Morpheus battled insomnia that night, tossing and turning in a restless struggle. Despite his weariness, sleep eluded him, his mind consumed by thoughts of Persephone.

Unable to divert his focus, he found himself immersed in memories of her. Yet, in the rare moments when her image faded, all that remained was the haunting specter of his life, besieged by bullets.

The merciless brutality of the battlefield lingered in his thoughts—the shattered ruins, the blood-soaked drains.

He curled into a ball and closed his eyes, a sharp pain radiating from the depths of his heart. Trembling and breathless, he grappled with the overwhelming anguish.

Morpheus summoned his strength and compelled himself to sit up, seeking solace in the bathroom. Cold water cascaded over his wounds as he cleansed them repeatedly.

Gazing into the mirror, he confronted his reflection, a visual narrative of scars, old and new. Perhaps, he mused, his involvement in the gritty underground arena served as a deliberate choice to overlay fresh wounds upon the scars of the past.

These recent injuries, a stark reminder of his continued existence, seemed to echo the resilience he forged amid the ashes of war.

Morpheus had survived, not only for himself but for those who shared the tumultuous journey through the chaos of battle.

Morpheus only succumbed to slumber as the first light of day began to break.

Upon awakening, he noted the clock on the wall signaling 7:00 a.m.

morning breeze. Surveying the room, he speculated that Persephone was still

had once

to place a premade beef sandwich on the dining table,

he pondered what she used to eat at home, realizing it couldn't be a hasty grab

kept the cold sandwich for himself, deciding to make an unprecedented morning market visit. There, he acquired a fresh croissant and

he

something might be amiss. He tentatively tested the doorknob and discovered that Persephone had not locked the door. Pushing it open gently, he peered through

desk. On closer inspection, she appeared to

He tapped

"Hmm."

was dreaming of her parents and brother. Their voices reached her, but before she could engage in conversation,

was plummeting at

echoed as

at the face before her in her drowsiness for what felt like

Morpheus waved a hand to get

back into

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