7. “You steal all my toys, Morpheus.”

Chapter 7

"You steal all my toys, Morpheus."

MORPHEUS

"Monster" by Skillet

"Not Gonna Die" by Skillet

I take a deep breath and test the barrier to my brother's world one more time. It still does not give way. Not so much as a shiver of the shadows and black bone dust that defines Nyxion.

For the past week in the mortal world, I've worked to bring down this impenetrable wall separating the realms of dreams and nightmares.

After returning to Zenya's hospital room, I claimed more than a drop of blood. Now, I hold a small vial containing the blood, which shimmers with a faint, ethereal glow. My shadows dance around the vial, mixing with diamond-like dust that sparkles ominously in the dim light. They are drawn to her essence.

With a deep breath, I uncork the vial and let a single drop of Zenya's blood fall onto my palm. Its warmth seems to spread an electric tingle into my skin. My shadows surge, coiling around the droplet and fusing with the glittering dust.

Chanting the ancient language of the Oneiroi, my voice a low, melodic hum resonating with my power, I sense the border shifting. Now, I channel her essence into my shadows, working her energy into a spiraling fusion with my dark dust and shadows until it eats at the barrier.

The dark barrier trembles and slowly begins to dissolve, creating a narrow path above the void dividing our worlds.

More evidence of what my brother has done. Once I get a glimpse of this dream walker, I will confirm my suspicions about Nyxion.

Stepping onto the invisible path, I drift above the yawning void, my senses tuned to every ripple in this ether world. Nyxion's fortress is like a distant shadow land, its energy projecting like icy claws marking me as a trespasser.

Gaze fixed on the other side, I cross the threshold, sealing the barrier behind me.

I won't leave without her.

It takes moments for my shadows to carry me closer to Nyxion's royal territory. But I pause within the labyrinthine forest of bones and teeth. One of my brother's many playgrounds.

Her presence is undeniable. Her aura slams against me like a burning tidal wave. She shines like a beacon, her essence aflame with vibrant life and radiant energy.

Zenya's emotions waver between fear and determination. I hear the rustle of her bare feet as she runs past me, her scent thickening the air and giving me a trail to follow. Haunting but sensual with spicy hints of madness.

Bone crows and ravens screech, rattling their skeletal bodies against one another as they collide in mid-air. My brother's stalkers hunt her.

Trees move, but nothing is ever as simple as a tree in Nyxion's realm. No, they are crone-like creatures with gnarled, twisted limbs and skin like cracked leather. Their ragged shawls are woven from the nightmares of children, each thread pulsating with the lost cries of the young. They move silently through the shadows, their long, bony fingers seeking to ensnare and entangle their prey, drawing them deeper into the forest.

She tears past branches, not flinching at the sight of random body parts swinging from trees or translucent strips of skin decorating the branches like organic garland.

My concern for her tightens my chest, a rare emotion for me with mortals. Few rarely present a decent challenge for my art. But some canvasses present the opportunity for a masterpiece. Something my brother and I have in common.

Several mournful shrieks cut through the night, and I stiffen at the thought of the murder of bone crows diving for Zenya. My marrow grows colder—until a warmth glitters in the air before a soprano laugh rings through the air. Several feathers, carried upon the wind, drift across me like wild rose petals, echoing her heat and aura.

By Hypnos!—Zenya is not simply dream-walking anymore. She's dream weaving!

Jealousy simmers beneath my skin—Nyxion has driven her to this, and an unfamiliar pang of envy throbs in my chest for the influence my brother holds over her. I am the one humans worship in their dreams. He is the one they fear.

If fear and horror were her only emotions, I'd think nothing of this interlude. But it's impossible not to recognize the mania thrilling her blood and the sense of adventure lighting up her nerve endings.

Cloaking myself in shadows, I follow the sound and silhouette of Zenya dashing through Nyxion's twisted forest maze, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

When the ground trembles and caves in to reveal Nyxion's Grimwraiths, corpse-like warriors, who shake off the burial soil of my brother's nightmarish land, I grit my teeth, wings clenching with anger. She deserves better than my brother's twisted games.

The forest is alive with bones clattering and teeth gnashing.

The Grimwraiths herd her. Every shadow and whisper conspire to drive her into the waiting arms of her pursuers.

Zenya's raw humanity, vulnerable and determined, is unlike any I've experienced. Her emotions are powerful enough to destroy Nyxion's machinations, but her imagination proves to be her greatest ally.

Whenever a Grimwraith gets close enough for its claws to scrape her body, the air grows warmer with the release of her creation. In an instant, a bony hand changes into something new. Dead leaves at first. Scraps of skin become white lace.

A crone stalker turns into a child's game of pick-up sticks that all tumble like a house of cards. The latest corpse wraith, who snarls hoarsely against her neck, turns into skeletal wind chimes dangling from the trees, dancing all around her. Her laughter follows.

What an enigma—intriguing with how close she keeps her darker nature. This woman with her hell of a black soul has more light and fight inside her than I've found in millions through the ages.

How I long to peer inside her soul until I'm staring right at her monsters…and transform them into her sweetest dreams.

What a light she holds in this deepest darkness. I can almost imagine broken wings growing from her shoulders, proving she is a fallen angel.

As I track her into a small clearing where she stumbles, faltering for the first time, her essence flickering with exhaustion, I make my move. Once the vibrations of her footfalls resonate into my being, and the rapid beating of her heart practically thunders in my ears, I step out of the shadows and wrap my arms around her.

So much warmth and life pulsing through her, such violent emotion, the torrent of all she is threatens to devour me.

Split-second panic flares in her blood as she struggles against me. Some deep part of her recognizes she can't change me into whatever she desires. Weaving will never affect the God of Dreams.

"Shh," I whisper in her ear.

"Let go!"

By Hypnos!—she thrashes like a wild creature. When the mind makes everything real, her body is a mirrored image of her waking life. Her limbs are strong. Her curves tantalize. Her tattoos spark with the vitality she carries, and I shake my head with a disbelieving laugh since they try to defend her—and face off with my shadows.

Most of all, her passion is like chemistry and hunger clawing into me, stiffening my cock in a way no human has ever done. A need, both primal and possessive, grips me. I feel her desperation, her will to resist, and yet, there is something else—something that stirs me in a way I've never experienced.

I am the legendary God of Dreams. No other bears my skill.

Even my brother's ability to control and manipulate nightmares pales to my power. My domain alone encompasses the vast expanse of dreamscapes. I should not desire a mortal girl or care about her ability to shape dreams. If I could dismiss it as the stolen energy inside her, but her essence pulses with something deeper. Her soul seems to hold two worlds inside it— ones rivaling the other—mirroring the duality of my brother and me.

Her ink, however compelling and diverse, amuses me with the symbols storming her skin with their chaotic energy. Almost maniacal. My shadows consume each one, sending them back to her flesh.

"Be still…" I growl low, wrapping my shadows around her, protecting and confining her as her breath leaves in tattered gasps. I may love how her body feels when she wriggles against me.

"Who are you?" she pants, then swallows hard, her pulse tearing through her veins. Her arms are still tense, her fingers white-knuckled with her battle.

With my theories confirmed, I should have no other priority but to return her to her world. It's a miracle alone that her soul is alive to bear what Nyxion has done. This miracle, both strange and wondrous, unsettles me with my fascination.

Zenya's struggles against my embrace send ripples through my being. This carnal hunger is unfamiliar, stirring my senses, igniting my spirit, and surging more blood to my godhood.

I breathe her in as she starts to settle, her head tipping back onto my shoulder. But I don't give her my face yet. Instead, I absorb all the shadows in the forest, forbidding her to look upon me.

I sense her confusion as she huffs. "Are we playing hide-and-seek or do you just like being shady?"

Too long since a dark chuckle rose within me. Longer since a mortal ever had cause to amuse me so.

"It will all make sense soon," I reply.

Once I infuse my shadows with calming energy and channel it into her subconscious, her resistance ebbs away. Her eyelids grow heavy. Her body gives out, and I sweep her into my arms, smirking at her yawning through her words.

"If you'd wanted me to nap, you could've sung me a lullaby," she mutters, her words slurring, but I relish how she lays her head on my shoulder, cheek nuzzling my chest.

Her essence dims, the aura darkening as I soothe her into a dreamless slumber.

With Zenya securely in my arms, I turn to leave, but my brother's familiar and menacing presence halts me. His aura consumes the air, one far deadlier than normal.

"You steal all my toys, Morpheus."

I roll my eyes and tighten my grip on the girl. "And you break all mine, Icelos." No bite to my tone. It's a fact. But I will admit it's the first time I've enjoyed leering at my oldest brother so much.

Nyxion's energy crackles with fury, and he clicks his wing talons against the crone trees as he approaches. He's cautious—because I'm still holding Zenya. His possession contests with my own, both undeniable.

A snarl lashes the air. "Just because you're the favorite, Morph, doesn't mean you should get everything handed to you on a silver platter."

I arch a brow, chuffing a laugh at the tension in the air. "It doesn't?"

Lowering my chin, I flare my nostrils, breathing in more of her scent and reveling in his predatory growl regarding my invasion. Oh, come now!—he can't blame me too much. Not with her hair falling all around my chest and her steady breaths drifting along my neck.

"Always the golden child," he says in a daggered voice, and I swear I hear his bones rattle beneath that sharp suit he wears. "Never doing the real work."

"Hmm…" I muse and fold my shadows around the girl, my suspicions regarding the direction of this conversation already mounting. "I didn't realize tantrums amounted to productivity, Epiales."

His steps mirror mine as I surrender Zenya to the shadows, placing her lovely form on a soft bed. Anyone might think it's a bed of moss, but it's a fine thicket of dark human hair.

"You're not untouchable, Morpheus," he says through gritted teeth, beating his wings to surge chilled air at me.

I tap my chin with one hand and project my shadows, beckoning him with my other. "I prefer the term… elevated ."

Nyxion lunges, the rush of his energy about to collide. My shadows rear up, my black diamond dust clashing with his nightmarish power.

It's only the beginning.

I sense every move, every shift in the air. I dodge Nyxion's swipes, countering with blasts of shadowy force. But suspicion preys on my nerve endings. All it takes is one snicker from my brother.

"Oh, shi—" I groan at the shift in the air and the familiar rearrangement of bones. "Not the golems, brother." I clench my jaw and swell my shadows.

Nyxion laughs darkly as his creations manifest, their limbs beyond oversized and powerful, ending in massive bone clubs or scythes.

"We'll be at this all day!" I huff and adjust my collar.

"Your charm won't save you this time, Morph."

Removing my outer robe, I let it pool to the ground and open my hands, palms to him. "Who needs charm when I have skill?"

The golems charge.

Hours later, our battle still rages.

Fierce and chaotic, we both give as good as we get. I will admit, I'm not exactly in equal territory. Equal in skill but not territory.

Here, Nyxion can manifest and regenerate anything he desires. For the first hour, the bone golems reassembled anytime I shattered them.

Skeletal wolves were his next little trick. Their ribs protruded like uneven daggers, though they moved with swift and otherworldly coordination. I'll give him credit for those. I'm usually the one with flair and style. Hmm…he's learned a few tricks in my absence.

"You think this will help you, Icelos?" I taunt him, my wings tightening in irritation. "Stealing what doesn't belong to you? Hoping to take up my mantle?"

He touches his fingers to his brow in a mock salute. "Consider it more of a reallocation of resources."

Massive, sinuous serpents, formed entirely of interlocking bones, slither toward me. Their spines ripple and shift as they move, their patterns near hypnotic. Their jaws can unhinge to an impossible width, revealing rows of razor-sharp bone fangs.

I surge my shadows, coiling around the spines, shattering them, and spraying the bone dust to the four corners of his forest.

"Arrogance suits you, Morpheus."

"Bitterness suits you. What does she think of all your brooding?" I nod toward the sleeping girl.

I feel his smile in every dark iota of my being as he proclaims, "Perhaps you should ask her when she's exploding all over my cock."

With a roar, I lunge for him.

A deep laugh ripples through the air, and I groan.

"Rib cage rattlers?" I spit. "Really, Phobetor?"

His insect-like creatures attack me, their bodies formed from rib cages and multiple bone legs that clatter as they move. Their skull heads with mandibles crafted from broken bones bite and claw for me. If their jaws sink in, they will bombard me with nightmarish hallucinations.

I send shadow swords to break each one and shatter the mandibles to smithereens.

When Zenya stirs in the bed of hair, Nyxion and I pause.

But at the playful ripple in the tense atmosphere, everything comes to a halt. Our unified groan from the whimsical energy invading the forest is our rare commonality.

Any other bone manifestations scatter in the wake of our middle brother appearing.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Phantasos says with a grin. "I'll share my popcorn with Zenya. And by the way, the name is Glitz n Goddess."

Today, she is an enthralling force of energy.

"Morpheus, dear," she practically purrs at me. "I wish you could see this gorgeous golden gown. The train must be fifty feet long! And I spent hours weaving my lustrous dark hair in all these exotic braids before coiling them into a bun on the left side of my head."

"Fashionably late," I muse with a shrug.

"Naturally! And I brought popcorn. Have fun, boys!"

Streams of glitter fleck against my face, no doubt from her gown.

"The red carpet is a little much," mutters Nyxion.

"Glamor is never too much." She blows us a kiss.

Mine and Nyxion's breath grows heavy as we linger here, our auras battered and bruised from this incessant battle.

Phantasos aka Glitz, seemingly oblivious to the tension but engaged with every iota of her energy, manifests a sleigh, carried by spectral stags. My shadows sense the familiar form since it's not the first time she's used them. Our middle brother is exceptional at manifesting or taking on object forms.

Glitz n' Goddess begins to lead Zenya away on that sleigh, her tone light and cheerful as she hums a lighthearted melody.

I focus on Zenya, her essence a soft, pulsing glow as she stirs from her slumber. Concern for her safety wars with the jealousy I felt earlier. But not on account of our trickster brother. Especially not in her Queen persona.

Nyxion and I face one another again, my expression hardening despite the entertainment we've played in our little battle.

Nyxion's growl vibrates through the air. "Always so smug, aren't you, brother?"

I smirk. "Confidence, Icelos. Try it sometime."

"Your confidence will be your downfall."

I wink. "Only if I let you get close enough."

He vanishes.