by Tom Turner
“I let them go. It’s my fault!”
“You can still help them,” said Remi. “I believe that. Plug, believed that!”
“Help them? I can’t even stop shaking,” stammered Charlie. “I wish you were right, Remi, but I’m just a kid from New York! That’s all! A kid who’s lost and alone.”
Alone — the harsh reality was too much to bear.
“My mom and Plug are gone. I have no one.”
“You’re not alone,” replied Remi.
There was comfort in her eyes, something Charlie’s soul craved. But how could she understand the pain and fear he was feeling? How could she understand what he had lost?
“I have to get out of here,” he said. He charged past her, kicking through a pile of empty Dorito bags.
“Where are you going?” she asked, following.
“Anywhere but here! I’m sick of dreams!”
On the tail of Charlie’s words, a portal appeared in a window across the classroom, revealing a desert on the other side. Was it the Dreamscape? If it was, it wasn’t what Charlie remembered. The colorful twilight sky was gone. All that remained was inky blackness. But it was better than here and no worse than the pain he was desperate to escape.
He climbed through the window and took off into the dark night as fast as his legs would carry him. Where to he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure it mattered. The two most important people in his life were lost, and he blamed himself for it. So he ran on, without looking back.
Charlie’s lungs were burning and his legs about to fail when he finally collapsed, winded and confused. Remi landed in the sand beside him. The sky was so black her holographic wings seemed to glow with the intensity of a full moon, lighting a quiet prairie all around them. Long, thin desert reeds swayed in the breeze.
“You can run as far as you want,” she said. “But you can’t run from who you are.”
“I don’t know who I am!” said Charlie.
Remi knelt down, taking his hand.
“I’ve seen dreams respond to you!” The passion in her voice made her wings shine even brighter. “You expelled Moloch’s evil from that nightmare in the forest! When your friend was drowning, you changed the dream before he was harmed! And dream portals appear whenever you need them!”
Charlie shook his head, refusing to respond.
“You take away people’s fear,” she pleaded. “Like you just did for Plug!”
“That wasn’t me! That was him! He’s always been brave, always been there for me when I needed him. I didn’t do that!”
“Yes, you did! I saw it! When you took his hand, when you looked into his eyes! You ended Moloch’s grip of fear, and Plug’s courage returned!”
“I wish you were right! I wish I could—”
Remi snapped to attention, cutting Charlie off. Her abrupt stillness unsettled him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Something’s not right,” she said, looking around.
She lifted into flight. Charlie watched her circle overhead, surveying the Dreamscape from horizon to horizon before landing sharply.
“We have to go,” she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the swaying reeds. “Now!”
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Something happened while we were in the dreams,” she said.
They had reached a full sprint by this point. Charlie’s mind raced just as fast as his feet, trying to grasp the seriousness of the situation.
“I don’t understand. What about the other guardians?” he asked. “Can’t they—”
“There are no others, Charlie!” She hesitated, as if trying to avoid the horrible truth. “They’re all gone. It’s just us.”
“How do you know that?”
Remi stopped running. She looked on the verge of tears. “Because,” she answered, “there are no dreams. Only nightmares.”
Charlie looked around. She was right. There was no color, no light anywhere. The darkness was overpowering. He didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent.
“Come. We must keep moving,” she said. “But we need to stay low — out of sight. Moloch will be looking for you.”
“Where are we going?”
“To sacred caves in the Tana desert. The sands of Tana hold great power. It is where the Sandman was born into the Dreamscape ages ago. Where we will find safety, at least for now.”
In the depths of Rustam’s black sand tomb, a speck of light sparked from the medallion around his neck, as if triggered by some unseen force. Bit by bit, tiny golden rays chipped away the darkness until the medallion glowed with blinding strength.
Rustam’s eyes opened. He gasped for air. Black sand whipped around him, but he could feel his body being pushed up through the furious storm. He pierced the desert floor and pulled himself from the pit, coughing up heaps of black sand as he rose to his feet, groggy and confused. Whichever way Rustam turned, he was greeted with devastation and ruin.
“It cannot be true,” he whispered to himself.
But the twilight sky was pitched in blackness. The Dreamscape was littered with entombed guardians. Dream portals, once bright and colorful, were now all dull and gray. He was surrounded by a wasteland of evil, and he knew what that meant: Moloch had overrun the castle and infected the Archetypes, creating a reign of nightmares. Rustam’s soul ached as he wondered if Moloch had also made good on his most horrifying vow: to destroy the Heir.
All seemed lost, until his medallion roused, vibrating against his chest. Its gold beam cut through the darkness, as if a beacon to a ship lost at sea. Rustam clutched the medallion, understanding what this implied, what had reached across the desert and freed him from Moloch’s pit. Among all this darkness was still a ray of hope. A chance.
“The boy lives.”
He retrieved his sword, extended his wings, and launched deep into the uncertain sky.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FIELDS OF DORIAN
The field of reeds faded in the distance as Charlie and Remi trekked along a narrow trail that snaked through a deep, winding canyon. Even in the darkness, the canyon was magnificent. Its high walls seemed to be cut from some kind of crystal, Charlie thought. Almost like glass. But it wasn’t glass. It was super-reactive, and when it caught even the faintest trace of light from Remi’s wings or glowing forearms, it reflected back, sparkling like diamonds in a mine. The effect was mesmerizing but also dangerous. Charlie knew the rising walls boxed them in; if spotted, they were sitting ducks. Remi tried to keep her wings retracted for fear the light they generated would give up their position. Their only hope was to stay out of sight and keep to the shadows — shadows that were now darker than normal.
As they trudged on, Charlie’s eyes traced the lines of the canyon walls. He spotted innocent shapes in the odd angles and overlapping ridges, allowing his mind to wander to simpler things. One rounded shape even reminded him of a giant Ring Ding.
Great! Now I’m hallucinating, he thought. But actually…
“I’d kill for a Ring Ding right now,” he blurted out in response to a rumbling in his stomach.
“Ring Dings?” asked Remi. “Are these Ring Dings powerful?”
Charlie chuckled. He had forgotten that Remi wasn’t exactly a girl from the neighborhood.
“They’re powerful to Plug,” he replied. “Plug’s the Ring Ding King.” Charlie remembered how Plug could put down an entire box by himself. “Seven in under a minute once,” Charlie said. “Although he puked all over his new sneakers afterward. But he still loves them. Chunks of crème-filled chocolate goodness he calls them.” He smiled at the thought of his friend, but the smile just as quickly curved down into a frown.
Remi noticed and took his hand.
“You will get him back,” she said, understanding.
They pushed on through
the dark canyon. At the far end, it opened up into a great valley that stretched out before them like a too-still sea. The valley was surrounded by enormous sand dunes, twice the size of any skyscraper or mountain Charlie had ever seen back home. They were imposing, yet grand.
Remi stopped at the foot of the valley. She seemed unnerved, frightened even, by the sight that stretched out in front of them. At first glance Charlie didn’t notice, but as he looked closer and his eyes surveyed the desert floor, he became terrifyingly aware that they were not alone. Thousands, if not more, of entombed dream guardians stared up from pits of black sand, faces frozen mid-scream. They littered the landscape like a graveyard of fear that stretched out from Charlie’s feet to the horizon’s edge.
“Did Moloch do this? While we were in the dream?” Charlie asked.
“Not these warriors,” replied Remi. Her words seemed to be weighed down by grief, as if this place held painful memories still fresh in her mind. “This is Dorian, the gateway to the sacred desert and, until two days ago, a place of unimaginable beauty.”
Remi’s stare was numbing. It was the same wounded look Charlie had seen at the hospital with Plug, when families received terrible news about someone they loved.
“It was here,” Remi continued, “that the Sandman lost a great battle to Moloch, a battle that turned the tide of good and evil. Where nightmares began to outnumber dreams.”
“Did all these guardians die protecting dreams?” asked Charlie.
Remi looked up, and a small glow brightened the corner of her eyes. A speck of light about the size of a pebble leaked out and floated upward into the darkness. Charlie wasn’t sure what was happening, but then another speck appeared, and another, and another, all drifting up like tiny fireflies. Suddenly, Charlie understood: Remi was crying. It was one of the saddest, yet most beautiful, things he had ever seen. Then, without saying a word, Remi wandered into the valley.
Charlie followed her through the battlefield. The faces of fallen heroes surrounded them on all sides. Remi seemed to be searching more than leading. She stopped, glanced left and right, took another few steps, and glanced again. Then her head dropped.
“What is it?” asked Charlie.
“The night this happened, the dream portals were so plentiful they lit up the sky as if it were day,” she said. “I was circling above, keeping watch for any sign of danger, when another guardian trumpeted his horn. Moloch’s furies ambushed us. They were so many — everywhere we turned. For each one we cut down, two more attacked. There was nothing we could do, and then…” Her voice trailed off as she swallowed a lump in her throat. “Moloch appeared. It was like looking into the eyes of pure evil. And I remember… something odd.” Her words flowed with eerie calm. “He focused his attack on one dream and one dream alone — a portal whose glow was brighter than ten portals combined. It was gold and silver, the most beautiful I had ever seen.” She went on, her voice rising. “Rustam, the Scarred Guardian, the Sandman’s most trusted warrior, was its sole protector. He fought courageously, trying to battle Moloch back. But the web of darkness was too powerful. Even for him. When he cried out for help, many rushed to his aid.”
She paused, as if the thought still haunted her.
“But I did not. It was the first time I had ever encountered Moloch, and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t move. I can still hear all the cries for help.” Her voice began to tremble. “I did nothing, Charlie. I hid and watched as Moloch entombed so many and entered that dream portal. I didn’t try to stop him. I just flew away.”
Gold tears streamed up Remi’s eyes, and her expression revealed a pain that Charlie could hardly comprehend. She dropped to her knees, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. Charlie placed his hand on her shoulder.
“It’s okay, Remi,” he said.
She looked up at him with sad eyes. “You don’t understand,” she said, placing her hand upon the two sand-covered faces closest to her. “Charlie… these are my parents.”
Her words cut him deeply.
“You see,” she continued, “we are not so different.”
Charlie knelt beside her, and in that moment, something joined them — a powerful and wordless connection shared by two souls carrying a burden of guilt, torn from those they love, trying to find a way back home.
“I’m so sorry,” said Charlie.
He reached toward Remi’s mother, thinking of his own, but recoiled in shock at the sight of a gold teardrop pushing up through the black sand. It floated past Charlie and faded quietly into the night.
“She’s crying,” he said, hoping the thought that ran through his head wasn’t true. “Are they… alive in there?”
Remi nodded. “Trapped in a tomb of sand, until the dreams they protected are freed from evil.”
Charlie felt sick to his stomach. If this is what happened here, he wondered what might happen back home. It only made sense, he thought, that if something bad happened to those protecting the dreams, then something equally bad must happen to the dreamer on the other side. The evil must spread through them, like some sort of incurable disease.
“The people who attacked me in my apartment,” he said nervously. “The ones with red eyes. Their nightmares were controlling them. Moloch was controlling them.”
“Now you know why,” replied Remi.
“We’ll destroy ourselves,” Charlie whispered, almost to himself.
Even at ten, he understood what this kind of evil could do if wrapped around the minds of men. Charlie walked over to one of the entombed guardians, knelt down, and ran his hand across the frightened face that stared up at him. He thought of the millions, if not billions, of frightened faces across the Dreamscape and across his world. He thought of his mom, of Plug, of his classmates and neighbors.
As Charlie weighed these thoughts, an orange glow cut through the darkness like a sun low on the horizon. Its light warmed their faces and illuminated the battlefield. Charlie could hardly believe his eyes. A glorious dream portal had appeared. It was tiny, childlike, but brighter than any he had seen before. Ribbons of orange and red swirled within its brilliant sphere.
“It’s a dream,” said Charlie. “One that survived Moloch’s nightmares.”
“How is that possible?” asked Remi, amazed.
Charlie reached out, and the portal’s light weaved through his fingers.
“It’s because of the dreamer,” he answered, not exactly sure how he knew, but he did. “She’s not scared.”
“You can feel it, can’t you?” asked Remi.
“Yes,” he said, as the dream vanished. “It was a baby. A newborn dreaming of her mother.”
“A first dream too pure and new to know fear,” smiled Remi.
Charlie nodded.
“But why did it appear here? To us?” he asked.
“Not to us,” said Remi. “To you. Drawn to the one person who could save it.”
Charlie looked into Remi’s eyes, and an overwhelming sense of duty stirred within him. He ran his fingers through the sand and stared off toward some place deep in his mind.
“What if you’re wrong about me?” he asked. “What if I can’t help them, if I can’t do it? I’m terrified, Remi.”
She sat beside him and squeezed his hand tight.
“I survived because I hid while others fell,” she told him. “I could have done something. Could have helped. But I didn’t, and I will always regret that. It’s okay that you’re scared, Charlie. But don’t let fear control you as it did me.”
All of a sudden, an ominous rumble echoed across the valley from the mouth of the crystal canyon. It sounded to Charlie like a surge of water rushing straight toward them.
“Something’s coming,” he said.
The words had barely escaped his mouth when thousands of furies galloped from the canyon. They growled and shrieked and stormed across the graveyard of
fallen guardians. At the forefront of the rampage, riding atop a snarling fury, was Moloch.
“We’re trapped,” said Charlie. “There’s nowhere to go!”
Remi stepped between Charlie and the charging furies. She clenched her fist, and her forearm erupted with a white-hot glow. The embedded gems burned like a cluster of stars. She aimed her arm toward the sand and fired a shaft of light into it, melting the grains, fusing them together until they formed a crystal sword. Charlie was amazed. He picked it up, eyeing the blade. It was cool to the touch.
“Swing at anything that moves!” Remi shouted as she drew her bow.
Charlie’s fingers squeezed tight around the sword’s hilt. His face beaded with sweat, and he felt a pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was his heart or the stampede of Moloch’s furies thundering toward him like a herd of wild horses.
The onslaught was upon them like a gale wind. Charlie swung his sword. But before the blade connected with anything, the furies went limp and tumbled into the sand. Confusion racked Charlie’s senses until he noticed another army emerging from the darkness — an army of dream spawn. Ghostlike men, women, and children, of all ages, shapes, and sizes, materialized out of nowhere. They leapt into the furies, immobilizing them, like dogs caught in a catcher’s net. They appeared by the thousands, walling off Charlie and Remi from the attack.
“They’re protecting us!” said Remi.
“Keep behind them,” said Charlie. “Maybe they’ll lead us out of here!”
Charlie and Remi tried to blend with the cavalry, but Moloch did not relent. He jumped from the back of his charging beast and landed just a few yards from Charlie, on the opposite side of the ghostly wall.
“You should have perished upon our first encounter,” Moloch bellowed. “This time I will finish you with my own hands!”
Moloch drove his fists into the desert floor. His fingers fanned out like rotted tree roots. They snaked beneath the sand in a hundred different directions and yanked the dream spawn beneath the surface, clearing a path for his furies to advance. Three sprang at Charlie. He sliced the first across its chest while Remi shot down the second with a blazing arrow of light. The third charged, and Charlie swung high. It was a bad move. The fury lowered its head and swept Charlie’s legs, toppling him like a bull does an unlucky matador, knocking the sword from his hand. The fury circled back and was readying another assault when Remi snagged Charlie’s arm, lifting him into flight, just above the savage attack.
