Dreamcatcher

Prologue

To the casual observer, it might seem odd that the imposing young man kneeling on the black marble floor was completely ignoring the prone figure behind him. Down on one knee, his eyes closed and head bowed, he was muttering urgently under his breath and focusing intensely on something that apparently he alone could see. As a breath of wind stole over the black, silent room, he looked up. Apparently content, the man drew himself up to his full considerable height and threw back his shoulders, relaxed. His stormy gray eyes glinted in the dying torchlight as he glanced around the room with mild interest.

As tall and powerfully built as the man was, the gigantic room in which he stood reduced him to an ant’s significance or less. It was too dark to make out the sky high ceiling or distant walls in the flickering torchlight, although one could make out several towering pillars looming ominously over the silent hall. Richly adorned with countless jewels and rare metals, these pillars bore epic paintings along their full length that seemed to transcend the skill of mere men. Powerful human-looking figures in white or gold danced, fought, and conversed against bright, airy backgrounds. In darker and grimmer sections, great battles were fought between enormous bright figures, elegant shadows, roaring beasts, and ordinary men. Other nondistinct figures peered out from between trees – and some hulking, dark creatures were to be found occasionally amidst a slew of dead enemies. Countless other of these painted pillars, towering statues, and expertly chiseled sculptures crowded the room, leaving only a long straight path to the back center of the room clear of ornament, save for a long gold carpet embroidered in white.

The tall man’s gaze drifted inevitably over to this far end of the cavernous room, where a massive throne sat atop a pedestal. Constructed flawlessly of black and white marble with veins of pure gold cutting across its surface, one of the epicenters of power in the realm of Aether now sat empty and dark. The cold, hard silence in the room seemed to seep from the heavy throne. For years, this young man had dreamt urgently of a day when he could stand in this room as the rightful king he deserved to be. He did deserve it, regardless of what any of the others said. After years of expecting to inherit this throne by right, here he was, having stolen it. He regretted nothing, however – he had never anticipated that it would be stolen from him in the first place. So he’d unfortunately had to take back that which had been taken from him.

And now he was about to throw it all away.

He felt somewhat let down. After all the years of dreaming of this day, here he was. He had won – only to find the victory meant less than nothing to him. He was about to leave this all behind for the promise of an even greater ambition. Something only he could accomplish. Something that needed to be done, but something none save him had the guts to take control and actually do. That ended today.

Yes, it was over. Time to turn around and walk away. Easy for you to say, said a small voice in the man’s head, you can’t really predict what’s going to happen. What if you fail? What then?

The young man cursed and spun around. He glared at the dark, high ceiling and exhaled. True, he was throwing away his great prize, but he sure as hell wasn’t giving up. His new path was necessary to shatter the pathetic fetters placed on him and others of his kind. He would not, and could never gain the true power he wanted by only taking bits and pieces. He needed to do the whole thing, or none at all. This was sure to be the first step of the greatest journey of all time.

After a second’s hesitation, the young man turned and began to slouch towards the exit. He slipped almost immediately, and was hard pressed to remain standing. Scowling, he looked down at the swirling pool at his feet.

Blood.

Shaking his head, he turned to look at the elderly, yet powerful man lying sprawled on the ground. He could be sleeping, were it not for the dark streams of blood coursing out from under him. At least the old man’s mortal weakness would be turned into something far greater, and more powerful. Where he was going, all obstacles and weaknesses would be obliterated. It was his right, no… his responsibility to act where his kin were afraid to transcend the foolish limits they had set for themselves.

No, they couldn’t be saved. It was too late for them. But the towering young man did have something in mind that would revolutionize an entirely different people, in a different time and place. An age of glory and prosperity was nigh upon them, whether they knew it or not. Here was the end of one era and the beginning of a shining new one. And it would have his name all over it.

Collecting himself, the young man tapped into his newfound inner power. He closed his eyes and envisioned everything as he was about to create it, seeing his own role in great detail. Once he had the full picture in his mind, he accessed the full flow of the power now charging through his veins. A fierce wind sprang up in earnest in the dark throne room, even though he was inside. The floor and walls began rattling in protest, and a sharp crackling sound cut through the turbulent air.

The young man’s eyes snapped open, and there was triumph in their stormy gray depths. In a voice so soft it could scarcely be heard over the howling wind, the man proclaimed with finality, let it be…

A blinding, searing blue light rippled silently across the room, and he was gone…

As the silence stretched on in the now dark throne room, a chill crept into the air. The only sound was of a note, tattered and burnt, floating to the ground. It landed atop the broken corpse on the floor, a warning to all who read it. One last faint gust swept the room, shuddered, and died. Oblivion took over.

And the only thing to break the eternal silence, were the words spun in black.

I was supposed to be the hero.

It was my destiny, my inheritance. And it was stolen from me. I was the light that cut through the darkness. I was everything they needed, and more. I have been beaten, shamed, and cast aside by those who needed me most. Accuse me of nothing – they have forced me to do this! This was never my intention.

Their blood is on your hands.

This means war. None of you have any idea what I am capable of. I was meant to be your shield, your light, your eternal protector. I was supposed to save us at a time when no one believed we could save ourselves. I always believed it; but those who should have stood with me, stood against me.

My – no, I cannot speak his name – your king has ripped the pulsing heart out of my body and bestowed it upon a lesser man. And by spilling the sacred blood of tradition, this man and all of you have committed the highest of all evils.

I will have my revenge.

None will be spared.

This is not over. Though time may wash over my memory and dust collect on the tragedies done here, I will wait, and I will remember. When the time comes, I will strike. And I will have my vengeance.

I was supposed to be your hero. God knows what you have turned me into.

Chapter One

Silent lightning cracked the sky below as the black sea rushed down from above. A haze of rain arose softly from beneath, or was it mist falling off the sea? Thunder exploded with a vengeance across the sky below... Wait, below?

I’m falling.

A second thunderous chorus brought the confused young man to his senses. A cacophony of muddled thoughts screamed simultaneously through his head.

How did I get here? What happened? Am I dreaming? What?… How?…

Shaking his head violently, the young man flung his arms out wide. Looking down, he gauged that he had only seconds before he would crash into the foaming black waves. Eyes narrowed, he focused in on the cliff face racing alarmingly past to his right. Pointing his right arm downward, he flexed his hand in anticipation.

Wait for it… Wait for it…

With a grunt of effort, he yanked his arm toward his body as if pulling on a set of invisible strings. Thick tendrils of rock shot out from the cliff face below. Holding his breath with concentration as the wind roared in his ears, the young man braced himself and grabbed onto the thickest rock beam as he fell by it. It cracked deeply, but did not give out immediately. The young man quickly swung to the next beam and the next, working his way across the cliff face on this set of makeshift monkey bars.

Looking down, he saw a mere twenty feet between him and the sharp, jagged rocks that sat half hidden in the black waves below. Sighing with relief and exasperation, he tried to recall how he had gotten in this predicament. Still breathing hard, he thought back a few hours. Oh yeah! Because I was persuaded to sleep on an overhanging tree branch by that idiot…

Keep up! The shout came from a second, larger young man running on a rocky pathway above that surely hadn’t been there before. He moved with a nimble grace for his size, though his strength was undeniable as he surged forward and leaped across a chasm in the cliff face, grabbing the ledge above and pulling himself up in one fluid motion. He dropped to the ground in a perfect pose, white cloak and silvery long hair flying behind him in the high wind, almost as if he was not taking the near plummet to his death seriously.

Show off…

Turning to look at his exasperated friend dangling below, this large young man with the silvery-blond hair put his hands on his hips and laughed. Laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world – and only he could see it.

Typical…

"You really shouldn’t listen to me, should you?", the large one said.

You’re telling me, said the young man dangling below, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked up again at his mirthful companion. Hanging with both arms from the last outcrop of rock, there was a good thirty feet between his position and where his companion stood above. "You’re going to have to help me up there, or I will finish you off as you were clearly planning to do to me."

"Finish you off? How was I supposed to know lightning would strike the overhanging tree branch we just happened to be sleeping in…"

Mikael, I swear, you think you’re invincible sometimes. Remind me to question your ‘great ideas’ more next time. But this Mikael had already extended his right arm and was tracing with his finger in the air. Somehow, a makeshift ladder of rough stone steps was cut out of the cliff face below in the exact pattern of his arm movement. Mikael did this effortlessly, as if it were easy as walking or breathing.

Swinging backwards and forward again a couple times to gain momentum, the young man below flung himself at this now sculpted ladder, colliding with a muffled sound and grabbing firmly onto the rough stone ladder. Climbing up quickly and smoothly, he jumped the last few steps and landed with a thump next to his companion Mikael, a slow grin spreading across his face despite himself.

As fast as the intense storm had come, it had gone. You never could predict anything about these new mountains, or just about anything else that popped up unexpectedly in the frontier wilderness. Maybe that was why it was so much fun to be the first ones on site. As this mountain had to have popped up just last night, Lyght was positive he and Mikael were the first ones to investigate it. It was something they were used to doing – they enjoyed this sort of break from their more stressful work.

Mikael leaned into the cool breeze whipping off the ocean, watching the horizon with an amused look on his face. Nothing like an early morning fall to your death to start your day. I must say, Lyght, with me around I can’t see how you claim to be ‘not a morning person’.

The young man called Lyght turned away slightly, dark hair whipping around his face. He seemed to be trying to maintain his state of exasperation, but he couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing. Pretty soon, the pair of them were doubled up with mirth, making such a scene that a flock of seagulls burst angrily from their nests below on the cliff face. The sound echoed off the black stone and soared over the previously quiet ocean, reverberating every which direction. The horizon warmed in anticipation of the coming sunrise, and the sea took on a light pink tinge in the distance. A rare day was ahead.

Lyght recovered first. Slashing his right arm back and forth, he began to cut a crude but effective staircase from their exposed pathway up to the cliff top high above. Leaping up and to the right with a triumphant cry, he yelled, And the first one to the next mountain gets to name it!

Way ahead of you, brother, Mikael muttered, his eyes on the clearing sky. He whipped off his elegant white cloak, embroidered with a swirling light gold pattern – his finest possession. Sighing with resignation, he bunched up the four corners in his left hand, forming a sort of parachute. He raised his other hand toward the Dark mountaintop looming above them to the north. After a moment with his eyes closed, face set in concentration, a prodigious gale erupted from beneath him, ballooning the cloak in his hand and sending him flying into the air. This was no normal gust – this absolute blast of wind sent thunderous echoes shuddering all across the dark mountain range.

Turning his head and cringing at the sudden blast, Lyght just caught Mikael soaring up past him, laughing uproariously, as if to say – "You’ve let me win already?" Within seconds, Mikael cleared the precipitous cliff face high above and dropped, presumably landing on the grassy knoll that extended out of the pine forests above. Lyght sighed with exasperation – Mikael always had been prone to the grandiose and the unusual. He already had a significant head start to the new mountain, looming black and foreboding ahead. Lyght wasn’t going to lose again, was he?

No, not again. Not tonight. Time to end your streak, friend. Lyght redoubled his efforts, somehow cutting a makeshift stone stairway out of the black rock with his right hand as he climbed up, grabbing and steadying himself with his left arm. He did all this apparently effortlessly, looking deep in thought.

Mikael had to have used up nearly all his spirit on that one trick. As effective as it was, that will drain him nearly to zero. It’s incredible he even had the juice to lift himself that far with mere wind.

Lyght was way behind, for now. But he would steadily gain his way back. And when it came down to it, he would have the power left for one last maneuver; one that he knew would leave him with the upper hand.

It always seemed to go this way. Either Mikael would come up with something brilliant – do something amazing – and Lyght would be left in the dust. Or, alternatively, he would try to do too much – as he was surely doing now – and Lyght would simply outsmart him. This was what was Lyght hoped for now.

Of course, nothing the pair was doing right now was at all normal. They both had a very rare and unique ability, one that a select few in the Dreamscape were blessed with. To begin with, every gifted individual with the Dreamcasting ability needed much less sleep than a normal person. In fact, a Dreamcaster only needed a few hours of sleep per night to replenish their body, and would never enter the deep sleep stage. From his own research, Lyght had found that this was what scholars called REM sleep, in which a person experienced a fantastical semi-reality, a dream. An average person needed roughly two hours of REM a night to stay healthy – a Dreamcaster needed none. Someone special enough to be gifted with Dreamcasting need not dream while slept, for they could essentially dream in the real world, while awake.

Well, in a manner of speaking, anyway. There were, in Lyght’s opinion, many disappointing limits to the ability. First of all, you could not create something where none existed, nor destroy something that already existed. Of course, things could be broken down, but the fabric of the universe itself – that which a Dreamcaster manipulated – could not be created of destroyed. This was the Working Principle of Dreamcasting.

In manipulating this fabric, this universal energy, one faced significant barriers and limits. Ones that Mikael wasn’t paying enough attention to right now. Ones that Lyght would exploit to win. He ran through them in his head as he climbed in the increasingly high wind.

First Law of Dreamcasting – A linear increase in power results in a proportional loss in spirit.

A Dreamcaster such as Lyght or Mikael, at fully-charged spirit capacity – as it was called – would get two hours of ability per six hours of sleep, but two hours spent at the natural strength of their body. In other words, a user could only manipulate energy and substance for the full two hours if they were willing to accept tasks that they could do naturally without powers, from the strength in their own limbs. However, if one wanted to increase their power (which frequently seemed to be the case), the loss in spirit as a result would be proportional to the rate of power increase.

For example, to give himself the strength of two Lyghts, Lyght would lose spirit twice as fast – a proportional loss rate. If stocked at the full spirit rate of two hours, Lyght could operate at the twice the full strength of his body continuously for an hour – the full limit would essentially be lost twice as fast by the increase in power. Three times strength meant a three times quicker loss of spirit, and so on. Mikael was naturally strong physically, so his spirit capacity was very high, but that stunt with the wind had to have taken an enormous amount of spirit to pull off. By the First Law, he had to be about dry by now.

Second Law of Dreamcasting – The penalty for using more spirit than your body has may be death.

A Dreamcaster always knew when they were running low on spirit. They could feel it. So most wouldn’t even think of trying to use more spirit once they were out. As reckless and competitive as Mikael was, Lyght was one hundred percent sure that he wouldn’t push his spirt too far if he was running low. Both of them knew the consequences – and approaching the age of eighteen, neither had a death wish by any stretch of the imagination.

Third Law of Dreamcasting – Nothing may be manipulated into an unnatural state.

As powerful as Dreamcasting was, it was a force of energy manipulation, not creativity. Nothing could be changed to the point that it could not be found in nature. That was why Mikael had to blast the existing air particles into a furious gale, rather than just sprouting wings or giving himself bigger muscles with power to jump hundreds of feet. Strengthening your existing muscles was possible, of course, but it took a real subtle touch of energy manipulation at the cellular level that Mikael struggled with. He excelled more at sheer use of power; like blasting the air into such a fury it could literally lift his body weight.

Lyght knew that Mikael’s primary limitation had always been his planning – he didn’t consider consequences as thoroughly or consider as many possible courses of action as Lyght. He just did things intuitively. That wasn’t a bad thing; it actually complimented Lyght’s style quite well. However, it meant he could be beat. Lyght could think quickly on his feet of manipulations that wouldn’t be unnatural by the Third Law. He could think of what was possible, given the defined limits of his world.

Everybody said Lyght was highly intelligent. Some called him a genius. He didn’t know about that. What he did know, was that – in situations like this – he was intentionally strategic. He was creative. He could match Mikael’s natural strength and flair with his own wit and ideas. And above all, he didn’t want to lose. No, he wouldn’t lose. Not today.

Jumping off of the final stone step, Lyght landed on the grassy knoll atop the cliff and hit the ground running, barreling towards the Dark pine wood. Though smaller than Mikael, Lyght was not unathethletic himself. He flew headlong over fallen pine needles; eyes narrowed on the twisting path ahead, arms pumping. Mikael had to be halfway up that mountain by now. Truth be told, Lyght had explored too many new land formations with Mikael to care about naming this mountain himself. He just wanted to win. He had lost four of these such contests in a row. Mikael was in for a surprise.

After burning through the slowly lightening forest for about a minute, Lyght exploded out onto the rocky slope that curved gently upward towards the true mountain slope hundreds of yards ahead. Although the base of the mountain was large, the mountaintop was not far from them at this elevation. Indeed, as Lyght had suspected, Mikael was already within a hundred feet of the top. Lyght came to a sudden stop, heels throwing up gray dust and rock.

Just in time, he thought, exhaling.

Point his right arm up at the mountain peak in triumph, a tiny smile flashed in Lyght’s eyes as he steadied in on his intended pathway. He held his breath for a few moments, concentrating… judging, analyzing. Lyght stood there like a hunter, honing in on his prey.

One… Two…

Lyght ripped his arm downward from the top of the mountain, all the way to an angle pointing straight out in front of him on the gentle slope on which he stood. Sure enough, a deep, narrow stone slide instantly carved its way down the several hundred foot mountain slope. Mikael’s cry of dismay was audible from Lyght’s vantage point as he slipped, a mere fifty feet from the top, and began to slide all the way down to the bottom slope where Lyght stood.

As Mikael fell, Lyght dashed forward and began to sprint up the mountain slope, passing his friend about a third of the way up. Head down, he kept running towards the narrow peak. The move with the slide had utterly drained him. Lyght had had to ramp his spirit up to many, many times his natural strength to carve a pathway in the stone that large, that quickly. As a result, his spirit had nearly evaporated in the blink of an eye. Lyght knew he would have to rely on his natural running speed now.

As Lyght was drained by now, Mikael was able to catch up significantly on his way back up. Lyght did make it first, but it was a close call. Mikael’s natural strength and speed kept him in the race until the end, only losing by about eighty feet.

Alone atop the mountaintop for a few moments, Lyght put his hands on his hips, breathing hard, and turned again towards the horizon. Sunrise was coming soon. As Mikael crested the ridge, panting, Lyght turned toward him with raised eyebrows.

What happened there, champ?

Shut up, said Mikael through gritted teeth. "You know I had you beat with that flying trick. The one time I think I outsmart you, this happens. I thought of a way to naturally fly, and you still beat me."

Lyght snorted. To be fair, you didn’t really fly, you just blasted your cloak with wind to make it float. Even though the seaside wind was already strong, I really thought that would’ve drained you instantly. Your strength is unfair.

Mikael shook his head. "And your sense of the Third Law is unfair. How could a stone slide be natural? That makes no sense."

Well, Lyght said with a note of pride in his voice, stone formations can chasm and furrow, right? Really, I just aided them in that process, in a very… precise way that suited me.

Whatever, Mikael sighed, turning towards the opposite western horizon and the… thing that hung there. Ever present – silent – and yet… heavy. A swirling ultra-black mass, or blank space; it always strangely gave the impression that it just wasn’t there. That nothing was, really. The embodiment of the strange, the unknown itself, it covered up the land every other night. It had been retreating all night since it had come down from the sky at midnight, and had only recently receded back into the sky from whence it came. Lyght knew it would be back again soon. Sure as sunrise, and surer yet.

The Dark.

The churning, ultra-black mass that came down to blanket the land every other night was now in retreat, running from the imminent sunrise – as always. The Dark tended to bring, in Lyght’s experience, a thoroughly unsettling feeling of vulnerability and unknown when it descended, constricting the mind and suffocating the senses. When the Dark came, things disappeared, shadows crept, and danger could be around any corner. When it finally abated, new things suddenly appeared in the daylight – like this silent, mist-shrouded mountain they stood atop now. Lyght never had been able to figure out how that happened.

It was an experience that Lyght really had a hard time describing, but he could feel it… all too well.

Most people didn’t have to experience the Dark however, for they were asleep whenever it came, safe and rejoicing in their own private fantasy worlds. The only ones who experienced this force of unknown – who apparently faced it head on while the rest were asleep – were the great Legends of the land, as they were called. They were renowned as great heroes who had been gifted with the extraordinarily rare Dreamcasting ability. From what Lyght had heard, they patrolled every domain in the land as wardens against the Dark. They were few and far between – only about a hundred alive, active Legends roamed every domain, protecting the people they grew up with, and came to love. Every domain had its own Legends – except the Hope domain, Lyght and Mikael’s home. In the absence of any Legends to rely on, Lyght and Mikael simply had to make do with themselves. As it was, it was barely enough. If that.

It was a huge, tough job they had taken upon themselves; learning more about the Dark. And frustratingly enough, Lyght and Mikael had learned little over the past few years. A mysterious force that could somehow make everyone without Dreamcasting powers fall into a deep sleep at the same time was something that Lyght and Mikael felt they just had to investigate. The problem was, it was hard to investigate, much less understand, what was seemingly a force of nature. Lyght showed the stress sometimes, and he knew it. Nothing could ever get Mikael down, however. He just laughed everything off.

That’s exactly what Mikael did now. Laughing at nothing in particular, he turned back towards the eastern horizon. Maybe he was just glad for the coming day. The Dark really made one appreciate a normal day, and there were exactly two days for every normal night and Dark night. The Dark only came every other night, each and every time. Like clockwork. Like a force of nature… although Lyght couldn’t help but feeling something was wrong with it all.

Day was indeed coming now. Lyght breathed in deep as he listened to the sea roll in. He always seemed to get worked up about this strange force that put everybody in the land to sleep – Dreamcasters excepted – every other night. Lyght knew he just had to let himself unwind sometimes. Day was indeed coming, and they were going home. That was something he could at least be thankful for. A gust of sea wind kicked in as the pair of friends stood atop the misty mountaintop in the pre-dawn. Lyght felt his muscles relax as crisp wind whipped through his dark hair, which he pushed back with a casual hand.

Time to head back, you think?, Mikael prompted. Without waiting for an answer he spun on his heel and fell spread-eagled over the edge, dropping like a stone past the near-vertical mountain face towards the shifting sea below. From this height, Lyght could barely make out a wooden raft tethered to a rock in the surf below. As he watched, it snapped its binding and spun over to catch Mikael. Lyght frowned.

I really thought he would be out by now…

Lyght was nearly out of spirit, that was for sure. If he jumped, he would have to place it perfectly to land on the pitching raft. He only had enough spirit left to slow his momentum before he reached the raft. It would still be a hard hit. Sighing, he lined up his angle, took a short step, and jumped off the edge.

Salty air roaring past his body, shirt flying in the high wind, Lyght fell rapidly as he closed with the raft; growing bigger and bigger in his vision as he fell. A stunt like this took the utmost concentration. One… two…

Lyght ripped his right arm above his head, burning away the last of his spirit in one mighty heave – and reversed gravity.

His speciality. It was a move that only he could do, to his knowledge. Still, he could only sustain it for the tiniest portion of a second; it wasn’t that he could literally reverse gravity, he just… redirected it upon itself. Changed its effects, if only for a second. Lyght thought he had been the first Dreamcaster to realize, at least to his knowledge, that gravity, as a force, could manipulated by Dreamcasting just like any other force or component of the universe. It did take a herculean effort, however, to manipulate a force of that magnitude, even across such a small area as his body.

Instantly upon performing the move, Lyght’s vision swam and his head spun, the remainder of his spirit shooting instantly to zero. Feeling as if he’d slammed into an invisible wall, Lyght shot back up some forty feet. From there, it was still a fifty to sixty foot fall to the deck. He braced himself and landed seconds later with a jarring thud that rattled his bones. Lyght felt the familiar empty spot deep inside him as his spirit hit zero, along with the oddly vulnerable feeling he always felt when he ran out of spirit. He’d always hated it.

Grimacing, Lyght stood upright gingerly. "You really couldn’t just wait and come back down the mountain the way we came?"

Mikael laughed, Nah. And be late for our own party? We gotta get back to the village.

Oh yeah, that’s today.

Lyght just shook his head. He was just glad the currents would carry them back on their own – he was completely out of spirit for now, and Mikael had to be just about out as well. He felt the characteristic tiredness that one felt when completely drained of Dreamcasting spirit. Not only that, but his sleep had been cut short by falling from the cliff. These excursions never ceased to amaze.

Slumping exhaustedly against the small, makeshift center cabin and closing his eyes, Lyght waved his hand, Let’s get this party started then.

Wasting no time, Mikael slipped the trailing rope over the base of the flagpole, which flew a sea green standard splashed with deep blue designs, the flag of their home. Knotting the rope tightly and jumping up, Mikael thrust his right arm toward the sky, and a warm, driving wind began to push the raft from behind. Apparently he had just enough spirit to kick them out into the current, and then let the sea highway, as it was known, do the rest of the work. Feeling a sudden warmth, Lyght rested his hands behind his head and opened his eyes.

The morning sun had finally crested the horizon, dazzling the wide open sky with streaks of pink and gold. Lyght saw a flock of seagulls, perhaps the same ones they had scared off before, circle lazily over the open sea. Silhouetted by the sun, they dove in turns into the fish-rich waters of the southern coast. The waves rolled softly into the rocky bay – low tide. A comfortable ride back. Maybe he could get some sleep.

Mikael looked back toward the mountain. So what did you want to name that new mountain? It’s one of the biggest I’ve seen. You have quite the opportunity here.

Hmmm… how about Iwin?, Lyght joked lazily.

Grinning typically, Mikael reached out his left hand in a fist, his eyes on the sky, We’re ready, aren’t we, Lyght? Sensing the obvious weight of the question, Lyght looked back towards the west, and the looming unknown, then east again at the rising sun. With a matching grin, and reached up his right fist to join with Mikael’s.

The question is, are they ready for us?

Chapter Two

Warm green waves rolled onto the deserted beach south of the village of Kona. The only sign of last night’s storm were the few branches scattered here and there on the golden sands. The beach was deserted – the village’s fishermen had already departed well before the sun came up, and it was still too early to attract any families or playful children to the seaside. The sun hung low over the eastern horizon, casting dancing shards of light over the foamy sea surface.

This light glared in the eyes of a young teenage girl as she snuck quietly up the beach path, dragging a lightweight boat behind her. With her arm shielding her face from the direct light, she emerged onto the beach and glanced around quickly for any bystanders. Seeing she was alone, a quick mischievous grin flashed across her face. She dragged the boat down to the tide line and into the surf, hopping in. It was only a small canoe-type vessel; she had borrowed it from the port storage warehouse. It would serve her purpose, though.

They’ll never know what hit them, the girl thought with amusement. If all went as planned, she would really have one up on these guys for a long time. For sure, they were getting way too cocky lately for her liking. Well, it was her job to bring them back down to earth again, as always. And she had something especially good planned this time.

Shading her eyes with one hand, the girl grabbed the double oar out of the bottom of the boat with the other. Course set, she began paddling out across the warm southern sea. She would have to go fairly far out to meet up with her friends. The arranged meeting spot was a half a mile off the coast, southwest of Kona. The half mile wasn’t the problem; paddling against the current was. She was in the relatively shallow waters off the sea highway, so the current wasn’t overwhelming here. Still, she battled a consistent riptide as she fought her way towards the pickup point.

Most sixteen-year-old girls wouldn’t even attempt something like this, but it wasn’t for nothing that she held a reputation as one of the real troublemakers in the village of Kona. She had an unfortunate habit of doing the opposite of what the adults in her village expected her to do. She didn’t try to be like that, honestly, she just felt she was fundamentally different from the type of person everyone in her hometown expected her to be She despised deadlines, duties, and rules on the whole. She couldn’t see why people weren’t just allowed to do what they wanted, when they wanted. As long as it wasn’t too out of line, what was the harm in living a little? She also felt, deep down, that she had to set herself apart as different, because she was the one in her family most often overlooked.

She was Lyght’s little sister, after all.

Sky was her name. Or rather, that was what she made people call her. Her full first name was Skylianne, an idiotic name if she had ever heard one. Too pretty. Too refined. She preferred to keep things simple. No use overcomplicating things – she did what was needed to get the job done. Problem was, the things she most often spent her time doing were not acceptable to her parents, or most of the village, for that matter.

Sky was a troublemaker – plain and simple, that was who she was and what she did. Her mother and her teachers had wanted her to train be a medic. She apparently had something of a natural gift for it. Sky knew it hurt them that she just didn’t care enough to work hard at it. She would just much rather be out having some fun, actually doing something. She never could understand how people let themselves get trapped into their boring routines. That wasn’t going to happen to her, she had decided.

Sky reached behind her head and knotted even tighter the sky blue bandana she always wore – a reflection of her name. She was quite proud of it. With her long brown hair whipping in the wind and flying in her face, her bandana helped hold it back. Sky stared ahead, arms pumping as she rowed, excited. She had to be close by now; it was only half a mile. She was looking for a soft whirlpool inside a semicircle of rocks to dock her boat. Her friends were supposed to swing in off the sea highway and pick her up there. And when they did, the show would be under way.

Sure enough, she spied the softly swirling pool a minute later. Paddling over to it, she grabbed the thick rope out of the bottom of the canoe and slipped it over the top of a worn, perfectly sized conical rock, slipping it down and tightening the knot. Then, she jumped out onto a flat, reasonably wide rock to wait. This little natural port served as the official pickup and drop-off point for the seafaring underground. Hidden below a massive cliff, with rocks jutting out of the frothing water all around, only a small canoe could pull in here. You had to know it was here, tucked away in a labyrinth of sea rocks. And to be in the know, you had to know them. The ones whose sleek ship appeared around the western cliff edge at that moment, flying a black flag. Sky’s secret friends…

Pirates.

Waving casually to the mates on board, Sky strolled to the edge of the rock and waited. A small canoe was lowered into the water, and two men paddled on over. Sky!, one of them called, you ready to do this?

She smiled, Ready if you are, Jon.

This man she addressed did not look particularly notable, giving no indication of captain that he was. Young – in his early twenties, yet somehow already balding – the good-natured redheaded young man reached out an arm, grabbing a jutting rock and pulling the small boat sideways for Sky to get in. As she hopped in the middle, the other young man in the canoe – a very large one by any standard – laughed, his chin quivering.

Sky, you do know it might be kind of dangerous for us normal folk to mess with Dreamcasters, even if we outnumber them ten-to-one. And after the game is up… they’ll see us. Are you sure you want the two most powerful guys in the village to know that you’re friends with pirates?

Sky shrugged, "It’s no big deal. We both know you guys aren’t real pirates anyway. I mean, no offense, but you don’t even do anything that illegal. So no, it shouldn’t be an issue. You guys are pretty much like me, and my brother can understand that well enough."

Sky glanced ahead at the sleek, swift Joy – an odd name for a pirate ship if there ever was one. But then again, these weren’t really pirates in any meaningful sense of the word. Just fellow miscreants like