“But why do we have to fight at all? Why can’t Zeus keep Olympus, and I’ll keep Everyland and we can call it even?”
“The Great Cycle, of course.”
“Oh yeah. The Great Cycle.” Helen rolled her eyes and looked at him again. “What the heck is that?”
Morpheus laughed and sat up. “The children must overthrow their parents, like the gods did to the Titans, and the Titans did to their parents, Gaea and Uranus. The Fates will make it so again. It’s the Scions’ turn to overthrow the gods.”
“And Zeus wants to stop me from overthrowing him.”
“Of course. If the Scions defeat Olympus, the Twelve will spend eternity in Tartarus like the Titans. Not pleasant.”
“No. Not pleasant at all.” Helen agreed. “But why pick on me? What’s the big deal about me being a Worldbuilder?”
“Because you can take the Scions to your Everyland and make all of them immortal if you wish it. And, as a Worldbuilder, you are also the only one of your kind who can open the portals to Tartarus and send the Twelve there—but be warned, Helen. Zeus is a Worldbuilder as well. He can also send you to Tartarus, like he did the Titans.”
Helen paused to think about this. If Helen made all the Scions immortal and they faced off with Olympus, it’d be an army against a handful. There’s no way Olympus would win.
“So what about you and Hades? Either of you could challenge Zeus, but he’s left you both alone. How did you avoid a fight?”
“I never leave my land, and it would be suicide for Zeus to try to fight me here, where I alone am god.”
“And Hades?”
“Hades rarely leaves his land, either, and when he does, his Helm of Darkness makes him invisible to both humans and gods.” Helen remembered Eris walking right by her and Lucas when he had made them invisible in the hallway at school, just before the riots. Before she could think too deeply about that connection, Morpheus continued. “More important, Zeus needs his big brother Hades. The dead must have a land of their own, and the last thing Zeus wants is to have to deal with the dead.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?” Helen asked pleadingly.
“Fight. Or hide in your Everyland where Zeus cannot touch you.” Morpheus smiled at her warmly. “I suggest the latter, even though I know you won’t listen. You’re not the hiding type.”
“I can’t stay in Everyland. I can’t leave Earth to the gods. They’d totally ruin it. But maybe there’s a way to avoid a fight altogether?” Helen asked. She doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to at least try to stop a horrendous war that would probably kill a lot of people.
“Can you avoid your fate? Many have tried to dodge it, like Oedipus, but has anyone ever been able to escape it in the end?” Morpheus asked in return.
“Yes. Free will exists,” Helen replied, musing as an idea occurred to her. “All you need is a Shield.”
Morpheus looked at her questioningly, not understanding her. She shook her head and changed the subject.
“Why do you and Hades help me?” she asked softly.
“I am the god of dreams, but not even I would dream of speaking for Hades,” Morpheus replied with a mischievous look in his eyes. “But if I had to guess, I would say it’s because he knows how destructive his little brother is. Hades, unlike most of the other gods, cares for mortals and doesn’t want to see them at war. Probably because he has to tend their souls when they die. He has had to judge millions of souls and that has given him a strong sense of justice. Leaving you to fight Zeus with no training is something he would consider unjust.”
Helen frowned. She remembered asking Orion once what was more important to him than everlasting joy. He’d said justice. It was yet another trait Orion shared with Hades.
“And what about you?” Helen asked, brushing aside this thought.
“I have a much simpler, much more selfish motive. I help you because I love you and can’t bear to lose you. Didn’t you know that?”
“And?” she asked, raising a cynical eyebrow.
“And I don’t believe I have anything to fear from you. I don’t think you’d ever try to send me to Tartarus.”
“Never. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without dreams. Not even my own,” Helen said, reaching out to caress his shiny, black hair. “I’ve really missed you. Every time I close my eyes lately it seems like I’m too busy to dream.”
“But I’ve sent you dreams—mostly to inform you of the gods’ actions on Earth.”
“What do you mean?” Helen asked. She figured it out fast. “All those dreams of eagles carrying off women and dolphins and stallions attacking humans. That was awful, Morpheus.”
“I’m sorry, Beauty. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just couldn’t allow that poor siren to get any more attention from that Apollo brat without trying to do something about it.” Morpheus fluffed a pillow, agitated. “I am most grateful that you went to get her. I hate sending nightmares to anyone, but sometimes I just have to in order to warn people. Do you forgive me?”