“Watch,” Morpheus’ voice compels her, and Alyxa cannot look away.
The Dreamer stares as the stars are born, planets exploding into existence as suns collide and galaxies spin in and out of control.
“Morpheus, what is this?”
“Watch, witchlet.”
Gods and Demons and Angels and all manner of creation wander through worlds unknowable, she recognizes Earth only because Morpheus whispers it to her. The Dream is so vivid she can taste the dust as Demons and Angels take to a battlefield somewhere between the moon and the planet. She sees humanity awaken from their evolutionary folds, birthed into a war that preceded their existence. The Gods strike, Demons and Angels everywhere keen and wail, breaking. Humanity advances, Gods flail as worship gives way to commerce, and commerce to decadence. Empires rise, crumble, disappear. Monuments raised, shattered, forgotten. Myths, legends.
The Gods retreat from the world of trade and currency, they retreat to Morpheus’ kingdom: Réveille. They grow bitter and weary, watching the happenings of the mortal world through mirrors and streams of water, longing to touch it, but knowing that to re-enter that world would unravel them forever.
“Morpheus, I know all of this,” Alyxa whispers, turning to look up at him.
“Are you sure?”
“You’ve shown me this before,” she tells him, an edge creeping into her voice; what was he playing at?
“Are you sure?” he asks again, “watch, little witch.”
With a disgruntled sigh, Alyxa turns back, mesmerized again by the vision. So mesmerized that she does not notice Bast seated at Morpheus’ feet.
-You’re going to show her then?-
-I have no choice. She is a Dreamer, this history is hers to own as much as yours and mine.-
-Sentimentality,- Bast scoffed, -she needs to know this before her Coven rocks the world with another Ragnarok.-
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