Morpheus looked different than his usual self. That much was clear considering his face was now scarred and his expression that was always so proud and full of smiles had become a ghost of its past self, simply the face of someone trying to imitate a person he was not, someone fearless, someone untouchable, someone born with power instead of desperately clinging onto it with bloodstained hands.
The change on him was unsettling in a way Arabella did not expect. Morpheus had always carried himself with a suffocating arrogance, the kind that filled every room before he even spoke a word, but now there was something cracked underneath it all. Something ugly. Something frantic.
