"Emery, are you ready to sleep now?"

My mother asked the question as quietly, and sweetly, as she possibly could. My name came out in a sing-song tone, distractive. Although my response didn't truly matter, she still bothered to ask. She continued to tuck me into bed, even though I furiously tried to kick the blankets off of me, but my short legs were just no match for the heavy covers. Looking up at her, my eyes of caffeine begged her to let me stay awake for at least a bit longer.

I opened my mouth to answer, proudly showing off my missing two front teeth, as I got ready to deny the accusation in the brattiest voice I could muster.

Unfortunately, my mother interrupted me before I even managed to get a single word out. She hushed me, "Ah, is that a yes? Good."

I puckered my lips into a thin line while she smiled down at me, and spoke with a tease, "No matter what your answer is, you are still going to sleep, but maybe-" she paused as she watched my reaction, her perfectly manicured index finger tapping at her bottom lip, "-hm, should I tell you the story again?"

My interest peaked at the very mention of the story, and my eyes had instantly widened with excitement. I pulled the blankets up to my chin, feeling my toes wiggle from the cold touch, and nodded eagerly.

I knew exactly what she was talking about. In truth, there were thousands of stories that she could have referred to, like ones about pigs or ducks, but I knew which one she was talking about by the signature twinkle of her eyes. And, I was always up to hear it.

"No nightmares?" She questioned and I nodded yet again before rolling my eyes at such a ridiculous thought. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Well, if you say so. My brave girl, I will tell you."

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her pointy ear, and I stared up at her inherent movement in awe. I thought about how much I loved her hair, and how I longed to have hair just like her. The style that I had made me feel a little too much like Dora, despite how cute my parents thought it was. I wanted her hair—beautiful, brown locks that reminded me of dark chocolate with naturally golden highlights layered throughout the strands, it looked delicious like caramel drizzled brownies.

"Alright," she snapped me out of my trance. "Now—let me tell you the story of Morpheus, of a werewolf who belonged to the Gods. As you know, my smartie, he was the most powerful being this cruel world has ever witnessed. But, of course, to tell you his story, then I must tell you someone else's first."

My mother insisted of their importance as she leaned in closer to tell me about her favourite part, about a loving mother who knew when to put her foot down. "The story of the Moon Goddess. She was the beloved goddess who had successfully created an entire species of supernatural creatures, but she was also Morpheus's mother. She truly loved her creations as though she had birthed them herself. The werewolf species were her pride and joy, but she craved something more, something of her own flesh and blood. After wanting it for centuries, she decided to have her own biological baby, her very own pup. She had quickly became pregnant with a wolf child. The first of his kind. She had no knowledge of what he was to be, but she did not care, for he was all she ever needed. And, though he was fated to develop more strength and authority than an Alpha werewolf, there was no telling what was to become of his god-like abilities. The Moon Goddess thus gave birth to the child whom she named Morpheus, and she loved him with every piece of her soul.

"But, as he grew, he became unstoppable and angry. The legends detail that he would fill with rage at the very sight of seeing the werewolves being forced to hide away from humans, a species that was much weaker than the werewolves. He slowly began to despise humans, but he didn't wish to do anything about it. He was a man not known to act rash. That is, until he witnessed a brutal attack from hunters, humans out to kill the supernatural. That was enough for him, you could say that it was the final straw-" she took another pause and noticed how my eyes were still open, still focused entirely on her as I watched her lips wrap around each word, "-you better close those eyes of yours or else I won't continue."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

She resumed the story, "Morpheus finally declared war on the humans, but he did give them time to prepare, even though his hatred for them was evolving rapidly with each day that passed. He ached for them to change, but they didn't. They became worse. And, the war emerged as the sad result, which in turn, created a devastating battle for all."

"Don't be trying to shorten it," I murmured.

"You're silly," she laughed, "I shouldn't be telling you all this, anyway. It's too much for your age."

My hand gave her a tottering wave. She sighed, but didn't stop, "Morpheus himself was said to have killed hundreds of humans with his bare hands. Then, he shifted into a great wolf and killed hundreds more by ripping them apart with his massive canines. It was horrific, so much so that the divine cried for him that fateful day. His mother watched, disappointed at her son for mercilessly killing and killing, but she didn't yet intervene. Instead, she waited until it was all said and done, until werewolves were at the very top of the chain. The pack aimlessly cheered as the Moon Goddess came down to Earth. They did not realize that it was not to celebrate their victory, but it was to punish her own son. She made haste as she poisoned Morpheus with wolfsbane, a herb to weaken him before cursing him, with the help of others, to a deep sleep."

I could hear her yawn and I could feel the bed move as she tried getting up. A contagious yawn slipped past my lips as I said, "I'm not asleep yet, Mom. Please, tell me the rest of the story and I'll go to sleep-" I pulled my pinkie finger up from under the blanket and held it up high, "-I pinkie promise."

She wrapped her pinkie finger around mine and gave it a quick squeeze. She went back to telling the story, just to tell the end of it, "Okay, Emery, I believe you. Where were we? Ah, that's right, I know. Morpheus felt betrayed, but there was nothing he could do. He succumbed to the spell, and fell asleep. The Moon Goddess was said to have moved her son into a building made of stone, where he has stayed locked away for centuries. He still continues to stay there.

He will only be allowed to leave when his mate comes to collect him. They are fated to change his view on humans, the only one able to awaken him from his punishment."

"Who do you think that will be, Mom?" I whispered sleepily. "When are they saving him? It's kind of weird to sleep that long. Like, is he lonely?"

"I don't know, Emery. Who do you think it will be?" She changed the perspective as she got up from sitting beside me, and the bid dipped at her absence. She leaned down to place a soft kiss on my forehead. "It is a very strange story, isn't it? I'll tell you more when you're older, and maybe then, you'll be able to answer the questions for yourself."

"I don't know, Mom. That's a lot of thinking. But, you know what I would wake up for? Candy."

"Candy?" I could hear her airy laugh, one that could make anyone smile. "I'm sure he would love candy, just like you, my sweet Emery."

"I really love that story." I ruffled around my bed as I turned to be laying on my side. "I can't wait to hear more. You do know more, don't you?"

"Emery, this story is meant to scare off both human and werewolf children from doing bad things that upset their parents," my mother told me, "but, you seem to always want to hear it. I'm glad that you do. And, yes, I do. One day, you'll hear them all."

I hummed as I started feeling drowsy, my mind already in a dreamlike state as I let sleep take over.

My eyes shot open as my sweat covered body violently lurched forward with all its strength. My breathing came out in gasps as I sucked in whatever remnants of air that I could get. My head snapped from side to side as my eyes searched through the pitch black bedroom, grasping for everything and nothing alike. I placed my hand gently over my chest to calm myself down when it dawned on me that it was all just a dream, and that I was, in fact, alone.

I turned to lay back on my side with a disappointed sigh, instinctively looking towards my side table that was resting next to my bed. I found myself not being able to make out the picture that was placed on top of it, but I was so used to it that I could imagine it in my mind. It was the last picture that was ever taken of me and my mother, after all.

"Oh, Mom," I whispered sleepily as I ran a hand over my damp face. A familiar ache formed in the pit of my chest as I felt my throat tighten. I stared at the picture of us while I recalled the day it was taken. The image of me and my mother—her arm wrapped around my shoulders as I made a funny face, sticking my tongue out at the camera that my father was holding. He was smiling with joy as he watched us. On the back of the picture, he had even wrote in his sloppy handwriting, 'the two loves of my life'.

I tried to pry myself away from the memory by thinking back to my dream, a long forgotten evocation that has been permanently engraved into my mind. I wondered silently if many speak of that story anymore, if it's still being tossed around from parent to.child, or if its true interpretation will ever be revealed.

"Morpheus," the novel name coated my tongue like a foreign syrup, frighteningly addictive and woefully unreachable. I tossed and turned until I fell onto my back, now facing the ceiling as the name filled me up with an unknown interest. I shook my head before turning back on my trusty side, closing my eyes.

It's just a bedtime story.