Cut Him Out in Little Stars

Part Two

No doubt you won't be surprised to find the Lord of Dreams eventually escaped. After all, what would be the point of this story if he hadn't? Unless you assumed this was a cautionary tale about the evils of mankind? (spoiler, it's not.)

Of course the Lord of Dreams managed to escape his prison, for this is only the beginning of his and our story. Only the beginning, dear dreamer...

'When I am free, I will...'

He was trapped there, in the freezing cold, lonesome and alone (for there is a difference in the two). Unable as he was to access his powers to protect his realm or even check up on it... He couldn't visit it while trapped, undreaming, and so, he began to lose something of greatest importance. Though he would never admit it (and you must promise to never tell a soul that I've told you), being trapped as long as he was, he lost all sense of hope.

'If I ever escape... I...'

Let's put this into perspective, shall we?

Picture a snake, trapped inside a terrarium, a terrarium so spherical you've come to wonder if it's really a repurposed fish bowl. In fact, the "terrarium" is so small, the snake barely has room to move. There's no space for it to slither should it need to stretch. Save for the poor snake, the "terrarium" is completely empty. Its top screwed on so tight, you have to wonder if there's even air inside. There certainly isn't water, nor any way to give the snake food or touch, as all living long for.

And now imagine that this imprisoned snake can not die, not by common means at least. So that though it can not breath, though its lungs must be screaming, burning away in pain, it can not die. So that though it has not eaten, though its stomach must be rotting from neglect, a constant unignorable ache, it can not die. The snake must live on endlessly, even though it has nothing, not even hope, to live for.

Getting the idea?

So that's where we find the Lord of Dreams, moments before his escape. A snake on the verge of begging for death, yet far too prideful to do so, even with his loss of hope and lack of dreams. Over a century of imprisonment will do that to a being, even one with immortality and (under normal circumstances) powers beyond belief.

His escape, while inevitable, happened purely by chance. An accident he'd been losing patience waiting for. By the time it finally happened, he'd lost the belief that it would, but that didn't mean he wasted the chance at freedom because of it, the breath of fresh air through the cage called out to him ever so strongly. He needed it, had longed for it every second of his imprisonment...

A circle, the cage (his cage) contained inside its borders, had been smudged.

The circle had kept him there, bound him and his power within the cage (his cage). It was an evil little circle, and he hated it with a burning passion he shared with few things. How lucky for that little circle.

It was drawn in a faded gold, chalky almost but slightly more permanent. Over a century ago, it had been made in an evil ritual that had trapped the very Lord of Dreams still inside. And no one had touched it since. Ever so careful had they been when they built the cage for him, so as not to disrupt the circle. In the century that followed, they were ever so careful not to touch it, not to even go near it.

As I'm sure you've guessed dear dreamer, his captors grew careless. The wheel chair of an old man, rolled over just a sliver of a faded gold loop, was enough to damage the magic.

Ideally, more of the circle would have been broken. Not that the Lord of Dreams was in any condition to complain. At this point, he'd take whatever he could get.

With the simple crack in the containment's spell, the Lord of Dreams felt a fragment of his power return to him. He was still weak, still far from his normal level of power, but it was coming back. He, Morpheus, Dream of the endless, was back.

But let's not dwell on the cage and his imprisonment any longer, for he certainly didn't. (He did). He certainly didn't dwell on it while he wrought revenge on his surviving captors. (Something about the act of revenge implies dwelling on it, doesn't it?). And let's not dwell on how he got the tools of his trade back, instead assuming that it was just as long and difficult of a task as it sounds.

Let us assume that at the "end" of this little cautionary tale about the evils of mortal men, Morpheus was left feeling empty, though he had gained his power and more back. He was left broken, though there was nothing physically harming him. And though he'd returned safety and peace to his kingdom of dreams, reclaimed his throne, and brought back a majority of his citizens, he still felt lonely. All alone against the world.

We won't dwell on any of this, so just assume this is the state of the Lord of Dreams as we move on with our story. Our prideful, traumatized Lord of Dreams who couldn't find it in himself to dream.

Moving on.