Jack was falling. He had been flying, but the wind currents failed him. Now all the wind did was accelerate his descent. Jack wasn't sure if he should be yelling or not. The winds usually picked him back up before he hit the ground. He was still a ways away from that so he decided panicking should be saved for later.

As Jack fell farther, the air changed from the cool of high altitudes to the heat of sun reflecting off of the earth. This is when Jack decided to panic. His yell barely left him before his body was met with scorching sand. The harsh change in temperature caused Jack's ice-like skin to fracture. There was a reason Jack took care to avoid intense heat. He had only wished he would never have to learn the hard way. It was too late now.

Jack rose gingerly, holding himself up with his staff. This proved futile as the wood had begun to sink deep into the sand. Jack stumbled onto his knees grasping at it. The sand swallowed the staff entirely. A wave of hopelessness loomed over him. The sun beat down relentlessly. Jack couldn't tell if he was sweating or something more on the side of fatal. He pulled his hands out of the sand only to find the particles were seeping into his cracked skin. Their heat only deepened the wounds.

Jack tried to yell. The only noise that came out resembled the howling of the wind that betrayed him to begin with. No help would find him like this. He finally looked beyond the patch of sand where his staff had disappeared. The only sight that he found was more sand - endless sand. Enough sand to fill the world ten times over. The brightness of it alone threatened to blind him. Jack blinked back the water and raised a cracked arm over his eyes. He could practically see his cells evaporating. Being a guardian, Jack couldn't truly die. What was happening instead was not proving to be a preferred alternative.

He started walking aimlessly. Defiantly. Jack could feel his legs crumbling beneath him. Still he walked. Stumbling would be the more accurate term.

The wind picked up around him, pulling at the fabrics that clung to his damp flesh. His hopes rose, perhaps the winds hadn't abandoned him after all. His waterlogged form, however, refused to leave the ground. Small gusts whistled through the fissures in his form. Jack feared the faults would cut so deep as to separate entire limbs from his body. The winds increased, blowing strongly against him. The sand storm had snuck up from behind. Jack turned into the force, still shielding his eyes. This did nothing to protect them from the barrage of sand that flew at him. He choked on the sand that was propelled down his throat. Jack fell to the ground in a fit of coughing. The multiplying density of the cloud contained and intensified the desert's heat. Sand fell on him like hail. It fell until it completely covered him. Jack curled into himself and closed his eyes, succumbing to the dark.


Jack awoke gasping for air. He coughed though nothing was in his throat. He lay breathing deeply until his heart settled down. He sat up and looked around. It was his pond, snow adorning the ground, ice frosting underneath him, and his staff next to him. He snatched it up quickly seeking comfort in familiarity. In reality.

"A dream." Jack tested his voice, expecting nothing to come out. "It was only a dream." He took a shaky breath, his hands gripping tightly to his staff.


The next night Jack watched Sandy prepare his dream sand for the children. This ritual used to fill Jack with joy. Now it only filled him with dread.