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Held Between Worlds: Chapter 6 - The Sound of Her Wings

A note from the author: Phew, this one is a long one and probably one of my favorite chapters to write thus-far! A big welcome to my new friends on the tag list and to those who have liked/reblogged/commented on my fic. I love you all and I hope you enjoy this one!

Read the previous chapter: Chapter 5 - 24/7

Chapter 6 - The Sound of Her Wings

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Original Female Character

The Veilcross had gone quiet after the banishment.

Not peaceful.

Wounded.

The pathways no longer sang properly beneath Aurelian’s feet. The lanterns lining the crossing flickered weakly, their glow unstable now that the Dreaming’s borders remained strained. Gold threads stretched between Aurelian’s hands as she worked in silence, carefully reinforcing a fracture near one of the anchor points.

Every movement hurt. Her physical form had worked to heal itself, sewing wounds closed but thick scars now decorated her side and forearm. The wounds left by John Dee burned beneath her skin, aggravated by seawater and exhaustion alike. But none of it stung quite as sharply as Dream’s final words.

You are banished from the Dreaming.

The crossing dimmed faintly in response to her thoughts. She’d existed adjacent to the Dreaming for eons. That was how she’d always performed her function, but she would be lying to herself if she believed that she didn’t feel a connection to the realm and its inhabitants during her time at the border.

They’d all treated her with kindness. Even Mervyn and Abel, as curmudgeonly as they were, had eventually come around to tolerate her presence. While Lucienne did not visit Aurelian often, the latter wondered how the librarian was faring with documenting her presence within the tomes in the library. Aurelian missed her philosophical conversations with Matthew the most. Words came easily and flowed as though they had always been close.

Aurelian exhaled slowly, her mind working as quickly as her hands as she replayed every word spoken between her and Lord Morpheus. She had tried to keep her composure despite the pain and his refusal to listen. Instead, she had attacked the very core of who he was. Perhaps not the smartest move to burn the metaphorical bridge of their functions. The Veilcross thrummed quietly as if to gently scold her handling of the entire situation.

“Yes,” she murmured bitterly. “I know.”

Always interfering, she’d thought to herself as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. She tightened another thread and the strand snapped violently against her palm. Pain lanced through her hand and she hissed softly through her teeth.

“Dammit!” She cursed before grabbing the snapped thread.

“Well, well,” a smooth voice drawled from behind her, “you are certainly more interesting up close.”

Aurelian froze and the Veilcross itself reacted first. The lanterns shifted pink and then crimson. The air thickened with perfume and silk and something deeply unsettling beneath both. Slowly, Aurelian turned to see a figure lounged atop the railing of the crossing as though it belonged to them entirely. Pale limbs draped carelessly over black iron, rich velvet spilling around their form in shades of rose and wine.

Beautiful.

Dangerously so.

Their smile sharpened as her eyes met theirs.

“You know,” they mused, “Dream always did prefer catastrophes dressed as people.”

Aurelian straightened carefully despite the pain in her side. “You are one of the Endless.”

The stranger looked delighted. “Oh, she’s beautiful and smart too. My brother is already out of his league.”

Aurelian knew the Endless by function more than face. Dreamers spoke of them sometimes while crossing the Veilcross. Stories. Fears. Desires. She had glimpsed Death only distantly when souls passed on from dreaming forever, but this Endless was not Death. No, this was the one dreamers spoke of in flushed whispers and guilty confessions.

“Desire,” Aurelian said carefully.

Desire of the Endless gave her a truly wicked smile. “And you are Aurelian, the Keeper of the Veilcross.”

Aurelian remained still, cautiously so. Everything about Desire felt dangerous in a completely different way than Dream. Dream was controlled force, authority, and gravity. Desire was the unsuspecting blade slotted between ribs.

“I just figured I’d come and introduce myself.” Desire slid gracefully from the railing and landed before Aurelian without a sound. “I do hope my brother is treating you well.”

Aurelian’s jaw tightened. “My dealings with Lord Morpheus are not your concern.”

Desire laughed immediately. “Oh, darling, they became my concern the moment my brother started wanting something inconvenient.”

Heat flared unexpectedly in Aurelian’s face. “That is not—”

“Please.” They grinned widely. “You both practically ache with it.”

The Veilcross hummed uncertainly around them and Aurelian instinctively took a step back. “You speak very confidently about matters you know nothing about.”

Desire’s smile widened. “I know desire.”

The word itself seemed to echo strangely through the crossing. Aurelian looked away first in an effort to regain her composure. She busied her hands with the threads she’d been previously working on in the hopes that Desire would lose interest and depart.

Aurelian turned back sharply. “I am not interested in entertaining your games.”

“Neither is Dream,” Desire replied lightly while stalking up to her. “Which is why this is so fascinating.”

Desire’s golden eyes wandered over the luminous threads as Aurelian worked. Such delicate little strands, they wondered as their gaze drifted slowly over her injuries. Specifically the large scar along her forearm.

“Oh, dear. Occupational hazard?” they sighed softly. “You’d think my brother would be more grateful considering you’re the one who endured such strain to prevent it all from collapsing in on itself.”

The Keeper’s hands slowed, fingers winding the threads with more care. Desire did have a point, but Aurelian was failing to notice why the Endless was taking such a vested interest in their sibling. Desire’s gaze moved from Aurelian’s scar toward the fading boundary of the Dreaming beyond the Veilcross.

“He banished you,” The words were clipped. “And yet he pulled you from the water first.”

Aurelian’s fingers tightened unconsciously around the gold threads in her hands.

“He was terrified for exactly one moment.” Desire smiled slowly. “It was lovely.”

“He was angry.” She corrected.

“Oh, certainly.” Desire waved a dismissive hand and began a slow circle around her. “Dream becomes unbearable when frightened.”

Aurelian frowned faintly. “Lord Morpheus was not frightened of me.”

“No,” Desire agreed softly, stopping right off her shoulder. Blood red lips whispering at her ear. “He was frightened for you.”

That landed harder than she expected. The crossing dimmed gently around her. Aurelian lowered her gaze briefly, trying to steady the sudden disarray in her thoughts. Dream kneeling beside her on the black shore flashed painfully through her mind. The violence of the way he dragged her from the sea. The fury in his voice afterward.

Desire watched realization flicker across her face and looked deeply entertained by it. “Oh, this is much better than I thought.”

Aurelian looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Desire said with obvious delight, “that my brother already cares enough to become stupid.”

Despite herself, Aurelian almost laughed, but Desire continued speaking lazily behind her.

“You challenged him publicly. Disobeyed him outright. Defied his authority to his face.” Their smile turned sharp again. “And he is still thinking about whether you are injured.”

Aurelian’s hands stilled again. “He made his position very clear.”

“Yes.” Desire’s voice softened unexpectedly. “Dream says cruel things most clearly when he is trying to convince himself.” Aurelian finally looked back at them fully. For the first time, Desire’s amusement dimmed just slightly.

“He does not know what to do with things he cannot control,” they said quietly. “Especially not feelings.”

Aurelian swallowed once. “That does not excuse what he did.”

“No,” Desire admitted. “It doesn’t.”

Silence settled briefly between them. Then Desire smiled once more, sharp and knowing. “But it does mean this story is going to become extremely interesting.”

Aurelian returned her attention to the damaged anchor point, refusing to rise further to the bait. “If that’s all, Desire.”

The Endless bristled, clearly not used to being dismissed so swiftly by someone other than Dream. Desire took one last look at the crossing and then to Aurelian.

“You should be careful, Keeper.”

The Veilcross hummed softly around them.

“Why?”

Desire smiled. “Because Dream is far more dangerous when he begins to care.”

With a whisper they were gone and the lanterns along the Veilcross faded back to their usual rich gold hue. Aurelian felt a shiver run down her spine as Desire’s influence departed from the crossing. Becoming involved with more than one of the Endless was never her intention, but to her dismay she’d found herself caught in the gaze of haunting honeyed eyes.

———————————————————————

The Waking World was vibrant with life.

At least, that was how Death of the Endless saw it.

Her time as the anthropomorphic personification of Death varied from day to day. Some were heavier than others. It was a hard job ushering mortals to the Sunless Lands. Many begged and bartered, pleading for more time on their earthly-plane, but Death would listen and assure them that it was indeed their time to go. Death came for all, eventually, one day or another.

However, today did not feel so heavy because her brother Dream had come to join her. Rather, she’d found him moping on a park bench feeding pigeons and gave him a good talking to. Together they walked as she worked, talking of functions and mortals. Dream did not regularly visit the Waking World or have dealings with mortals, save for once every hundred years to meet with Hob Gadling.

Ever since his triumph over John Dee, Dream hadn’t felt as victorious as he’d thought. He had his tools, his power had been restored and sought vengeance upon those who wronged him. He’d even taken action against Aurelian for stepping into his realm despite his explicit conditions.

He would be lying to himself if he believed he was unaffected by the Keeper’s banishment. His realm still functioned as it always had, despite the state of disrepair, but he could feel a distant yet very present emptiness that lingered. Lucienne and Matthew had been his harshest critics of Aurelian’s banishment, but he let their words fall on deaf ears as he continued to rule his realm as he saw fit.

The black sands on the shores of the Dreaming still recalled her presence after he’d dragged her from the swirling tides. What was even stranger yet was where she’d bled had emerged something…living. He’d noticed it when the Dreaming had evolved into something resembling nightfall, a faint pulsing light along the shores. Upon investigation, he saw sprouts of golden threads weaving into a stem and atop it sat a closed pale blossom. The undersides of the pearlescent petals were veined with the same threads that decorated the archways at the anchor points.

Dream knelt beside the impossible flora and to his surprise they hummed with the same frequency of the Veilcross before opening toward him. The petals unfurled as if slowly awakening from a dream-filled slumber. The luminous threads nestled inside slithered outward, curling instinctively around his fingers. The moment they touched his skin, he experienced a myriad of fractured emotional impressions. Flashes of black seawater, golden threads snapping, Aurelian’s heartbeat slowing and the exact moment she looked at him after he banished her assaulted his vision.

He yanked his hand away, not because he was in pain, but because it affected him more than he wanted to admit. Dreams and places within the Dreaming held memories. These flowers were no different. They’d sprouted from Aurelian’s blood, so naturally they held her recollections from that fateful day. Seeing her face again…it awakened something within him that he did not expect. Pushing the thought aside, he then cautiously brushed his knuckle against one of the petals and the flower closed tightly as if shying away from his touch. The rest of the blossoms remained shut.

Dream hadn’t told anyone about the flowers, not even Lucienne, and when he returned the next day the blossoms were still there and still closed. He could have tried to destroy them, but he ultimately decided against it. His realm had endured enough destruction. He had no interest in manifesting more, especially by his own hand.

Death and Dream had quickly found themselves walking along a secluded path within a glade of lush green trees. Leaves and blades of grass crunched beneath their feet. Their conversation fell into a comfortable silence as Death’s business was coming to an end for the day. Dream walked a slight step behind her, his mind returning to Aurelian and the mystical flowers that now grew within his realm.

“You’re thinking too loudly again,” his sister’s teasing voice broke through the mess of emotions tumbling around inside him.

“Before we depart, I must ask for your counsel on a certain matter.”

“Counsel? From little old me?” Death smirked, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “I’m flattered. Normally you go to Destiny for that—and then ignore him anyway.”

“Sister—”

Death looped her arm through his before he could protest further. “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

They walked a few steps in companionable silence. Dream did not speak, suddenly finding his boots more interesting than the conversation.

Death glanced sideways at him. “Well? You’ve already made it sound interesting. Don’t ruin it now.”

Dream’s gaze lowered, lingering briefly on the path beneath their feet. “There is a woman—”

Death stopped short.

“Oh?” Her grin widened instantly. “Another one?”

“Sister—” Dream exhaled sharply, irritation threading through the word as he resumed walking. “This is not—”

“Brother, I know you,” she said, falling back into step beside him. There was humor in her voice—but something gently admonishing, too. “You turn your head for a pretty mortal who—”

“She is not mortal.”

That stopped her again. Dream’s hand came up—not forceful, but firm—resting lightly against her arm, halting her movement this time. Death’s brows drew together, curiosity sharpening.

“Go on,” she said.

“She is the Keeper of the Veilcross,” Dream continued. “She appeared shortly after my return. Her function exists adjacent to my domain, though not within it.”

“Ah,” she said, recognition flickering across her face. “Aurelian.”

Dream’s gaze narrowed slightly. “You know her?”

“I know of her.” Death smiled, faintly. “I know everyone, eventually.”

Dream did not respond to that.

“I’m honestly surprised you two didn’t meet sooner considering your functions run parallel to each other.” Death went on, almost absently. “She’s beautiful. In a way that makes sense for what she is. Liminal things usually are.”

“My sister,” Dream said, voice tightening just enough to betray his patience thinning, “I can assure you that is not the matter I seek counsel on.”

“Mm,” Death hummed, unconvinced, but willing to let him continue. “Go on, then. Convince me.”

Dream released her arm and resumed walking. “She approached me after I retrieved my helm from Hell,” he said. “She requested permission to repair the anchor points bordering the Dreaming. I granted it—with the explicit condition that she not enter my realm.”

Death’s mouth twitched. “Explicit condition. That sounds like you.”

“She agreed,” Dream continued.

“And let me guess,” Death said, tilting her head, “she broke your little rule.”

Dream’s jaw set. “During the incident involving John Dee and my ruby,” he said, more measured now, “she entered the Dreaming deliberately. Against my instruction.”

“And?” she prompted gently.

Dream’s gaze shifted—just slightly—away from her. “I…responded,”

Death’s expression softened, though her tone remained light. “That’s a very careful way of putting it.”

“I banished her,” Dream said.

Death let out a small breath through her nose, considering. “Do you think you might’ve overreacted?”

“I enforced a boundary,” Dream replied immediately.

“Yes,” Death said. “That’s one way of describing it.”

Dream’s gaze flicked toward her. “I established a condition,” he said. “She chose to disregard it. That has consequences.”

“Sure,” Death said easily. “Everything has consequences.” Then, more pointedly—“But that doesn’t mean your reaction can’t still be…a bit much.”

Dream stopped walking. Death took one more step before noticing and turning back to face him.

“My rules—” he began.

“—are very important to you,” Death finished, lifting her hands in surrender. “I know. You’ve mentioned.”

“They uphold balance.”

“They do,” she agreed. “When they’re applied with a little perspective.”

Dream’s expression tightened. “She entered a domain that is not hers to enter.”

“And why did she?” Death asked.

Dream’s gaze lowered slightly. “She intervened during the instability caused by John Dee wielding my ruby,”

Death continued. “From what I understand, she was trying to keep both the Dreaming and the Veilcross from collapsing.”

“That does not grant her permission to disregard my authority.”

“No,” Death said. “But it might explain why she did. She did not act against you. She acted to fix something that was breaking.”

Dream was silent.

“And you sent her away for it.”

Dream’s voice, when it came, was quieter. “She disobeyed. I will not have unknown forces acting within my domain without constraint.”

“There it is,” Death smiled faintly. “That’s the real problem.”

Dream’s expression darkened slightly. “And what problem is that?”

“You don’t know where she fits,” Death said. “And you don’t like that.”

Dream did not answer. Which, for Death, was answer enough. She nudged his arm lightly with her shoulder again.

“You always think in terms of structure,” she said. “Function. Boundaries. What belongs where.”

“That is my role.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But that’s not all you are.”

Dream’s gaze shifted just slightly. “That distinction is irrelevant.”

“No,” Death said quietly. “It’s just inconvenient.”

“You’re not wrong to set boundaries,” Death continued. “You need them. But if you treat every crossed line as a threat…” She let the thought hang. “…you’re going to end up very alone.”

Dream’s gaze shifted away from her, trying to hide that her words did not affect him. “I do not require—”

“—connection?” Death finished, smiling softly. “Company? Understanding? You always say that.”

Dream did not argue. Death’s expression softened further. “But you still go looking for it. Even if you don’t call it that.”

Dream was very still. The silence stretched longer this time, full of something he had not yet chosen to name. After a moment, he spoke.

“What would you have me do?” he asked.

Death’s expression softened into something warmer—proud, even, though she didn’t say it.

“I’d start by not assuming the worst,” she began. “About her. About her intentions.”

“And maybe,” she added, just lightly enough to keep it from feeling heavy, “don’t banish someone the first time they step out of line trying to help you.”

Dream’s gaze lowered again. “I did not act without cause.”

“I know,” Death said. “And yet, you might’ve acted without patience.”

“If she came back,” Death asked, “what would you do?”

Dream did not answer immediately. When he did, his voice was quieter. “I would…reconsider the terms.”

Death’s smile widened a little. “Well, that’s a start.”

They walked a few more steps together in silence. Comfortable again, as it always was with his sister. After a moment, Death glanced at him sideways again.

“And for the record,” she added casually, “you do think she’s beautiful. I can tell.”

Dream stopped. “Sister—”

“I’m just saying,” Death continued, already grinning, “for someone who doesn’t care, you’ve put an awful lot of thought into her.”

Dream closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his expression was composed. Controlled.

“As I have stated,” he said evenly, “that is not relevant.”

Death laughed. “Sure it isn’t.”

And this time, he did not try to argue. Death watched him for a moment longer, her smile lingering. Then she squeezed his arm lightly and let go.

“Well,” she said, stepping back, “I’ve got people to see. You’ve got brooding to do.”

“I do not brood,” Dream of the Endless replied with a scowl.

“Of course you don’t,” she said easily.

Dream did not rise to her taunts, but the smallest smirk lifted the corner of his lips. Death’s expression softened then.

“Be kind, little brother,” she smiled. “You might find it suits you.”

And then she was gone.

———————————————————————

The borderlands between the Dreaming and the Veilcross shimmered with dim twilight.

Black sand gave way to pale stone veined in gold thread, the air between realms humming softly with the familiar strain of opposing functions forced into harmony. The anchor points stood silent now, stable once more, but Dream could still feel where the damage had once splintered through them.

He waited near the shoreline. The impossible flowers crowded behind his billowing robes. Their pale blossoms drifted at the edges of the sand behind him, luminous beneath the false moon overhead. They still remained closed.

For a long while, there was only silence.

Then the Veilcross shifted. Golden threads unfurled soundlessly through the air, weaving themselves into a doorway of soft light before dissolving again as Aurelian stepped through. Dream felt it immediately. A distance that emanated from her. Not a physical distance, but a functional distance. Emotional distance.

Once, she had arrived in his presence like sunlight slipping through water—curious, warm despite herself, unguarded in ways she likely had not realized. Now she looked at him as though standing before a king who had already passed judgment. Her expression remained composed, her shoulders straight and poised.

“Lord Morpheus,” she said formally. There was no hint of irritation or challenge in her voice. Somehow that affected him more.

“Aurelian.”

“You summoned me.”

Dream studied her for a moment too long, a habit he’d caught himself doing one too many times. Gone was the relaxed composure he’d witness when she allowed herself to rest while seated next to Matthew. Auburn waves that usually hung free were tied back in an assortment of tightly wound braids. Her body was draped in a gown similar to what she’d worn previously, but with one new addition. Long gossamer sleeves covered her arms to her wrists. Through the fabric, Dream could see the dimmed golden scar along her forearm.

Aurelian refused to shrink under the Dream King’s gaze. She watched him take in her posture and appearance, both composed and stoic. She let his eyes glance at the covered scar on her arm, a stark reminder to him of the damage she’d sustained under the functional strain of keeping both realms from collapsing. Just as much as it was a reminder to herself that as close as she’d come, she did not break.

Her conversation with Desire had left her feeling exposed, broken open as if under a set of eyes that noticed too much. Of all the Endless she could have attracted attention from it had to be Desire. She’d tried to divert herself with repairs, but their whispered words slithered along the underside of her ear.

My brother already cares enough to become stupid.

He does not know what to do with things he cannot control, especially feelings.

Dream is far more dangerous when he begins to care

Aurelian knew that Dream of the Endless cared most about his realm and its inhabitants. For him to care about her wellbeing…it seemed illogical and irrelevant to her function. Desire thrived on toying with mortals deepest wants. Why they had come to spew such nonsense was beyond her. She then wondered if Dream had always been the victim of Desire’s emotional manipulation. He never spoke of any of his siblings, but Desire’s teasing would make any person fracture.

“The instability surrounding the anchor points has ceased.” Dream’s observation shook her from her thoughts.

“It has.”

“The damage sustained between our realms will require continued oversight.”

“I am aware.” Aurelian inclined her head once. Formal and precise, giving him nothing. Dream found, unexpectedly, that he disliked it.

“The previous terms I established,” he began slowly, “were…overly restrictive.”

Aurelian went still. Not surprised or softened, but simply waiting. This introspection from him was something she did not expect.

“After careful consideration,” Dream continued. “I’ve come to the ruling that you may continue to repair the anchor points and you may enter the Dreaming when matters concerning the Veilcross necessitate it.”

The words sounded stiff even to his own ears. They tasted odd on his tongue. Aurelian’s gaze lowered briefly, thoughtful rather than relieved.

“I see.”

Silence stretched between them. Dream had imagined this moment differently. He had expected resistance perhaps, even anger. Instead she merely accepted the revision as though it were an administrative correction. It unsettled him deeply.

“You disagree with these amended terms?” he asked.

“No.”

“Yet you are dissatisfied.”

A faint smile crossed her lips then, though there was little warmth in it. “You banished me, Dream of the Endless.”

The title struck harder than his name would have. His gaze finally faltered from her form, a tinge of wounded pride ebbed at him.

“I crossed into your realm to keep it from collapsing beside my own.” Her voice remained calm. “And you cast me out for it.”

“I acted,” he said carefully, “to preserve order within my domain.”

Aurelian’s eyes met his then. “And did it?”

The question settled quietly between them. Dream did not answer immediately. Because the truthful answer was no. The Dreaming still whispered her absence through its shores. Flowers born from her blood now rooted themselves within his realm. And despite all his insistence otherwise—he had thought of little else since. Aurelian looked away first.

“You need not explain your reasoning to me,” she spoke. “Your realm is yours to govern as you see fit.”

That terrible, polite distance pulled at something deep within Dream as he watched Aurelian turn her back on him to depart for the Veilcross. He found himself stepping toward her before fully deciding to do so.

“Aurelian.”

The Keeper paused and looked over her shoulder just as he moved aside, revealing the closed blossoms behind him. As she set her gaze on the flora, they began to hum softly.

“They were not there before you.”

“The flowers?”

“They emerged where your blood touched the shore.”

Aurelian stared at him now. For the first time since arriving, genuine emotion flickered across her face. A mix of confusion, concern and curiosity graced her stoic features.

“It opened once,” Dream moved carefully toward one of the pale blossoms and knelt beside it. “But no longer.”

Aurelian looked to the King of Dreams before stepping one foot into the Dreaming and then another. The realm did not resist her nor did he. She approached the blossoms slowly, the hem of her gown whispering across the sand as she knelt. The moment she stepped near, the blossoms began to hum louder.

Golden light pulsed beneath their translucent petals. Dream looked up at her just as the first flower unfurled. Not toward him. Toward her. The flower opened slowly beneath her gaze. Pearlescent petals unfurled one by one, revealing delicate strands of golden filament woven through its center like living starlight. The soft hum deepened, not loud, but resonant enough that the black sands beneath their feet seemed to answer in kind.

Then another blossom opened and then another until the entire cluster of flowers awakened. The centers all turning to face Aurelian. Dream remained very still beside them. The Dreaming was responding to her. Not merely tolerating her presence, but welcoming it.

Aurelian stared at the flowers in visible disbelief. The guarded composure she had worn since arriving faltered slightly as she knelt near the nearest blossom. Carefully, she reached toward it. Golden threads curled immediately around her fingers—not possessive, not restraining. Affectionate. The expression that crossed her face then was so fleeting Dream almost missed it. Grief. It lingered only for a heartbeat before she concealed it again beneath practiced restraint.

The glow from the centers of the flowers caught against the gold threaded beneath her skin, illuminating the faint scars winding across her hands and wrists like fractures filled with sunlight. Dream remembered those hands bloodied upon black sand after he cast her out. Something heavy settled uncomfortably within his chest. Aurelian rose to her feet once more, though her attention remained fixed upon the flowers.

“They remember,” she said softly.

Dream’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Explain.”

“The Veilcross preserves emotional resonance,” Aurelian replied. “Moments of great instability sometimes leave impressions behind. Especially when blood is involved.” Her eyes drifted across the glowing shoreline. “These flowers were born from memory.”

Dream thought again of the visions that had struck him when the blossom first touched his skin: the slowing rhythm of her heart, golden threads snapping apart, and the look in her eyes after he condemned her.

“The Dreaming has accepted them,” he said.

At that, Aurelian finally looked at him fully. “The Dreaming reflects you, does it not?”

Dream said nothing. Because yes. It did. The silence stretched between them once more, quieter now. Less hostile perhaps—but no less fragile. Aurelian lowered her gaze first.

“You have amended the terms of my banishment,” she said formally. “I acknowledge and accept your conditions.”

Dream found he hated the distance settling back into her voice. His sister’s words echoed deep inside him, thrumming like a beating heart.

Be kind, little brother. You might find it suits you.

“You speak to me,” he said slowly, “as though I am a stranger.”

Aurelian’s expression did not change, though he saw something flicker briefly behind her eyes.

“A stranger would have wounded me less.”

The words landed with frightening softness. Dream went motionless. Not because the statement angered him. Because it did not. Aurelian seemed almost surprised she had spoken the thought aloud. Her jaw tightened faintly before she turned away from him toward the sea of pale blossoms swaying beneath artificial starlight.

“When you crossed into the Dreaming,” he said carefully, “I believed control of my realm was being threatened at a moment when its foundations were already unstable.” His gaze lowered briefly. “I responded accordingly.”

“That is a very elegant way of saying you punished me.” Her stare hardened again.

Dream’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”

The admission hung between them. Honest. Bare. Uncomfortable. Aurelian looked at him then—not guarded this time, but searching. Dream rarely yielded ground. Rarer still did he acknowledge fault. The flowers around them pulsed softly in the silence.

“I did not wish to become something unwelcome to your realm,” she admitted finally.

Dream’s gaze shifted toward the flowers. “You are not unwelcome.”

The moment the words left him, every blossom along the shoreline opened fully. Light spilled across the black sands in luminous gold and pearl. The air itself seemed to exhale around them, the Dreaming responding with quiet, impossible relief. Aurelian stared at the flowers in stunned silence. Dream did not look away from her.

Because at last—the Dreaming was no longer saying what he himself had been unwilling to.

————————————————————————

Author’s Note: Writing both Desire and Death in this chapter was such a pleasure. Dream has altered his conditions, but Aurelian is still keeping him at arm’s length. The next chapter we start the Vortex arc and I am so excited to dive right into it. As always, if you enjoyed reading this chapter, please like/reblog/leave a comment.

Series Tag List: @nooneormaybysomeone @deeplyenchantedsabotage @iamcharliemichaels @amandarobertsboyce @drommefanger @jeshomie @ameili @aralezinspace

#loving this series so far #fic recs