughed shortly. "I could have guessed that. We've known each other for 600 years, it's not exactly normal, you know?" The smile didn't leave his face, and I pursed my lips slightly.

"Do you know who Morpheus is?" I asked, and Hob raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, Greek mythology, huh? Morpheus is the god and personification of dreams, the ruler of dreams. Why do you ask?" He snorted with laughter. "You know I'm a history professor. Are you testing me?" he asked with a challenge in his eyes. I smiled a little wider at his reaction.

"He's not exactly a god. You could say he's something more."
"Oh, you say so? So you're interested in Greek mythology?" His smile turned warmer.

"You could say that." I took a breath to calm myself. "What I'm getting at is..." I looked at Hob's hand, still outstretched, and then back at him.

I trust him, I realized. Human or not, he's never expressed any interest in judging me or disliking me. He's not like Roderick Burgess. He wouldn't lock me up or do anything to me, would he?

"I am Morpheus. I am Dream." Lord of Nightmares. One of the Endless.

Hob stared at me for a moment, his eyes blank. I gave him a moment to absorb this new information. His phone began to ring, and I immediately looked towards the device. The sound was too abrupt. My body tensed again. Gods, why had I become so anxious?
Hob, still looking at me, simply rejected the call without even looking at who was calling. I felt uneasy, so I shifted my position, trying to hide my discomfort. He was thinking about what to tell me? I understood that such news wasn't what he expected, but I was afraid of his next words.

"That's pretty messed up," he laughed, settling back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
My eyes widened and I looked at him, a smile playing on my lips.

"You never cease to surprise me, Hob Gadling."

"I've lived for centuries, you won't surprise me that easily, duck." He winked at me, and I had to lower my gaze, embarrassed. But why?

"I'm still a little surprised that you didn't show up for our last meeting. Too many responsibilities to manage? Or were you perhaps still feeling resentful from our argument?" he asked, resting his chin on his hand, still staring at me. I, on the other hand, clenched my jaw and hands at the unwanted memory. I took a shuddering breath, which didn't escape the man's notice. He frowned.

"This is a conversation I can't have here," I admitted, to which Hob frowned slightly.

"Okay, we can go to my place if it's not a problem, I live nearby," he said calmly.
"No, I don't want to talk about it yet."

The man nodded, showing he understood.
"No problem, friend. Whenever you're ready." He smiled warmly, making me look away again.

After a few seconds of silence, I looked again at his hand and the bracelet he wore. He noticed my gaze and smiled faintly.

"Cool, huh? I found it while in Egypt, nearly 200 years ago. It was lying in some pharaoh's tomb or something. That was quite a journey! Can you believe…" I couldn't focus on his words. I was trying to assess how much power this item held, how much power I'd transferred without even noticing. The bracelet clearly glowed with my power. What had I been so blinded by that I hadn't paid attention to the transfer of power?
Hob suddenly laughed, snapping me out of my thoughts. When I shifted my surprised gaze to him, his expression fell slightly.

"Were you listening?"

"Sorry, not really." I looked at the bracelet again and reached for it.

"Could I take a look?" I asked, making eye contact with him. He stared for a moment, but then quickly nodded and pulled the object from his wrist.

"Is there anything interesting about it?" he asked, smiling slightly and watching me as I examined it.

"More interesting than you expect," I replied, not taking my eyes off the bracelet. I narrowed my eyes. I can't draw power from it just by wanting to.

"Would you mind if I broke it?" I glanced at him with a question in my eyes. Hob raised an eyebrow but just nodded, indicating he didn't seem to mind.

"Only if you tell me why later," he added, this time nodding.
"Okay."
I grabbed the object with both hands and snapped it in half with a snap. The power returned to me within a millisecond. I took a breath. The pieces of the bracelet fell from my hands and fell to the ground.

Wide-eyed, I stared at the wall behind Hob, absentminded. A long-abandoned part of me slowly adjusted to its owner. My eyes misted over, in that familiar and natural way. To people, I must have looked terrifying now, but I hadn't felt so much like myself in ages. I couldn't get enough of the feeling, and I couldn't stop.

I felt someone shaking my shoulders. I blinked twice and regained my vision just as a hand was coming for my face. Instinctively, I squeezed my eyes shut and covered myself with my hands, so he couldn't hit me again. He couldn't hurt me, as he usually did. Someone stiffened beside me. I felt it now, what a relief. I opened my eyes slowly, still covering myself with his hands. When I saw Hob with a look of confusion and terror on his face, I lowered my arms. It was just Hob. He wouldn't hit me. Even though he wanted to. Why?

"Buddy, are you okay?" he asked, crouching down beside me. Still with the same look.
"I just wanted to wake you up, you were in some kind of trance."
I looked around the place in horror, thinking I'd see that basement again. My muscles went limp a bit as I realized I was still in the tavern, that everything was alright. Even though all the customers had fallen asleep, everything seemed fine.

"Morpheus?" he snapped in front of my face, making me jump slightly.
Hob, noticing my reaction, slowly removed his hand and looked at me with concern.

"What's wrong, duck?"

Notes:

Heyy 🩷 This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones, but that's because I love their dynamic and I thought it would be better to deal with some things in one chapter. I'm finishing the second season and it broke my heart. I knew our emo boy had to die, but I thought he'd somehow get out of it. 😭😭😭😭. I'm honestly devastated. As soon as I get inspired, I'll post another chapter. If you see any mistakes or something I didn't mention, let me know in the comments. 😙😙 Stay strong! 🩷🩷

Chapter 4: something changed

He blushed slightly and lowered his gaze, as if regretting his earlier words.

"It's nothing, you have nothing to worry about," I replied, and gathered myself. Why would he want to know so badly if he had no interest in it? It was only my foolish pride that had kept me trapped. I winced slightly as the headache returned with a vengeance. It was unbearable, making me squint slightly. My power had returned. Why do I have to keep feeling these side effects? It felt like someone was hammering nails into my skull.
Hob gave me a sad look and extended his hand again, beckoning me to take it.
I looked at it and pursed my eyebrows. He wore a wedding ring on his ring finger. He must be engaged or married.
I pursed my lips.

"Hob, why do you want me to hold your hand?" I asked, confused. This was the second time. The man kneeling beside me blushed deeper and sighed.

"That's what you do, I mean, that's what people do. To show support," he replied while rubbing his hand across his face. I raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you think I need comforting?"
The man looked down at the ground and lowered his hand. My mood worsened even more. I didn't want to offend him. He sighed and looked back at me with a faint smile, making me feel a little embarrassed. Did I offend him?

"I don't think so, I have a feeling. I mean..." he sighed again. "I can see something's wrong. I can see you're struggling with something. I really just want to help you, friend," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, which stiffened me. But when I realized he'd simply placed his hand there, not squeezed or pushed, I relaxed.

What am I supposed to do in this situation? I looked at him with wide eyes, which quickly filled with tears. Why must I react this way to a simple gesture of support? I blinked a few times, fighting back unwanted tears, and looked away. Hob seemed to notice and scowled.

"Something's happened, hasn't it?" He glanced around the place absentmindedly. He acted as if he hadn't noticed anything, for which I was very grateful. "Except that all my customers have fallen asleep." He gave a short laugh, and I nodded.

"Sorry, I've regained some of my power and mortals don't react well to such changes in the atmosphere," I explained and looked around the place as well, and Hob frowned and looked at me again.

"How did you get it back? Was it in that bracelet? Why did you put it there?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise. Then he frowned more, but didn't remove his hand from my arm. I felt a warmth in my chest.

I promised to explain, so I had little choice but to tell him part of the story.

"About 100 years ago, I was forced to spread my power throughout the world. I sensed you possessed an object that could absorb a large part of me, so I sent it to you," I explained briefly, looking at my hands.

"Why were you forced to give up your power? And why to me? Didn't you have someone more trustworthy? I was close to selling that bracelet." He rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh and moved closer to me, slightly. His shoes scraped against the floor. The sound echoed through the premises, disturbed only by our breathing and the cars driving by outside. I frowned slightly at Hob's sudden proximity.

"I… no. Not really," I answered the second question, leaving the first unanswered. I didn't want to tell him about my unfortunate accident and the damage it had caused. Perhaps that would make Hob even more worried.

"Someone wanted to buy it?"

He looked at me and, trying to remember the details, bit his lower lip. After a few moments, he spoke.

"Such a strange fellow, he was trying to cajole me." He laughed, but his suspicion was still etched on his face. "He was making a move on me, I think he was wearing contacts, because he had golden eyes. Strange guy," he commented, and I frowned even more, this time with fury. Everything Desire could possibly be capable of. Why would they need my power? I'd have to have a short conversation with my sibling. Desire has always tried to make my life miserable, in many different ways. I wouldn't be surprised if they participated in my imprisonment. But why would they need my power? Of course, it wasn't strange. They was always looking for new ways to make my existence miserable. It was probably a hobby.

Hob looked at me again with concern and moved his hand to the back of my neck, making me shiver and stiffen. It was probably meant as a comforting gesture, but my body, unaccustomed to such actions, didn't know how to react. Images of my treatment at Roderic Burgess's headquarters materialized in my mind.

"Do you know him?" he asked, and I clenched my fists slightly.

"Better than you could possibly imagine," I replied, quickly rising from my seat, making Hob flinch. Then I headed for the exit. I needed to get this over with immediately.

"Wait!" the man called after me, and I stopped abruptly. I didn't want him to think I didn't care about his words; perhaps I had no other way to show it, so I obeyed his call. My robe billowed with the sudden movement, enveloping most of my figure. I turned to face Hob.

He ran to me and handed me the phone, and I gave him a surprised look. I grimaced at the device. I understood that using phones was faster than sending letters, but after 100 years of slavery, the shock of humanity's new invention still lingered. What will they come up with next? Before I could open my mouth to say anything, he interrupted me.

"I wanted to do this earlier, but our last meeting would have involved writing letters, and I can't imagine you writing replies. Damn, I can't imagine you with a phone!" He laughed briefly, then quickly turned serious. "I want you to take it. I want you to write to me from time to time, or at least reply to my messages. I promise I won't be pushy, I just..." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I just want to know that everything's okay, that you're okay."

What do you mean, "I'm okay"? I've freed myself, I've regained my kingdom. The only thing that worries me is the vortex. I hope I can deal with it soon, then I won't have any more worries.

When I wanted to protest, he interrupted me again, raising his hand, and I closed my mouth again.

"You're my... friend. I want to know if something's wrong with you, so I can help," he finished, and I didn't know what to say. It's stupid, sweet, but also incredibly stupid. I didn't even know why. It just seemed so out of place that I didn't know what to think. The man, of course, is my friend. It took me a century of being stuck in my own head to understand, but it's true. Perhaps he really cares about me, wants to help me.

That's even worse.

I tightened my fingers around the device and accepted it, to which Hob sighed in relief.

"I can try." I winced slightly at my own words and looked up at the man. He gave me the warmest smile I'd ever seen. My heart skipped a beat.

Hob put his hands on his hips triumphantly, and I smiled faintly at the gesture.

"So? Soon, back at that tavern?"

"Soon."

…
Desire’s realm was very… unique. I didn't think it was impractical. I wouldn't presume to judge any of the family's kingdoms. It was very much my sibling’s style, a peculiar structure depicting Desire's likeness, with the entrance located in the center of the chest. In the heart. The perfect image of a narcissist and sociopath.

I entered my younger siblings' abode without knocking. I didn't announce myself or announce my visit. I didn't mean to be rude, but considering the accusations I was about to level at Desire, I wasn't trying to be classy.

I appeared behind Desire, and they didn't even flinch. They were lounging in them armchair like a cat basking in the sun. They’re clothes exposed most of they’re chest, and they’re pants had palm-sized holes along their length. They slowly turned they head towards me with a mocking smile.

"Who visited me? Isn't that Dream himself?"
I wrinkled my nose slightly in anger. My tone, however, remained calm.

"I think you've heard about my captivity."

My sibling smile widened as they leaned back in his chair, resting they chin on they hand.

"Ahh, yes. Of course. You've been gone… 100 years? Something like that? I didn't even notice you were gone." They waved they’r hand dismissively.

I frowned.

"I hope you weren't involved. That would be very unfortunate, considering I heard you were planning to buy a certain piece of jewelry containing a piece of me."

They tensed slightly and wandered around his quarters with a bored look.

"Do you realize how much humanity has suffered during my captivity?" I continued, my voice growing angrier. They glared at me, a grimace of a smile once more playing on they lips.

"I didn't do anything. Besides, a few more spirits to our sister shouldn't be such a problem. Since when are you interested in human life…"

"Be careful," I interrupted my siblings in a tone that brooked no argument. They blinked a few times in shock. After a few moments, they recovered and, without a smile, turned to me.

"You have indeed changed, brother," they said in a hushed voice, more to theyself than to me. After a few moments, they continued.

"I had no part in your imprisonment. I only wanted to buy the bracelet you placed your power in to spite you. But know that I would never do anything like slavery to you," they said calmly, and for perhaps the first time since I'd known my sibling, they seemed sincere and… and maybe, just maybe… regretted?

The rage left my body, replaced by a dull sense of guilt. For accusing my sibling of such a thing. I looked down at the ground and exhaled.

I nodded and turned toward the exit.

"I'm sorry I assumed you had something to do with this. See you soon."

Desire turned to me sharply, eyes wide.

"You never sorry," he whispered as I stood by the door.

"I think I've changed after all, sibling," I said just as quietly, a hint of a smile on my face.

I teleported away, leaving Desire stunned.

Notes:

Sorry I haven't posted a chapter in so long 😭😭. I've been working too hard and most of this was written during my break. The roller coaster is bothering me (it's such a loud shit). Overall, it was hard, but it's here now 🥳🥳. If you spot any mistakes, please let me know; I really won't be surprised if I messed something up. Take care 🩷🩷🩷

Chapter 5: something stable

"The vortex is gaining strength. After the last explosion, we didn't notice anything unusual in Dreaming. However, the tremors are making themselves felt," Lucienne announced, holding the notebook in her hand. She looked at me expectantly.

I sat on my throne, resting my chin on my wrist, my thoughts wandering elsewhere.

"Sir?" the librarian began again.

I blinked a few times and turned my full attention to Lucienne.

"Yes? Forgive me, I was lost in thought."

The woman sighed softly but didn't comment on my drifting off.

"The vortex, sir."

"Yes, the vortex, of course. I'm considering how to deal with it."

The librarian looked at me skeptically and placed the notebook against her chest, ready to leave the room. She had waved me goodbye beforehand.

Suddenly, the strange sound of a bell echoed throughout the room, making me flinch. Lucienne stopped abruptly and turned her head towards me. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

I reached into my robe pocket and pulled out the damned device, at which the woman turned to me in even greater shock.

I clicked on the screen, blinded by the artificial light emanating from the phone screen. I squinted and clicked again. Nothing happened.

I frowned.

"Lucienne. How to use this?" I asked quietly, still staring at the screen.
The librarian, snapped out of her stupor, cleared her throat and approached me, standing to my right.

"Sir... do you have a phone now?" she asked, still not entirely believing what she was seeing.

I nodded curtly, still trying to decipher this devilish device.

"Did someone try to contact me?" I asked, clicking randomly on the screen.

"No, I don't think so. I think someone just sent a text message," she replied, still slightly shocked, and I frowned even more.

"What does that mean?" I asked quietly, to which the woman smiled slightly and relaxed in her seat.

"It means someone wrote you a message. It's like a letter, only it arrives faster and doesn't always make sense," she explained, and I pursed my lips and nodded, indicating I understood.

I lifted my finger from the screen and looked at Lucienne.

"How can I see what they wrote?"

The woman only smiled warmly and, with a question in her eyes, reached for the phone. I nodded, giving her permission to take the device. The librarian took the phone and, without changing its position, left it in my line of sight, clicked on the screen, showing and explaining the mechanism.

She handed the phone back to me when a message from Hob appeared on the screen. I pursed my lips.

"Hey, are you okay?"

That was the message, and I couldn't shake the feeling I was hearing that question over and over again. Lucienne grabbed her notebook again, preparing to leave.

"Sir. If I may ask... why did you start using a telephone?" she asked with a hint of apprehension. She probably expected me to ignore her or scold her for asking such a question.

But I was grateful for her help.

Now and always.

I felt a pang of guilt that she had to be afraid of answering such a trivial question. I should never forget how much she had done for me and how much she had helped me.

"Hob Gadling gave me this device. He wants to communicate with me," I replied curtly, hoping she wouldn't be offended by such a terse answer. But when I saw the shock on her face, I looked away.

She cleared her throat again, noticing my embarrassment.

"That's... very unusual. However, I'm glad you have someone you want to talk to, sir," she said, and after a moment of silence, she began to descend the stairs with a faint smile on her face.

I nodded again and gave her a faint smile. After a few moments, I realized something and straightened in my chair.

"Lucienne," I called after her.

The woman turned to me. I dropped my gaze for a moment, but then glared at her.

"I enjoy talking to you too," I admitted quietly, to which the woman smiled warmly and nodded, officially leaving the room.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question stuck in my head. I considered the message for a few minutes until I finally clicked a reply on the ridiculously small letter icons.

"Yes."

I pursed my lips. Perhaps that wasn't enough of an answer; perhaps he expected more from me.

"Are you okay, Hob Gadling?"

Writing this message took longer than the concise confirmation of my condition in the first part of the conversation. I struggled to find and paste the letters on the device's screen, which was ridiculous. The phone was clearly not working for me. Just as I was about to hide the rectangular curse, the ringtone rang again.

"I'm fine, but my students are driving me crazy 😆. I have tons of papers to grade on ancient Greece. Would you mind helping me?"

Hob wrote, and I wondered what that strange graphic was. Probably a caricature of a face. A terrible picture. Since when do people draw faces as yellow circles? While I was pondering, another message arrived.

"I'm joking, of course. I know you have a lot on your plate and all. I mean, if you could find the time, I'd be very happy, but you don't have to."

Even in my dream, I could feel his resigned sigh, and I smiled slightly.

"You know what I mean."

He added while I was typing my reply. The sound of the letter icons clicking was the only sound that could be heard from the throne room.

"I have to take care of the vortex. However, after I take care of that, I'll be able to help you, Hob."

I sighed as I finally sent the message and finally tucked the device into my robe pocket. I returned to wondering how to neutralize the vortex now that it had become so powerful, but my thoughts were interrupted by images of my friend.

What am I to do with you, Rosa Walker?

…

"You have failed me, Corinthian," I said calmly. Despite my failure to reason with Rosa Walker, I felt no anger. I was deeply sorry. My work, my creation, my nightmare. He convinced people to commit crimes that should never have occurred to even the most horrible human. Besides, he was plotting my annihilation. Tears welled up in my eyes as I slowly made my way to the dais where Corinthian stood.

"You and the people you inspired and created are failing me." I looked around the room and closed my eyes for a long moment, then turned back to my creation.

"I did my best to become what you created me," he replied, looking irritated. He spread his arms on either side of the dais, leaning on them. He couldn't hide his true feelings from me. He was afraid.

"No," I pressed my lips together. "You did the worst thing you could. In so many things, and yet I believed..." I paused and slowly climbed the dais.

"You were my best project. A black mirror created to reflect everything humans couldn't face." I stood before my nightmare and stopped. I'd like to believe he regretted it. But when I created him, I made sure he never had to feel regret. I could read only fear in his features. Fear of his creator.

"That's who I am." He swallowed and took a hesitant step back. "And that's what I was doing."

"No," I denied quickly. "Look at yourself." You've walked this earth for less than a century, infecting others with your joy in death. But what have you truly given them? What have you brought? Nothing. Just something else for people to fear. That's all." I finished my statement, staring at the Corinthian. He smiled mockingly and tilted his head.

"So what now? Will you send me back to their dreams?" he asked, smiling defiantly, and I raised my eyebrows slightly. Then he reached for his jacket, my gaze following the movements of his hands.

The blade glinted even before he fully revealed its length.

"Because I won't go willingly."

I frowned and looked at the nightmare like a disappointed father.

"A knife," I took a step toward him, "against a dream?"

I stopped a few steps in front of him as he began to speak.

"Oh, you don't think dreams can die, do you? Perhaps we'll see?" he asked with a smile, newfound courage in his voice.

"Enough," I said bluntly, and extended my hand to teleport us to the Dreaming.

At one point, I felt a twinge beneath my ribs. I took a sharp breath and looked down, my eyes wide with shock.

The Corinthian had managed to stab me.

Me?

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my stomach. My robes clung to my newly acquired wound. I looked at my creation with wide eyes. Then at my blood-covered hand, and so on.

"How?" I asked, disbelief in my voice.

The Corinthian's smile widened and he licked the knife that had my blood on it. My eyes widened in horror. Memories flooded my mind like a tsunami.

—
He stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until I was finally unable to defend my immortality, until I was too exhausted to heal my newly acquired wounds. The dagger lodged itself in my chest, where my heart should rest. I took a sharp breath, my eyes narrowing with pain and exhaustion. I couldn't even afford to close my eyes. Without hesitation, he pulled the blade from my body and looked at me with a smirk. I groaned in pain.

"And nothing is impossible, right?" he asked, not expecting an answer, and licked the length of the blade without breaking eye contact.

"I'd say you taste delicious, but I don't have much experience tasting blood." He sheathed the dagger on his belt and knelt beside me, causing me to instinctively try to move as far away from the man as possible.

He grabbed my chin firmly and forced my head toward him.

"You must look at me when I speak to you."
—

I blinked a few times, shaking off the memories and, in the process, fighting back unwanted tears. I began to shake, as if I were reliving the same nightmare. I turned my gaze to the people still sitting in the room. Entranced by my spell. I took a shaky breath and stared at my creation, who was now staring at me, unsure of what was happening.

"Uh... sir?" he began, but quickly recovered, swallowed, then removed his glasses, revealing his true nature.

When I saw teeth instead of eyeballs, I relaxed a bit, feeling something stable, something mine.

"If you think I'll return to dreaming with you..."

"You won't," I interrupted him quickly, and his hand with the glasses stopped midway. "I brought you to this world to serve humanity. Not to prey on them," I explained briefly. The shock of the memory slowly subsided. The only thing that irritated me was the blood constantly seeping from beneath my ribs.

"You only care about yourself. About your kingdom and your principles and…"

I felt a stab of pain at those words, but I shut it down. Enough.

"It's my fault, not yours. I had too much hope in you. But I didn't create you carefully. So now I must destroy you." I reached out, intending to erase my creation.

"I only regret that I won't be here to see Rose Walker destroy you," he finished, followed by the dull sound of a small skull hitting the ground.

The Corinthian disappeared.

I dropped to one knee, then the other hit the ground. I took my head in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut.

I'm so tired.

Constantly worrying about the vortex, rebuilding my kingdom, regaining the faith of my people. I felt overwhelmed; it shouldn't be this way. These are my responsibilities. They should never be a burden.

A moment later, I heard a body hit the floor. The sound echoed through my skull, and only then did I realize it had to be me. I opened my eyes and, with a slight twinge, tried to summon my power. To teleport myself to my kingdom. But nothing happened.

Panic gripped my veins. What was happening? Why wasn't this working? I gritted my teeth. I tried to get up on my hands but I couldn't.

No. No. Not again. I can't stand it again. I reached for the phone in my pocket and dialed the only number stored on the device. After a few moments, a voice answered.

"Hello? Is something wrong?"

I sighed at the sound of Hob's voice. Calling a friend hadn't been a deliberate decision, but I was glad he decided to answer.

"Are you busy, perhaps?"

I asked quietly, my voice wavering weakly. I felt a warmth beneath me, and I smiled slightly. It had been so long since I felt so calm. My body allowed itself to relax. I'd forgotten how pleasant that feeling was. I heard a shuffling sound in the receiver, like something being moved.

"Duck, are you sure you're okay? Where are you? What happened?"

I heard Hob's panicked voice and closed my eyes gently.

—
I hate you.

I'm glad we locked you up here.

You're nothing special, you know that?

You're nothing.

A naked man in a glass box.

That's all you are.

You're nothing.
—

A shiver ran through my body. I took a sharp breath at the unwanted memory. I clenched my fists.

“Dream?”

Another rustle from the phone tore me from my unpleasant thoughts.

“I have a problem.”

I stammered quietly, trying to sit up. A spasm of pain coursed through my body, making me wince. I reached my hand to my stomach. Sensing warm liquid, I raised my hand within my sight.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

A strange feeling of stability flooded my mind. It was almost funny how accustomed I had become to this sight over the past century.

I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled.

How much longer? How much longer will I have to repeat the same story? All of that?

I am Dream. Lord of Nightmares. Lord Shaper.

Fate has no right to toy with me like this.

Anger replaced the feeling of helplessness. Tensing every muscle, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I took a shaky breath.

I summoned my power, trying to teleport back to my homeland.

Nothing.

I growled in helplessness and frustration. This senseless helplessness wouldn't defeat me again. I focused my strength again. I closed my eyes to clear my thoughts. I tried to teleport again.

Nothing.

I gritted my teeth and fists. Tears of helplessness welled up in my eyes. I screamed, releasing my frustration. A wave of power ebbed from my body. The curtains swayed. The people still in the room stood up and began to leave, their expressions blank. Still bewildered by my spell.

"Morpheus, what's happening?!"

I heard Hob's voice from the device on the ground. My head snapped to the sound. I clenched my fists tighter.

"I can't get up. It's not healing."

I replied quietly, a grimace on my face. I glanced at the wound again, the rage slowly leaving my body, replaced by acceptance.

“What? What's not healing? Where are you?”

Hob asked in a panicked voice. I heard the shuffling sound on the other end again.

Why do I have to be so weak?!

Why can't things be like they were?

I bit my lip and allowed myself to lie back on the ground, in the middle of the red stain of my blood.

Would letting go be so bad?

I'm so tired.

"Cereals Lovers' Convention."

I said with a blank expression.

Would the end be so bad?

Perhaps not. But I can't let go yet. Not when the vortex still poses a threat. Not when so many people have faith in me. Not yet.

I opened my eyes and glanced at the ceiling. The white splotches of poorly applied paint resembled clouds from this perspective.

Oh. How I longed to see them again then. How I craved fresh air. Sun on my face. Wind caressing my skin.

I closed my eyes, just for a moment. When I opened them again, I saw my friend's panicked face above me.
Perhaps it wasn't just a moment.

Notes:

Hey 🩷🩷. No more work, I'll have a little more time this week, but then school 😭. I can't tell you what it'll be like (I have no idea haha). I hope I won't get consumed by routine and I'll have the time and desire to write. But for now, I'll try to write as much as possible 🩷. As always, please point out my mistakes and stay strong 🩷🩷🩷 (by the way, I'll mark memories with these "--" signs)

Chapter 6: something pathetic

"Wake up. Please wake up."

I blinked a few times, finally opening my eyes. The fog clouding my vision slowly dissipated. My body began to sense what was happening around me. More specifically, I felt arms around me. Around my waist and on my neck. I frowned slightly. The grip wasn't restrictive, but rather supportive.

I looked at my friend with a question in my eyes, while his held a mixture of fear and relief that I decided to wake up.

My body tensed again.

"Gods," he breathed, "you're awake."

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, relaxing slightly, then looked at me again with concern.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. My whole body seemed to be feeling too much. Hob shifted his hands, sliding them up my waist, and I hissed in pain. One of my friend's hands brushed against my newly acquired wound. Feeling such phantom pain wasn't normal for me. I didn't have a real body, after all. Not really. It was something new, yet familiar, reminiscent of the last century. In response to my sound of displeasure, Hob quickly removed his hands, shock written all over his face.

"You... You're not healing..." the man stated quietly, more to himself than to me.

I understood his confusion. After all, I had only just confessed my identity to him. That I was an immortal, infinite creature, and yet here I was. Lying on the ground, bleeding. Wounded by my creation.

Ordinary.

Knife.

"No. I'm not healing," I confirmed weakly. At least I no longer felt the blood flowing from the wound, which was minimally comforting.

A sudden need for peace flooded my mind. I narrowed my eyes, ready to surrender to the longed-for darkness. I hadn't asked my mother for help, yet I could feel her arms tightening around me. The familiar, endless darkness of night.

Hob blinked a few times, looking away, trying to process the newly acquired information. However, when he noticed I was about to leave him, giving in to the peace, he frowned and gently shook me.

"Hey! Don't even think about it. Not on my watch," he said in an authoritative voice, making me groan in displeasure. Hob quickly glanced around the room, concentration evident in his eyes, then his gaze landed on me again and softened slightly.

"Hey, duck, listen," he began calmly, using that warm tone of his. "we'll talk about the circumstances and reasons for that huge blood stain under you later." I grimaced, to which he gave me a warm smile. "For now, I'll have to move you to help you. Okay?" he asked, looking into my eyes, and my heart skipped a beat.

I shook my head, frowning.

"No need, I'll manage," I said, and my friend raised his eyebrows skeptically, not believing me in the slightest.

"Don't lie to me," he said calmly, frowning, tracing circles on the back of my neck with his thumb. I wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose or just instinctively. "You wouldn't have called if you could manage. Besides, you're the most stubborn creature I know, so I can imagine how much that phone call must have cost you." He smiled faintly, and I frowned.

"I'm not stubborn at all..." He looked at me in a way that was probably meant to mean an ironic "really?", which stopped me. I didn't like that he could silence me so easily. I looked away.

Hob, smiling warmly at me again, opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sounds of sirens, slowly increasing in volume as the police cars approached.

The man raised an eyebrow, a question etched on his face. I pursed my lips, suddenly feeling ashamed. Oddly enough, not for my condition, but for my creation. For, in a sense, allowing him to do all this.

"My nightmare fed people its ideal world. Recently, these rooms were filled with murderers who came for a rally, or whatever they called the event.” I explained quietly, to which my friend widened his eyes in shock and slight terror.

Silence reigned for a moment, but the growing volume of sirens echoing off the walls of the room snapped Hob out of his thoughts. He looked at me with panic, as if suddenly realizing something. He tightened his grip on me, and I winced slightly.

"One of the murderers mutilated you?! Did they attack you?!" he asked, raising his voice an octave and momentarily drowning out the police sirens.

"No. My nightmare stabbed me because it didn't want me to take it back to the Dreaming," I cut it short and slowly began to sit up. Suddenly, a spasm of pain shot through my entire being, and I gritted my teeth and let out a sigh of relief. Pathetic.

Hob reacted quickly to my pathetic attempt to compose myself, tightening his grip around my waist slightly, his brow furrowed. Fearful.

"This is… fucked up," he stated, not bringing up my condition, for which I was grateful. I smiled faintly.

The man lowered his gaze to my robes, where the fabric was stuck to my skin by blood.

His smile disappeared.

I tilted my head slightly in surprise, not understanding his reaction. He's human. Don't these kinds of things happen to them often? Less than 200 years ago, they were cutting off their limbs and didn't consider it a big deal.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway. My head snapped toward the entrance to the room. Before I could react, Hob had grabbed me in his arms, and my eyes widened in shock at the unexpected movement.

He placed one hand under my shoulders and the other in the crook of my knees. I frowned.

"Put me down, I can handle myself..." I began, but the man interrupted me with a single "shush," frantically glancing around the room. My eyes widened again in indignation and surprise that he had the nerve to silence me.

Nobody silences me.

"Did you just silence me?" I began, my tone rising an octave as the anger suddenly coursed through my veins.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll scold me later. For now, we have to get out of here," he said quickly. A smile spread across his face as he spotted something in the opposite direction from the exit. That small gesture made all my anger evaporate in an instant. I didn't know where it was coming from.

The sound of footsteps and shuffling boots grew closer with each passing moment. I could hear the quiet whispers of the police officers in the hallway.

Reloading a gun.

I tensed at the sound. I pushed away the unwanted memories with a slight shake of my head. Hob, sensing my concern, frowned even more and adjusted my position in his arms. He began to walk slowly toward the curtains, stepping down from the dais. Stealthily.

The movement made me wince in pain as the dried blood on my robe began to rub unpleasantly against the sore spot.

Footsteps.

They were getting closer.

According to my calculations, they would be at the entrance to the hall in about 10 seconds.

My friend entered with me, slightly behind the curtain. I saw the emergency exit, and relief flooded my body.

Footsteps.

5 seconds.

The man pulled the handle and opened the door. A loud creak echoed through the room, and the footsteps fell silent for a moment. Hob pursed his lips and froze for a moment.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself and quickly ran out the door. I hissed.

Run.

They were in the room.

They heard a creak.

"Hey! Stop!" one of the officers shouted. Warning shots rang out as we continued to run. My ears began to ring. A useless, weak body.

We ran out to the parking lot. Hob ran to what was probably his car and took a calming breath. He quickly looked around and then gently set me down. I leaned against the metal can, panting as if I'd just run that distance with a heavy load in my arms. My friend glanced at me and frowned even more. He reached out his hand towards me but stopped halfway when the door we'd just exited through slammed against the wall with a bang.

The officers poured out of the building like a swarm of bees.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man in front of me repeated frantically, starting to rummage through his pockets for his keys.

While he was distracted, I tried to focus my energy to lull the officers to sleep, but nothing came out. Not even the slightest spark. I practically collapsed against the car I was leaning against, exhausted.

It was worse than I expected.

I clenched my fists in frustration. This was happening too often. I was starting to get tired of feeling helpless. Of feeling weak and useless.

Century is not enough, Destiny?

I wanted to ask my brother, knowing I wouldn't get an answer. My family didn't care what happened to me. No wonder. But why do I feel so bad about it?

I was pulled from my thoughts by the rustle of keys and the rushed opening of the car door. I jumped into the passenger seat at the same time as my friend, into the driver's seat.

"Stop!" the policeman shouted again, before Hob could close the door.

They were a few meters away.

Hob quickly inserted the keys into the ignition and started the car with a triumphant smile. He spun out of the parking lot, making me hiss. The seatbelts rubbed against the wound harshly.

Pistol shots flew past the car, thankfully off target, judging by the constant speed. The tires were unharmed.

When the shots stopped, the man behind the wheel sighed with relief and relaxed slightly in his seat.

Meanwhile, I reached between my ribs. I touched the wound and tilted my hand back to examine it.

It was red again.

Hob stole a glance at my hand, cursed under his breath, and clenched his fists on the steering wheel.

"That was quite a cereal lovers' convention."

Notes:

Hey🩷🩷 Sorry for the long absence, but school can be quite exhausting😥😥 I wrote most of this chapter while trying not to get hit by a car on the way home from school, so I won't be surprised (as always, actually, haha) if there are any mistakes. If there are any, let me know in the comments, and for now, take care and don't beat yourself up too much🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Notes:

Hey!! This is my first fanfiction, and besides, English isn't my native language 😓. If you liked it, I'd be very happy with a rating 🩷 If you find any mistakes, please let me know in the comments; I'll take any criticism, haha. Chapters should appear every few days (or longer if I lose inspiration). I already have two chapters written, so I'll post the next one tomorrow or tonight. Thank you for your attention, and please don't be afraid to leave comments 🩷🩷🩷