It felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane.
Grandpa described it to me once. I think I was five or six years old. He said it was the calmest, most peaceful weather he had ever witnessed. It had been a warm day with a slight breeze. The sky had been as blue as a robin’s egg with the sun shining brightly. A picture perfect summer day.
But everything felt wrong, like being at the top of a roller coaster just before the drop. Except you knew there was no track at the bottom, just a dark pit. Just ten minutes earlier, the howling of a Category 5 hurricane had been ripping up telephone poles and trees, but now the air was dead. The streets were still flooded. Every animal was silent like they knew the storm wasn’t really over, it was just Mother Nature taking a breath.
Safe, for now.
Trapped.
Grandpa said he looked out at the horizon and saw a solid wall of grey closing in with a distant noise like an oncoming train.
My grandmother called him an idiot during the story. He never denied it. It had been shortly before I was born and Mom didn’t tell them until I was six or seven months old anyway. They were still living in Florida when Hurricane Andrew rolled in to ruin everyone’s day. Grandma had been out of state visiting Dad in the psychiatric hospital. Grandpa had been caught with his pants down. He hadn’t thought it would make landfall and he said it was because every yokel on the news stations make noise about storms out in the ocean hitting the coastline all the time and they rarely made it that far. He said he stayed to make sure the house was going to be okay. Grandma called him a liar and said he stayed to try to save his boat.
And I remember wondering, whether it was the house or the boat, did it really matter if he was there or not? Why didn’t he just leave as soon as he could? Just in case? What did he think he was going to do against a hurricane?
The house ended up with too much water damage to salvage with a collapsed roof on one side and the boat had gotten unmoored somehow. Grandpa never saw it again.
I told Mom the story later when she came to pick me up, asking her the same question. What was he going to do against a hurricane? I remember the way Mom smiled then. It had been small and nostalgic instead of the usual amused quirk of her lips before she said ‘nothing at all.’
I told her Grandma thought he was just dumb. She ruffled my hair in response.
‘Do not judge him too harshly. That is the one kind of idiocy I adore.’ I hadn’t understood. ‘There is nothing he could have done. He meant nothing to the storm. He was nothing , but you will always find a human willing to give it their best shot anyway. Who knows?’ She had said with a small laugh as she buckled my seat belt for me. ‘Perhaps he could have delayed the inevitable.’
‘You know,’ I had said then. Before my seventh birthday, I thought Mom was perfect in every way and knew everything about everything ever . Dad was the screw up who was lucky to have her and I was Mommy's perfect little boy that had to be convinced to play with mortal kids.
Man.
Looking back, Apollo was right.
I had been a small little shit and not in a good way.
Mom had made an amused sound in her throat. She didn’t actually answer me until she had gotten in her side of the car and was already pulling out of my grandparents’ driveway.
‘Everything comes to an end, eventually.’
It felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane.
Maybe I could talk to Mom, I offered Hypnos weakly.
The Elder God pulled me even closer to him and shook back and forth in a clear ‘no.’
I could, I insisted, even though the thought of calling her attention back to me right now didn’t fill me with great feelings. She’ll listen to me.
I have never seen Mom mad before.
I’m her son, I whispered. She has to listen to me.
I didn’t know how to handle this. I don’t know what to think about it. I didn’t even know how to feel about it any other way than…
Terrified.
Hypnos hugged me. I could feel something like acceptance, or maybe it was understanding coming from him.
Whatever your mother did to me, it wasn’t bad, right? I asked Hypnos. I had to make sure.
The personification of Sleep was still holding on to me tightly. To the point that I could really feel it. Usually, his grip was feather light, barely there, like a reflection on glass. Now, I could feel a hundred of his fingers clutching my Sleeping soul like a safety blanket. His presence was curled around me. I imagined he looked a bit like a giant hedgehog.
Kind of?
Just replace the quills with his fingers and stick a six eyed cow head in there.
I felt Hypnos nod. He gave me that moving picture again of the grub eating its way free of its egg sac along with a feeling of reassurance. The vision was longer this time, showing me the grub encasing itself into a cocoon and what broke out of it this time had six skeletal black wings.
It didn’t look like any kind of bug I’ve ever seen before. My first instinct was to say it was still fucking ugly, but - I don’t know. There was something charming about it.
She was helping, I translated and he nodded again, but he sent me a pulse of uncertainty. You think she was helping? Dude.
He felt a bit indignant.
She didn’t think it was bad?
He agreed with that.
So if we could just talk to them -
Hypnos shuddered and seemed to shrink into himself.
Mom’s a bit upset, but not at you, I tried to reassure him. You didn’t do anything wrong.
I got a half-hearted response.
Erebus is your step-dad, so you’re basically her grandson, I reasoned out loud. I didn’t want to believe Mom would punish someone for something their parents did. That was for weak losers that couldn’t or wouldn’t get back at the one truly at fault. It’ll be fine.
Hypnos gently, hesitantly showed me an image of a set of perfectly balanced scales.
It wasn’t just about my Mom.
There were two sides to the equation.
I swallowed thickly.
I assumed Hypnos was scared because two primordials having, uh, words wasn’t something that happened all the time. It was pretty rare. And by pretty rare, I mean I don’t think it has happened since the Earth Mother rebelled which was a long time ago.
A long time even for immortal gods.
I thought he had a fear of the unknown, or of an unexpected negative change.
Some of my own fear was that.
I have never seen Mom mad before. Dad was the one who got angry, but it was because he was worried. When Mom left, he had been angry all the time and the alcohol didn’t help. He scared me once, but he scared himself more. He cut back on the drinking and Apollo basically moved in with us for that year. Artemis had -
Never mind.
I was just about to go stupid about her again.
I know better now.
Anyway, I got my temper from Dad and I knew he was never going to be at his worst ever again.
Mom’s not like Dad at all.
I get it, I said quietly. You’re worried about your mom too.
His grip on me tightened as he gently questioned me.
‘Too?’ I could almost hear him say.
Mom’s the best. I love her and I know she loves me. I tried to smile, but I don’t think it looked all that great. I probably looked sick. But it’s not Mom that’s mad, is it?
It was Ananke.
I’ve told you this story, haven’t I? When I was younger, Mom still had trouble being human all the time. The Elder God bled through. She didn’t mean to break me as a kid, like I’m sure she didn’t mean to almost throw me into the Beyond, but that doesn’t change the fact that she did. Being a demigod, I was sturdier than most, so I bounced back.
My sunglasses should tell you that I didn’t come back the same. At five years old, I was missing bits and pieces, adding up to months of lost memories because my head was just so full it felt like my brain was leaking out of my ears. Dad took me in for the MRI because my visions were relapses. For weeks after, I was obsessed with this little panpipe Mom got me, trying to recreate this strange flute sound I could barely remember.
And Apollo’s ghost was the first one I saw.
I know my mother loves me, I told Hypnos. But she’s not safe.
Hypnos pulsed with a sad agreement.
The picture he sent me was of himself gently nudging a piece of glass, but it shattered into a million pieces.
Fragile, my ass. I snorted. I saw your mom a bit and that was okay, right?
He paused, and I could tell when he remembered because he congratulated me.
Yeah, I’m stronger now than I was when we first met. I’m not a baby anymore.
Uncertainty.
Oh fuck right outta here.
He laughed at me.
It’s not as if I don’t know my birth mother at all. My education started at birth, maybe even earlier than that. My lessons were all in Dreams, to make sure that I would remember what she wanted to show me.
And she wanted to show me places far beyond this little blue ball, worlds under foreign stars at the ends of Yggdrasil’s branches and oceans between the edges of reality. My favorite memory is of a star studded expanse, watching a cold, dark planet hurtle through space and my mother showed me how it felt to reach out, pluck it from its lonely journey and gently place it in the orbit of a binary star like I was decorating a Christmas tree with a star ornament on top.
She showed me the birth of the Young Gods. I remember what Kronos didn’t anymore. Ananke taught me how to control my Dreams and at two years old, I fell into the Dreamlands and met a foul mouthed orange tabby cat with a very pullable tail named Sam.
She never spoke, because we never needed words. I never saw her, but it never mattered. She never touched me, but I could feel her wonder when I reached out for her.
She was my mother.
Then I got older and the Morrigan was there to catch me when I fell from the stars.
I’ve always known Ananke wasn’t safe for mortals to witness. Dad was right there to remind me with his screaming nightmares for most of my early childhood.
But I had been a stupid little kid who thought he was so fucking special.
With only vague recollections from the Dreams I shared with her when I was little, I decided I was going to find the woman who had my eyes. I was going to find Ananke, my very own Dream-Quest. I even convinced some friends to help me, good people who didn’t like the idea of a small child making the trip on his own, but knew they couldn’t stop me.
Like Sam.
My Quest led me to the Dreamlands' very own golden moon.
It didn’t end well.
Maybe I’ll tell you about it, someday.
Do you think my brother - your dad can do something? I asked.
Hypnos cringed.
I guess between his consort and his mother would be a little awkward.
Hypnos felt incredulous.
Okay, a lot awkward.
The way he nodded, you’d think the personification of Sleep had never heard a truer statement in his entire life.
Maybe we can both try together?
He wasn’t a fan of that idea, and to be honest, I wasn’t either.
We have to do something, I said and forced my lips into a small smirk. Before your mom gets hurt.
Hypnos immediately hit me with his annoyance and I felt my spirits lift a little. If he was annoyed, he wasn’t terrified. If I was annoying him, I wasn’t drowning in my own fear.
Win win.
Uh huh, I said with a bigger smile. We both know my mom can beat up your mom - woah!
Hypnos turned me upside down.
I crossed my arms, dangling in front of him by a leg. Fate is way cooler than the Night anyway, I said in my most obnoxious voice. I borrowed it from Apollo. Nobody messes with Fate, but the Night?
Hypnos swung me back and forth like he was trying to shake me down for my lunch money, even more annoyed.
What a Momma’s boy.
Not that I had any room to talk.
Admit it, your mom got shafted in the primordial department. The Pit, Time, Fate - come on, even the oceans are scarier. I grinned at the spike of his anger. What’s she gonna do, m ake me go to bed early?
“Oh yes - “ a deep, masculine voice echoed from behind me. “ - and you will simply die in your sleep. Only the truly fortunate will stay dead.”
I twisted my head around to look at the newly arrived melodramatic motherfucker.
It was a winged god, like the Boreads Zetes and Calais but instead of golden scales, his wings were shimmering with dark blues and purple feathers. He had skin the color of dark wood with pitch black long hair and was the kind of buff you only see in try-hard martial gods like Thor. The classic robes he was wearing were just a blank dark grey without any identifying features. He didn’t carry any Symbols either. He could have been anyone, but his eyes gave him away.
Step-nephew! I said with as much cheer as I could fake. I’m not sure how it was possible, because I was just a fraction of my soul right now, but I’m pretty sure I just felt my heart drop out of my ass.
The corners of the mass of grinning skulls the god had for eyes crinkled in amusement.
“Little uncle,” Thanatos, the God of Death replied. “So you are the reason for his tardiness.”
He’s late? I asked in surprise.
I didn’t know Hypnos had somewhere to be? This was kind of - I thought we were in his realm.
“Very,” the death god said with his eyes fixed on his brother. “It is time to come home, brother.”
Hypnos slumped like his Playstation was being taken away and it was my stomach’s turn to drop out from between my butt cheeks.
Home? I asked quietly. The House of Night?
Nyx was ordering her children to come home?
Was it too much to hope this was a normal thing where play time was over and everyone was gathering for family dinner and Hypnos just wanted to throw a few more hoops before coming inside or something?
Thanatos inclined his head.
“You are welcome to visit, little uncle,” he said, sounding amused. “Many of us know of you through our brother, Sleep and father shares your postcards.”
Well didn’t that just give me the warm and fuzzies.
Erebus really did care.
Uh, thanks for the invite - but there were two problems with that named fucking Alecto and Nemesis. I do not want to see them right now and the feeling was probably mutual. Not to mention, the House of Night had a nasty habit of driving mortals mad. But I’m gonna have to - wait.
Hold the fucking phone.
If Hypnos is leaving, what’s going to happen to everyone who’s asleep?
Wasn’t it kind of important that Sleep itself was on this side of the Pit? The House of Night was in Tartarus. Much like how the River Styx was the border between the land of the living and the dead, the Pit was a border too.
Between us and Chaos.
It was the kind of place you throw things into when you really don’t want them coming back out. Like the pieces of a certain Titan Lord.
I fucked that up, but you know what I mean.
Thanatos quirked an eyebrow. “The Crossroads will call to whomever it will, but the Oneroi and Somnia have been called home.”
The Oneroi and Somnia were the spirits and gods of Dreams. That meant Morpheus wasn’t guarding the entrance to the Dreamlands either.
But people still have to sleep. They can still sleep, right?
Hypnos sent me an affirmative, but it was edged with worry.
“Mother does not make idle commands, so no, you cannot stay.” Thanatos gently chided his twin. “They will sleep as they did in the times of antiquity,” he clarified.
You mean getting lost in the Night, I said bluntly.
“It will not be the first time,” Thanatos said. “Nor will it be the last.”
But that’s -
“ - of no consequence.” The God of Death said just as I remembered who I was talking to. Yeah, I guess he wouldn’t think a few cases of sudden death because people wandered too far and got their Sleeping soul fucking eaten wasn’t that big of a deal.
Thanatos gestured and Hypnos reluctantly put me down.
I could immediately feel the difference as my soul drifted, like a planet slowly rotating around a gravity well that had just disappeared.
I bit my lip.
Thanatos didn’t offer to help me, but then, I didn’t ask either. For the first time in my life, Hypnos was the one telling me goodbye. I waved after them, until I couldn’t see them anymore.
Then I was alone among millions and millions of the faint lights of sleeping mortal souls, slowly drifting away. I hoped they had a head start in staying put, but there was nothing I could do for them. I felt so very small again. Insignificant.
Mortal.
It felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane.
I shivered.
I thought of my apartment in the Dreamlands and willed myself there.
I, look, it’s been a while since I haven’t had Morpheus correct my trajectory, so I was a little off.
And, uh, I didn’t exactly stick the landing.
I’ll be honest.
I fucked everything up.
When I say something like ‘I fell into the Dreamlands,’ I don’t mean ‘I fell from the sky of the Dreamlands.’
That would be super counterproductive.
There was something about the sensation of falling that really didn’t play nice with Dreaming. Some half-forgotten survival instinct left over from the days when sleeping meant wandering the Night. Back then, if you ever felt yourself falling down while sleeping, you better wake the fuck up.
There really wasn’t anything you could do about wandering too far, but at least that was usually painless.
Falling into the Pit wasn’t.
Evolution was funny like that, right? It was crude, but effective as far as failsafes go. Hypnos was awesome and tried his best to keep everyone safe, but I know not even gods are perfect.
When I say ‘I fell into the Dreamlands,’ I mean I fell from the outside in. And in the Dreamlands, shit only makes logical sense when it feels like it. You can ‘fall’ in sideways, diagonally, backwards and Sam told me about this one time he fell in five minutes ago. Time isn’t constant in the Dreamlands either. He met himself five minutes later and things got weird.
If you are like me who remembered half-way through that I had no idea where my apartment actually was, Morpheus wasn’t there to be my GPS and promptly panicked like a blockhead, then you can fall in from the bottom up.
Of the ocean.
For the second time today, I found myself drowning.
My first reaction was to panic harder.
Don’t do that.
If you do that, you’re a moron.
The Dreamlands is the last place in the universe where you want to be feeling really strong, negative emotions like hatred or fear.
It starts messing with you. Getting into your head.
For that one second, I was back off shore of that cold beach right after Rhea intervened again. I could feel Artemis’ broken bones grind under her fur as she was shocked awake. I could feel Luke’s weight pulling me down into the dark depths. The cold saltwater burned as it invaded my nose and my lungs. And somehow, through it all, I could still feel Luke’s blood on my face.
A Dream doesn’t have to make logical sense.
Dreamlands, remember? I reminded myself. It was still hard, even when I knew. We made it. We’re safe.
I was a sleeping mortal soul in the Dreamlands.
I don’t need to breathe.
The burn in my chest faded away as I gulped down saltwater, trying to ignore the iron tinge.
I thought of Artemis, how the little auburn furball slept on her back with her paws in the air and mouth open in her wicker basket.
Not here.
The thrashing form in my hands vanished.
I thought of Luke, unconscious on the back of a lion as it padded past me, but breathing. He was just sleeping in his own guest room and Apollo had snuck him a bit of help. He was fine.
Not here.
I stopped sinking. The weight of his arms slipped off my shoulders and I still reflexively turned towards it, reaching out ( no, no, no Luke!) to stop him from falling away.
There was nothing there.
I was alone, floating in the midst of pitch black waters. The water itself felt ridiculously heavy, like it was fighting every move I made and I was wearing weights. Good thing I was a soul. If my body was here, it would be crushed to a pulp.
I had no way of knowing how to get to the surface or even which direction was up. I wish it was as simple as just willing myself out of here, somehow, but it didn’t work like that. Not from inside the Dreamlands.
Sam would tell you that it wouldn’t work, because it wouldn’t work. He’s not dumb, but he’s a cat. He likes to keep things simple. One of Sam’s friends, Wilhelm, would say the Dreamlands was a reality that operated on its own set of rules and physics, like bizarro gravity. You could try something clever, like make a teleporter, but logic had mixed results here because the rules weren’t the same as reality.
They just pretended to be.
Your teleporter might not work. You might blow up. It might work, but what comes out the other side isn’t you. It will look like you for a few minutes and it would sound like you, but everyone could tell something was wrong. It was just some squiggly thing that had hollowed him out in transit and was wearing him like a meatsuit, trying to convince us it was safe to try out too -
Anyway.
Potato - remember him? Dog that used to be in charge of a mining town in the valley of the mountain range down south until everything went wrong.
Potato told me the Dreamlands were alive.
I believe him. I didn’t want to think about what was lurking in its oceans.
I should think about it.
Not thinking about it was a good way to get eaten by whatever was lurking in this ocean.
Getting my sword back was probably a good idea.
I thought of Damocles.
Damocles was a beautiful bone sword. I thought of the way light reflected off the leaf shaped blade polished to an ivory shine. I thought of the silver-gold rippled edge of exposed marrow, the curved bronze cross guard and pommel with the horse hair dangling from the end of the long leather grip.
A twelve year old with a sword, you might be thinking. Against a sea monster while in the sea.
Sounds legit.
Don’t count me out just yet. Damocles has a few tricks up its scabbard. It’s the rule of ‘like to like.’ If you want to kill or destroy something, use something just like it.
My sword was made from bone.
Mom made it from the rib of an ancient sea monster, the Coinchenn. The same one that had killed the sea monster Cu Chulainn’s dad, Lugh made his spear from. She didn’t name it. I did. I don’t think she liked my choice, but it was mine to make. Everyone remembers the sword. I named it after the man.
Damocles was my reminder not to want what I didn’t have.
I had to be okay with being mortal.
With being just a demigod.
My sword settled in my hand.
It was glowing softly, lighting up the darkness around me. It did that sometimes and I could hear it sing, distorted as it was in the water which was, uh, new.
No, wait.
It sung when we met Aura, didn’t it?
“Yeah,” I burbled at it. I picked a piece of plastic off of its cross guard and brushed a bit of gravel and dead grass from the leather braids of its hilt. A congealed drop of luminescent gold blood, Aura’s blood, peeled off the edge of the blade and floated away. “Missed you too?”
Damocles chimed.
You know what? I’m just going to roll with this.
This was probably Mom’s fault.
“You wouldn’t happen to know which way to the surface would you?”
It pulled at my arm.
“Gotcha.”
I started swimming in that direction.
It took a bit to really get going, but only because I realized I was a moron after a minute, and made a little motorized scooter like you use for scuba diving to help me out.
It blew up, because I forgot about the water pressure.
You ever do something and it doesn't work and you just automatically try it again like this time it will work even if nothing changes, but you don’t actually think that it will work. You just do it again because you’re braindead. And it doesn’t really register that it didn’t work until it fails a second time?
It’s not just me that does that. I refuse to believe that.
My second scooter blew up too.
My third scooter was a thick, bulky boy with armor and was more like an underwater jetski. I hooked Damocles on its side and got on my way.
It felt weird for a bit. This wasn’t fun and games in the sun off the coast, but deep in a watery abyss. I could only see by the glo-stick impression my sword was doing and a small red LED on my scooter so I could locate it. It was cold down here.
It was actually kind of nice. It shouldn’t be, but it was. I can’t explain it.
I loved being in the water. Always have.
I started being able to see fish, mostly from the small glints of light from Damocles flashing off red skin and glowing bioluminescence. I got a little curious friend. He was long and thin, but almost completely see through with glowing blue spots along his spine and a face that looked like it’d been smashed into a door a few times. He had one bulbous eye that looked like it was covered in cataracts.
I think he was wondering about Damocles.
“Hey buddy.”
He darted away and I felt a bit bad for scaring him off.
“Wait a second, don’t go, it’s okay.” He hovered just out of reach. “I won’t eat you.”
He darted right back. This time, he was inspecting the red LED light in front of me by bumping into it. He must have liked what he saw, because his face split open vertically, spilling dozens of thin probling tendrils. Maybe he was trying to eat it.
“Trust me, you are way too ugly for sushi.”
He was unable to eat my light and the tendrils retracted. He bobbed along, investigating my sword again.
My new friend is now named Swimothy.
“Race ya!”
I imagined my scooter going faster, but it was really hard seeing how fast I was going in the first place when everything was just water and darkness. So I just ended up using the fish as a benchmark and soon pulled ahead of him.
I like to think he was a bit surprised by the way he bobbed a bit, before he caught up.
“That’s more like it.” I smiled. I cautiously held out a hand, feeling it stream through the water.
He just as tentatively bumped it. “See? I’m not scary.”
Swimothy the Fish abruptly turned tail and dimmed his lights, vanishing into the darkness.
“Good talk.”
Guess he didn’t agree with me.
It only took me a few seconds to notice that I wasn’t seeing any other fish around any more.
Fuck.
Damocles immediately stopped its glo-stick impression which was probably a good idea that I didn’t like at all, because the waters were still pitch black. I smothered the red LED with my hand.
I couldn’t see anything.
The small bubbles and tiny murmur coming from my scooter suddenly felt dangerous . I could almost feel the hairs on the back of my body’s neck stand up, like I was giving myself away to something searching these waters for prey. I swallowed down the bubble of fear and panic threatening to well up in my chest.
I was still a demigod of Fate and divinity was soul-deep.
Even here, I could feel doom approaching.
By the light of my scooter’s LED, I picked up my sword. I briefly thought about making a lot of lights, so that I could at least see what was coming, but I...kind of really didn’t want to see what was coming. I had Damocles, but only an idiot or the kid of a sea god would look forward to fighting underwater.
My sword was a last resort.
I was Dreaming, after all.
I willed a brand new Dream construct into existence around me.
I forgot about the water pressure.
My everything exploded into pain as I fell, like I was an expanding balloon trapped in a tightening vice. My joints felt like they were separating as my ears rang and just to add insult to injury, I slammed into a railing stomach first. I almost threw up as I slipped off down to a cold, hard metal floor. Screaming alarms and the screech of bending metal assaulted my eardrums along with what sounded a lot like high pressure streams of water forcing rivets out of place. I painfully coughed up saltwater.
“Ah, fuck,” I coughed. I shook the water off and willed my soul dry.
Good thing Damocles had twisted in my hand just enough so I didn’t cut myself on it or else that would have been embarrassing.
I stood up and had to cling to the railing that sucker punched me through a dizzy spell.
“I’m okay,” I muttered. I hooked the sword back on the necklace I just expected to be on my neck, and it shrunk down to the little silver sword pendant.
“It’s fine! ” I yelled. I hiked up the metal stairs, hand on the railing my stomach had just gotten acquainted with. Don’t implode, don’t implode, water pressure is fine, I made a highly advanced technological achievement that can brave the ocean depths and it’s not going to implode.
I froze when I hit the top of the steps, because, uh, I had the vague thought of making a submarine? My subconscious was weird, apparently. Maybe it was reacting to my fear? I trailed a cautious hand across the large copper colored cylinders of what I knew to be missile tubes. Everywhere I looked, there were heavy duty lights stolen from a Cold War bunker and signs written in Cyrillic giving me a headache and levers and ladders and hatches leading off into other areas of the submarine.
I expected a deep sea exploration module instead of the Red October. I saw one of those in the Smithsonian in Florida with my grandparents - the exploration vehicle, not Tom Clancy’s Russian military submarine from Dad’s favorite movie.
Sure, sea monster bad, but come on, brain.
I don’t need a nuke.
I hope.
Who knows what a nuclear detonation would do in the Dreamlands?
I backed away from the missile tubes.
Alright.
So...
The Red October.
I can work with this.
Rise? I thought.
Go up.
Fast.
Please?
Nothing happened.
I’ve told you before, logic doesn’t really work the way you think it does in the Dreamlands. Turns out ‘I made the thing, so I control the thing’ is too much logic sometimes, because your subconscious has more of a say than it should. Like when I tried to get rid of those baby pictures on the wall of my apartment so fucking Kronos wasn’t going to get an eyeful of baby me wearing pants on my head, and I couldn’t because my brain said no.
If I made the Red October...well, it was from a movie and movies...have actors maybe?
On cue, one of the closed hatches banged open behind me, making me jump as a dark haired man in uniform stepped in. As soon as he saw me, he jumped too, hand flying to his hip and I threw my hands up before I got shot.
“I didn’t touch anything!”
He huffed, relaxing. “There you are, boy.”
I heard English with a heavy Russian accent, but his mouth didn’t fit the words like an obvious dub.
“Uh, yeah. Here I am.” I checked myself over.
Human looking, just a bit hazy like my clothes were steaming hot.
Normal enough.
He strode past me to a lever on the wall that he pulled, and the hissing of gas and water faded. I tried to search for the leaks I could have sworn were just here a second ago…?
The crewman snatched a wired radio off the wall. “Missile chamber, contained. Found the VIP.”
The intercom crackled. “Understood, report to command.”
I cautiously lowered my hands. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was apologizing for.
“Come then,” he said as he looked around like he was making sure I didn’t actually touch anything. I didn’t speak Russian, but there was this auto-translation thing the Dreamlands does. Sometimes. “The captain wants you in the control room.”
“Sure, okay.”
We trekked through narrow passages filled with pipes and lockboxes with bright red letters. He opened the hatches for me and the further we got, the more people I saw in dark uniforms, going about their business. I stumbled around a ladder into what looked like the control room, because it was a big space with people sitting in chairs in front of computer screens with headphones on, or looking at clipboards or thick manuals looking a lot like the bridge of a spaceship made in the 80s. There were a few pillars with peppermint colored bars to hold on to here for the standing plebs and there was even a partially enclosed compartment with command chairs within in the center. My mouth was hanging open when Sean Connery turned around with his golden bands glinting in the harsh white light.
“He didn’t get very far, did he?” The actor said with his iconic drawl somehow sounding the same in Russian.
“No, sir,” my guide said curtly, saluting.
“Hm.”
This was fucking Sean Connery.
I shut my mouth, knowing I looked like an idiot. I bit my lip.
I had no idea what to say.
Did my subconscious make me a prisoner? Someone’s bratty nephew they took on deployment for some reason?
Asking would be a little awkward.
“Sorry, sir.” When in doubt, don’t piss anyone off. I don’t always follow my own advice, but that’s just because I’m stupid.
Connery smirked. “We will see how long that apology is good for. Keep an eye on him.”
“Yes, sir.”
I was shuffled into a seat in the corner of the control room. My minder leaned against one of the rails nailed to the floor, pinning me with a gimlet stare. I smiled at him weakly.
“I won’t go anywhere.”
“You won’t,” he agreed.
Okay then.
I kicked my feet back and forth. There were a few low murmurs of conversation between crew members and a familiar face - I had no idea what his name was, but he was in Jurassic Park - who was probably the second in command as Captain Connery observed. There were enough flashing lights and moving green lines on enough screens to keep my attention occupied for a bit, but, uh…
I think my Dream was literally holding me hostage at the bottom of the ocean.
Which was not great.
It’s not like you can’t wake up from the Dreamlands, you just have to be careful about it. Because ‘you wake up from a Dream when you die’ is a decree the Dream spirits follow because Hypnos likes mortals. If you want to play with the mortals in his realm, you follow the rules of the game.
Hypnos doesn’t rule here.
If I did something dumb and someone pulled a gun on me, I was not going to have a good time. And even if I did wake up, Hypnos was gone.
I would be alone in the Night.
I opened my mouth just to say something when there was a shout.
“Captain, picking up something on the hydrophone - “ a loud rumble reverberated through the hull of my Dream submarine, rattling the teeth in my mouth.
“Drive status,” Connery barked as he crossed the room and the crew men sprung into action. “What are we hearing and where is it?”
So something was out there.
“We’ve had movement on the passive sonar, but it’s not another ship - “
“It doesn’t match any known signatures, sir.”
“Caterpillar drive status is green, all functions normal.”
“Replay that recording,” Captain Connery pointed at a section of the computer screen from over the man’s shoulder. I don’t even know what the screens were showing, they were full of bending green lines, updating from the top down like a slow, pixelated waterfall. “Put it on the speakers.”
The crewman nodded, pushing some papers away from his keyboard. There was a crackle as the speakers turned on.
Then there were some loud whooshing sounds of something swimming through water, but weird. Chaotic, almost. Like we were hearing a lot of things moving in different directions, but still somehow close together?
...tentacles?
The whooshing turned and then we heard what that vibration sounded like through the hydrophones.
It sounded like a whale call, if the whale came from this little suburb a bit north of the absolute bottom of Tartarus.
It was this tortured, screeching moan that sounded like something was dying, but it was the underlying clicking vibration that made my skin crawl as the sound got louder before dying off.
“That is not a whale, is it?” Sean Connery deadpanned.
“It’s big,” the crewman said quietly.
I didn’t like the sound of that.
We were in a submarine.
The Captain stroked his beard thoughtfully. “But not a vessel. Perhaps we are in its territory and our stealth capabilities spooked it.” He thought for a few moments longer. “Stay our course, rise to twelve hundred.”
“Staying course,” the - was it helmsman or pilot? - repeated as he pulled on the small black steering wheel. “Rising to twelve hundred.”
I watched the guy listening to the hydrophones frown, leaning forward as he raised a hand to his headphones. A tension crept up my spine to the back of my neck.
Fuck .
I jumped up from my seat and shrugged off the heavy hand that came down on my shoulder, “It’s hostile!”
Heads snapped towards me.
Sean Connery held up a hand warningly. “Sit down - “
“Captain - !“
It felt like a Boeing 747 crashed into us.
I grunted as I was slammed off my feet into the console next to me and my right arm screamed as it bent around the folded metal edge. The alarms were blaring again and everyone was shouting as the submarine itself felt like it was rolling onto its right side.
“Right full rudder, reverse starboard engine!” The Captain snapped out. His XO repeated the command as the submarine screamed, vents hissing vapor above our heads as red lights lit up on consoles and my arm throbbed unhappily.
“Are you injured?” My minder said under his breath as he clung to the rail bolted to the ground.
I gritted my teeth. “Not really.”
“Where is it?” Connery barked when the rumbling stopped.
One of the crewmembers snapped his head up. “It’s fast, sir, we have sustained damage to the arrays portside - “
“Find it!”
Under my feet, a high pitched ping rang out and then there was a cheep! A quieter, more consistent trilling continued long after the ping before finally tapering off.
The control room went quiet. Everyone had their ears peeled.
Piiiiiing….cheep!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a change on one of the screens. It was a classic sonar panel, like it was right out of a game of Battleship.
There was a very large dot right at the edge of its range.
Piiiing...cheep!
“Captain!”
“I see it,” Sean Connery said with a calm I didn’t feel. “Speed?”
Someone swore.
“Twenty knots, accelerating.”
“Starboard the helm, ready torpedoes.” The Captain leaned forward, brows furrowed as he stared like he could see through the hull of the submarine. “Prepare for evasive maneuvers.”
Don’t be afraid, I told myself. I ground my fingers into my hurt arm, just to chase away the numbness in my toes. Deep breaths. Calm. It was far too easy to fall into an emotional feedback loop here. The Dreamlands was the last place I wanted to lose my mind in. It will start messing with me. Getting into my head. Don’t freeze. Don’t panic. Don’t be afraid.
Piiiiing….cheep!
Don’t be afraid.
Or I’ll end up creating my own nightmares.
Piiiing...cheep!
….
....
Like my mother.
I know what you’re thinking.
He has nightmares of his mother?
Sometimes.
And maybe that sounds bad. Morpheus’ brother Phobetor, the Frightener, wouldn’t have anything to work with if you weren’t scared of anything. Or anyone. And he taught his sprogs all of his tricks.
I get where you’re coming from.
Kids aren’t supposed to be scared of their parents.
But you gotta remember, I’m only half- human. The rules are different. We aren’t the same.
I don’t really Dream like most people. The minor dream spirits don’t really…Hypnos, their boss (father - grandfather - great aunt’s first cousin, whatever) was probably my next best friend right after Cliff and Sam. If you were a dream spirit, ensnaring me was kind of like playing a prank on the President’s nephew while in the White House.
Awkward.
And don’t quote me on this, but I think my familiarity with the Dreamlands was also a bit intimidating? There was nothing they could do that wasn’t a pale reflection.
And I could tell.
I would take those pale reflections over the Dreamlands when it got its hooks in, though.
A dream is still a dream, no matter the power behind it.
Nightmares all work the same way.
It starts with being afraid.
Mom doesn’t want to hurt me. I know it, Dad knows it, anyone who’s interacted with her for a minute probably knows. Sam will admit it if you dangle tuna under his nose long enough.
What she wants doesn’t mean much when she can’t help it.
And nobody’s perfect.
My mother is Fate. It takes a bit to sink in what that means and it kind of still gets me. I thought I had a handle on it and then I’m blindsided with the fact that Chaos is my grandfather. It’s an open question how much that dude contributed to the making of the entire universe.
He’s my grandpappy.
Think about that for a minute.
Mom is so far above me and my Dad that if she didn’t ground herself by clinging to us with everything she had, her sense of Time meant she’d blink and hopefully we’d only been dead for a few centuries.
To put it another way, the Fates tried to get Mom to abort me once. And by that, I mean they tried to get Mom - to get Ananke, the personification of Fate to reconsider her demigod child. To have a moment of doubt. They just needed her to entertain the thought for a fraction of a second.
I’m mortal.
All it would have taken was a thought.
Really puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?
It still overwhelms Apollo sometimes that Dad went the extra mile and actually asked her to marry him (he gets super smug about it every time Apollo brings it up too).
Mom never has to say she loves us, because we know.
Mom doesn’t want to hurt me.
But I know the difference between ‘want to’ and ‘could’ from ‘would.’
She wasn’t as careful with me as she should have been earlier. It’s okay. It’s only her third, maybe fourth, slip in twelve years. That’s a pretty good track record if you ask me, but it also means I can’t lie to myself and say it won’t happen again.
It was easy to remember when I was awake, when my logical mind was in control with everything I knew to be true, that we were a family. We all fucked up at one time or another and we would fuck up again, but the important part was that we forgive each other and never stop doing our best. My mother loved me.
In my nightmares, she doesn't.
I don’t have the power to summon my mother. The best I could get would be whatever my subconscious fears brought to life and it wouldn’t be worth it. Not if I wanted to live through this. Logically speaking, I should have nothing to worry about but she’s angry
Dreams don’t have to make logical sense.
And dreams are what have the power here.
Piiing….cheep!
You could cut the tension with a sword as the pings of the sonar got closer and closer together. All of the servicemen were still and silent, eyes glued to their screens and dashboards covered in knobs, levers and dials with LED lights. Some seemed to look through their stations with a gaze that was a little off to the side as they waited, tensing and relaxing to the rhythm of their own breathing with their hands at ready.
I just tried to keep my inner four-year-old screaming for his mother quiet.
The First Mate was eyeing the Captain out of the corner of his eye. Connery was hunched over in his chair, murmuring under his breath.
Piing -
“FIRE!” The Captain snapped out.
-cheep!
I expected to hear or feel something that would tell me the torpedo was away, but there was just a beat of silence and then an almost bored sounding report from one of the men.
“Torpedo away.”
Another checked his computer. “Target lock established. Three hundred meters.”
My Russian babysitter hissed under his breath. “Will one be enough?”
Yeah…
Probably not.
The submarine pinged in agreement.
“If we were to - hypothetically - if we wanted to nuke it, how hard - ” The officer gave me this look and the rest of the question died on my tongue.
It wasn’t a dumb question, was it?
I thought it through.
Nuclear ballistic missiles - okay, so maybe they weren’t known for precision exactly and trying to tag a sea monster with one while playing keep away sounded…
Yeah, okay.
A hypothetically bad idea.
So.
“Fingers crossed?” I offered weakly.
Piing…cheep!
Push comes to shove, just fire all the torpedoes. Every single one. Which was another way of saying fire an infinite number of torpedoes because I sure as hell didn’t know how many missiles a tub like this usually carried. As long as submarines fire torpedoes held strong in my subconscious, nothing else mattered.
You know what?
Fuck it.
I elbowed my minder with my good arm. “Tell the Captain to fire all the torpedoes.”
My babysitter opened his mouth just in time for Captain Sean Connery to jump to his feet, hand flying to the peppermint railing above his head.
“Caterpillar drive full reverse, up bubble sixty degrees!”
His First Mate repeated the command as the room spun into action, different voices calling out broken fragments of the captain’s command and the deck under my feet had just begun to feel like it was tipping back when the shockwave hit.
I was thrown clear off my feet, right into my USSR chaperone who ‘oofed’ as I collided with his ribcage, nearly tumbling both of us right over the railing behind him. My arm screamed - definitely fractured - and I braced my spine and threw back my shoulders so that I didn’t curl into myself in pain.
I was Dreaming. If I ignored it for long enough, I would forget I was injured and then I wouldn’t be injured anymore.
“Tell me that was a hit!” Connery growled as he straightened, sounding like he was garbling small marbles.
“It was a hit,” someone said immediately, eyes glued to their computer screen. “But we just barely avoided being rammed - “
“It’s still moving!” His neighbor barked. “It’s coming around for another pass.”
Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.
Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.
D̴͕̚o̴̝͎̒́n̷̢̾'̴̢̜̃͋ť̸̪̬ ̷̳̫͐b̵̨́̕e̸̼̓ ̵̺̃ȁ̴̩̍f̶̠̉ŕ̵͇a̵̬̖͠ï̸̚ͅd̷͙͋̈
I was …starting to regret not springing for that sleepover with my cousins at the House of Night. Which was really saying something, because that meant surviving a walk through Tartarus, not letting Nyx’s domain drive me mad and worst of all, hanging out with Ethan’s bitch of a mother.
Russian orders were flying over my head as I tried to think of something else, anything else, than how I felt like a sardine in a floating tin can.
With a hungry shark prowling outside.
“Can’t we just leave?” I asked. It came out weak amidst all the shouting, but my babysitter heard me.
He steadied himself, gripping the rail with white knuckles. He gestured with his head, towards where one of the crew poured over large white sheets of paper decorated with waving, curling lines of different colors.
“We’re trying.”
“Just head for the surface - can’t we just go up?” I was trying really hard not to sound like a whiny, terrified kid but…
I was a whiny, terrified kid.
I can admit that.
A muscle in my minder’s jaw jumped. “We would die.”
“What?”
His lips thinned. “We took refuge in a submarine volcanic chamber - “
We’re in a cave.
My mind went blank for a second.
Then I thought of what would have happened if I had control over the Red October from the beginning and ignorantly made it rocket up as fast as it could go until it crunched against the cave ceiling -
The submarine shuddered, high pitched metal squealing burst from the walls as steam hissed from valves and the men started shouting louder.
I need to -
I’m going to die here.
I lurched forward, ducking under the babysitter’s grab and bolted for the hatch out of the control room. I heard several people cry out behind me
“Boy!”
Metal walls, pipes and ladders passed by as I scrambled for - I don’t know. I needed to think and come up with some kind of plan. Trying to make my way through underwater caverns in pitch darkness was a non-starter. Lights might as well be a sign that says ‘Good with ketchup’ and it would be stupid to think my current problem was the only monster in these waters. But…if I could get into a narrow enough area it wouldn’t be able to follow me…and if my next problem was smaller I could probably try to fight it with Damocles. Or maybe, I don’t want to tag the sea monster with a missile, I want to get as close to the seafloor as I can fire and fire a nuke up to the cave ceiling and hope it breaks through -
The hatch behind me banged open.
I glanced over my shoulder and rolled my eyes when I saw that my babysitter had followed me into the guts of the submarine. Orange Cold War bunker lights were flashing off and on and I was pretty sure the sub was taking on water somewhere if the alarms meant anything.
I could fix it. I will fix it.
But fixing it won’t solve everything.
“Do you mind?” I said waspishly. “It’s not like I can leave.”
“Have you considered punching it,” the Russian said from behind me.
“Have you considered - “ I started, turning back to him and he was looking at me when something took him over and I couldn’t breathe. “ - fucking…off.”
There were shimmering hues backlit by stars in his eyes.
I couldn’t say anything for a good fifteen seconds as I just stared at whatever was wearing my Russian babysitter’s skin. I think I even swayed in place, suddenly dizzy.
His eyes looked like mine.
Like Mom’s.
“...who?”
That’s what I intended to say. I don’t know if it even came out of my mouth.
“Guess,” the god said as he ran his hand through dark hair that looked less like hair now and more like liquid shadows. He raised an eyebrow at me with the same crooked, trouble-maker smile I’ve seen on a goddess with grinding teeth for eyes before. “I’ve been told you’re good at that.”
“Erebus?” I whispered.
Piiing…cheep!
His head spun a full 360 degrees on his shoulders like some kind of spastic owl before his human guise fell apart.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to say it imploded.
His arms and legs were sucked into his crumpling torso as the navy blues of his uniform darkened until it looked like it was eating light, making my eyes drift as it became impossible to focus on the black hole that was my brother. He was - I thought he was a perfect sphere, but then my gaze wandered just a bit further and I saw there were reaching tendrils spotted with blue eyes burning like neutron stars radiating from his dizzying center. His limbs didn’t look like they were in one piece, but were interrupted by empty space in between like they were stitches in reality and I could only see the parts that were on my side of the divide.
I could feel those parts though. He wasn’t all here. The rest of him was…
Big.
“Woah,” I said, awed. Sure, Mom made sure I looked like Dad and she always said he was handsome, but honestly? “I want to look like you when I grow up.”
I’m pretty sure my god brother laughed, even if the sound hit my ears backwards and dripped down the inside of my skull like oil.
If I didn’t already know I was Dreaming, I would have pinched myself.
My brother!
My brother was here!
One of my immortal siblings was here!
HeLlo , Erebus said and his staticky voice pooled behind my eyes. Lii-ii-ii-tle BroTHER!
“Hey, man.” I said with just the biggest grin ever, almost splitting my face in two. I checked my face to make sure it wasn’t actually splitting in two. You never know. “What are you doing here? “ I forced myself to take a breath before I ended up babbling or giggling. “Did you just want to check up on me?”
The Red October’s active sonar ping rang out and then echoed back a few seconds later.
Erebus hummed and it ended in a screeching note of electronic sounding feedback.
It’s time to come in, you guys, he said with the voice of a tired young woman. It’s getting dark out - the voice hitched and changed to an old man with a Texan twang - out here in the countryside, away from the city lights, you can really see the stars, just small - a crackle and his voice changed again to something muffled over a bad quality radio signal. Small step for man, one…giant leap for mankind.
It took me a few seconds to puzzle that one out.
“Oh,” I said. My smile shrunk. He’s not like Mom. “Uh, in my defense, I thought it was an open door policy kind of thing - “
The slick in my skull sprouted teeth.
I flinched (he’s not grading me, he’s not Mom, it’s okay ) and reflexively threw the memory of Thanatos’ casual invitation to the House of Night forward and out.
The teeth chewed on the memory.
Then Erebus sighed, sounding like a frumpy old woman. Oh, that boy!
He buzzed, undulating in space like bubbles of ink on water sinking beneath out of sight and then resurfacing, before he hit me with an incomprehensible feeling that felt tight and cold and grated and was maybe something like ‘annoyed,’ but I wasn’t really sure? I think I understand what happened now though. Erebus wanted me to come to the House of Night. But he either didn't tell Thanatos that or just forgot about how dangerous it was for mortals, so I got the lame 'come if you want, or don't' spiel instead of the offer of protection it was supposed to be.
My older brother thought I was shitting all over the laws of hospitality and came to find out 'what the fuck, I know Mom taught you better than that!'
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said with a weak smile. ‘I didn’t know.”
He’s not like Mom.
He can pretend for a while and communicate, but I don’t think he really understands.
Mom had always been pretty strict about introducing me to any of my ‘cousins.’ No matter how much I complained about humans, the answer was usually no. I thought they’d be just like Hypnos.
‘When you are older,’ she’d say. ‘And less fragile.’
I didn’t learn what demigod really meant until she left us on my seventh birthday. It’s a bit like being the one finally realizing what the word ‘bastard’ meant and why you kept hearing people say it around you. Except worse.
I’m half-human. Erebus is my half -brother. I can die.
He probably doesn’t know what that means.
I don’t know if he’s even capable of learning what that means.
“I didn’t - “ The submarine’s sonar pinged, reminding me I was somewhere I’d really rather not be. “You know, actually - “
It only took a second to echo back and that was all the warning I got.
I was thrown off my feet for the second time tonight as the submarine lurched. I twisted just enough to bring up my arm to save my head and couldn’t help the pained gasp as my arm snapped completely on the valve.
Ow.
Better my arm than my head.
The alarms were ripping through my eyes, lights flickering on and off as water poured in. I watched the walls of the Red October buckle inwards like it had been caught in a vice that was slowly squeezing.
iT HunGErs, my brother mused, idly spinning as his own gravity well as the cold, salt water sloshed around my ankles. The Cold War lights flashed brilliant and orange one last time before they all winked out in a hiss of smoke and white sparks that red shifted as they streamed towards him. IT SlePT, it WOke aNd sTIll DReaMS. thrEAt. WhERe iS it? WHERE IS IT?
“Erebus,” I wheezed, squinting into the dark. “Help me?”
Growing boys need their nutrition, he said in a patronizing, thin and reedy voice. If they want to grow big and strong.
“Uh, that’s nice, but I’m the one on the menu!” The steel of the submarine was groaning, creaking and squealing with the staccato pops of breaking rivets. The hallway was becoming uncomfortably narrow. “Look, get me out of this and I - I’ll owe you one and - “
Erebus shushed me with a slimy feeling that burned my lips and tongue.
Mother gave you too much and too little, he whispered as a small child with an echoing dark undertone lagging just a second behind that slithered into my left ear. (Too much, too little)
Beginning and end.
(Begin, end)
Success and failure both.
(Succeed. Fail)
Do not be afraid.
(Be very afraid.)
He was big.
In the crushed hallway of a Typhoon class Russian submarine with maybe half a foot of room to spare, I stood underneath the stare of a burning gas giant. I could feel him thinking. The weight of his concentration made bubbles in the Dreamlands, feeling a lot like pebbles and grit blown by a strong wind against my skin.
You are a slow learner, little brother, Erebus said, sounding just like he had at the start when he was teasing me with a crooked smile and human face. But THEY are not watching. I will loosen your shackles this time.
I had a flash of memory of my first night at Camp and the Oracle of Delphi screaming into my face.
'Hear me, son of the Ruiner! Loosen the shackles and relinquish control!'
“Erebus?” I asked, trying to keep myself from trembling as the giant burned.
I’ve got no strings to hold me down, he sang, warbling. To make me fret, to make me frown.
Something touched my forehead.
It felt like my brain flipped upside down and then scattered, leaving a mote of consciousness dangling in an infinite expanse studded with wailing stars.
Next time, my brother hummed. Remember you hold the key.
I felt my Dream construct break apart like an older sibling casually smashing their younger brother’s sand castle and the dark, cold waters rushed in. I choked - trying to remember - I am a soul in the Dreamlands, I don’t need to breathe - but it was cold or was I on fire? It was hard to think, as if my neurons were stretched between those screaming stars in my head, flickers of light traveling back and forth as I opened hundreds of my burning green eyes and my back shivered as it struggled to open against the surge of water pressing in -
Going, Erebus said softly as I opened my mouth - but I don’t have a mouth - and ( divinity is soul deep). Going, he repeated, quieter. Going, going, going…
Gone, I thought in a burst of light.
