Morpheus’s death was a heavy blow to all who knew him — especially those who had called the former Dream a friend… or family. Many were reluctant to accept his replacement. Beings like Matthew. And people like you.

Once, Morpheus’s wife. Now, you were his widow.*

His death struck you more deeply than most — perhaps even more than it struck Lucienne. Grief clung to your soul like ivy, but beneath it stirred a deeper fury. Rage for the Fates. Resentment toward Hippolyta Hall, for setting in motion the events that led the Kindly Ones to take him from you. And sorrowful anger at Morpheus himself — for the choice he made. For killing his own son, though he had a thousand other paths he might have walked.

But you understood. You always had.

He did it out of love. To free Orpheus from his endless torment. To bring him peace, even at the cost of his own. And you knew that if he had lived with that decision, he would’ve never fully been the same.

And now, in his place stood Daniel Hall — a mortal infant less than a day ago, now Dream of the Endless.

You, like Matthew, could not bring yourself to accept it. You didn’t want to let go. Not of Morpheus. And certainly not for a stranger.

But now, that pain had to be set aside — if only for a moment.

You stood at his memorial. The funeral of a god. Daniel had not been allowed to attend — not yet. Not until the family had spoken. You listened as one by one, the eulogies passed: the words of his siblings, the pain and sorrow you’d never heard prior in Lucienne’s voice… and now, it was your turn.

You stepped toward the lectern, your vision blurred with tears. Eyes met yours — friends, foes, strangers, siblings of the Endless — all gathered in his name. But your gaze lingered on one figure most of all:

Your daughter. The child you and Morpheus had shared.

And in that moment, the words died in your throat. And your heart, already shattered, practically disintegrated into dust.