Chapter 5: Agremonth

Marc's butt was asleep. He had been sitting on the floor listening to Icelus's story for probably an hour and a half.
“So,” he asked as he unsteadily got to his feet, “you think this Piper guy is the one who's trying to destroy the Nexus?”
“I have no doubt about it,” said Icelus. “Nobody else has ever wanted to destroy it. With that book,” she nodded towards Scary Monster in the Night, “he clearly wanted to chip away at my power in order to break the Shieldwork and try to destroy the Nexus again.”
“Is that what set this whole thing off?”
“No,” she said. “You said so yourself, the man who wrote this book is long-dead. I felt a real tremor in the Shieldwork recently. Whatever this Scary Monster book is, it's a failure.” She kicked it aside for emphasis.
Marc sighed. “So, what are you going to do now?”
Icelus looked around. “I should get you out of here. After that... I don't know.” She cast a furtive glance out the window. “We didn't really get much accomplished when we went into Oniron. Once we get you home, and we part ways... I guess my plan is the same as last time. Find Piper,” she said, “and kill him.”
“You're going to kill him?!”
“I don't see that I have a choice,” said Icelus. “The Nexus isn't moving and the Shieldwork can't hold forever. He has to be removed”
“That's really harsh,” said Marc.
“Being harsh is the least of my concerns any more,” she replied without looking at him. “I've scared people to death. I'm sure my rampage is a legend in Oniron now. The kind of thing parents tell their children to get them to behave. No reason to hold back because I might scare someone any more.” Her voice was full of regret. “I only must do what needs to be done.”

there, across the rooftops; marc leapt, his progress constant & almost easy – he drifted across ceilings, up ladders & grabbing chimneys
it was as if something were collapsing all around him, but he couldn't see, like things were being destroyed when he wasn't looking at them
oh well!
his eyes locked on the highest edifice in the town: some sort of telescope or astronomy tower, very big, & he knew as soon as he saw it that that was his destination, why was he heading there again?
remont is there
ah, yes, of course, he needed to find remont, it was very important that he found remont, he didn't know why he needed to find remont right now, or perhaps he wasn't supposed to know, but he knew it was very important & something VERY VERY BAD would happen if he didn't
so he ran, jumping jumping jumper, he couldn't even feel his muscles & it was really as if he didn't have any to worry about, like this was all just so effortless & breezy & dreamy?
dreamy, ha, wasn't that funny
but anyway he was soon at that tower, the door right in front of him, & he grabbed that handle & it flew open, & he saw as he looked up a spiral staircase, okay, time to run up that too; up up up he went to the uppermost upfloor, where the actual telescope stood and it was an entire floor rather than yet another damn story of this spiral staircase...
& when he was there he found not remont, no, tho he was filled with an odd dread in that regard, no what he found was some sort of... lizard thing? it crawled around the balcony & on the walls, & when it saw me it made a beeline for HIS FACE!!!!!!!
so there marc was, wrestling this kind of weird lizard thing off from him, as it tried to like crush his head in its gaping maw of a mouth, & marc beat it off with all he could muster, & eventually marc rammed through a door outside to a balcony, & there they were, trying to gain the upper-hand
& there they weren't, because they had run up against the railing and in their lack of balance & coordination had both gone tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down
marc felt a sense of weightlessness & even the lizard thing had stopped really fighting against him, really it seemed to be just as surprised & scared & probably freaking out as he was, understandably
but then marc looked down & even though he only caught a glimpse, it was enough, because it was the stone dog statue that he had been so afraid of for so long, it was enormous & it was here
waiting for them
the dog opened its mouth & marc fell in & marc's world went black

Marc jolted up out of bed, sweating. He took a second to remember where he was: in his room in his grandmother's house. It was 9AM. He had gotten maybe two hours of sleep.
After Icelus had broken down the door of the old house and gotten Marc out, they decided to head back to Mary's house. Marc was lucky enough to find a bus that was running at 5AM.
“You know time moves more slowly in Oniron,” Icelus had said. “Those two days or so over there weren't even a full night over here.”
Well, at least he hadn't been reported missing. Marc took the bus in the middle of the night alone, which was sooooooooo fun, with Icelus discreetly following behind it – he no longer had any doubts about her ability to keep herself hidden and trail him, not after what had happened in Oniron.
And then they arrived at the house and Marc immediately crashed on the bed – no shower, no change.
He had had another dream where Icelus attacked him.
Marc looked at the mirror in his room and felt a sharp twinge of guilt. Everything that had happened in the last two days – being woken in the middle of the night, heading to another world, being told about Icelus's past – all of that had dredged up some old and sore memories from him. It was no wonder they were tough for him to get over. But he remembered the bitterness in her voice. I scared a man to death, she'd said.
Well, she still didn't know about his nightmares. And he wasn't going to tell her.
Marc flopped down on his bed and tried to force himself back to sleep. Maybe this time he would actually have a normal dream, or better yet, just some peace and quiet.

Icelus was waiting downstairs in the kitchen for him. She was looking out the window.
“Here I was almost hoping that whole thing was a weird acid trip,” said Marc, pulling up a chair.
“No,” she said. “But you don't have to be bothered with it anymore. I can get to where I need to go now.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” she turned around. “Between that initial trip and the jump back, I think I have a pretty good idea of how to get to Agremonth and find the Shieldwork.”
“Can you get there on your own?” Marc asked.
“I can now,” she replied. “I'd been dormant for years over here. I suppose my powers needed a little jumpstart. So thank you for that, Marc.”
“No prob-” Marc had it halfway out before he realized it really had been a problem. “You're welcome,” he said instead.
Icelus walked up to Marc and looked up to him. “I think this is where we part. I appreciate your help, Marc. I really do. I can do the rest by myself. Wish me luck with finding Piper. Otherwise the universes might fall apart.”
Marc said nothing.
“What?”
“Are you...” he pointed at her. “Are you trying to guilt trip me?”
“Is it working?”
“Icelus,” said Marc. “What happens if Piper gets what he wants and destroys the Nexus?”
“Like I said,” she began, “the universe will fall apart.”
“But what does that mean?”
“I don't know, the Nexus has never been destroyed before. But-” she said quickly to cut off Marc, who had been about to object. “Best case scenario? Your world's dreams seep over to Oniron, and if they stop doing that, then we'll be cut off from our power source. No telling who or what might gain or lose their powers, but it would be a massive change in the foundations of our society.” Icelus strolled over to the counter with the fish tank on it. “On your side, if the Nexus is destroyed, humans will cease to have dreams.” She looked behind the counter. “Not just 'dreams' like what you see when you sleep, but in every sense – your hopes, ambitions, fears. Your society will stop progressing.” She reached behind the counter and unplugged the fish tank. “Total stasis. You will become stagnant.”
The six goldfish that Mary kept in her fish tank swam around, confused at the sudden lack of power and movement around them. They seemed very distressed.
“Okay, okay,” said Marc, “You don't have to mess with the fish.” He grabbed the power cord from Icelus and plugged it back in.
“So,” said Marc, “fate of two worlds in our hands?”
“Precisely,” said Icelus.
“Well...” Marc looked around at the empty house. “I've got about a week free. I guess I can help you save the universe, or whatever.”

The dirt road between the town of Zamasea and the giant, ancient castle of Agremonth was flat and featureless and very, very exposed. It was the last place that two people who were trying to hide would have chosen to be. Naturally, this was where Icelus and Marc appeared when they crossed into Oniron.
Icelus ducked behind Marc and gestured toward Zamasea. “Is there anyone who could see us?”
Marc peered at the town. It was a ways away. “No,” he said. “We're good. Let's put some distance between us and the town regardless.”
“Agreed,” she said, and they began their trek towards Agremonth.
“That's where you lived?” Marc gaped. This castle was enormous – and maybe more accurately described as a fortress. A vast wall surrounded it, but even then the sheer hugeness of the spires and towers awed him.
“Yes,” said Icelus. “I haven't seen it in so long.”
“Who built this?”
“I did,” she answered simply.
“You?!”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” she muttered. “I was more powerful then. Early days. Primal forces of existence clashing, beating out the shape of the world with the rhythms of their battles. I forget most of it.”
Marc didn't say much else after that, because he really couldn't tell if she was messing with him anymore.
Icelus had indeed managed to warp them pretty close to Agremonth, but it was still a good hike to get to it – forty-five minutes or so just to reach the base of the castle. The steps loomed over them, leading to a grand entranceway.
“We need to be careful once we're inside,” she said. “I may have moved out, but others may have moved in.”
So when they finished their (tiring) journey up the steps, Marc pushed the large, heavy wooden door open and peered inside. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to Icelus.
“Still,” she said, “don't let your guard down.”
The doorway lead into a vast main foyer. The entire castle, it seemed, was constructed out of ancient stone and nothing but – no decorations, carpets, chandeliers, paintings... nothing.
“Jeez, Icelus,” Marc remarked as they crossed the foyer, “Get an interior decorator.”
“Well, my magic powers don't quite cover knick-knacks, so I j – hide!” she hissed, and ran to take cover behind a nearby doorway.
Marc was thrown off, and scrambled after her. He managed to get behind the doorway not a second before a creaking sound was heard and two voices came through the foyer.
“-up at this castle for two days, I can't wait to get back home.”
“I dunno, maybe I'll volunteer and do it again soon.”
“What, you liked the patrolling? No one ever finds anyone.”
“I know, I just liked the peace and quiet...”
“Heh, clearly you don't have anybody waiting at home for you.”
“Aw, shut up.” The two voices laughed together.
“Wait, why is the front door open?”
I left it open, Marc thought with a jolt. Damn it. Damn it damn it, stupid idiot -
“The other guys must've already shown up for their shifts,” the unseen voices resumed their conversation.
“Yeah, maybe we missed 'em. They're awfully early.”
“Probably new, heh. Haven't learned how to cut corners right.”
Marc and Icelus listened intently as the front door swung open wider, the footsteps and voices of the two patrolmen fading.
All was silent. Marc let out a deep breath.
“We can't be that careless in the future,” whispered Icelus. “There may be more guards elsewhere.”
“Okay,” said Marc. “Lead the way.”
Icelus took point as they got out from the doorway, zipped up the stairs and clambered through.
Agremonth was a large castle of seemingly endless hallways – there were uncountable twists and turns into identical-looking rooms. The whole thing seemed structured more like a maze than any kind of building Marc had ever been in. The only thing he was really sure of was that they were moving up; every so often they would find a staircase, spiraling or otherwise, and head up.
The décor of the place didn't get any better as they made their way through – everything was spare and unadorned. No paintings on the hallways, no rugs, not even torches. The whole place was lit with whatever natural light happened to pour in through the windows. When they got deep into a twisty maze of passages, it was very hard to see.
On top of all that, Agremonth was nearly falling apart. It was ancient and crumbling – every step kicked up dust and every brush against the brick wall seemed to make them give way. Marc felt claustrophobic and paranoid being in here.
“Stop,” he said to Icelus. They had arrived in some kind of lobby that branched into two paths. So far Icelus seemed like she knew where she was going, but her rapid pace had exhausted Marc. He had to sit down.
“Marc, what are you doing? Someone could walk in right this minute.”
“I need to catch my breath,” he said.
“Come on, we don't have any time to spare!”
He said nothing, just tried to breathe.
“Marc!”
Just then a voice rang down the hallway. “Who's there?!”
Someone had heard Icelus!
Marc scrambled to his feet and Icelus turned around, but it was too late – out of one of the hallways emerged a man wearing armor and carrying what looked like a rifle. His jaw dropped in shock.
“Oh my god!” the man shouted in terror, and began to fumble with his rifle.
“Go!” Icelus shouted, and Marc made to run.
“Hold it!” the man said, and whipped around his rifle at them. “You're not going anywhere!”
Marc acted out of pure instinct – he crouched, jumped forward, and grabbed Icelus...
It happened in an instant – suddenly all he could see was a blur of light and sound, and then they were somewhere else.
Marc looked up. The room was larger than all the others, and it actually had a decoration – a large, plain throne at one end. That was less interesting than what was in front of it, though: a shimmering wall of translucent energy.
“Icelus,” he said, “is that the Shieldwork?”
She scrambled out from under him and stood up. “Marc, what did you just do?!”
“What?” he blanked momentarily. “Oh. Uh... I don't know?”
“What do you mean, you don't know?”
“What do you think I mean?”
She looked at him, then at the Shieldwork, then back at him. “Marc, that was... something. I don't know what it was, but it was something. And we'll have to figure it out what it was, because there's only one person I've seen who's done anything like it.”
“Who?”
“Piper. When he tried to destroy the Nexus.”
Marc's heart leapt.
“But... he's a nightmare.”
“I know. But he had to use a sigil to do the spell. You did that all by yourself.”
“So...” Marc looked down at his hands. “What does that mean?”
“I don't know, Marc. I've never seen anything like it before. But it helped, so... thank you.” Icelus turned to the Shieldwork. “Now let's see what's been done to my baby.”
Marc got up and followed her to the Shieldwork. The closer he got to it, the harder it seemed to push him away, like a magnet. Icelus didn't seem to have any problems, though.
Not without some difficulty on his part, they finally reached the Shieldwork. Icelus put a paw up to it and felt it. “I see,” she said.
“See what?” Marc asked. He had to shield his eyes from the spell's brightness.
“There are marks here. Scars. Most of them are fresh. And broad.”
“Broad?”
“It looks like... whatever magickal spell he did to try to de-power my sigil, he managed to expose a lot of people to it.”
“How can that be?” Marc asked. “Nobody knows anything about magic or Oniron or you.”
“It would be just like that book we saw, Marc. Sneak it in. Covertly show it to a lot of people. Maybe it was on the news and you didn't realize it. Or better yet,” she mused, “a story. That's the most likely thing. Stories can trick humans. None of them know how powerful they really are. Give them a big propaganda movie and won't even think twice about it.”
“So we're stupid, then?” Marc said.
“No, Marc,” she responded flatly. “You just need to start looking around and being aware.”
Marc thought back to Remont's words. You see our world every time you go to sleep... whenever you close your eyes... and you thought we weren't real? Well, if it wasn't meant to be an insult, Marc still felt condescended to.
“Wait!” shouted Icelus. “What are these?”
“I still can't see anything,” he said.
“They're different scars. Over here. They're much deeper and much older.”
Marc fumbled over to where Icelus had moved. “Okay,” he said. “What does that mean?”
“Hush,” she whispered, and put her paw to the pinhole-sized indentations in the Shieldwork. “I'm tracing their source.”
“Why?”
“Because these scars come from a different place than the other ones. Someone who fears or hates me much more profoundly. It might even be Piper. We could see where he is.”
Icelus closed her eyes and gave a soft hum, and a thin trail of dust appeared out of the holes and floated in space. She nodded to it, and the dust took off.
Icelus gasped.
“What?” Marc said. He still couldn't see much, but he risked a glance.
The dust had settled around him.
Marc looked at Icelus, and Icelus at Marc. Her mouth was open in shock, or sadness, or some combination of both.
“Marc,” she said, “why?”
“Why what?” he asked. “What does this mean?”
“It means you were the one who did this damage to the Shieldwork,” she said. “Long ago. Before Piper even tried whatever he's trying now. Marc,” she hesitated, “were you scared of me?”
Marc covered his eyes again and looked away. “Y...yeah.” The word slipped out of his mouth and flopped to the floor. He was ashamed to admit it.
“But... you were the one who dreamed about me,” she said. “That's the only reason you could have helped me. There was a psychic link.”
“They weren't dreams,” he said.
Icelus paused. “Oh,” she said quietly. Looking over at the marks once again, she remarked, “they're deep. You... must have dreamed about me a lot.”
“I did,” said Marc. “You always ate me, and then I'd wake up.”
“That can't be easy to get over.”
“Not really.”
“Marc. Are you still scared?”
He said nothing.
Icelus shivered and groaned, and it looked for all the world like she was crying. Nothing came out of her, but Marc could tell she was hurt.
“I'm sorry, Icelus. I'm so sorry,” he said.
“It's not your fault,” she replied, choked up. “I scared a friend to death. Exiled myself because the people I was supposed to protect were too scared of me to want my protection. Of course I scared you. Of course.”
They sat like that for a while, in the most awkward and painful silence of their lives. Icelus gathered the dust back up and silently directed it back into the holes.
Suddenly a voice from the far end of the hall broke their mood.
“It's them!” it shouted.
They both looked up. It was the man who had seen them in the lower castle! And three men were with him – all carrying rifles and readying them.
“Oh, no,” said Icelus.
The men were advancing toward them.
“Marc!” she said. “We have to go. Can you do that thing again?”
“Uh, um...” Marc hesitated. He crouched down and grabbed Icelus and screwed his face up and concentrated.
Come on, he thought. Teleport or something.
Nothing. He opened his eyes and everything was exactly the same.
He shut his eyes and thought harder.
It's not coming.
“I can't,” he said. “It's not working. Why isn't it working?”
The men had their rifles at the ready. The magnetic effect of the Shieldwork was hampering their progress, but only a bit. “Come with us and we won't have to hurt you!” the one in the lead shouted.
Icelus eyed them solemnly and then looked at Marc. “It's okay, Marc,” she said. “You were right. I was wrong to put you here.”
“No... no, it's -”
“It's okay, Marc. You did a good job.”
The back of his neck prickled.
“Goodbye,” said Icelus.
And then Marc disappeared.

He was downtown. It was the middle of the afternoon.
Marc hacked and coughed and sputtered once again, breathing the new air. He was used to it by now, so it wasn't so bad this time.
He got up and looked around. Some people were looking at him. Pedestrians and businessmen side-eyed Marc, but they weren't freaking out. Had they seen him appear? He was back in his own world. But...
Icelus wasn't here. She was nowhere to be found.
“No,” he whispered. “No...”
Icelus was still in Oniron. She had warped him back here, and now she was trapped over there.


Next

Chapter 4: The Nexus

Nobody had lived in the Marshall's house for years. The stories were true, then: a house that someone died in was a tough sell. It wasn't like it was a bad house; even after all these years, the foundations held, and it was only just general wear and tear that had worn it down. The windows were mostly cracked and dusty, except for one that was much newer than the others. That one had been replaced after a homeless woman had broken in and slept there for a few days. But you could go in there and clean it easy enough and have a nice house. A fixer-upper with not much fix and potentially lots of up.
Still, nobody was there right now, which was vital, because Marc and Icelus had just warped there from Oniron.
Marc thudded to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and stung his eyes. Not only that, he had forgotten that he had to adjust to the air, so on top of the new oxygen he was also batting away clumps of dirt, hacking and coughing and crying.
Icelus kept quiet while she waited for Marc to adjust, a process that included getting up, tripping, and dropping the book he had been carrying.
She walked over and looked at the book. Scary Monster in the Night, by Reid Marshall. Her ears perked up at the image of the shadow dog on the cover. “Marc,” she asked, “What is this?”
“Ackh!” Marc spat out a huge glob on to the floor and roughly wiped the drool and phlegm away.
“That's an odd name,” she said flatly.
“Please,” he said, “give me a minute.”
He sat down. Drew in a few deep breaths. Coughed some more. Looked at her.
“Where were you?!” he shouted.
“I was behind you the whole time.”
“Why didn't you say anything? I was lost!”
“Because I'm an exile and that would have endangered you,” said Icelus. “I couldn't let myself be seen. I'm sorry.”
“Well,” Marc said, “they saw you now.”
“They did. Everybody's going to be on the lookout for me.”
“So...” Marc hesitated. “What now?”
“We will have to be more careful in the future,” she said calmly.
“No,” he said.
“No?”
“No, I'm... just done. Ugh.” Marc got up. “I'll find a way home. You go deal with your own problems.”
“Marc, I still need you to get to and from there,” Icelus said, distressed.
“Well, then, I guess you're out of luck! I'll find something to tell my grandma. I'll say I smashed you and threw you in the dump and that's why you're gone. Just leave me alone.” Marc turned and began to walk away.
He heard footsteps behind him. Out of instinct, his heart rate shot up and he turned around to see a frightening sight – more frightening for him than for anybody else, probably. Icelus was livid.
“This is too important!” she shouted. “You can't go back on this now! How dare you?!”
For a minute Marc was almost cowed. He was about to shrink back. To do whatever she said once more, out of fear.
But how often had he done that in just two days? He'd let her snatch him off to another world, get attacked by nightmares, hitch a ride with a group of strangers. It had to stop.
“Too bad!” he yelled back. “Didn't you say I could walk away if I wanted? Back when you first tried to rope me in to all this? Well, I'm pulling out now! Before it's too late!”
He turned and stormed off to the door. It was locked shut.
“AARGH!” Marc yelled and kicked the door. He kicked it again. And again.
Icelus looked at this scene forlornly. Her ears drooped. He was right, she knew. This was her burden and she couldn't demand anything of him.
With the enraged sound of kicking still in her ears, she turned around and sighed.
That's when she noticed something in the corner of her eye.
“Marc,” she said.
He didn't answer, just kept kicking the door.
“Marc!”
“WHAT?!”
“Can you read this?”
He stopped kicking. “Read what?!”
“This book you were carrying!”
Silence. One, two, three seconds. He came over. “This book?” he pointed.
“Yes,” she said.
Marc picked it up and flipped through it. “Of course. It's a children's book. Why do you want to read it?”
“The cover, Marc. You see the shadow dog on the cover?”
“Yeah.”
“Look at its flank. Look at that design.”
Marc peered at the dog's back haunch. He hadn't noticed it before, but she was right – there was a little mark on it.

“Do you recognize it?” he asked.
“It's mine,” Icelus said. “My sigil.”
“Your sigil?”
“It's...” she paused to consider. “It's like a shorthand for myself. Anything with that sigil on it affects me.”
“Why is it here on this book? Is it a coincidence?”
“It can't be,” she said. “The sigil is on a dog. I'm a dog... or a dog-shaped deity, at least. There's no way this is a coincidence. This book... Marc, I need you to read it for me.”
“You can't read it?” asked Marc.
“No,” she huffed. “I don't know your language.”
“What are you going to do once you know what this is about?” he said.
“That depends on what's in it. Please, Marc,” she said. “This is the last thing I will ask you to do for me.”
Marc sighed. “Fine,” he said, “but that's it.” He flipped it open.

The first page was a picture of a tall man with a flute in his hand. He was looking out of the book with a friendly smile at the viewer – at “us.”
Hello, friend! it said below. Could I ask for your help?
Next page. The man was pointing across a bridge, showing it to us.
My friend is over there and he needs me! But there's a scary monster under the bridge and I need you to help me defeat it! Can you be brave?
The next page had no words. The man walked down the bridge.
On the page after that, a monstrous-looking dog appeared on the bridge, its fangs bared at the man.
Oh no!
The monster snarled.
My name is Icelus. You can't pass here, and you can't help your friend!
The man looked back at us.
I need your help. Can you help me?
Icelus cackled and showed its flank.
You can't do anything, not while I have this mark that gives me powers!
The man looked Icelus straight in the eye.
You won't stop us, Icelus!
The man looked back at us again.
I need you to say it with me: “Scary monster in the night, we don't like you, no more fright!”
He leaned in very close.
Say it: “Scary monster in the night, we don't like you, no more fright!”
Icelus was terrified.
No!
It threw its head back.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
It ran off into the distance, out of sight.
The man looked back at us.
Thank you! Now my friend will be safe!
He crouched down and took us by the shoulders.
Remember: you don't have to be afraid of Icelus – just remember that you don't like it, and you don't want it near you, and it won't come to get you.
He got up.
Thank you!

Marc closed the book.
“That made no sense,” he said.
But when he looked at Icelus, her expression surprised him. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed. She was angry.
“I should have known,” she said. “I should have known, dammit.”
“What?” asked Marc. “Known what?
“I know who's threatening the bridge between our worlds.” Icelus got up and took the book in between her mouth and tossed it on the ground. It opened up to the first page, with a picture of the man who had been talking to “us”.
“That man is named Piper,” she said. “He's a powerful nightmare. A cunning and ambitious one as well.”
“He's... a nightmare?” asked Marc. “But he's not a monster or anything.”
“Nightmares can look human as well,” she said. “It all depends on what they represent. I never found out which fear Piper represents to humans, but he took advantage of his appearance to fool us more than once.”
“Why does he want to destroy the bridge?” asked Marc.
Icelus's head dropped. She shuffled awkwardly. “The bridge is just collateral damage. It's in his way. I'm the protector of the bridge, ergo I'm in his way too. This,” she pointed at the book with her snout, “is an attack on me. He must have somehow appeared in this world – in your world – and convinced someone to write it.”
“Reid Marshall,” said Marc. “I knew him, sort of. He was a family friend. He died years ago.”
Icelus considered that. “Then the plan failed,” she said. “He must have a new one now. One that's working.”
“But what kind of plan is this?” Marc held up the book to Icelus and waved it. “It looks more like a smear campaign.”
“That's exactly it, Marc,” she said. “Didn't I tell you? My sigil is on that monster in the book.” Icelus started pacing back and forth. “This was an attempt to direct a large amount of negative psychic energy towards me, to break my power. If humans hate me, if they don't believe in my ability to protect the bridge...” she paused, “...then I can't protect it.
“Look at the chant at the end,” she said. “We don't like you, no more fright. And his advice for us at the end? You don't like it, and you don't want it near you. If people had seen this, if this book had been successful, it would have almost destroyed me.”
“But it didn't,” said Marc. “I mean... you probably can't tell, but this book... uh, it sucks. It doesn't teach a lesson, it's not funny,” he threw the book on the ground. “I'd rather read Fox in Socks any day.”
“Foxensox?” Icelus repeated.
“Never mind,” said Marc. “The point is, whoever this Piper guys is, if he wants to get people to hate you, he's done a bad job. You should be good, right?”
Icelus said nothing.
“Icelus,” said Marc. “Are you okay?”
“Piper has already done a number on my reputation back in Oniron,” she said bitterly. “He was the reason I was exiled.”
“What? How?”
Icelus sighed. “I suppose you should know. It wasn't important before, but now it is. I'll tell you everything.”

The bridge between our worlds is called the Nexus. It's beautiful and majestic and larger than you can fathom. And it extends into infinity. When you go into the throne room of the castle of Agremonth, when you pass through the doorway and look at the Nexus, you cannot see the end. It may look like a normal bridge above a cavernous abyss, but it cannot be traversed. You can walk forward forever and ever and when you turn around the doorway will still be three steps behind you. The Nexus doesn't extend into a physical space; it joins the two worlds themselves, and the only thing that flows between them are dreams and ideas, thoughts and stories.
I spent most of my time there. I was the guardian of this bridge. It enriched me. Standing there and observing the flow of pure energy. I saw how both of the worlds were shaping themselves all from my position. I didn't leave often.
The first time I met Piper, he came to visit me. Anyone could enter my abode; nobody wished me ill, and everyone knew how important it was to maintain the Nexus. Most citizens of Oniron, or at least those who could make the trip, visited me at least once. Some came to see me very often, eager to listen to me tell about the history of the worlds and the stories I had taken from your side. But I had never seen Piper before. When he came he was very meek, almost cowed by my power and age, but I was used to this, and I welcomed him warmly.
“It is nice of you to visit me,” I said.
“Icelus. It's nice to finally meet you,” he said in return. “I've heard many tales about your wisdom and kindness.”
“Oh, don't listen to them,” I chuckled. “I merely do my duty. I'm blessed to have a valuable place in this world.”
Piper nodded awkwardly and looked around. He saw the abyss of dreams and ideas as they flew closer to our side of the bridge and then dissipated, ready to take form somewhere in the outlands of Oniron.
“Those are the nightmares of humans?” he asked.
“They are,” I said. “I only hope they're not too much trouble for our people to handle.”
“Too much to handle?”
“It doesn't happen often,” I said, “but sometimes a really strong nightmare takes form and endangers us.”
“What makes a nightmare strong or weak?”
“How much humans fear it,” I told him. “Not love or hate it, mind you, but fear it. If an idea makes a strong and frightening impression on a large enough number of humans, then it becomes powerful.”
“Can nightmares become weak?”
“Yes,” I said. Now that I look back, it was clear how he was channeling me into this topic – weak and dying nightmares – but I thought they were innocent enough questions. So I answered them truthfully. “A nightmare never really dies. No power in existence can really destroy an idea. But it can be weakened, if it stops being feared. To cause laughter, or disbelief; that is a heavy toll on a nightmare. But it must happen to all of them eventually. They will never die, perhaps, but they must always be subject to the unceasing flood of change. All things must change.”
“Because of the Nexus?” asked Piper.
“Because of the Nexus,” I said.
He remained silent for a little while. He was struggling to spit something out. I said nothing. He would come to it eventually. I had time.
“I brought someone along with me,” he said finally.
“Who is it?”
“He's...” his voice dropped down to a whisper. “He's a nightmare.”
My ears perked up. “Why did you bring a nightmare here?” I asked. “You could get in major trouble – I don't even know what Chief Bairdsley would say.”
He put a finger to his mouth. “I know, I know,” he said. “But... please, will you see him? Can you help him?”
“What does a nightmare need help with?”
“Please.”
I sighed. “Fine. Is he here?”
“Yes,” said Piper. “I'll go get him.”
He ducked out of sight into the throne room. Was just behind the door? In plain sight? The fool – anybody could have walked in and seen this nightmare he'd snuck in.
They would have recognized it as one, too.. The thing was clearly monstrous – four-legged, lizardlike, its head was mostly maw and mouth. It was constantly opening and closing its jaw, as if it was looking for something to eat, and its breath was shaky and uneven.
“It doesn't look like it's wounded,” I said. “Merely frail.”
“He,” insisted Piper.
“...he, then. He doesn't look like he's wounded.”
“I don't think he is,” said Piper, “at least not normally.”
“Who is he? Do you know?”
The nightmare crooked its head up and met my gaze. “Canis,” it said.
“It speaks,” I said, surprised.
“Yes,” it responded. “Piper, could you please put me down?”
Piper gently lowered Canis onto the ground, and he awkwardly rolled out of Piper's arms. It adjusted its position and looked at me again. “I was mighty once, you know,” it said. “Those humans, they ran around every day and every night terrified that they might get eaten by a wild animal. And I was that fear.”
He certainly looked like the kind of nightmare who would embody it. I told him, “The days when humans feared being eaten alive are ancient history to them. Now they are the masters of their world.”
“I know,” it harshly rattled out. “And now I am the victim of their changing society. One I had no say in. Is that fair?”
“'Fair' does not matter,” I said.
“But I was strong,” he murmured. “I ruled the outlands. And then humans made me weak.”
“It was only humans that made you strong in the first place,” I replied. “Everything must change, Canis. One day the humans will destroy themselves, and then maybe those who are left will begin to fear the appetites of wild animals once again. If – when – that happens, you will thank them then.”
“Icelus,” said Piper. “Isn't there anything you can do? When I met Canis in the outlands, he was so weak, but he was so kind to me.”
“Kind,” I said. “I guarantee you, Piper, he is only 'kind' because he is weak now. Was he kind when he haunted the minds of humans? No. He thrived off their fear and dominated the outlands. Those who dominate are always cruel. If he was not weak, he would not have been kind.”
“That doesn't invalidate his kindness,” Piper said. He gave me such a fierce look then. It was bold and defiant. I was impressed.
“No,” I said. “It doesn't. But I still can't help him. He is subject to the laws of our world.”
“Because of the Nexus?” asked Piper.
I looked at him long and hard.
“Because of the Nexus,” I said. “Now if you are done, please leave.”
I didn't often ask people to leave, but Piper had rattled me. As he scooped up his friend and shot me a resentful look on his way out, I began to consider the Nexus. That fountain of endless change and upheaval. I suppose sometimes I forget the ordinary people who are swept up in that change.

A few months later, Chief Bairdsley invited me to be a guest of honor at the Adjoining Festival. This was a special day – it only happened about once every twenty years in Oniron, or about seventy years in the human world. It is the time when the resonant frequencies of our two worlds are the closest, so much so that a small hole opens up in our sky that directly connects the worlds. It's a very clear sight – everybody joins together to catch a glimpse of the human world for about ten or twenty minutes. It's probably even more direct and clear than even the Nexus's connection.
I had been to several Adjoining Festivals before – in addition to the glimpse everyone got to see of the human world, it was symbolic, too – a passing of the torch from one generation to the next. The children loved it most of all. It was a kind of holiday dedicated to their potential in the future, and capped off with a spectacular view.
And the children at that particular festival were all over me! As soon as I came to the nearby city of Zamasea, I was flooded with children who wanted to meet the legendary guardian of the Nexus. It almost suffocated me – after all, I was still assuming a dog shape, and I didn't even come up to some of these kids' chests as they patted me and bent down to ask me questions. I tried to fight my way through - “Pardon me,” “Excuse me,” “Sorry,” “I'm going somewhere,” but they just kept coming. I nearly thought this would be the end of me.
It was only then that I felt two strong, firm hands reach around my sides and pick me up. It was a tall, strong man who I didn't recognize at all. Did he want to carry me off and parade me around the city?
“Icelus,” he said reassuringly. “It's good to meet you. I'm Garrett. Chief Bairdsley sent me to fetch you.” He turned to the crowd of kids. “Maybe these kids should become assistants instead, they're doing a better job than I am!”
The kids all laughed at that, but I was practically red with embarrassment. Garrett carried me away and set me down, so at least when I greeted Bairdsley I could try to forget the temporary loss of dignity.
Bairdsley sat at the head of an enormous table in the middle of the town square, entertaining guests and making sure that everyone was eating well. As Garrett and I approached, he caught a glimpse of me and threw his arms up.
“Icelus!” he said. “So glad you could make it. Take this seat right here, I insist.” He pulled away his chair at the head of the table and offered it to me.
I demurred and decided to sit next to him instead, across from an old man I did not recognize. He smiled. “I see you already know my son.”
“Who, the Chief?” I asked.
Bairdsley chuckled. “Icelus, this is my father, Ianto Bairdsley. He traveled from two cities over to see this.”
“I took my son to the Adjoining Festival when he was very young,” said Ianto. “It was very special to us. I'm glad I'll get to see it one last time before I pass away.”
“Now, father,” said Bairdsley. “Don't be too morbid.”
“What?” Ianto said. “No point in getting old if I can't joke about dying now and then.” He chuckled, mostly to himself.
Bairdsley took his place at the head of the table. “You have good timing, Icelus,” he whispered to me. “We're about to witness the Adjoining any second now.”
“Is that so? I haven't seen one in many years.”
“I've almost forgotten how the other world looks,” he said excitedly.
Suddenly there was a shift in the air – seismic and yet unseeable. Everyone at the table and around the town square noticed, and became deathly still.
They looked up. Nothing... Nothing. Nothi -
A gasp erupted from the crowd. Pointed fingers. They all looked up to see a tiny little pinprick of a hole in the sky – first small, then slowly expanding. It was no empty hole – as it opened wider you could see greens and blues and whites that were nowhere in our world.
It was the Adjoining. Some people were seeing it for the first time in their lives. A magical moment. I saw their faces light up in wonder, not daring to look away for a second at this strange and wonderful other world.
Then a twinge pulled at me in the back of my head, and then that small twinge erupted into a flame.
As the guardian of the Nexus, I'm connected to it. Even when I'm not there, I can sense its state. What I felt then was something I hadn't felt in years – I had nearly forgotten what it was like. But I knew, instinctively, that the Nexus was in trouble. All the power and rage I had not loosed for generations came welling back up inside me – the absolute need to protect it. Nothing else was important right now.
Somebody thought that they could use this festival as a distraction. I would not let them.
I can't describe how angry I was right then. The connection to the Nexus is very, very deep. Trying to damage it only aroused immediate and intense feelings of protection in me. I needed to be there.
I also told you, I once had immense power in my world. As a guardian, it was required. The connection between the worlds is too important to entrust to one who is weak or unable to protect it. I had not had to do so in centuries, not since the days when I fought to a standstill the Eye of Creation, or the Omni-decay, and even more gods and deities who never had names.
These two facts – my anger and my power – were very clear and obvious to me. I knew them. The townsfolk did not. What they saw then was not me puffing myself up to appear frightening and scare off intruders. What they saw was... terrifying, simply terrifying.
In mere seconds, I became towering. Enormous. I kept my form as a dog, but I loomed over the town, cast a shadow over the buildings, and probably blocked the view of the Adjoining. My colors changed to the boundless and acidic tones that reflected the empty space between atoms. I only remember the gasps of terror as I grew larger and more ferocious.
I did not have time to stop for them.
With great bounds and leaps, I turned and bounded back to my castle of Agremonth. Whoever was attacking the Nexus would soon feel my wrath.
It was a short distance from Zamasea to Agremonth, and in my enormous form I made the journey in minutes. I nearly flew into the castle, making myself small enough to fit but large enough to fill a room, up through passages and hallways, finally bursting into the throne room. Only then did I see who it was that had tried to attack the Nexus.
PIPER, I said.
He was crouched over a small mark that he had carved in the ground. But when he saw me, he dropped his chisel and fell to the floor. He shook and swayed in terror.
“No!” he shouted. “You weren't supposed to know!”
YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD SLIP BY ME.
“My people are suffering because of the Nexus!” he said.
YOUR PEOPLE?
“Yes!” Piper rose up. “Or didn't you know, Icelus? Where do you think I learned a spell that could possibly hurt you? I'm a nightmare, too!”
It couldn't be – Piper looked so much like a regular person. But he looked at me with such hatred. I saw the look in his eyes and I knew it was true.
I roared – an enormous sound that tore the air from the room, a sound that would be heard for miles and miles. And I told him, loud enough for everyone even in Zamasea to hear.
YOU HAVE ATTACKED THE NEXUS, PIPER. YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED.
“I don't think so,” he whispered, and pulled out a single crystal.
It was tiny – small enough to fit between his thumb and forefinger. Small enough that he crushed it easily, and a strange swirl of light and energy erupted from it.
He stepped through it, and was gone.
No, I thought. This can't be – I must find him!
So I roared again. This time in anger. It shattered every window in the castle and brought stillness and silence to the entire countryside. Thus was the strength of my full power.
And yet it still could not help me to punish a single criminal.

“She's here.”
I heard a voice echo from across the throne room. I had been attempting to scratch out the magic sigil that Piper had been about to activate. It was nearly gone.
When I turned around I saw Chief Bairdsley at the head of a group of officials. He looked grim, his jaw set and his eyes ragged.
“Icelus,” he said. “What happened?”
“A nightmare named Piper attacked the Nexus,” I said. “He got away before I could kill him.”
“So... that's what you look like on the job.”
I looked at Bairdsley. “What do you mean?”
Bairdsley shook his head. “You didn't look back at Zamasea for one second, did you?”
“No,” I said. “I had no time. I had to find Piper and stop him from destroying the Nexus. What happened?”
One of the officials behind Bairdsley broke off and shouted at me. I recognized him – it was Garrett. “What happened was you nearly leveled the city!”
An ice-cold pin stabbed my heart. “No... I didn't think...”
Silence. Finally I asked, “Did anyone die?”
Bairdsley sighed and looked away. “Yes.”
The pin was driven even deeper. “How many?”
“Five,” he said. “My father included.”
This... was terrible, this couldn't be happening. Ianto was dead. I had killed him? “I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean...”
“His heart stopped when he saw you, Icelus,” Bairdsley continued. “I'd almost say you scared him to death.”
I said nothing. What could I say?
“Icelus,” said Bairdsley. His voice was thick and bitter now. “Why didn't you look? Aren't you supposed to be our ally? Aren't you supposed to protect us?”
Piper's sigil still seemed to burn up, past all the scratch marks I had tried to hide it with. “I was furious,” I said softly. “I didn't think.”
“Furious?!” Bairdsley exploded. “Can't we expect anything better from our guardians? Our gods? You let your anger consume you and now five people are dead!” He hesitated. “My father never got to see the other world again because of your foolishness!”
For a long, long time, I said nothing. I had never done anything like this. I had last used my powers ages in the past, before people had settled much in Oniron. There were barely any lives to be endangered. I had fought ideas and horrors that tortured the minds of men so I could protect the link between our worlds. I had not done it for praise, or gratitude, but because I knew it was my duty. But now, when there was finally something tangible, something here, to protect, I had disregarded it all. What could I say to Bairdsley? Every excuse, every justification fell away from me. Had I learned anything in the thousands of years that had passed?
I glanced at the Nexus. It was still as beautiful as the first time I'd ever laid eyes on it. Still changing everything.
I remembered then something I had told Piper when he came to me.
They will never die, perhaps, but they must always be subject to the unceasing flood of change. All things must change.
Because of the Nexus? Piper's voice rang in my head once more.
I had let my old instincts rule my head. I had not changed – but the world around me had. And the price of my stubborness and my fixity had been tragic.
Because of the Nexus, I thought.
I did not belong in this world anymore.
“Bairdsley,” I said. “I'm sorry. I'm truly so sorry.”
“That doesn't bring back the dead, Icelus,” he said.
“No,” I said. “But it will not happen again.” And I opened my mouth and I howled.
The magic of ages long past flowed out of me – from deep in my stomach, rising through my throat and out into the air. This was not the roar of destruction I unleashed to scare Piper – this was something else. Cathartic. Transformative. Creational. It drained me. I sung the life out of myself, and the sound of that life formed into something different. Something clear and resonant and unyielding.
I stopped. I had never felt weaker. Nearly all my power was gone. When I looked at Bairdsley and the gathered townspeople, it was through a shining, translucent wall of pure magic. This was what I had made.
“This is the Shieldwork,” I said. “It will guard the Nexus in my stead.”
“Where are you going?!” Bairdsley shouted.
“To the other world,” I said. “I will remain there. Perhaps forever. My time in this world is over. I tried to be constant, I tried to never change,” I paused and sighed. “Anything that resists change eventually rots. I will not allow myself to rot any further.”
And with that I turned. “Goodbye, Bairdsley. You taught me a lesson. I'm so sorry the price was so high.”
So I walked. Across the Nexus, through the membrane of the worlds.
It was difficult. More difficult than I could possibly describe. Perhaps I could have weathered it if I still held my power, but I had given it all up. And now I was suffering the price for it. A horrible weight gradually pressed down on my back. My lungs screamed for air. My vision blurred. And still I kept on. It was a kind of self-punishment, and I knew I deserved it.
Would I die here? It would be almost welcome.
Eventually I reached a place where I could continue no longer. It would have been like squeezing myself through a keyhole. With the last of my strength, I forced myself to sit up. My limbs were turning to stone now. Not just figuratively, but literally. The unceasing pressure at the deep end of the Nexus had hardened my skin. And so I remained like that. My mind closed. It was almost like dreaming.
I had never dreamed before.
The last thing I remember before my mind slipped away completely was a dream. A dream of being taken and watching over a living room. I used to guard the fundamental structure of the universe. Now I watched over a fireplace.
So be it.


Next

Chapter 3: Oniron

It was an uncanny and familiar feeling – all of Marc's sight and senses seemed to compress into one instant, and he passed by endless infinites of space and color without ever being able to see or notice them – and then his feet were back on the ground.
Marc gasped immediately, and when he gasped he choked. He collapsed to the ground and hugged his chest tight – the air was so much different here than anything he'd ever breathed before.
“Marc!” shouted Icelus. She rushed over to him, her face full of concern. “Are you okay?”
Marc was barely able to nod yes – slowly enough, his lungs seemed to be adjusting to the different atmosphere. He was gasping in short breaths now – it seemed so much fuller.
“Hold on,” he finally managed to wheeze out, “I...”
He lay still for a moment and let the old air filter out of his lungs and the new air cycle through. He felt both his arms and legs fall asleep, and sat up to stretch them out. He had never expected the air itself to feel this different. It wasn't the humidity or the particles in it, but a fundamental difference in how it filled his lungs. It felt odd. He couldn't put his finger on it.
Marc finally got up and looked around. It looked like they were in a clearing in the heart of some forest. Wherever they were, it was the middle of the night, just like when they had left. The leaves were dry and crackling – it was probably winter here too. The air was mildly chilly. Marc could see through the sparse trees, but exactly where they were in the forest was impossible to tell; the night blanketed them completely and it cut off Marc's vision.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“This is where I'm from,” said Icelus. “Or not here, specifically, but this is definitely my world.” She breathed in and sighed deeply. “Oniron.”
“What?”
“That's the name of this realm. Oniron.”
Marc looked around. “Is the whole place a forest, or...?”
“No, this is just where we ended up. I think I know where we are, though, “ she said. “Follow me.”
Icelus took off quickly and Marc almost had to jog to keep pace with her. He was grateful that he had changed clothes before coming along, otherwise he'd have been walking through this forest at night in his pajamas.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“First we need to find a way out of this forest.” she said. “There might be nightmares here who heard us arrive. Better to be out in the open where nobody could sneak up on us.”
“Is someone going to sneak up on us?!”
“Possibly.”
“And what would they do? Attack us?”
“Yes, and that's why we should find a way out.”
Marc stopped in his tracks. “Hold on!”
Icelus halted and turned to him.
“Are you saying,” he said, “we could be attacked here? Are we in danger?”
Icelus looked him fiercely in the eyes. “Marc, I will protect you if we come across any nightmares. I swear.”
Marc was almost cowed by that glare. It was nearly the same expression that Icelus's face had twisted itself into in his dreams. The one that happened right before she attacked him and ate him. But he had to put his foot down here. If he was going to travel with her, he couldn't keep being scared of her.
“W-what if you can't?” he said.
Damn it. He had stuttered. Real freaking brave. But at least Icelus seemed to take it seriously and consider it.
“Marc, I've taken you here to Oniron, and I can tell you didn't want to go with me,” she began. “But I needed help, and you were the best person to help me. Still, you didn't ask for this.” She looked down. “I will let myself be taken or killed before I ever let you be. I swear.”
She seemed like she was about to say something else, but thought better of it. Marc realized he had been balling his hands into fists. He let them drop and felt the deep, red indentations on his skin.
“Thank you,” he finally said. It was all he could think to say for a while. “What... what exactly do you want me to do here?”
Icelus looked up at him once more. “Walk with me, for now. We need to leave this place.”
So she turned around and walked. This time her pace was slower and Marc could keep up with her easily. They walked through the forest, taking a path that Marc could not make out, but Icelus seemed to know.
Occasionally while they walked Icelus would suddenly stop. She would crouch low to the ground and sniff. Looking for something? Sometimes she broke off the trail to prowl the surrounding area, out of Marc's sight. She never left for long, though: as soon as he began to feel a chill and get nervous she would come bounding back onto the trail and continue on, like nothing had happened.
Around the third time she did this, Marc asked her, “What are you looking for?”
She didn't turn to look at him, just kept walking. “Nightmares.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that,” she said. “Nightmares. The things that humans dream of. Except in Oniron, they manifest and become real.”
This was such an unusual thing for Marc to hear that he was momentarily speechless. The only thing he could think to ask was, “Isn't that dangerous for you?”
“It depends on the nightmare,” she said. “The strongest nightmares are the ones that many humans have. We hide from those in our walled cities, and that usually keeps them out. Others, we don't have to worry about. A monster that only one person dreams of is small and weak.”
“Do you think there are nightmares here?”
“In this forest?”
Marc looked around. “Yeah. You were saying...”
“I imagine there probably are – some people have strong nightmares about monsters or wild animals in the forests. I hope they're not here.”
“Where else would they be?”
“In other forests. Oniron is a huge place.”
Marc fell silent for a bit. They continued to trudge on for a few minutes. Sometimes Marc would jump at a shadow that he thought had moved, or the sound of a twig breaking in the distance. He expected a bear or a tiger or something hideous to be there. But every time he would look back at Icelus, who was marching forward as if nothing had happened, and he had to take that as a sign that it was okay.
So when she actually did stop and her ears perked up, Marc began to worry.
“What is it?” he asked.
Icelus turned her head one way and then the other, then back again. Her ears dropped. “Nothing, I guess.” She walked straight forward again.
Marc was right behind her. “Icelus.”
“What?”
“These walled cities... are they safe?”
“I told you, yes,” she said impatiently.
“What about the people?”
“What do you mean?”
“What are they like? Are you all dogs?”
She looked back at him. “No, most of us look just like humans.”
“Will they know I'm not from here?”
“No, they won't,” she said. “You could pass for one of us for a bit, but anyone who talks to you will know you're not from here. You don't know anything yet.”
“Oh,” he said. “Have people... have humans been over here before?”
“Yes,” said Icelus. “Usually when they're very, very high.”
“High?!”
“Shut up,” she hissed. “You're being too loud. And yeah. High.”
“On what?”
“I don't know what you humans smoke, or swallow, or whatever” she protested. “But it has to be a lot. You usually show up here, and you're so far gone that you forget about it all when you come back. Or you die immediately afterwards.”
Marc looked around the forest. He narrowed his eyes, and waved his hands around. He looked up closely at his fingers.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Am I high right now?” he turned to her.
“What?”
“Am I just tripping really hard? Is that all this is?”
“Marc.”
Just then they both heard a loud rustling to their left. It couldn't have been more than ten yards away. They both froze in place.
“Marc,” Icelus whispered. “We need to get out of here quickly.”
He nodded.
They started to jog – whatever was in those bushes, they didn't want to get its attention, but they still needed to get away. Fast.
It didn't work. The rustling came again. Did it follow them? It must have. Marc and Icelus were almost running now.
Now it was on the other side! Had it crossed the trail behind them? Maybe there was more than one. Oh, god.
“There!” said Icelus.
Marc looked. He could see the edge of the forest now – it cleared out not too far ahead.
They ran for it. If they could reach the edge, maybe the rustling nightmares would stop following them. Just maybe...
Shaking again. Dead leaves being crushed under foot. It was so close to him now, he almost felt breathing on the back of his neck -
Marc's foot caught on a gnarled root. He tumbled forward, smacked his head on the ground. Looked up. No trees. Didn't matter. He was out of the forest, but whatever had been chasing him, it had him now.
“Marc!” he heard Icelus's voice from behind him. Had she gotten away? Were any of them after her?
Quick as he could, Marc turned around. He was nearly flat on his back, but he saw the nightmares.
They were dogs. Huge, nasty, vicious dogs.
Why dogs? thought Marc. Why always dogs?
The dogs had stopped their pursuit. Now they were waiting. There were... three or four of them. They simply prowled, observing him on the ground, defenseless. One of them slowly walked up to him. Its fangs were bared in a hideous, awful snarl. The smell was rancid, worse than anything Marc had ever smelled. It almost knocked him out just by itself.
The nightmare dog reared its head back to bite.
This was how it was always going to end.
Marc closed his eyes.
THWACK.
He heard the dog whimper and fall off him. Marc opened his eyes.
There was an arrow shaft sticking out of the dog's head, buried in between its eyes. The other dogs were as shocked as Marc was, and they didn't move. Someone else was here.
Marc suddenly remembered he had legs and scrambled to his feet, but now the remaining nightmare dogs had their attention on him now. He had just made a bigger target of himself.
“Hold on!” he heard a voice shout from behind.
A huge blur of silver came wheeling around the edge of Marc's vision, up to one of the stunned dogs. All Marc comprehended was a slashing noise and another dead dog. Marc would have normally felt bad about the dead dog, but he was in a state of shock right now. It didn't even register to him. In this situation, he probably wouldn't have minded it too much anyway.
Then two more blurs of silver. They came whirling around, circling the dogs, confusing them. One of them veered close to Marc – too close for comfort – and he could finally see what these silver blurs were.
They looked like motorcycles, sort of – they were thin, two-wheeled vehicles. But instead of regular wheels they had large rounded orbs on either side. They freely spun around in all directions and were only held to the body of the machine by thin spindles on the top. Marc caught a glimpse: in one rapid, smooth motion, the rider – a tall, thirtysomething man with a wild grin on his face – skidded close to him and leaned the vehicle sideways. He was parallel to the ground now. The rider released a grip on one of the handlebars, and the spindles withdrew up into the machine, leaving the “wheels” freely spinning and unattached, before squeezing a grip on the other handlebar, and another set of spindles – these ones vertical instead of horizontal – pierced the small indentations, allowing the motorcycle to lie almost flat on the ground and still travel. The mysterious rider kicked the ground hard, then released and reapplied his handlebar grips. His vehicle was now properly standing up – whoever this was, he had clearly mastered the vehicle.
“Okay, then?” asked the rider.
Marc realized his mouth was hanging agape. He closed it, perhaps a bit too hard. “Uh, yeah,” he said.
“Good!” said the rider. “I wasted my time showing off, though. Looks like Lya and Osette finished 'em up.”
Who?
Marc turned around. Two more riders on the same vehicles were waiting on the far side of the clearing. One of them had a nasty-looking metal instrument that was covered with blood, and the other had a bow and arrow. At their feet lay the remains of the shadowy dogs that had chased Marc and Icelus out of the forest.
Icelus. Where was she?
Marc looked around, but he couldn't see her. Had she run away and abandoned him?
“Hey, man,” said the rider. Marc turned back to him. “Are you lost?”
“Yeah,” said Marc. “I really am.”
The stranger looked at him. Marc felt like he was being sized up, but a big smile broke out on the stranger's face. “Well, then, we'll help you out!”

Marc had accepted a ride back on the man's weird sphere-cycle – whoever these people were, they had set up a camp not two minutes from where Marc and Icelus had burst out, and had headed over to the forest to investigate the noises they had heard from there. Their fire had almost died out, so one of the other two riders – a tall and intense-looking young woman who wielded the bow – set to rekindling it. The last one – a shorter woman – watched her intently.
“My name's Remont, by the way,” the stranger said, leading Marc into the camp area.
“I'm Marc.”
“Good to meet you, Marc. What brings you to...” Remont trailed off, then turned to the short woman. “Osette!” he yelled. “What's the name of that forest?”
“Irida Woods,” said Osette. She had a squeaky, distant voice. Her eyes never turned away from the tall woman and her kindling.
“Irida Woods,” said Remont. “What were you doing there? Where are you from, for that matter?”
“Uh...” Marc scratched the back of his neck. “Pelleville.”
“Pelleville?” Remont said. He had clearly never heard of such a place. He turned to Osette and yelled again, “Osette! Ever heard of Pelleville?”
Osette finally looked up. “No,” she said. She sounded interested now.
“It's in Viriginia,” said Marc, but he knew he sounded stupid. These people were from Oniron. It was a whole different world. Of course they didn't know where Virginia was.
Osette's interest was piqued, though. She broke away from the other girl and ran over to Marc and Remont. “Where did you say you were from?” she asked.
“Not here,” said Marc. “Not from - “
“But where are you from?” insisted Osette.
“It's complicated -”
“Where are you from, though?”
“Osette,” said Remont. “Let him finish. Sorry,” he said to Marc. “Osette's my sister. She's big into cartography and geography and knowing places. I can't believe she doesn't know this place you're talking about.”
“That's okay,” Marc said. “It's... weird.” He hesitated for a second. How much did he want to tell these people? He thought he could trust them, but... would they believe he was from another world?
Marc looked off into the distance, hoping he would see Icelus there. Nothing.
Okay, he thought. She's abandoned me. Might as well.
“I'm from another world,” he said.
Remont's eyes widened. “Waaaait,” he said. “Are you a tripper?”
Marc almost jumped in surprise at Remont's immediate response. “Maybe? Uh... what does that mean?” he asked.
“It means – like, I always heard that people from the other world could reach into Oniron if they did a lot of drugs. Kind of, spectrally project, you know? But I've never met one before!”
“So,” Marc said, “Everyone knows about my world over here?”
“Of course,” said Remont. “Your dreams show up here and make crazy things happen, you know. I hear that you all don't know anything about Oniron, though, is that true?”
“Yeah,” said Marc. “This is... totally new to me.”
“Are you kidding?!” Remont near-shouted, incredulous. “But we show up in your dreams every night! How could you not know about us?”
“They're just dreams,” said Marc.
“What do you mean?”
“We didn't think they were real!”
Remont scoffed. “Let me get this straight... you see our world every time you go to sleep... whenever you close your eyes... and you thought we weren't real?”
“Well...” Marc looked downward.
Remont sucked air in through his teeth. He felt bad about it, obviously. “Hey, man,” he said. “Don't worry too much about it. You'll learn. Hey,” he pointed over to the campsite. “Lya's got the fire started, it looks like!”
“I'm Lya, by the way,” said the tall woman when Remont and Marc made their way over to the campsite. “Osette's girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Marc. “All of you.”
“So,” said Lya, smirking, “What kind of drugs did you try to end up all the way over here?”
“I didn't...” Marc began, but thought better of it. Something Icelus had told him earlier had just sprung to mind. I have been exiled from that place, she had said.
Was it a good idea to start telling everyone that he had hitched a ride with an exile?
“LSD,” he said, thinking of the first loopy drug he could think of.
Lya looked at him. Sizing him up? Had she seen through him? Could she tell he was lying?
No – she laughed and patted him on the back. “That's usually it,” she said. “At least from what I've heard. Sounds crazy.”
Lya walked over and sat down in front of the fire with Osette. Marc breathed a small sigh of relief.
“You might be here a while,” said Remont as he took his own place by the fire. “Trippers are usually over here for a day or two.”
“Really?” Marc asked.
“Yep – days over here, a couple hours over there. You know?”
“Yeah,” said Marc. He sat down, only vaguely aware of Remont launching into a spiel about something, but he was turning over this information. People who got high passed over here – was that what he had done? Was he going to disappear and just reappear in his house?
What would happen if he didn't? How would he explain that to this group?
“So you wanna tag along while we go there?” Remont finished.
Marc shook his head. “Huh?”
Remont chuckled. “We're tracking those shadow dogs. You wanna tag along?”
“Oh. Uh...”
“Good way to spend a day or two!” Remont said.
What were his other options? Leave them and try to find Icelus? No telling where she was. He had no clue how to get around or find anything. These people clearly did.
“Okay,” said Marc. “Sounds fun.”
“Great!” Remont leapt up. “We'll head out in the morning!”

They spent the rest of the night talking – mostly with Remont. Marc could tell he was the leader and the face of the group. Not the brains, though – any time Remont forgot something, which was frequently, he would ask Lya. If the thing had to do with places or times, he would ask Osette, who would immediately recite the information while she absentmindedly played with Lya's hands.
The three had brought stuffed mats that they used as sleeping bags, and Lya gave up hers so Marc could have one. She shared with Osette.
In the morning, Marc clambered on the back of Remont's sphere-cycle and held on while they traveled from place to place, looking for the trail of the shadowy dogs.
“What kind of things are we looking for, anyway?” asked Marc on one of their stops. Lya was intently crouching over a nondescript patch of grass.
“I'm not sure you would understand it,” said Remont. “Not to sound pretentious or anything. But nightmares have a certain... aura? Odor? About them. Lya's good at finding the source. She's good with most things, actually, but that's one of the things she's good at.”
“What will we find at the source?”
“Depends on the person who first dreamed them up.” Remont shrugged. “It's always interesting, though.”
“Interesting?” asked Marc.
“Yeah! That's what I'm in it for, really. Works out well. I get to see cool things, Osette gets to learn about the world, and Lya...” he cast a glance over at Lya. “Lya gets to keep an eye on Osette.”
Right now Osette was running over to Lya with a large white flower in her hand. She crouched down next to and immediately started talking – pointing out the features of the flower, imploring Lya to observe all its features, the petals, the stem. Lya seemed a bit annoyed to have her concentration broken, but patiently listened to Osette's speech and gently took the flower from her. She smiled and said a word of thanks.
“They seem like they're really close,” said Marc.
“Lya's a treasure,” Remont replied. “I used to be the one that kept Osette company all the time, but then our mother died and I had to be the one to take over my family's estate. She nearly went crazy – withdrew into a shell. Then Lya came and helped her out so much.” Remont smiled. “It's good to see. And now we have all these trips to explore Oniron. We're lucky.”
“Yeah,” said Marc. He hadn't thought about how the people of Oniron lived before – how they made their way in life. A world where dreams and nightmares were true had sounded so mythic and huge, but listening to Remont, he felt like he liked this small-scale business a lot more.
“Guys!” shouted Lya. “I know where to head next! Follow me!”
Remont nodded in response and took Marc back to the sphere-cycle. They were off.

An hour later, maybe two, they had gotten away from the hilly fields that they were in before, and came to a more arid climate that had only scattered patches of grass. The sky grew overcast as they reached their final destination.
“This is it,” said Lya after they had dismounted. “I'm sure of it.”
“Ouch,” said Remont. “Major depression here.”
It was a decrepit, decaying house – the green paint peeled off the shutterboards, the windows were all cracked or broken in, and the yard was choked and full of weeds. There was no front door.
“Why would we go in here?” asked Marc.
Remont shrugged in response. “You never know. Like I said, it's always interesting.” And with that, he cautiously walked in. Lya followed him, and Osette was close behind her. Marc trailed them, the last of all.
It was nearly the perfect picture of a haunted house, right down to the fluttering and moth-eaten drapes and creaking floorboards. “Are you sure we're not going to be attacked by bats or ghosts or something?” asked Marc while he looked around the living room. There was no furniture, just a carpet.
“No, that only happens in horror-movie dreams,” replied Remont. “This is textbook depression. Probably over their finances, I'd say. Just look,” he gestured to the kitchen table, stacked high with mail. “Bills.”
Marc nodded. That kind of made sense.
“Hey,” said Remont, “I'll keep looking down here. Why don't you see what's upstairs? If I'm right about it being a depression dream, the bed will be brand-new. That's where all the safe and positive thoughts are.”
Marc gulped. The stairs didn't look inviting at all.
“Don't worry about it,” said Remont. He gave Marc a little nudge.
So Marc went up – and although the staircase boards creaked like hell, nothing happened on his way. At the top of the stairs, just to the right, was a door firmly shut. Marc turned and opened it. It squeaked, of course, because nothing in this old house worked right.
Remont was right. The rest of the room was exactly as filthy and neglected as Marc had expected, but even though the bed was unmade and the covers were strewn about, it was fresh and new. Unexpectedly so – it didn't look like it belonged here.
There was something on it, too. A book.
Marc crossed the room to the bed and picked it up. The book was also new, untattered. He looked at the title – Scary Monster in the Night.
Two things interested Marc about it. The cover was indeed scary – it was a picture of one of the shadow dogs, mid-leap. It was making eye contact with the presumed viewer.
It looked, for all the world, like the nightmares he had had of Icelus. The same pose. The same killer look in the eyes.
But this almost didn't faze Marc, because he recognized who wrote it.
“Reid Marshall,” Marc whispered to himself, running his fingers over the name.
He hadn't heard the name in years – the Marshalls were old friends of his family. His mother had met Mrs. Marshall at a daycare, and Marc would sometimes go over to play with the Marshall's two children, Cassie and Richard. Eventually they had stopped coming to daycare, and Marc had started seeing them less and less. The fact that Mrs. Marshall's husband, Reid, had died of a heart attack was one of the last things Marc had heard about them.
And this book was written by him?
Marc turned and nearly ran down the stairs. “Remont!” he shouted.
Remont was in the living room now. “You find something?” he asked.
“Do dreams disappear when the person who dreamed them dies?”
Remont chuckled. “You must have found something, then.”
Marc showed him the book. “The author. Reid Marshall. I know him. In my world, at least. He died.”
Remont examined the book closely. “There's the shadow dog, too. They're definitely his dreams.”
“But is that normal? The dream of a dead person?” Marc asked.
“I mean...” Remont crossed his arms. “I don't know who dies and who doesn't in your world Marc. I can only see this side of thi – WAIT!”
Remont stepped forward, suddenly alert, and drew out his silver rod. He was intently focused on the window.
“What – is there something out there?!” Marc said.
“I saw a shadow dog,” said Remont.
“Shit,” Marc said under his breath. “They followed us here?”
“They didn't have to,” hissed Remont. “We're in their home base.”
A yelp from the kitchen. It was Osette's voice.
“Remont!” she said. “I saw a dog!”
“We know!” he shouted back. “There might be more than one! Is Lya there with you?”
“I am!” Lya's voice came through. “I'm staying with Osette!”
“Good!” shouted Remont. “I'll make sure Marc is safe. Don't worry,” he said to Marc. “We got them before, we'll get them ag -”
The window shattered.
Marc could barely process what happened in that instant of time, but a dog came through the window. Broken glass flew everywhere. Remont bravely stepped forward and gave a mighty swing at the dog, but it ducked without missing a beat.
It was heading straight for Marc.
For a fraction of an instant, it paused enough to let Marc get a good look at it. Recognition flashed in his eyes.
It wasn't a shadow dog. It was Icelus. She was back.
She leapt at Marc.


Next

Chapter 2: Car Wrecks

In a tiny and unknown corner of Oniron, a million car crashes were all happening at the same time. They would never end.
It was no wonder this place was abandoned, thought Piper – usually the inhabitants of Oniron were okay with staying in their towering cities and walled-off strongholds, separated from all the places where human nightmares manifested. In the outer lands, whatever humans in the other world dreamed about had a tendency to show up and start prowling.
Usually the only people you could find here were the tourists and the thrillseekers – people who thought it would be fun, just once or twice, to pass into a human's dream. They usually turned and left out of disappointment as soon as they found out that humans didn't actually have nightmares about showing up to school naked. Mostly it was just anxiety nightmares, and those were no fun to watch – oh, boo hoo, your teeth are falling out. Big deal.
On the other hand, sometimes there were these gigantic, awful beasts roaming the outer lands. Piper always loved when a horror movie got really popular in the human world – as soon as it hit, sharks or serial killers or demons would start running around and they would own the ecosystem for a while, slaughtering each other, establishing dominance. This would last for a few years, but then a series of disappointing sequel movies would be released, and humans would stop being scared of that particular killer, stop having nightmares about them. They would become weak and unable to sustain themselves, and a newer villain would roll around soon enough. The cycle repeated.
This area was Piper's own special place, though. Mostly because nobody else knew about it – it was tucked away beyond a mountain range that nobody ever wanted to go near, because that was where humans had all their rock-climbing nightmares, and there were a lot of falling bodies there. Once you passed it, you could see an isolated, freestanding city. And once you went into the city, you saw the same thing, on every corner, in every intersection. Hundreds of thousands of automobiles mid-collision, sometimes with explosions or shrapnel flying – from what Piper could tell, cars in the human world didn't actually explode on contact, but being in a dream always made things more dramatic, even if it didn't make sense.
Nobody ever went here, so he was free to walk around the city and have it all to himself. He loved the spectacle of it. Car crash dreams were some of the most common dreams that the humans had – cars were dangerous in the first place, but add in a concern for the passenger's safety, and the financial burden that a wrecked car would put on someone, even if everyone got out safely, and you had a swirling cocktail of anxiety that was ripe for bad dreams. He couldn't relate to that, of course. Automobiles didn't exist on Oniron, and there weren't too many people Piper actually cared about anyway. He had only one goal on his mind.
He stopped on a street corner, reached into his pocket and took out a small gem – a perfectly formed crystal. It was one of the few he had left. He applied a little bit of pressure and crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. He hoped his man was on time and in the right place.
As the powdery dust fell to the ground, shadowy figure slowly began to materialize. Piper sighed with relief – Terrell had kept his promise.
The silhouette slowly started to fade in and gain features – a short, professional haircut and glasses. He was the spitting image of a bestselling novelist. Piper had convinced him to look like that, of course. When the man was finally solid, he took a step forward and looked around in amazement at where he had found himself.
Piper broke the silence. “Gordon Terrell.”
Terrell met his gaze. “Piper. Been a while, hasn't it?”
“It has,” said Piper. “Glad I could rely on you to be on time.”
“It's the least I could do,” Terrell responded. “For the man whom I owe all my success to. Right now I'm busy with publicity for the movie – magazine interviews, daytime television. It's great.”
“Te-le-visson?” Piper furrowed his brow.
Terrell chuckled. “Don't have that over here, do you? Doesn't matter. All it means is, I'm famous. The more I get out there and promote it, the more people want to see the movie.”
“Good!” said Piper. “Lots of people will go see it at the same time?”
“Oh, a record-breaking number,” said Terrell. “In fact – here, I'll show this to you.” Terrell reached into his jacket pocket, took out a newspaper clipping and handed it to Piper.
Piper read it. It was inn big letters, with a picture of two young and beautiful actors under it. It said:
NOT THE SAME, PART II
WORLD PREMIERE
12 MIDNIGHT
JUNE 12
“That's in three days,” murmured Piper.
“Right,” said Terrell. He took back the clipping. “One of the biggest worldwide premieres in movie history. You can be at the Shieldwork then?”
“I will,” said Piper. “Won't be a problem.”
“Good! That's settled, then.”
Piper didn't say anything in response. He was looking intently at a car that had been speeding around, uncrashed. He knew it would find someone soon enough. There was no nightmare unless everything seemed normal at first.
“Piper?”
Terrell had snapped Piper out of it for a second. Was he waiting for more orders? “Piper, is that all? I can go back now if we're done.”
Piper thought for a second. “You're sure there's no way this movie could be bigger?”
“Not that I can think of. The production company, they've been advertising the hell out of it. It's the last installment in the series. Everybody wants to see the bad guy go down.”
“Is that it?”
Now Terrell was confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, is it just very popular? Is there a story around it? Is it controversial?”
“I... don't know,” Terrell looked away. “Not really. It's been... easy going.”
Piper sighed. “I've been doing some research on your world, Gordon. You humans are slaves to stories. The big movies, the ones everyone talks about – they have a hook. These movies make them feel like... like a part of a bigger story, you know?”
“No.”
Piper didn't seem to hear him. “You've heard of something called... The Dark Knight?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah, you have, because not only was it really big, someone who was in it died!”
“...you mean Heath Ledger?”
“That's it!” Piper pointed to Terrell, absorbed in his train of thought now. “Heath Ledger died, and it was his last movie, and then everyone went to go see it, and it was a huge success, and he got lots of awards. Do you know why? Because it was a tragedy, Gordon!” Piper was practically swinging his arms around now. “All those humans wanted to be the ones that made his death mean something, so they all went and saw his last movie together, because it was such a shame!”
“What are you saying?” Terrell almost shouted, taking a step back.
“I mean,” Piper almost launched himself at Terrell, “that's what you need, Gordon!”
Terrell said nothing. He exhaled deeply and when he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone. “I've done a lot of things for you, Piper,” he said, “but you can't ask me to kill someone for the movie.”
Piper seemed to sober up. He put his hands on Terrell's shoulders reassuringly. “Gordon,” he said, “I would never ask you to kill anyone.”
Terrell sighed. “Thank you.”
Piper roughly grabbed Terrell and threw him into the street, into the path of the oncoming car.
Terrell's body flew into the air and landed with a thud, lifeless.
Now the car that had hit him was frozen, like all the others. That was how nightmares worked. They stretched time and focused, forever, on the moment when everything went wrong.
Piper didn't spare a glance at Terrell as he walked away. Tomorrow in the human world, someone would find Terrell's physical body, not responding. Ambulances would be called. Medical attention would arrive. It would be too late. Gordon Terrell, author of the worldwide bestselling Not Okay series of young-adult novels, would be declared dead of a drug overdose, just three days before the movie adaptation of his last book was set to premiere. People would flock to it in droves.
And somewhere, some stranger who had nothing to do with it would wake up sweating, because they had just had a nightmare of running over someone with their car.

This was awkward.
Marc sat down in his living room as the dog statue – Icelus, that was her name – prowled around and checked the windows. Occasionally she let herself out to patrol the yard and came back inside.
When she was finally satisfied, she sat down in the middle of the living room. This dog still made the hairs on the back of Marc's neck stand on end. It was literally the thing of his nightmares, except now it was walking around nonchalantly... and looking at him like it expected something.
“Would you, uh,” Marc's words finally stumbled out of his mouth, “would you like a... a drink?”
Icelus was nonplussed. “I am made of stone, Marc.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. “I though maybe you were real...”
“I am real,” she said.
“But you're not... statues are made of stone, so they don't move and walk and talk!” said Marc. “You're alive, aren't you?”
Icelus seemed to consider this for a moment. “I am made of stone and magic, Marc.”
Marc slumped back in his chair. “Okay,” he said.
“I'm really sorry if I've upset you. This can't be easy to accept.”
“It isn't,” said Marc. “How can a statue be alive? Are you even a statue?”
“I'm something else, I guess.” Icelus began pacing the room. “It's very complicated and nobody in your realm knows anything about it. You might be the first, actually.”
Marc said nothing.
“So,” she said, “I'm sure you have questions. What do you want to know?”
Marc leaned forward. “I can ask you anything, just like that?”
“Of course. I'm here asking for your help. I should be honest and let you know exactly what it is I'm about.” She stopped. “So... anything. Go ahead. But I'll try to be brief. We may not have a lot of time.”
Marc put his hands on his face. Why him?
“Why me?” he asked.
Icelus sighed in response. “It's complicated and I don't exactly know why.”
“That's... very useful, thanks.”
She huffed. “Hold on. I can explain the why and the what, but not the how.”
“Sorry,” said Marc.
“There is another world that exists parallel to this one,” she said. “That is where I'm from.”
“Another world? Do you mean a different planet, or...”
Icelus shook her head. “An entirely different plane of existence. One that your dreams make real.”
If Marc hadn't already been sitting down, he would have needed to sit down. “What? What do dreams have to do with it?”
“Our two worlds affect each other in complex ways, Marc. Our world shows up in your dreams, and your dreams show up in our world.”
“Mine?” said Marc.
“All humans' dreams, Marc.”
“Oh, good,” he said. “If it was just mine, that would be weird. I thought I was special for a minute.”
“You are,” said Icelus. “I need you to go there with me.”
“What?!” Marc shot out of his seat. “Why?”
“Because I can sense that there's a danger to my world and I can't go there alone,” said Icelus coldly.
Marc took a step back. He felt his heart rate pick up again. Icelus was reminding him of the frightening nightmares that had plagued his childhood. He tried to say something, but the words got caught in his throat. All he managed to get out was, “Why not?”
Icelus saw the effect she was having on him and seemed to shrink down; she was now solemn and withdrawn. “Because I have been exiled from that place.”
Her confession gave Marc at least a little more strength to ask, “What did you do?”
“It's not important,” she said. “My people no longer trust me. That's all. Anyway,” she said, raising her head and meeting his gaze, “It's not just that I need someone to act on my behalf. I used to have powers over there, I was a great authority. In my world, we gain power only as much as people dream of us. But I gave it all up when I was exiled. I wouldn't be able to return on my own.”
She took a few steps toward Marc. It was all he could do not to recoil again. “But you have had dreams of me, Marc. I can tell. You've given me some small measure of power, even in my exile. And if we go together, you can act as...” she considered for a minute. “...a kind of tuning fork. Amplifying my abilities, meager as they are.”
Marc looked aside. “You know about the dreams?” he asked.
“I know you've had them,” she said.
Pause. “Have you seen them?” said Marc. “Do you know what happens in them?”
Icelus pursed her lips. “No. Why?”
He could tell her. He could tell her right now about all the times he dreamed of her: chasing him, toying with him. Killing him.
“No,” he said. “Not really.”
Icelus eyed Marc. She was suspicious.
“What do you need to do when we get there?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.
She started pacing again. “When I was exiled, I left behind... protection. To keep the bridge between our worlds safe. I'm afraid the protection might be threatened now.”
“Why is that?”
“I can sense it. It was my incantation as I left that world – one last spell to safeguard the bridge. But its power is being weakened somehow.”
Marc looked at Icelus for a second and, for some reason – maybe because she was spilling her guts – he felt emboldened. He stood up.
“And what if I refuse?”
She glanced at him forlornly. “I know that's a possibility. This is a lot to ask of a stranger. Will you refuse, Marc?”
Marc thought for a second. “This bridge, what happens if it's destroyed?”
“I couldn't say,” Icelus replied. “It is almost inconceivable. The connection between our worlds is a fundamental law of the universe – if it's compromised, we might all just fall apart.”
Marc looked out the window at the night sky. “That's... hard to imagine.”
“I know.”
Marc said nothing for a long time. Neither did Icelus. Marc appreciated that – if a talking dog statue was going to drop in to his bedroom and ask him to hop into a different universe to help fix an inter-dimensional portal, at least she was giving him some space to decide.
But he still didn't like having his back turned to her. Even after all these years, the sight of her made him short of breath. He half-expected her to leap up and kill him right now.
“If you want me to leave,” she finally said, “I will.”
Marc turned his head. “Just like that?”
“Well,” she drew out the pause, “you'll have to explain to your grandmother why her dog statue disappeared.”
Marc was silent for a second, then let out a single snort of laughter. “You're saying the universe is in trouble, and you expect me to help you because I might get into trouble with my grandma otherwise?”
“Well, what are you going to tell her if I'm gone? Just... vanished?” Icelus sat down expectantly.
Marc thought for a second. What could he tell Mary if that happened? He'd thrown it away? What for?
“Okay,” he said. “You have a point.”
Icelus stood up. “Will you go with me, then?”
What? “Now?”
“Yes!” she said. “There's no time to lose!”
“I, uh...” he glanced downward. “I'm still in my pajamas.”
“That doesn't matter.”
“I need to feed the fish!”
“How long will that take?”
“...ten... minutes?”
“I'll wait,” she said. Icelus sat down once again. “You can get changed as well.”
Wordless, Marc stumbled upstairs and pulled on a shirt, jeans and shoes. His head was groggy and his movements were sluggish. Every few steps his vision swam with black dots. A combination of fatigue and disbelief had made him almost zombified. He didn't even register that he had gotten the fish food out and sprinkled a whole lot into the tank. And before he knew it he was in front of Icelus once again.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“...yeah,” he replied.
“Then put your hand on my back so we can go together.”
He reached to touch the crook of her back – and stopped. He wondered what she felt like. All these years, somehow it had never occurred to him to feel this statue. Would it be cold? Or warm, since Icelus was alive? Why was he hesitating?
“Marc, come on,” she said.
Nothing.
“Do it!”
Why was he even agreeing to this?
“Do it! Or else -”
His hand brushed her cold stone back. Marc's vision went black and his ears screamed. Nothing was real anymore.
'Or else'... apparently, those were the magic words. A straight look in the eyes from her, yelling, and the hint of a threat, and he immediately did what she said. Marc realized why he had agreed to this ridiculous request, and why he just accepted all of Icelus's stories and demands. Why he could never have done anything else, even after all these years, even after finally hearing her speak so kindly and sadly.
He was still afraid of her. That would never change.
Now she was pulling him into somewhere he didn't know or understand.


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Chapter 1: The Greyhound

Marc was six years old the first time he saw that statue – the one that would haunt his nightmares. For years, it rested on the mantle of his grandmother's fireplace. It was just a greyhound dog, really. There was nothing special or frightening about it. In fact, it had a dull pink color, which really made it even more ridiculous to be frightened of. Surely in the whole world there were no dull pink dogs, and surely in the whole world Marc was the first little boy to be so terrified of something that was pink. Its long, pointed face was stern and composed, and it was, like all greyhounds, incredibly skinny. As Marc grew up he sometimes wondered why the statue was so frightening to him, but he never found an answer he liked. And yet it still had a strange power over him. He even remembered the first time he ever saw it.
Marc's parents, Jordan and Larissa Spall, were visiting Jordan's mother, Mary. It was a sunny Easter day, and the four of them had all returned from Sunday church. This was Marc's first time seeing his grandmother's new house, and he was very eager to explore. So while his parents and grandmother sat in their kitchen and talked about adult things, Marc wandered off to the living room.
It was a nice living room, really – all dark mahogany floors and tasteful wall decorations. But the statue was what caught his eye. It stood there, staring off into the corner impassively, and it cut a terrifying figure. It seemed like it didn't belong. The harsh angles, the curves, the stern face, and the unnatural coloring... mixed with something a little more, something subconscious and dark lurking in the back of Marc's brain. Children are frightened of strange things sometimes, and it's hard to explain some of them. This statue immediately grabbed Marc and held him rapt.
None of these thoughts occurred to him when he saw it, though – he just knew that the statue was terrifying and he wanted to get away from it. So he let out a little gasp and ran back to his mother in the kitchen. He grabbed her dress and buried his face in it.
Larissa put her hand on Marc's back. “What's wrong, honey?” she asked.
Marc did not answer with words, but just pointed to the kitchen and whimpered a bit.
“What's over there?”
Finally Marc got her to get up, and led her to the living room. Jordan and Mary followed behind them, curious and a bit concerned.
Marc nearly pushed Larissa into the living room, and she looked around. She didn't see anything wrong – whatever strange power that statue of the greyhound had with Marc, she felt none of it.
“What is it?” she asked.
Marc squeezed past her, pointed at the dog statue, yelled “That!” and ducked back behind her, out of sight of the statue.
Larissa, Jordan and Mary all filed into the living room and looked at the statue.
“He's scared of it?” asked Jordan.
“I guess so,” said Larissa.
Mary was looking back and forth from her grandson, cowering behind the doorway, and the statue. “Do you want me to move it, Larissa?” she asked.
“No...” Larissa turned around. “Marc, come here, honey.”
Marc slowly, carefully peeked around the corner and shuffled into the room. His eyes never met the statue.
“Marc,” said Larissa, “this statue isn't real. You see? It's just stone and it can't hurt you or scare you unless you let it. You see?”
She put her hand on the dog's snout and rubbed it.
Marc nodded that he understood.
“Just reach out and touch him, see?”
Marc didn't like that idea, but he reached out and tried to touch the statue. He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to -
His fingers brushed the stone surface.
He shrunk away and quickly ran out of the room.
Jordan sighed. Larissa looked down forlornly.
“What should we do?” asked Mary.

Marc was in a castle – ancient, crumbling, every step kicked up dust & every brush against the brick walls seemed to make them give way
& there were people here, maybe not people, but they were here; Marc had to avoid them at all costs – they could do things to him & his companion that he couldn't understand or comprehend
his companion, he couldn't look at her either; no matter where he looked, she was just outside of his range of vision, she was avoiding him, for some reason
good, he didn't want to see her
Marc crept around a corner & took a peek; nobody was there... he emerged & started walking down, he couldn't hear anybody else except for his own two feet & his companion's own four feet
how long had he been here? he tried to remember, but the answer became unimportant as soon as he thought of the question... who knew? who cared? it might have been forever or only an instant, & he would have felt no different
wait; he stopped; his companion stopped right behind him... there were footsteps – heavy ones, coming from down the hall, about to turn a corner & catch them
how could he possibly get out of this one?
Marc only caught a glimpse of some huge, furry beast rounding the corner into the hall before his entire world collapsed
& it happened in an instant – suddenly all he could sense was a blur of light & sound, & then, just as soon as it had begun, he was somewhere else entirely
another room, still in the castle, but this looked almost like an ancient & abandoned throne room – moth-eaten banners lined the walls, adorning a huge, musty hall; where the regal throne should have been, though, was the most remarkable sight
on a raised platform at the end of the room was a huge entranceway – huge enough to see what was on the other side... the entranceway seemed to lead into another room, but this other room expanded out infinitely, as if it was another dimension
Marc had to see it, he had never in his life seen anything like this before; he knew, arriving here, that this was what he had been looking for
he only got one step forward
Marc suddenly became aware of his companion – the figure that had shadowed him for this entire trip, the one he had never seen before... he finally dared to turn around & face it
it was the greyhound, the very same statue that was in his grandmother's house; it seemed to smirk at him, it opened its mouth & spoke
“good job,” it said
the dog leapt at Marc, & Marc's world went black

Marc shocked himself awake, then looked around. He was in his bedroom. That dog had not been real and he was in his own house now.
Two minutes later, Larissa heard a rustle at the end of her bed. Marc had shaken her awake.
“What is it, honey?” she mumbled.
“Can I sleep with you two tonight?” Marc asked.
She nodded, and lifted him up into bed between her and Jordan.

It was a chilly fall afternoon when Jordan and Larissa Spall decided to pay another visit to Jordan's mother, Mary. They brought their thirteen-year-old son Marc along with them. Marc hadn't seen his grandmother in several months and he was very excited to see her again.
He was so excited, in fact, that as soon as he got out of the car, he bounded up to the door and started hammering on it. Mary opened the door and was delighted to see her grandson standing there.
“Is this my grandson?!” she exclaimed as she bent down to give him a hug. “I used to be able to pick you up and swing you around, and now look at you! You're getting so big!”
Marc laughed and just said “Hi, grandma!”
“Oh, it's good to see you,” Mary said. She turned to see Jordan and Larissa. They were standing back and admiring the sweet scene. “Hey, Jordan,” she pulled him into a hug as well, “and Larissa, how are you doing?”
“Wonderful,” said Larissa. “Mary, you won't mind if Marc has to go read by himself for a while, will you? He has a book report due tomorrow and he has to finish the book.”
“Did you start writing the report, Marc?” asked Mary.
Marc hung his head. “No, ma'am.”
Mary scoffed. “Then go finish it! I'll be in the kitchen with your parents when you're done, sweetie. You can have something to eat afterward.”
Marc nodded. “Okay!” he said.
He shuffled his feet and didn't move.
“What's wrong?” asked Mary.
“Did you put the blanket on the dog?” asked Marc.
“Oh!” Mary crossed over to the living room. “I forgot. Sorry, sweetie.” Mary found a blanket lying on one of the couches. She unfolded it and threw it over the head of the dog statue. It still stood on her mantelpiece.
Marc peeked around the corner to make sure it was done, and only then did he creep into the living room, slowly cross it – his eyes on the covered statue the whole time – and then quickly ran up the stairs to to the guest bedroom.
Mary sighed and shook her head.

An hour later, Marc was curled up with his book, almost done. He had plowed through almost 50 pages trying to finish it today, and he was exhausted. He looked up for a second and noticed it was a lot darker outside than it had been when he started. He yawned and turned around.
The dog statue was right there in the doorway.
Marc screamed, threw the book aside and tore into the bathroom. He slammed and locked the door, breathing heavily.
Suddenly he heard his dad laughing.
“Marc! Marc, come out! It's okay!”
Marc didn't open the door. His dad had played a prank on him.
He heard his mom's voice. “For God's sake. Jordan!”
Jordan laughed again. “Sorry!”
“That's not funny, Jordan!” said Mary. “You must have really scared him.”
“I'm sorry,” said Jordan, but he was still giggling. “Marc!”
Marc heard his dad. He didn't do anything.
“Are you okay?”
Marc slid down to the floor.

It was the floor, Marc was looking down at the floor for some reason; Why? he raised his head: ah, that might have been why
when he raised his head, he realized where he was: a blimp, the answer came to him naturally, & he didn't question it when it came; floating probably miles above the ground, he was in a small, elongated room that had rows of neatly arranged seats & it looked for all the world to him like the passenger area of an airplane, maybe it was, Marc thought, maybe he was in an airplane... how did he know he had been in a blimp, anyway? had he ever been in a blimp before?
maybe he had been, he couldn't remember for some reason; any time he tried to recall past information, his brain stubbornly refused... those memories weren't so much slipping away as much as they simply had a brick will erected in front of them, blocking any hope that he might retrieve them; oh well, he cared less than he thought he probably should have & anyway, he definitely was sure it was a blimp
Marc decided to get up & examine where he was; he stood up quickly & easily... was that right? he had always stood up quickly & easily before, but something about doing that here felt wrong
then it came to him, he was on a blimp, shouldn't he be shaky & wobbling when he tried to get up? there should have been some natural uneasiness
& no sooner did this occur to him than he instantly became uneasy, his legs almost gave way, & he had to grab the seat in front of him to steady himself
another burst of turbulence hit; it was much bigger this time & Marc wasn't remotely prepared for this one; it sent him flying out of his row of seats, & his head violently cracked the back of another one
his vision was blurry & indistinct, but lying on the floor he could vaguely make out the shape of his arm, covered with some freely-flowing red liquid... was it blood? please don't let it be blood, thought Marc, please, I can't die here
please
& when his vision snapped back into focus he saw that it wasn't blood at all, no, it was... ketchup, what a silly thing to think, of course it wasn't blood, he could smell the tomato smell now even though he couldn't before
nobody else was on the blimp; I guess I have to go complain to the captain, he thought; Marc uneasily got up & wobbled his way to the front... there was a door at the end of this room & he opened it & he saw who was there
it was the greyhound, the very same statue that was in his grandmother's house; it seemed to smirk at him, it opened its mouth & spoke
“we're almost there,” it said
and then it leapt at Marc & Marc's world went black

When the knock came on Mary's door, she immediately answered it – it was just who she had been waiting for.
“Marc!”
Her handsome nineteen-year-old grandson beamed at her and went in for a hug. “Hi, Grandma. How are you?”
“Oh, I'm good!” she said. “Come on in, sweetie, it's getting so cold outside.”
“It really is,” said Marc. “Thanks.”
The kitchen looked the same as it always had, and as Marc looked around he deeply exhaled and it was if a knot in his stomach had unclenched.
“I'm glad you got here early, I still need to write down some phone numbers,” said Mary. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Oh, no, I already did.”
“Are you sure?”
Marc grinned. “Yes, I'm sure.”
“Well, if you want some ice cream I have it in the fridge. I have -”
“I'm really totally fine, grandma,” said Marc. If he stuck around in the kitchen she'd keep wanting to feed him. He went into the living room and looked around instead.
There was something missing here.
“Hey, grandma, where'd the dog statue go?”
Mary followed him into the living room. “Oh, I put it away. It's in the attic somewhere, I think. Why?” she asked. “You don't want to see it, do you?”
“I'm good,” laughed Marc. “You didn't have to put it away for me, though. I can, you know, be in the same room with it.”
Mary chuckled. “That old thing scared you so much.”
“I know! Gave me nightmares.”
Mary walked back into the kitchen and pulled an old Polaroid from the refrigerator. “Look at this,” she said.
Marc took it from her and examined it. It was from when he was little – nine years old, maybe. He and his cousins were crouched on the floor in front of the fireplace. Looming over them was the thin, stern figure of the greyhound statue.
He didn't remember it much, but when this picture was taken, Marc must have been terrified of that dog. He would have known it was back there, he would have been scared that it would leap at him. Marc looked at the photo more closely. Was there a glint of fear in his eyes? Did little Marc want to get the picture taken and get out of the room as soon as possible? He must have. Even looking at it now, the dog seemed to be looking right at the camera, its eyes were narrowed, its face was cold, its -
“You've grown up so much.”
Mary's voice snapped Marc out of it. “I guess so,” he said finally. “I don't remember this at all.”
“Really?” said Mary. “You were so happy to see your cousins and the rest of your family. I remember that.”
“Hmm,” said Marc. “I remember some things, now that you mention it, but it's just not connecting together. I guess I was just too young.”
“I guess so,” Mary said. “Anyway, Marc, here are the emergency numbers I wrote down. There's Mrs. Katherine next door, and if that one cat comes around the yard and tries to scratch you up, you can call its owners, they're the Wrights, they live across the street, you can call them and they'll come take him.”
Mary handed Marc a small sheet of paper with some phone numbers written down on it.
“So you're gone for four days?” asked Marc.
“That's right, I've already got everything packed so you don't need to help me with anything. Just keep the plants watered and feed the fish and aside from that you can just stay at the house. Or you can go out with your friends, it doesn't matter.”
“Parties?” Marc asked with a grin.
“No,” said Mary flatly.
Marc shrugged. “Okay, I figured. I hope you have a good vacation, grandma.”
“Thank you, Marc.” She reached up and pecked his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
With that Mary grabbed her purse, went out the front door and got in her car. Marc waved her goodbye until she turned the corner and went out of sight.
Back in the house, Marc took another look in the living room. It was odd to be here, he thought, and not to have to cast a glance at the mantle every couple seconds. No feeling of unbearably being watched and sized up.
He flopped down on the recliner and turned on the television.

Marc could have taken the hour-long drive back to his mother and father's house, but he had decided early on that he wasn't going to. Mary had made up the guest bedroom for him and she had made sure her pantry and fridge were even more full of food than they normally were.
So Marc stayed over at Mary's house that night. He had done it many times as a kid. He went to sleep in the same bed he had slept in so many times, and he was ready to go to sleep quickly and deeply.
And that was what he got, at least for an hour or two. But in the middle of the night, a loud bang from inside the house woke him up.
Marc could barely comprehend what was going on when he was shocked awake, and he spent at least a few minutes on his feet groggy and walking around the room and waiting for his brain to start working again.
There were footsteps outside his door. There definitely were. That was what snapped Marc back to reality. A burglar? Why would there be a burglar here? There was a car outside, anyone with half a brain would have known that someone was in the house.
No time to wonder. Someone was in the house, upstairs, with him. He heard the footsteps, he haerd the old floorboards creaking. No mistake.
He ducked into the bathroom. Looked for something there, something he could hit an attacker with. Not deodorant. He couldn't stab someone with a toothbrush. They made rubber tips for that. The shower curtain? If only he could detach the shower rod and hit the attacker with it -
There was a knock.
Marc was almost offended at the nerve of this burglar. Someone had broken into his house and knocked on his door?
A voice came from behind the door.
It was a woman's voice.
“Marc,” it said. “Can you open up?
Marc tried to hold his toothbrush as threateningly as possible. He crept back out into the room. The door had not been opened. “W-who are you?” he yelled at it.
“My name is Icelus.”
What a weird name.
“Are you a burglar?”
What a stupid question. She had just told him her name. What kind of burglar would do that?
“No. I needed to see you.”
“Are you a neighbor?” Maybe his grandmother had given a key to a neighbor and she hadn't told him.
“I live here.”
“What?”
“I live here,” she said again.
Marc couldn't believe this. This was so bizarre. Why was a mysterious woman in his grandmother's house claiming to live there?
“Can you let me in?” she asked.
Marc had to make a decision. “Icelus,” he said. He figured it couldn't hurt to use her name, “Y-you aren't going to attack me when I open this, are you?”
“No, of course not,” she said. It sounded like she meant it, too. Marc knew it was a crazy thing, but it was just about enough for him. It was either this or stay barricaded in this room for who-knows-how-long.
“Okay,” he said apprehensively. “I'm opening the door.”
As Marc reached down to turn the door handle, he noticed that it wasn't locked. Whoever this person was, she could have burst in any time. Instead she had asked his permission. That made him feel a little better.
He turned the handle and opened the door.
What he saw behind it made him scream. He fell backwards and collapsed on the floor.
It was the dog. The greyhound statue. It was here, right at his threshold.
Marc was about to get eaten, he knew it. That's how it went. He saw the dog and the dog ate him. This was a nightmare and he was about to wake up.
The statue opened its mouth and spoke to him.
“Marc,” she said, “I need your help.”


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