HALLUCINATE | THE SANDMAN

THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
[ Power of the Gods ]
"I'm suppose to save you, not the other way around"

AZRAIL FOLLOWED THEM DESPITE MORPHEUS OBVIOUS WISHES, LEAVING MATTHEW ALONE WITH THE DINER THAT HAD BECAME INFECTED BY THE TOUCH OF DEATH. With the help of what was left of Dream's power, she soared across the dark sky as a raven, fluttering wings echoing through the fog covered air. The Mansion of Roderick Burgess awaited them, stood upon the hill with the rusted gates hung open, calling for John to enter.

His light footsteps echoed through the empty castle like heavy thuds pounding within an empty hallway. A woman's laughter rang through the eerie silence as John chased an illusion through the long halls. Azrail followed, perching on the highest pieces of furniture, merely observing.

She ended up following him into a master bedroom, the place where the illusion had paused. John sat in front of them, tentatively reaching for the thick Helm that concealed every ounce of familiarity. "Welcome home, Johnny..." the woman, Ethel, eerie voice sent a shiver down John's spine as he hurriedly scrambled away. "Don't be such a baby, Johnny!" Her laughter followed, like a haunting memory as the scenes continued to contort around them.

From the illusion of John's mother begging for him to go to sleep whilst the toddler sobbed loudly to Ethel pulling John back to the asylum with a rag tied around his neck, the nightmares held more power then any other weapon available in the endless galaxy that surrounded them. But with his hands wrapped around the large ruby, he pleaded with his conscious mind to consider realism over illusions.

"It's a dream! It's a dream," he panted, whole body shuddering with each tender breath. John, shaking with fear, hesitantly turned.

"Boo!"

                     With skeletal features and shadows looming over her in the form of unbelievable monsters, Azrail lunged forward and pushed him through the Dreaming where he would end up in the fallen castle. He landed with a harsh thud, trembling hands clasped over his eyes as he awaited the Angel of Death's next attack. She dug her claws into his shoulder blades, dragging him across the cold surface as blood poured from the wounds. Throwing him forward, his body skidded across the tiles, wounds quickly being sealed under the weight of the Dreaming's make-believe.

Cowardly, John kept his trembling hands over his eye as he begged for his mind to accept the fact that it was all a dream.

Azrail wanted to bring the scythe down upon his back, to tear his skin apart and snatch the soul from its confines. She already had it perfectly planned, knowing she'd give him as a gift to Lucifer. Something to keep the Devil away... it would all be perfect.