The Kingdom of Dreams stretched beyond the stars.
Silver rivers flowed through midnight skies, castles spun from moonlight drifted among clouds, and beings of light and shadow whispered ancient songs into the wind. Every dream of mankind shimmered within these sacred halls, stitched into existence by one eternal ruler.
Morpheus.
The King of Dreams stood atop the balcony of his obsidian tower, cloaked in a silken robe the color of stardust. His hair, raven black, shoulder-length danced with the wind like ink in water. Eyes the color of midnight watched the sleeping realm below, but they held no wonder. No joy.
He had ruled this place since time was first whispered into being. He knew its every breath, its every secret. And yet...
Something in him felt hollow.
He turned away from the stars.
The echo of laughter once shared with dream spirits had long faded from these halls. He wandered through silence now, past crystalline walls and flowering vines that bloomed only for mortals. Once, this place felt alive. Now it echoed, not with music, but with yearning.
Morpheus's steps echoed through the Hall of Reveries. Behind him trailed a ghost of a feeling, like a shadow of a song he couldn't remember.
He had everything. Power. Immortality. Worship. But not what he needed.
He sat at the edge of the Dream Pool, a mirror-like surface that reflected not his face, but the dreams of those sleeping in the human realm. Thousands of visions danced across its waters. A child learning to fly, a widow seeing her late husband, an artist painting with fire.
Morpheus had given them this. He crafted dreams to soothe, to inspire, to protect. But he had never dreamed for himself. Until now.
He closed his eyes, and a vision came, uninvited. A girl. Not radiant like the celestial queens of the stars. Not dressed in gold or cloaked in power. Just... human.
Warm brown eyes. Freckles dusted like constellations across her cheeks. A soft voice, barely a whisper. Her lips shaped his name, not with awe, but with tenderness.
"Morpheus..."
He jolted upright.
No one.. no one had ever spoken his name in a dream. Not like that. Not where he could feel it. It wasn't possible.
"Your Highness." A voice cut through the stillness.
It was Somnara, a spirit born of moonmist and wind. She bowed gracefully, her silvery form shifting like smoke.
Morpheus did not look at her. "What is it?"
"A mortal girl's dream is calling your name. Repeatedly. We've never sensed this kind of frequency. She dreams of you."
He turned slowly. "Describe her."
"She lives in the Earth realm. Mortal. Eighteen years of age. Her name is... Cera Blake."
His breath caught. He didn't know why. The name burned in his mind like a spark finding kindling.
"Leave me," he said quietly.
Somnara hesitated. "Your Majesty... are you well?"
His voice was soft, but cold. "Leave."
She vanished like mist in wind.
Morpheus remained alone, his gaze falling to the Dream Pool again. He searched for the girl, and there she was.
A dimly lit room. Threadbare curtains fluttering. A girl curled up on a small bed, her chest rising and falling. As she slept, she whispered his name.
YOU ARE READING
DREAMBOUND
FantasyHe is the God of Dreams. She is his mortal dawn. In the quiet hours of slumber, she finds him. A god woven from shadows and starlight, whose touch feels like eternity whispering against her skin. Cera never imagined her dreams would become a doorwa...
