The Empty World | The Empty World Sequence [complete | rewriting]

One (Draft 3) "Ordinary World"

Morpheus found himself seated upon the cushioned surface of a couch or bed with Maya beside him. He reached for her and Maya opened one set of arms to embrace him. Maya was wingless, as their mother seemed to be, but had a second set of arms Morpheus did not. She kissed his face and Morpheus pressed his lips to Maya's cheeks in turn.

There was a murmur of voices commenting on how endearing or cute or quaint this behavior was, but Morpheus did not turn from Maya. She was the one person thus far who did not trigger a wave of inherited memories because she was as new as he. They had come into being in the same moment and even though he didn't really know her, Morpheus was certain he loved her.

Maya was his sister and twin and, though Morpheus didn't know, he felt their souls must have been entwined at some point, even if briefly.

A hush fell leaving the shifting sands within the hourglasses behind the couch the loudest sound.

Morpheus turned from Maya then, keeping one of her hands in his. He averted his gaze from the crowd of Angels, and those few Halfangels with their diverse features, so that the details of the grand bedchamber became distinct in the gloom. So many places of rest there were: beds, couches, chairs, cushions, rugs, and at least one sarcophagus. Everything in cool, dark colors, but varying in texture: rough stone, polished wood, silk draperies, and faintly iridescent feathers.

Their father who was master here of all that was Sleep, stepped between the couch, where Morpheus sat, and their gathered kin. Morpheus could look on him now, on his father's deep blue wings and midnight blue hair such as Morpheus had inherited. Sleep, their father, wore a circlet ornamented with wings and lifted a scepter shaped like a poppy stalk.

Sleep spoke in his voice that would not wake a soul. "I present to you, my gathered Archons, Princes, and Children of Night: newly-sung Morpheus and Maya, my children and the children of My Love, Opium, in whom we both delight."

"So many," Maya whispered.

Morpheus squeezed her hand.

"It's OK," Mother said from beside their couch, "ability to recognize everyone will come, eventually. Just smile and nod." She paused a moment before continuing, "One might decide to be your mentor."

The procession of guests was lengthy. First came a group of tall angels with wispy wings filled with eyes, and some few others with six-part wings like burnished metal. They came several at a time, presented gifts, and gave their titles, preferred names, and pronouns.

Morpheus did as Mother had suggested. He kept a pleasant expression on his face. He bowed his head. He gave thanks when receiving gifts.

When the first group had parted, Morpheus noticed a uniformity in those remaining. Though they differed in size and color and the shape of their wings, the waiting guests were invariably cloaked in black.

There were still the disconnected concepts and images about them, but seeing these Angels as a group helped to connect what was similar about them from what belonged to them as individuals. Morpheus looked to Maya to see if she also recognized it.

"Children of Night," Maya said.

"We also," said Morpheus, "are Children of Night." They were family, not only in that sense that Angels as a whole had been created by a higher force, but specifically related to each other through generations of Angels who had split or fused souls to diversify the myriad and sometimes, manifesting flesh, conceived offspring with Humans.

The first of these Children presented Morpheus and Maya with their own nightly garb and then gave their names and pronouns, as seemed custom, then named the Region in which they were assigned.