His previous encounter at the lake had left him feeling harassed and out of his element. This, however, already felt more comfortable.

It was the night, of course. While in truth a creature could sleep at any time, it was also true that many animals bedded down when the moon rose high into the sky. And for every animal that slept, so too did they dream; most would not remember the contents of these slumbering fantasies, though. They would awaken with only the memory of last closing their eyes, only to suddenly be blinded by morning.

But Morpheus could feel it – the gentle swirl of dreams that surrounded him, daring to drag him down into the depths of a bottomless ocean. But he was a dreamwalker, a dream seer – where others saw only the never-ending darkness, he was able to peer down to the unseen floor, able to drift down, down, ever so further down – until he was at the bottom of the ocean.

And the bottom of the ocean, he knew from the consumption of fish dreams, was a truly beautiful place to be.

So, yes, he was more relaxed than normal. But there was still this sense of unease, that worried at the back of his throat like a shard of stuck bone, of what he might find awaiting him.

They came so swiftly, these newcomers. Each brimming with power, with flaws, with facets that he might chip away at – and that was, in a word, terrifying. He still couldn’t remember much, but each had left a piece of themselves with him, flowing through his blood stream.

And of the emotions he had come to relearn, trepidation overrode much of his other feelings. A quiet unease drawn from the arrival of so many.

And now there was this one.

Like me, he thought, as he circled the edge of the lake, his form ghostly on the dark water. His horns were of a darker color than his coat, but occasionally they caught the light of the moon and glowed as if they had been spun from moonbeams and starshine.

The stranger’s hiding spot was easy enough to find. He approached with the wind, letting it carry his scent toward her. When at last he drew close enough that he thought she might spot him, or at least see some movement of his approach, he called out softly, “Are you there?”

And then, as he drew even closer, so that he might not wake what animals had already bedded down, he said gentler still, “I would ask your name, cousin. You are far from home.”

Already he felt more at ease with her – compared to his last few, this mortal held an adaptable, water-like quality to her.

She gave up her name willingly, and he allowed himself to relax, tension spooling out of him with each breath he drew. “I am Morpheus,” he supplied, glad to have names exchanged so quickly, so pleasantly. It felt almost normal, and a small, contented smile spread across his lips, eyes crinkling with relief.

And yet, he knew the exact moment she discerned his form, the truth of his nature – wonder bloomed in her golden eyes, and he allowed the smile to creep higher, make itself more known.

He dipped his head in a short bow, eager to treat her as an equal. He was tired of the solitude that came with being other – in the end her blood and his bled the same color, and, well, he felt a kinship to her that had not come with any of the others.

“I am a God of Dreams and I am here to guide you in your own ascent to godhood.”

And, almost as a joke, he added softly, “And this is not a dream – I would know.”

It will be all right – for some reason, the words stuck in the back of his mouth, desperate to be freed from between his jaws. He swallowed them down stubbornly, still puzzled over why he cared so much. He wanted them as equals, yes, but he could not be her friend.

He didn’t even know how friends acted. The sense of familiarity was beginning to frustrate him, though he kept the feeling buried deep. Why was she so familiar?

“If you have questions, I am here to answer them.”

-----------------

‘Why me?’

The question was enough to give him pause – and the follow-up only served to further flummox him.

Yes, why her? Why him?

Was it something of the bloodline? A destiny, handed out with the first flicker of her life?

Morpheus did not think it something so grand – rather, it seemed a random selection, as if the very universe itself had a way of selecting its most gifted children. It was her, because she had the potential to be a god – but in this land, that did not make her unique.

And at last he placed the feeling of her – the dreamy quality that had so comforted him. She was a mirror to him, what he might have once been, if he had ever been mortal.

The only showing of this realization came in the way his gaze momentarily shifted, drifting out over the star-filled lake as he mulled her words.

And, since he had awoken with nothing but his name and his powers, he uttered his first lie: “You were chosen not because of what you have done – but because of what you will do.”

Later, after their meeting, he would wonder over why he had chosen to speak a falsehood.

In the present, he redirected his gaze to her own golden eyes and felt not the sting of guilt as he continued, “Your divinity is in its infancy, Leyda. And you are not alone within these lands. Other mortals, seeking their own path to godhood, are here as well.”

And perhaps it was his previous experiences, overlaid atop each other, that caused him to say: “Be wary of them – they can become your enemy as easily as they can act your ally.”

Had they met?

No, he was certain of that – even with his missing memories.

Still, he took the time to further mull upon her question, his eyes briefly fluttering closed.

And when at last the answer came, it was not with the joy he had expected.

Her power was weak, fragile, a newborn chick barely beyond its shell – but now that he recognized it, suddenly all the hints snapped into place.

His eyes opened slowly, refocusing on her, carefully examining her.

“No,” he said softly, tasting the word. “But the power that dwells within you is not so different from my own.”

He inclined his head, and briefly the spiraling horns upon his brow caught the moonlight once more, blue and violet shivering up their lengths, almost like the flashing scales of a fish.

“Dreams,” he said, more to himself than to her, considering. What did it mean for there to be two with domain over dreaming?

He thought his lost memories might contain the answer.

But the past was dead and gone, quite literally for him.

Instead, with a slight smile, he said, “Like knows like. I would encourage you to closely examine your dreams, the lands you walk when asleep, and see how your power will manifest itself. It is a… personal journey. At best, I can only offer counsel.”

And besides, he added silently to himself, we are different creatures. Her power will not blossom in the same way mine did.