CHAPTER 11: NIGHTMARE
The knock came softly.
Not the sharp, impatient rapping of urgency but a polite, measured sound, as though whoever stood on the other side of the door knew Juno would answer.
Knock. Knock.
Juno stirred from his chair, the lights of the city still glowing faintly through the tall window of his apartment. The gala was over. The conversations, the masks, the invisible knives finished for the night. He had not even removed his coat.
He stood.
Or rather ...he tried to.
His body refused.
Not paralysis. Not pain.
Displacement.
The room slid.
The walls stretched, the ceiling receded, and the sound of the city folded inward like paper being creased by unseen hands.
Juno's eyes sharpened.
"So," he murmured calmly, "this is how you knock."
The world snapped.
He stood in a vast chamber of black glass and silver mist. The floor reflected him perfectly too perfectly. No dust. No distortion. A dreamscape,and not a crude one.
This was refined. Intentional. Built to deceive someone who knew they were dreaming. Soft music drifted through the air. Not loud. Not melodic. Suggestive in the way a whisper could be.
Then she appeared.
A girl stepped out of the mist.
She was dressed in flowing fabric that revealed more than it concealed, her movements fluid, deliberate. Not exaggerated. Not obscene. Just enough to pull attention, to invite focus.
She circled him slowly, fingertips trailing just short of contact, eyes bright with practiced warmth.
"You look tired," she said gently. "Power like yours always is."
Juno didn't move.
Didn't react.
Didn't even blink.
He watched her the way one might watch a tool.
"You're late," he said.
She laughed softly. "Straight to business? How boring."
She moved closer, placing herself directly in front of him. The air seemed to warm around her presence, pressing against his senses, encouraging his thoughts to drift.
Encouraging him to want.
Juno sighed.
"This is a seduction construct," he said flatly. "Third layer emotional engagement. Second layer identity erosion. First layer desire anchoring."
The girl's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second.
"You've been studied," Juno continued. "Poorly."
He raised his hand.
And closed his fingers.
The dream collapsed around her.
There was no struggle. No scream. No gore, like smoke struck by wind until nothing remained.
Silence returned.
Then....
Applause.
Slow. Mocking.
"Well, that was no fun," a voice said, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. "Killing an innocent girl like that."
Juno didn't turn.
"That wasn't a girl," he replied calmly. "It was a narrative shell."
"Tsk," the voice chided. "Always ruining the mood."
The air thickened.
Pressure descended not physical, but existential. The kind that pressed against identity, not flesh. The chamber darkened, reflections warping as if reality itself were being leaned on.
"You know," the voice continued, smooth and feminine now, "most minds break long before this point."
Juno clasped his hands behind his back.
"You're trying to fracture me," he said. "Introduce guilt. Then doubt. Then obedience."
A pause.
"…You're very hard to play with."
Juno finally turned, gaze steady. "Who are you?"
Laughter rippled through the dreamscape, light and amused.
"Oh no," the voice said. "Names give leverage. I'm not here to lose."
"Then why are you here?" Juno asked.
The pressure intensified.
Fragments of memory surfaced carefully chosen. Failures. Losses. Faces that should have hurt more than they did.
The voice sharpened.
"If I wanted you dead," it said softly, "you would be."
Juno smiled.
"No," he replied. "If you could kill me, you would have already."
Cracked.
"That hesitation," Juno continued evenly, "means one of two things. Either you're constrained… or you're weaker than you pretend."
Silence.
Then...
A long, quiet laugh.
"…Or," the voice said slowly, "I'm curious."
The pressure withdrew slightly. The dream stabilized.
They talked then.
Not like enemies.
Not like allies.
Words passed between them carefully chosen, layered with implication. She probed. He deflected. She hinted. He dismantled.
Time stretched strangely.
At the end, the voice sighed.
"You really are no fun," she said, sarcasm sharp but not unkind. "Most mortals beg. Or rage. Or worship."
"And you find that disappointing," Juno said.
"Immensely."
The dream began to dissolve. Before it vanished completely, Juno narrowed his eyes.
There.
A flicker.
An aura... brief, concealed, but unmistakable.Not psychic.
Divine!
Juno's breath stilled.
"…Gods," he said quietly.
The voice paused.
Then, amused once more: "Careful, Juno. Curiosity works both ways."
The dream shattered.
Juno gasped as he snapped back into his apartment, body finally obeying gravity. He steadied himself against the wall, breathing slow, controlled.
The room was silent.
But the air felt… changed.
He straightened, eyes hard.
"Gods exist on Earth," he murmured. Not belief. Confirmation.
Outside, the city slept unaware that ancient eyes had begun to open, that predators older than civilization itself had taken interest.
Juno walked to the window and looked out over the lights.
"Then things are worse than I thought," he said calmly.
Somewhere far away, something laughed.
And somewhere closer than anyone realized.....
.....the game had just gained a new player.