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

Twenty-One

Morpheus sat on the rear steps of the Los Angeles Art Museum, facing one of Central Park's broad, semi-circular fields. He had one guitar at his side, in its case, as he wrote in the journal Shade had gifted him. The retractable, ballpoint pen he'd found inside read "Mandy Jewel Foundation" and had a small, red ribbon printed on it.

"What should we do after this?" Morpheus asked, he's almost gotten used to not saying words like 'tonight' or 'tomorrow', again. He was also remembering to consult River more.

River was basking in the light of the Forbidden City overhead, which was as close to sunlight as they got in the City of Angels. The sky was its usual clear violet, with a lighter shade where the holy city hung above. Morpheus wasn't sure, but he thought the light was product of a propulsion system.

"Dinner with Maya?"

Sometimes they did that. Morpheus liked living near his sister, again, though it meant he missed friends in The Empty World. He'd been staying in lodgings inside LA, to avoid his old room in the Maze of Black. He knew Julien was among the dreamers who sometimes found their way that far, and if he stayed there, Morpheus would only haunt the back staircase, hoping for Julien to be desperate enough to dream of the place, just so he could see him.

That was a pretty dark hope, which was why Morpheus didn't allow himself the temptation.

There was enough darkness in his soul since realizing his own role in the chess game the Children of Night seemed to be playing against Lucifer. Once, long ago, when Angels were new arrivals to Earth's surface, Leliel and Lucifer had led rival factions of colonists. Now, Lucifer was fallen and spent days avoiding fellow Satans and their Malakim, in the Amber Palace; the Archangels were collectively in charge of all righteous Angels of the Elohim; and Leliel had landed the vital task of maintaining the infrastructure of existence. If the former-Lightbringer threatened the state of check they held against each other The Black King would send his pieces against him.

"I'd rather be out," Morpheus said. He re-read what he'd been writing. "What rhymes with 'life'? I keep thinking, 'wife', but that's not right."

"Strife. Knife."

"Knife," Morpheus said. He could work with that. He wiggled fingers as he counted syllables for the next line of his verse.

"There are plenty of distractions, but, you know you have to go back sometime."

Morpheus wondered what would happen if he just tried not to go. He knew he would go eventually. If he didn't leave, no doubt something would happen to call him, but he might do many things before that.

"I haven't changed my mind about my path there," Morpheus said. But...there was an unspoken "but". Morpheus had confided in River what Jibril had told him. He'd needed to share the realizations with another soul. He wasn't sure what he could or would do when he went back. Whatever was going to happen to Amadeo, Angel, and Joy was going to happen, not because it was predestined, exactly, but because past and future actions were already converging on it as a fixed point. Any action Morpheus took, even if he intended to prevent the events, could just as likely trigger the inevitability.

"Say your magic spell," River prompted, climbing from the guitar case onto Morpheus' right arm.

"It get's better."

River's claws lightly scratched at Morpheus' neck. "More energy," he directed.

"It get's better, Honey," Morpheus said in just as flat a tone as the first time.

"Ass."

Morpheus began to pack his things. He put his pen into his journal, and then his journal into his backpack. He stood, then bent to reach for his guitar case.