Dream Lord Novels & Stories

She would be devastated, to put it mildly. “It’s really hard to believe that this is all over, isn’t it?” Landry was saying. “Holland’s finally dead. Crimson is falling. We’re taking the world back. It’ll be back in balance soon, and we’ll be in charge as we should be.” “Yeah. That’ll be great,” Cadon said for lack of anything better to say. “All I can say is… we’d better make sure that damn Blue Moon Portal is never, ever opened again. For anyone. I don’t care who it is.”

She stopped what she was doing, taking a good look at me. "What is it?" She asked softly, and I sighed. "I had a terrible dream. Or rather, I've been having some dreams," I began as Valerie's purple eyes held onto my words. "And every one of them is about him," I paused, wrapping my hands around my arms. "The Dark Lord," "What?!"

Even since then, they spoke through their linked minds. “What troubles you today, master?” Obsidian Sigil asked, lowering her jaw closer to Liora's crossed knees. Liora’s eyes flicked to the wall behind her. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I had a dream, Sigil. I dreamed of my death. I stood there, dying, and I could not see who did it. There was only darkness and my own blood.” Obsidian Sigil rumbled deep in her throat, a sound that made the walls tremble slightly. She wanted to speak, to tell Liora her wisdom, but she lifted her hand, palm outward, and the wolf-dragon fell silent at once.

“That night, in the moonlit ruins of the old chapel, we swore an eternal vow…” “I remember,” I cut him off. “I also remember what you told my father.” Milton’s face changed. “What?” “You said, ‘This union will purify the berserker taint in my bloodline. Lydia’s First-born blood and her Dreamweaving are the keys to securing my throne.’” I repeated his words, one by one. “Did you think I didn’t know?” Elder Amelia’s gaze shot to Milton, her eyes filled with disappointment. “That… that was…” Milton stammered.

a Lycan. He tilted my chin up with his claw. “My little wolf wants dessert from me?” His voice was impossibly deep and sexy, making my breath catch. His Lycan’s name...was the Dread Lord. His Lycan was the Dread Lord. The corner of his lips curled into a dark smile as he lifted one of my legs under the water, slowly entering me. My lips parted in a soft gasp as he whispered in my ear, “Time for dessert.”

“Not that I’d brag or anything.” Seraphine raised an eyebrow. “Right. Subtle.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Dragon boys and Djinn. Always dramatic.” Finally, Lyra spoke, her voice lower, carrying an almost silky quality. “Castle Tenebrae, castle of the Dreamwalkers, incubi, illusionists. I’m Phantasm. We bend dreams and emotions into shape, weaving illusions so real they can make you laugh, cry, or break.” Her gaze lingered on Seraphine, steady, knowing. “People say Phantasms blur the line between reality and desire. That’s why they fear us.”

Unconscious binding of others into the Dream State. "It’s not PTSD," Emily whispered. "It’s not trauma." She looked at the last line on the page. "The Oneiric is the natural predator of the Void-Walker. For while the Walker consumes magic, the Oneiric unmakes reality. A fully realized Sleeper can dream a god out of existence." Emily closed the book. Her hands were shaking. She wasn't broken. She wasn't weak. She wasn't just a human who couldn't handle a wolf’s world.

Drakken woke up with a start, sweat pouring down his face. He had just had a terrible dream, one where his deceased mother was crying out for justice. In the dream, she told him that evil was lurking within the Kingdom, brought by a stranger. The stranger was the only one in the pack who didn't belong, and she warned him to be careful. The dream was so vivid that it felt real, and it left Drakken feeling uneasy.

"The price is paid. You may ask." Liora's heart ached for Ronan, but she pushed forward. "The Sleeper. One of the Fallen Pantheon. What is it? How do we stop its dreams from destroying the world?" The Echo swayed. "The Sleeper is known as Morpheus, the Shaper of Dreams. He did not fall in battle. He fell into despair. He saw the endless chaos of mortal lives, the pain, the fleeting joys, and he found it meaningless. He chose to sleep, to dream a perfect, orderly world. But his despair leaks out. His dream is a cancer."

It was then that he materialized, emerging from the shadows like a ghost from the past—my brother, Dylan. Dylan, with his dark mane and piercing gaze, stepped into the moonlit arena with an air of malevolence. His presence sent ripples through the dream, an embodiment of the unresolved conflicts and familial complexities that lingered between us. In the dream, he wore a cloak of darkness, the embodiment of my struggles and the shadowy specter of my past.