CHAPTER ONE.
devour.

01. A RAVEN IS NOT A FRIEND.

Waking up was a strange thing, when you didn't dream. Sleep itself was stranger. Clara figured that dreaming wasn't too important, because on most occasions, the insignificant ones never stuck.

  She was wrong; a fool in a lot of ways.

  For one, The Fates had tricked her. For another, Clara's dreams were incredibly important. She should have never bargained them. Dreams were warnings and revelations. Dreams were the very core of a person. A true window to the soul (because the eyes were too deceiving for the title.)

  And Morpheus, Lord of Dreams, had stolen hers.

  He had stolen a lot of things from her— held them hostage in a way. Her mother could no longer visit. Her dreams could no longer guide her. And he was too constantly on Clara's mind for him not to be holding her thoughts captive too.

  Clara thought of Dream very often. She woke cursing his name and slept only upon cursing it again. It was almost like prayer.

  She had no aptitude for spite or malice, but Morpheus had wreaked a special kind of of havoc on her life. It was chaotic. She stumbled through most days, tired and desperate for reprieve.

  It didn't matter how much she rested, because Morpheus would not let her sleep vitalize her. Naps did nothing. Pills were useless. Only Morpheus could end this.

  And he would not, because Clara had been a fool.

  She didn't think the Endless could be capable of ego, having existed for so long. Oh, how she was wrong. Clara had wounded Morpheus greatly.

  He had crafted beautiful dreams for her, but she rejected his offer, because The Fates had told her he would steal something of importance. Clara assumed that meant her hand, or something far worse. She was such an idiot.

  And then his thievery came to pass, because she had wasted her questions on petty worries. Clara had been wrong to assume the worst. Were she smarter, she could have had more than just her dreams.

  She could have ruled them.

Now, she was forced to stick to other methods to guide herself. Scrying, which had never been her strong suit, or tarot. But, Clara much preferred bone magick. Osteomancy, to be more precise. She always intended her medicine to be good and to keep her connected.

If she could not have her dreams to fall back on, then she would use the earth and all its tools.

That was, if she could ever get the energy to actually do something about it. Waking up was usually like sleeping. A slow opening and closing of the eyes, with her consciousness slipping under the weight of her exhaustion.

It felt like a chore, not a means of relaxation. Sleep was nothing more than a means to survive. It no longer held meaning.

And that made Clara angry. "Morpheus," she seethed, pulling herself from her bed. She went to the window. The raven was already there, as it always was on the first of every month.

  She gave it the finger and the bird puffed its feathers indignantly. Clara didn't think too much about Dream's intentions with the raven. He would not want her now and she certainly didn't want him, but still the bird watched her.

  Clara wanted her life back. She wanted her dreams, even if they turned to nightmares. She wanted her mother and her guidance.

  And she was so tired— tired of stumbling through days with her only purpose being to get by. This wasn't living. Life had ended at 20 years old, when her dreams stopped and nothingness replaced them.

  Clara often searched for ways to invoke dreaming, despite knowing it was useless. How could she get them back, when the King of Dreams himself had banished her from his realm? It comforted her to scheme, though. To think that she might have a chance.

She turned on the sink, splashing cool water into her face. Admittedly, her schemes meant little. She didn't know enough about Morpheus and the Endless to do anything about his theft.

All she had was her desire for revenge. How could that ever be enough? Clara felt so empty that she often thought about weeping. But, that felt the same as begging. It felt like regret.

She would not beg and she would not let him win.

Clara dressed herself for work. For another mundane day at the office, with coffee to energize her where sleep could not. Straight black. It was often commented that she had no taste.

  She didn't think that was true. The coffee was disgusting, but it helped. Why try and bring flavour to it? It was hardly for pleasure.

Clara did think that there was a part of her that was a bit dull and lifeless. She didn't have much ambition; a result of Morpheus' punishment. That was alright. She didn't intend to live like this forever.

She headed out the door and the raven perched itself on her shoulder. "Morning, asshole," she said.

"So vicious." Matthew gave a squawk.

"Hardly," Clara mused, "I could cook you." She would never.

"I don't think I'd taste that good," he replied, head tilted with that curious line of thought.

"I'm sure some creature would find you delicious enough to pick at." Clara didn't really blame Matthew for what had happened, but his presence was an annoying reminder.

The bird noted their route. "Don't tell me you're still working at the same place." He stamped his bird foot.

Clara sneered at him, "Shut up. Money is money."

"He's a sexual harasser!"

"Fuck off. He only ever stares and I'm not giving up my paycheque for something so stupid." She shooed Matthew from her shoulder.

Matthew fluttered in the air, hesitating. "If I have to report this, Clara, I will."

Clara gasped, "You little shit! Don't you fucking dare." She was furious by the mere idea. Dream's interference in her life was not needed. It never was.

She hadn't seen him in seven years. It still wasn't long enough. The anger still festered. A sore wound that would never heal.

"Ives, you better leave that job by this time next month. Or I will tell him." Matthew pecked at one of her dreads. She swatted, catching the bird by the beak.

Matthew gave another squawk before leaving Clara alone once more. He rarely stayed long, just enough to get the gist of her life's current events. The bird had learned it's lesson within the first few months of her punishment.

Clara had tried to hold the raven hostage once before, but Matthew was just clever enough to avoid her traps. She refused to befriend Dream's creatures and creations. She despised them all.

Matthew's visits were the closest she could ever get, but he would not relay her dozens of curses to Morpheus. That was fine, because Clara would find her way. Revenge may have been a long shot, but she was going to get her dreams back.

With or without that stupid crow's help.