'The beginning of creation.

According to history, humans came from the joined essence of the earth and grew from the domains of those who represented the many aspects of the world. The Gods and Goddesses, whether they be the leaders of the sky, of the water, or of the forest, had turned their divine characteristics into one and created a realm much like their own. The responsiblity of this new formation was shared amongst them, and they all equally cared for the earth and it's developing inhabitants.

Their loving treatment was unmatchable. And, the frequent compulsions to fix what was wrong within their designed realm ached painfully in each and every one of their hearts. However, the originals were not familiar with such feelings that had created separations between their mortals. Xenophobia. Sexism. Homophobia. Racism. The list could go on. Unfortunately, they were unable to control the human's choices. They knew ecosystems. And, they worked hard to keep the oceans moving, to keep the grass growing, and to keep the sun shining. Soon, more major and minor deities would appear, and so did their abilities. They grew as humans did, slowly but surely.

For a long while, the world of the divine revolved around the realm of mortals. The once rested and unbothered were now parents in every sense of the word. But, it became easier as time went on, as more roles were filled, as helpers began to emerge, as earth evolved, and as humans started to become more independent, then it was no longer seen as a hard, drawn-out task. It turned into an undeniable blessing, and many began to feel as though it was time to make a change.

And so, the greatly debated decision of welcoming new beings into the mixture was approved. It started with the witches, created by Hekate, and were overflowing with arcana ever since they were granted the gift of life. Then, it was Dalnim's turn to bring the realm something different. And, the Goddess of the Moon is not one to disappoint. The Goddess moulded the bones of a wolf with the soul of a human, and thus successfully produced a being that was half-human and half-wolf. Werewolves. Gods and Goddesses praised them, claimed that they were not only protectors of the land but of the humans, as well.

However, with almost everything, there were regulations to follow. One of the most respected orders to obey was that at least ten centuries must be peacefully passed after a new creation is added, and that when the moment comes, the major deities must agree on what they are and who they will worship as their creator. The werewolves were only walkers of the earth for a mere five centuries when the greatest betrayal of the realm's history was committed.

All too soon, the rule had been broken. And, Áine was going to pay for it in inconsolable guilt and regret for the rest of her immortal life. She had knowingly executed a plan that was forbidden. This was a mystery to most. There was barely any understanding. The same questions were occupying the minds of everyone. 'Why did she do such a thing? What could have possibly possessed her to do that? Could she not have waited? You do not think that she was trying to beat her sister, do you?'. The truth of the matter was fairly simple, and it became abundantly clear far too quickly. The rumours ceased as soon as the answers were spilled. Jealously had erupted in her chest, and the power of envy cradled the Goddess of the Sun until she could no longer take the idea of not having beings to call her own. Centuries of planning. Centuries of asking. Centuries of begging. Centuries of wishing. Centuries of hoping. She had waited, and tried, and waited, and tried. Her attempts all written down as failures. Until, it wasn't. Until, her creation had finally breathed air.

Until, her creation withered away at her burning touch.

The end of creation.'

My fingers had traced the letters, and my lips wrapped around the words until they formed sentences, ones of detail and significance. My mind capturing and processing the contents of the book that Morph had placed gently in front of me moments ago. And, I read, and read, and read.

Morph put his hand over mine as I moved to turn the page and started to pull at the slightly tattered paper, he shook his head to stop me. Letting out an awkward cough, he reminded me of something that went in one ear and out the other once I locked eyes with the ink, "This is my personal journal, Emery, darling, and I would appreciate it if you would stop there. It would save us both."

"Oh, right, right!" My hands jumped with realization as I exclaimed. And, Morph slid the ancient book across the table and into his arms, holding his item protectively. The numbers printed on the front glowed gold in the peeking sun, '1510'.

My eyes started to scatter through the room, skipping over the tall man standing next to the window as Morpheus was clearly not an unusual occurrence in my day anymore, and as interestingly captivating as Morph was, I did accidentally skim over a page of poorly written poetry and the second-hand embarrassment had already made me start to nibble at my nails. Instead, I focused on the room itself, and how oddly neglected the office was. The bookshelves were littered with dust and cobwebs, and the sight of it alone caused my throat to itch. The cushionless chair, wooden and uncomfortable, had me squirming in my seat. The large window was coated in thick grime, and my mouth opened in disgust once I saw Morpheus wipe at the glass with his finger to reveal transparency. And, a musty smell had stained the walls, blocked my nostrils and left a stale taste in my dry mouth.

"I really hate to say this about Annora," I began to voice my speculation, feeling awful for even thinking it, "but, she really slacked off with this room."

"Ah." Morpheus smirked, a grin of mockery, his reflection materializing in the clear spots of the window as he derided, "Well, this room was designed for a fraud."

Morph snorted, ruffling through his worn satchel that he had brought with him, and shoved the strap to the side. "That is funny, too fun-" he gasped emphatically and his eyes widened in amazement, "-1500! Now, this is something that I haven't opened in centuries!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"The year Morpheus was born." Morph passed me the book eagerly, placing it in my hands before I gently rested it on the filthy desk. The mark from the other journal still prominent in the dirt. He marveled fondly, his voice nostalgic as though he was speaking in a soft lullaby, remembering a dear memory, "Take a look. I rather liked that year. Although it came with a more than shocking surprise, that very surprise had an act for growing on everyone he met, kind of like a parasite."

From the corner of my eye, I spotted the scowl that had formed on Morpheus' face, taking up his once ironic smile. But, the view of Morph's dainty fingers flipping through the pages till the journal was split almost evenly in the middle diverted my line of sight. The elegance of the cursive writing caught my eye.

'Morpheus? Even the helpers to the Gods and Goddesses have abilities, and they may not be as powerful, but they are certainly there. The idea of a half-God gaining an ability is not outrageous, and it is not as though he is the first one to be born, but to gain something so close to my own? He has the Moon Goddess as his mother. Why not the ability to control darkness? Why not the ability to create stars? Why not the ability to control tides? That last example may borderline a water ability, but out of all the possibilities, why visions? That ability rests directly in my domain.

Dalnim's words may never leave my head. "Morpheus, you should have seen it. Throughout my entire pregnancy, I was being gifted these images of things that I cannot say I recognized, and I thought they were hallucinations, but they were real! They were memories! They just were not mine. I felt like I was going insane. I was confused all the time. He was sharing so effortlessly. I had convinced myself that it was you."

However, if I was to speak with complete honesty, then I would have to admit that the moon does seem to have a capability for evoking memories. So, truthfully, maybe it is the proper ability for him to have.

And, maybe having someone named after me is not so bad, after all.'

"Emery-" Morpheus was now beside me, leaning over the desk, shadowing the sprawled out journal and placing his large hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, my vision partly clouded by my eyelashes. "-Annora is on her way up with supper. We should head to the dining room and eat there together."

"Am I invited?"

A gruff reply came, "No."

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