Page 85 of In the Dark

Vane closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Whatever force held Morgan to the ground released with a pop. He shifted, puffing out his chest and allowing the wind to caress the feathers of his wings.

The son of a god, Vane repeated. Shemade a good choice when she found you.

“Let’s hope she still feels the same way when this is over.”

Are you ready?

The specter of a man walked on solid feet to meet Morgan halfway. “Are you sure you can handle this, Vane?”

Try to keep up, will you?

The two stared at each other for a moment before their forms dissolved and they transitioned from one plane of existence to another.

**

Morgan extended his wings to their full length and surveyed the open expanse of subconscious waiting for them. He was back where he belonged and preparing for the fight of his life.

Perfect, he thought with the tiniest hint of sarcasm.

He glanced over to Vane, who stood with his hands in his pockets surveying the pure white waiting area.

“Look at you,” Morgan commented. “You look like a real man.”

If he expected the joke to go over Vane’s head, he was mistaken. “I am real. At least, I was at one point. About nine hundred years ago.”

“You don’t speak with an accent. I thought someone from your region—”

Vane interrupted him. “This form is a shadow of my former self. The man I was had an accent. Shades do not.”

It was too strange to think about closely. “Look at us. Two immortals preparing for war.”

“Not something I thought I’d be forced into again. Shall we?” Vane swept his arm wide. “There isn’t much time.”

“There never is.” Morgan nodded, determined to focus.

He needed to find the entrance to Karsia’s subconscious. He grasped on the path he remembered and pushed both of them forward. Immediately the scene changed.

Next to him Vane stood, his gaze hard and determined. “I admit, I haven’t spent enough time in this realm to know if this is how it normally looks. But this seems odd.”

Morgan didn’t voice his agreement as he surveyed the place under his care. It shouldn’t be empty, he thought. He was used to the blank canvas, the eternal empty slate he filled with fantastic images, the messages of the gods.

But this place was not full of possibilities. Instead of a pure and cleansing white, the sky deepened to a deep angry gray slashed through with crimson. A wasteland of desiccated ground and burnt tree limbs holding on by a thread against the battering wind.

In the distance, a mountain rose and cast a great shadow over the land. He suspected that standing in the gloom of the cliff would steal the breath from a body, sap the warmth until an eternal chill took over.

“It’s not supposed to look this way,” he replied.

“Then let’s hope we can get Cecilia to release the girl quickly.”

“I hope you have a plan for this. I’m not sure where to begin,” Morgan admitted. “I had full confidence the banishment spell would work.”

“Would it help you to know I’m sort of winging it here too?” Vane commented.

Morgan turned to him. “You’re joking.”

“I very rarely joke about serious matters. Tell me, Morpheus, where did you last find the girl?”

“I’m not sure. I had to go deep, bordering on the levels of the subconscious beyond my jurisdiction. My brothers and sisters…they really don’t like it when I cross into their territory.”

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