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[b]"Life Is But A Dream" [ Part IV ] [ [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNeLUngb-Xg]In The End[/url] ][/b][/center]
[color=skyblue][b]|[/b][/color] [b]THE DREAM DIMENSION[/b]
[color=skyblue][b]|[/b][/color] [sub][b]The House of Mystery[/b] | [i]Present Day[/i][/sub]

Carefully, the young squire helped the Caretaker to his feet.

Overhead, the boy heard Morpheus give a low growl. Craning his head back, as he watched, the Lord of Dreams made a gesture with one arm. After which, the interior of the great hall seemed to become blur. Almost like a haze of smoke. Then everything snapped back into focus, with everything back where it ought to have been.

Except one thing that was out of place. 

Mordred would have easily missed it, except that Morpheus passed between the bookshelves, pausing precisely where there was a gap between the tomes on the shelf.

"[color=skyblue]What...[/color]" the boy began, only to stop short as Morpheus turned to face him. A plume of smoke shot out toward the boy, taking the form of a grimoire hovering in the air.

"[color=silver]The [i]Libellus Sanguinus[/i],[/color]" the Lord of Dreams intoned gruffly. The elder god seemed lost in thought for a moment. The illusionary fabrication flipped open, several pages fluttering as the Lord of Dreams continued. "[color=silver]A 'Book of Blood.' It was said to have been authored in the Twelfth Century by Mary, Queen of Blood. It contains some of most horrible writings ever conceived of a deranged mind.[/color]"

A deranged mind. 

The red eyes of the satyr-like figure immediately came to mind. "[color=skyblue]Who was that?[/color]" Mordred asked, reaching out to close the illusionary tome. The fabrication vanished in a puff of smoke.

"[color=silver]Some people are kept alive through the stories that people tell of them,[/color]" Morpheus remarked cryptically, turning to regard Mordred with a gaze that made the boy immediately question whether the elder god referred to him. "[color=silver]Others are brought to life through the stories. Spring-Heeled Jack is fear and paranoia given form,[/color]" Morpheus explained. The description did nothing to put the boy's mind at ease as to the chaotic nature of the devish figure. Morpheus, however, seemed to continue his brooding. "[color=silver]What possible use could he have for the book? It seems an odd choice for an [i]imp[/i] such as he...[/color]"

The Lord of Dreams seemed to speak out loud, pausing for a time, before he finally looked back up. Flashing a wan smile, the man offered only, "[color=silver]Perhaps we are fortunate. He may have merely grabbed an object at random and know not what it is that he now possess.[/color]"

The elder god stretched out his hand. As he did, a column of smoke seemed to rise up and swirl up around the young Pendragon. As he looked down over his body, Mordred found his clothing transfigured. The familiar red and white tabard, emblazoned with the golden Roman [i]aquila[/i] hung off his form. The colors of the Silent Knight. A leather twin-belt replaced the length of soft rope. A [i]rondel[/i] dagger was sheathed at his hip.

"[color=silver]You must recover the book,[/color]" Morpheus' voice remarked, though when Mordred had looked up, the elder god was no where to be found. 

"[i][color=silver]I cannot depart this realm. And none here now are better equipped for this task.[/color][/i]"

Making his way through the bookshelves, the boy passed through the familiar labyrinth that was the House of Mystery. Even as he watched, the shelves and books all recognized themselves. The walls shifted. The stairs moved. It was as though the House was alive. Always in motion. Always changing. 

As he stepped forward, two bookshelves pulled apart to reveal a doorway. A different exit than the one he had entered through.

There were many portals that passed through the Dreaming. The House was no different. Reaching out a hand, the child's hand hovered near the doorknob that would open to a world full of weeping than he dared to recall.

"[i][color=silver]Son of Pendragon, this quest is yours.[/color][/i]" 

Son of Pendragon.

A single tear slipped down the side of the boy's face. In mind, he saw a man. And it wasn't Arthur of Camelot. "[color=skyblue]My name is Mordred of Kent,[/color]" the boy declared, pushing open the door. Steeling himself there, the child said only, "[color=skyblue]Arthur is my king. But he is no father of mine.[/color]"

That was Sir Brian.

He was the squire to the Silent Knight. And in his name, the boy took just one step forward, into a brave new world.