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English
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Published:
2022-12-23
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5
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Dream of the Ended

Summary:

Dream waits for the end of the universe.

Work Text:

Dream of the Endless stood at the heart of the Dreaming. There were no ravens atop his shoulders. No skerries guiding mortals to revelation. The land held no mysteries or secrets. Just the final sleepers. He could fit them all in the head of a needle. From horizon to horizon his kingdom was no larger than a thumbnail. 

In the past he’d taken many shapes. Most often his skin had been the color of alabaster and he’d worn an emerald upon his chest. However, that chosen form did not stop others from seeing their own interpretations in him. For Agustus he had been the slow end of his uncle’s empire. For Lyta Hall he had been a stolen son and a collection of her most tragic moments. For ravens he had been a master. For the stars, a blessing who would give the life on their planets something to strive toward. For Hob Gadling, a friend. For the Dreaming’s people, a home and a king all at once. 

Now, all memories of Agustus’ empire or the planet it rested on were gone. Lyta Hall had slipped away after a few decades like any other human. Lucien, first of the ravens, and his library were dust. Hob Gadling had decided to finally play the mug’s game. The stars were no longer plural. All the people of the Dreaming had long since faded to sand and slipped between his fingers like Alianora’s skerry. To hold the form of Daniel Hall would’ve been an affront to these last dreamers. It was his duty to accommodate them, to shepherd them as they rested, to show them something they could understand. 

Dream of the Endless held the dying atoms of the last star within him. He experienced them thinking of the warmth they’d once radiated, of the energy that they’d once possessed. For them, he looked something like atomic motion, felt something like heat, and smelled like potential. He cast no shadow. He was not solid, nor liquid, nor gas, nor plasma. He was the dream that the inevitability of entropy could falter. What beat hope? Nothing. 

Atoms were not made of hope. 

“Somehow you’re always grimacing, even like this.” 

Dream was silent. He turned his attention to the concept beside him. Where he was the hope for motion, the dream of heat, and the nostalgia of potential, she was the truth of entropy, the reality of the cold, and the certainty that there were no more stops. No more cards for life to play. The time had come.

“You have an effect on their dreams and their hearts. Can’t you let them be happy?” 

“Making them happy is not my duty. And it is Sto-Oa. I care little for his happiness.”

“It’s the end. Can’t you let it go?”

“In a way, you asked Morpheus the same question.”

“Yes.”

Dream looked into his sister’s eyes, feeling a pull. In this moment he knew her better than he ever had. Was this what they all felt when she came to them? He no longer wondered why so many feared this gift.

His sister did not move, did not smile, did not change. She was the end of things, unrelenting stillness. A cold embrace. “Sto-Oa… Desire would have gotten a kick out of that.”

“Have.” Dream whispered. 

“I took them a little bit ago. I hope you said all you wanted.” The pull was stronger. A molecule had woken to greet its end. Dream bowed low. “I know you didn’t.” A sadness came through him. This was not the simple end of a point of view. This was the end of Dream the Concept. He needed no more time, his function was at an end. He did not lift himself.

“And if I told you I desired to see our sister-brother again?”

Her cold reached out to his heat. His vibrations, his kinetic energy, slowed. More were waking. “If that was the way it worked I’d have the time to convince you it’s alright to change. But you haven’t. Here you are at the end, sulking.” One of the things between, the first dreamers that had existed since before the Lightbringer did his work, woke. It was like a stab in the chest. Her voice delivered a deeper wound. “It’s time Dream. I took Killala a while back. Sto-Oa’s done mourning. Done despairing over her. Done desiring her. Soon his delirium will fade into the lucidity of the end, and I’ll take her too.”

He knew what must be. To admit he wished he could’ve spent more time with her would’ve been a greater change than he could tolerate. Even at the end. There were still dreamers to care for. “Destruction?”

“He’s making a sculpture out of a dead star.”

“What of?”

“That’s his own business.”

“I see.”

“He’s smiling as he chips away at it, though.” She slid closer, ending more of Dream’s motion. “He’ll be there in the Sunless Lands waiting for you. Now’s the time to be more, no more chances.”

“I cannot. I am no mortal, begging for one last thing to say.” Another set of molecules woke.

“Delirium was Endless too. He’s lucid.”

The sleeping Sto-Oa felt a wave of loss as the Dreaming creaked. More heat radiated from the white dwarf than normal. The closest the star could come to tears. 

“Dream,” she said. There was more sorrow and sadness in her voice than he’d thought possible. Yet it was not delirium, not despair, not desire, not destruction, not dream, not destiny. She was just mourning. “It’s coming time, Sto-Oa wants to be awake for this part.”

In tandem with her words he felt the last molecules rise. 

“Time to turn out the lights.” she whispered. The star went dark in the waking world, Destruction faded with it.

A few more of the things between opened their eyes. He felt the Dreaming, felt himself, shrink and fade into his sister’s stillness. Swirling like light into a black hole. 

“I have an end.” he whispered. It finally seemed real. “I am mortal.” 

There was one more thing between, resting. Dream pretended to be happy, sent whatever reassurance he could to it. The creature communicated in its primordial way. As things had before Lucifer carried out the creator’s command. The emotion turned his act to truth. 

“It’s nice,” he said.

“What?”

“To be there for them.” And the last between thing rose from his kingdom.

Dream of the Endless felt the pull stronger than ever. It was like his eyelids, though he had none, were growing heavy. Much too heavy for him to stay awake. 

“Come on Dream. Time to put up the chairs.”

Dream took Death's hand, heard the sound of her wings for the last time, and wondered if this was what it felt like to fall asleep.