Hypnos merely nodded. There were no words that could describe his agreement, his contentment. No amount of speech would ever be able to explain the way he felt—the way he always felt when he was here. He was made of sleep... and what was sleep without dreams? There had been a time, though brief and long ago, when he had slept in darkness. His world had been made up of empty, hollow space. But then the Oneiroi were born, bringing with them a playground full of color and possibilities. And, although he was little more than an observer in his brothers’ workshop, he would always be grateful for the wonders they created.
More time passed on in silence, until at last something resembling a thought flitted through his mind.
“I wonder where they are.” He paused, still trying to fit words to emotion. “Phantasos and Phobetor.”