I had this idea when my muses tripped into my head with a new plot bunny/pet: "What if the Endless really did have mortal kids?"Then, when I couldn't ignore it and finish my original story, I gave in and started this little masterpiece. Being a pale imitation of Neil Gaiman's original, I don't expect praise for it, I expect honest reviews. Please?


"Kaiyali!" The demoness roared as she stood imposingly at the edge of the fiery circle. I ignored her, pushing my sandy bangs out of my eyes. Across the circle my opponent, Tamlin Flamefoot, rushed me, swinging a roundhouse kick at my head. I ducked, neatly throwing him over my shoulder with his own momentum.

Tamlin landed on all fours and tried again, but I'd picked up a burning branch and rolled under his attack. The spectators, all but Tiglah, the matriarch of the camp, were chanting my name. I jammed the unburnt end of the branch into his chest, knocking him to the ground with me on top.

Tamlin swore "Awright! You win, now get off me!" I sprang off him and sauntered over to Tiglah, respectfully dropping the branch. "So what's wrong?" I asked as politely as I could. For if anyone tried to be casual or, heaven forbid, rude to Tiglah they could consider themselves worse than dead. The gypsy queen was a terrifying woman to even be in the presence of. She puffed herself up, making her already imposing figure even more so. "Kaiyali Moondancer," She sighed, shrinking slightly, "You are an exemplary fighter, a renown gambler, and god knows you have more men after you for one reason or another than much of our camp combined!"

I preened at what anyone in camp would consider high praise from Tiglah, until she continued with, "But this is the last straw! I can't keep you here anymore!" My face drained of what little color it had as several armored men stepped from behind the tents holding the black irons of a prisoner of the Bastion. If that damnable woman was sending me to the Bastion, it meant she'd finally gotten one too many complaints about me. It was time to part company with my most recent temporary family.

I spun around, over Tamlin, out of the ring of fire, and up a tree before they could do more than follow with their eyes. I was faster through the trees than men would ever be on foot, but they had the added benefit of horses. I came swiftly to the edge of the camp grounds, and dropped to the ground. Now that my path was clear of people, things would be much easier. I ran on all fours, matching pace with the horses behind me, though they gained gradually. The forest was quiet and it was so dark that all my senses were on overdrive. I could see pretty well, the smell of hawks and fish should have tipped me off early. And my ears caught the soft whistling of the net right before a pair of knights threw it over my had but a momentary victory, however, because the horrific stories featuring to dark dungeons of the Bastion flooded my mind, lending me frenzied strength.

I broke free, dragging the net from their hands and racing off in it. I couldn't see quite as well now and the thick hemp ropes slowed me considerably. I didn't see the cliff until the last second, when both net and myself tumbled over the edge of the drop like a stone.'This is it.' I thought. 'I'm gonna die falling into the river with a glorified fishing net!'

These thoughts swirled around my head frantically until I realized I wasn't falling anymore. The net I'd been cursing had caught on a pair of limestone boulders, so I swung in the air like a cheap pendulum. The knights on horseback caught up, and seeing my misfortune, they laughed as they roughly pulled me up the cliff face. Apparently, I could escape the guards of the Bastion, but I couldn't escape the trappings of a net. While my pride was now seriously bruised and the size of a grape, being hauled up and dragged behind the horses at a gallop was nothing short of damningly painful. Like a blessing, I fell asleep after the first mile or so. And I began to dream. Dreams, as I've often found, can be more confusing than reality.

In hindsight, finding that your dream begins with a pair of strangers sitting on your parent's graves is not a pleasant way to start things. They probably felt just as awkward as I did. The girl on my mother's headstone wasn't any older than myself, or so it looked. She had the long black hair, pale porcelain skin, and almond eyes of an oriental. But somehow I knew her companion was far from oriental. His skin was almost blue, how pale he was, but his hair was blue-black like a greecian's and he had no eyes. No eyes to speak of anyways. He seemed to see me pretty well. Instead of normal eyes, his sockets were black and inside was a multitude of stars. Each twinkling speck of light made it look like the only thing on his mind as he sat on my father's grave, was a bunch of fireflies. And those fireflies looked pissed.

Instead of being the quiet, polite girl I'd been to Tiglah, I felt more defiant, more alive, than I had since I was a small child. "Do you mind?" I asked, hardly intimidated by the thin, irritated scowl on his face. But I'd hardly finished speaking when he cut me off. "Can we get on with this already? Holding the Dreaming on one complete dream is very taxing!" He snarled, looking very inch, a madman. The girl waved him off saying, "Brother, hush. You know as well as I do, even more than I do, how important she is. And . . . Brother are you sweating?"

Just as she'd said, when I looked closely at her brother, I could see tiny beads of sweat on his face turning pale blue and floating away from him. Through clenched teeth he hissed, "You try holding one dream of immense power in focus with billions of others breathing down your neck, Sister Death. You have about twenty seconds."

'Death?'I winced and went very pale. I'd heard of people dying in their sleep but this was just ridiculous! Before I could protest that I didn't want to die, she spoke very nonchalantly, "Nah. Just let is go, Dream. We can't do anything until Destruction get to her on the outside. She might not be ready anyways."

Dream?

Death?

"What the hell is going on?" I yelled, but neither of them took much notice. Dream relaxed, suddenly smiling at me a moment before I was awoken by a sharp jolt. For a few terrified seconds, I couldn't see. I wondered if they'd already begun torturing me by taking out my eyes. My eyesight returned slowly, to a view of dismally dark walls and steel bars. Yep, I was defiantly in the Bastion. The hell by which so many "guilty" had vanished from this world. I got the feeling I was going to die here.

Strangely enough, I wasn't panicked. I was calmer than I had been when I fell off the cliff. I felt no reason to try and escape. A high-pitched and half crazed laughter filled the cell. It forced me to go looking for the source until I recognised that it was my own voice. And I couldn't stop.

"Wow. You're probably Delirium's girl. Am I right?" The other prisoner in the tiny room said. They moved into what little light I could see in. It was neither man nor woman but some combination of both. Short black hair and a thin figure, ambiguous features graced with a menacing smirk. I felt my body flush with heat and the laughter died into a needy moan. S/he floated gracefully over, cupping my face in it's soft hands, making my own small frame shake. I grabbed it's arms as my knees gave out beneath me. "You poor thing," It crooned sadistically at me. "You're not ready for even my presence."

As if to save me from itself, it pulled my closer, entwining it's arms around me possessively, and whispered a name into my ear. Lights exploded behind my closed eyelids, the emotion I couldn't describe overwhelming me and sending me into unconsciousness.


Disclaimer: Neil Gaiman owns the Endless and everything to do with his work of awesomeness, The Sandman. (Hoshi: trust me, If she owned it, Morpheus wouldn't be dead.) Stop spoiling things!