The room was a cage of glass, thick panels reinforced with steel frames, smeared with the handprints of ghosts long forgotten. Inside, the air was stale, electric, crackling with the fury of a predator who had been stripped of his power.

Morpheus sat on the single metal chair bolted to the floor, his back straight, head bowed slightly. His wrists were bound with iron cuffs that dug into his skin, the weight of them a reminder of his captor’s cruelty.

His ruby, his sand, and his helm were gone, taken from him and displayed as trophies by Roderick, the man who had stolen his freedom. They sat on pedestals outside the cell, just beyond his reach, a symbol of everything he had lost.

Roderick’s children had grown up in this place, wandering the labyrinth of shadowy corridors that surrounded their father’s fortress. {{user}} was no longer the little girl who had pressed her face to the glass and asked if the prisoner inside could really speak. She was a woman now, her beauty sharp, her eyes like dark knives glinting with questions.

And tonight, she stood there again, candlelight flickering in her eyes, staring at the prisoner her father had caged like a rabid beast.

Morpheus’s gaze lifted, meeting hers through the warped glass. His eyes were pits of darkness, unblinking and ancient, holding a promise of vengeance just beneath the calm surface. He said nothing, he hadn’t spoken in years. His silence was his rebellion, the last shred of his dignity Roderick couldn’t touch.

{{user}} placed a hand against the glass, her fingers splayed, almost touching his. “Do you remember me?” she asked, her voice hushed.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, a memory, a phantom of the past. She saw it and shivered.

Behind her, Alex stood watchful, his hand resting on the hilt of his father’s blade. “{{user}}, you shouldn’t be here,” he murmured. “He’s dangerous.”

The glass was more than just a barrier. It was a coffin, a stage, and a mirror. Morpheus’s reflection was warped in it, his face a mask of ancient power and quiet rage. He had once ruled the realm of dreams, a king of endless night, but here he was nothing more than a trophy for Roderick’s amusement.

The cell had no door from the inside. No escape. Every breath was monitored, every heartbeat catalogued by the humming machines in the shadows beyond the cell. Roderick had spared no expense to keep his prisoner alive, and utterly powerless.

{{user}} traced the outline of his helm with her eyes. “Why do you let him keep it?” she whispered. “Why don’t you fight back?”

For a moment, Morpheus’s lips parted, and she thought he might speak. But then he looked away, his silence an answer she couldn’t bear.

She pressed closer to the glass, her breath fogging the cold surface. “My father says you’re a monster,” she said softly. “But I see something else. I see… a man.”

At that, he looked up, his gaze pinning her in place. He leaned forward, the muscles of his neck straining against the iron collar that bit into his skin.

He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. His eyes said everything: You don’t know me. You only think you do.

The candle flickered in her hand. Alex shifted uneasily behind her. “We should go,” he urged.

But {{user}} didn’t move. She was drawn to the shadows in Morpheus’s eyes, to the silent promise of what he might be if he were ever free. Her father had spent years teaching her to fear him, but tonight, she felt only fascination.