"Jack, come on," said Pitch as he dragged him through the air.

"Where are we going in such a rush?" Jack demanded, narrowly avoiding being swung into sign posts and trees as they went.

"It's almost over. We don't want to miss this!" he said, and his face lit up in excitement, like a child eager to display the treasure they have dug up in the garden. Something felt very odd about it, Jack thought; he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Pitch was acting very much like he did whenever he remembered something, only this time, he was even more exhilarated. They thankfully stopped their mad rush when Pitch spotted the building he wanted Jack to see and they landed softly in the alley next to it. Jack brushed himself off while Pitch stepped gingerly to a door left slightly ajar in the side of the building. As he softly pulled it open for them to slip inside, Jack could hear the dull roar of a rock concert and felt surprise. As far as he knew, none of the bands on whom he and Pitch kept fanatical tabs were touring in this part of the U.S. now. Who could possibly excite Pitch so much? They entered and Pitch quietly shut the door behind them. The coast was clear of anyone, so Jack sauntered forth only to be jerked back close to the wall beside Pitch.

"What are you doing?" he whispered. "You might be seen!"

"This is a rock concert, Pitch. What are the chances that a kid will be backstage to see me?"

"Shh," Pitch hissed, and led him stealthily through the wings to the side of the stage. Jack was right. It was a rock concert, and he arched a brow and looked up questioningly at Pitch who was staring intently at the performers on stage, now in the middle of a pause in the music. Pitch's hands on his shoulders trembled and Jack shivered. All of a sudden the air felt heavier than a second ago. The performers on stage stopped completely but for a softly recorded drone. As if this were a cue, the hands of the entire audience were lifted into the air and the performers bowed their heads and spread their arms.

"It's time," Pitch whispered and steered them onto the stage where, contradictory to his earlier warnings, he placed them right in front of the performers.

"Pitch," Jack whispered, also strangely affected by the peculiar mood of the place and (Pitch's odder behavior), "what's happening?"

"Look," he said and pointed out certain pockets in the audience where people had grouped into small and large knots. They held tightly together, some supporting their companions and surrounding others who seemed to be in distress. But what he noticed that really alarmed him were the unmistakable misty forms of fearlings and other dark, maleficent shades that looked related to them, surrounding these people, circling above them. Then Jack noticed others stalking the dark corners of the auditorium and slinking through dimly-lit doorways all around the place.

"Pitch, fearlings!" Jack exclaimed, and brandished his staff to go at them, but Pitch held him firmly in place and said, very calmly,

"Look. Look at what they're really doing. Jack, they're only trying to get at them, but they can't." He pointed at one group where a dark form circled closer to its prey. "Watch what happens." Jack narrowed his eyes as the thing loomed just over the heads of the group. His hands tightened around his staff as he watched it twist straight up and then dive for the people in the center of the cluster. But it couldn't. A bright spurt of light, like a force-field burst over the group and the dark thing streaked away with a wail as if burned. Jack's eyes widened in shock, and then he noticed the same thing start to happen again and again all around the room. Small eruptions of light appeared as the knots of people, and even some few solitary audience members, were swarmed by the black, misty forms. But not a one of them could get through the invisible barriers, howling and moaning as they retreated every time.

"Pitch," Jack whispered.

"I know. I had to let you see it, too, before this convention ends. Something else is protecting them, and I don't know what."

"What are they whispering?" Jack asked, noticing that the lips of the people were moving. Pitch opened his mouth to answer but could not, and Jack was not able suddenly to be concerned about it. For what happened next is nearly impossible to describe in words. A select number of persons in history are known to have experienced and recorded what occurred in that auditorium, but to read or hear about it is always a gross understatement of the true event. A relatively recent account put it somewhat more comprehensibly, however. One suddenly is overcome by an overwhelming Presence. The air grows dense and confused with the movement of entities, not totally "there" or visible in the strictest sense; but it is as if the brain, rather than the eye is tapped as a vehicle of "sight." One literally experiences rather than sees or even interacts with the Beings that occupied the seemingly empty air in that concert hall that night. To look straight at a solitary one of them would be like looking at the shadow of a candle flame. They were hardly more than disturbances in the ether, with slivers of light at the "center" of their beings, yet their presence, even in small numbers, overwhelms the senses and leaves one either in profound awe or abject terror (or in pitiful cases, causes no reaction at all).

Jack became aware of at least one on either side of him, imposing so as to be almost suffocating; he could not move for the overpowering insignificance he felt, which would have drawn him to his knees had Pitch not had such a vice-like grip on his shoulders. The movements of the black shades in the midst of the crowd became more frenzied, when the beings on either side of him seemed to pulse and they were obliterated in a sudden shrieking panic. As the dark ones disappeared they grew brighter, more present in a way we can understand, until finally great multitudes of them could be seen all around the auditorium. They ringed around the people, crowded in close to them in the balconies, and surrounded Jack, Pitch and the performers on stage. They stood taller than trees, and had a mesmerizing yet terrible beauty about them, which frightened and beguiled Jack at the same time. He could not look away and suddenly the one on his left turned and looked—or rather focused its presence—down at them.

Then a voice that chilled his ice-cold spine, made his soul quake and his body shiver; a voice with no blood in it, yet with all the power and depth of music, rung in his brain.

"The dust of stars cries out to us from your weapons, Hnau. Uphold them and complete our circle." They moved as if possessed and held out their weapons, Jack's staff and Pitch's scythe, towards the crowd. The Beings around them began to pulse ever brighter, ever faster, causing the star metal in Jack and Pitch's weapons to do the same, until they shone more radiantly than the sun. Though Jack could not see much for the blinding light, large wing-shaped appendages seemed to extend from the Figures' backs and create a roof over the crowd, while a curious mist floated around his feet.

Forgive me, dear reader, for I cannot possibly adequately describe what being in that circumstance, that Presence, is like. Its source is eternal, and so is beyond the reach of a lifetime's research. It is so sublimely simple that it causes the deepest consternation and befuddlement, even among scholars far more learned than I, yet scorns the depth of human imagination and intellect with its dazzling complexity. To be in It is Pleasure, unbounded, and Peace without imperfection. Leaving it leaves one feeling refreshed, peaceful, and loved deeper than our own understanding can comprehend.

Thus, the same sort of pleasurable perplexity which knowing readers may experience with this account, overtook Jack. His own spirit seemed to rise out of his body and grow to the ceiling, and then beyond, until, among the Silence of the Heights (which is itself music), he heard a small, tender voice proudly call his name. And then, it was over. With a shuddering sigh the world seemed to return to itself. Jack blinked, mouth agape as the stage and the people came back into focus. Pitch's hands on his shoulders shook and as he turned around to look up at him, his face, raw with emotion, looked shattered. He stared blankly into space as if something essential had been put just within his reach and then torn away again. It was painful, and Jack shook his arm to stir him, but when he regained himself he looked at Jack and smiled like a man who has just experienced powerful relief. It was the first time Jack thought he had ever seen Pitch looking ready to cry…with joy. Then he looped his arm around Jack's shoulder and out they went, back into the night.

On the roof of a building not very far away stood the stout figure of the Sandman. For once, still as a statue, he stood watching, rather than listening for children's wishes on the wind, as the last wisps of the scene dissipated away. Having witnessed Jack and Pitch's encounter through a skylight, he stared quietly into space while his mind raced and his thoughts whirred together into one continuous stream, foamy with dredged-up memories from long ago that by now were almost as misty as twilight.

Then suddenly, a voice with no blood in it, one that he had not heard in millennia embraced him and whispered to his heart.

"We have seen him, Dream Giver, and we are well-pleased," it said, then released him and was gone like a breath on the night-time breeze. Then Sanderson Mansnoozie smiled, and raising his face towards the stars, mouthed the first words his lips had formed since he himself could remember:

Blessed be He…

Dear Readers, Hello to you all at last! Forgive me for not posting anything sooner. School and Life have contrived to get in the way of this story with a vengeance! I am back, now, though, and will dedicate my time from now until school starts up again to completing this story. The above submission has been a preview of things to come, and a glimpse at where I want to finally land this story. Interested? Stay with me, and enjoy the adventure! Again, thank you all who have read my work and reviewed! Until next time (which will be very soon!),

Always,

Q.R.