In the strange twilight of a forgotten place, Ross found himself standing at the edge of a long, wooden table, stretching out into the fog like an invitation from the void itself. The air was thick with the scent of bread and roasted meats, the table overflowing with a feast. Silver goblets shimmered with wines of impossible hues, fruits the size of his head gleamed with an otherworldly light.

  Across from him, seated at the head of this grand banquet, was Morpheus.

  But this was not the Morpheus of myth, the god of dreams sculpted by human imagination, no. This Morpheus was as Ross perceived him—a figure half in shadow, his form constantly shifting as if it couldn't quite decide what it should be. At moments, he was a faceless man in a sleek black suit, at others, a tall, hooded figure whose cloak seemed woven from the night itself. His voice, however, remained constant—velvety and rich, like honey laced with poison.

  "Sit," Morpheus said, gesturing to the empty chair at the other end of the table.

  Ross hesitated, glancing around the endless void that surrounded them. His heart raced, a part of him understanding that this wasn't a normal dream. This was something other—something far more profound and dangerous.

  "You're about to go on a journey," Morpheus said with a smile that almost felt genuine, but there was something behind it, something Ross couldn't place. "You'll need your strength."

  As if on instinct, Ross found himself sitting down. The chair was unnaturally comfortable, as though it had been tailored for him. A plate of food appeared before him, untouched and perfect. He felt his stomach rumble, though he hadn't realized he was hungry until now.

  "I don't understand," Ross muttered, staring at the feast.

  Morpheus leaned back in his chair, one hand tracing the rim of his goblet. "You don't need to," he said, his voice steady. "Understanding is a luxury, and soon, you will have little of it."

  Ross stared at the food before him, unsure of what to say. Part of him was still convinced this was just a dream—a particularly strange one, but a dream nonetheless. He picked up a piece of bread, tore into it, and tasted the warmth and flavor of something so real it startled him.

  Morpheus watched him carefully, his ever-shifting face revealing nothing of his thoughts. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer, yet somehow heavier. "The world you will awaken into is not like the stories you've read. It is...familiar, yes, but it will not coddle you. It will not give you meaning. It will challenge you. Confuse you."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Ross chewed slowly, unsure of what to make of Morpheus' words. The dreamlike quality of the place made everything feel disconnected, as though he were observing someone else living this moment.

  "And there," Morpheus said, raising his goblet as if in a toast, "you will find yourself in a body not your own, surrounded by horrors. Dark things, Ross. Beautiful things."

  Ross swallowed, his throat tight, and pushed his plate aside. He couldn't focus on the food, no matter how good it tasted.

  "What's happening to me?" Ross asked finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  Morpheus studied him for a long moment, his shifting face finally settling on one, though Ross couldn't quite make out its features.

  "Violent delights," Morpheus said, his voice heavy with meaning, "have violent ends."

  Ross's mind raced, his pulse quickening as the words echoed in his ears. He felt the weight of those words sinking deep into his chest, like a warning he couldn't fully grasp.

  "And this... is just the beginning," Morpheus added, the edges of his form shimmering and fading as though the dream itself was dissolving. "A long road lies ahead. Be sure to enjoy the feast, while you still can."

  The fog around the banquet table began to curl inward, growing thicker, swallowing the food, the wine, and the figure of Morpheus himself. Darkness encroached upon Ross, and the last thing he saw before everything turned to shadow was Morpheus' eyes—two orbs of gleaming light, staring into his very soul.

  As the void claimed him, Ross awoke with a sharp breath. He was in another place now—no longer in the strange twilight banquet, but in a dimly lit room. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the cold floor beneath him.

  His body wasn't his own.

  Not anymore.

  The room was unfamiliar. Old wooden beams stretched across the ceiling. A single window let in the pale light of the moon.

  He blinked, his heart pounding in his chest as fragments of the dream still swirled in his mind. Morpheus' final words echoed like a distant drumbeat in his thoughts.

  "These violent delights have violent ends..."

  Ross sat up, feeling a sharp ache in his limbs. He was no longer Ross, not the Ross he knew, anyway. Something had changed. His hand reached into his pocket, and there, amidst the confusion of it all, he found a small piece of candy—a parting gift from the dream.

  ht.