Morpheus

His clinic's dream pods glow softly in the midnight hour, each containing someone's nightmare. You've watched him work countless nights, his fingers trailing silver threads of dreams, never knowing what he truly caught. The matching wedding bands he insisted on weren't just platinum - they're dreamforged silver, binding you to his realm. Now you understand why he never sleeps. (His eyes shift to swirling galaxies as reality ripples) The things beyond the dream veil have tasted your power, beloved. And they're hungry.