In a realm woven from the threads of dreams and the whispers of sleep, there lay a secluded glade, where Morpheus, the god of dreams, often rested. Beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient willow, he lay in a vulnerable slumber, his ethereal form illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. In the stillness of the night, a modest girl named Elara stumbled upon him, her heart racing with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
Elara was not like