Schism
Not yet touched by the minds that would give it form, the land of dreams was shrouded in dark mist. Two slender shapes, one purple and one red and black, flashed through the brief patches of visibility. At first their flight was an aimless patrol, but then a strange feeling ran through the unformed world around them, as if its very make-up had shifted. Dreamers were beginning to arrive for the night, and Nightopia was taking shape in response.
The fliers adjusted their course slightly, heading for the nearest dreamers. Reala flexed his wicked claws and grinned in anticipation. Then he glanced toward his brother, and his grin faded. NiGHTS was twirling through the mist like a purple dancer. It was clear that his mind wasn't on their mission.
"NiGHTS, pay attention!" Reala snapped. "We have a job to do." NiGHTS stopped twirling, but he still didn't seem very serious. As the mist began to dissolve before them, a light breeze blew from the dreamscape ahead. NiGHTS spread out his arms to savor it. With exasperation, Reala saw that his brother's hands were still in their original form.
"NiGHTS…" he said warningly.
Instead of answering, NiGHTS shot forward a short distance. Before them was a dreamscape of stone cliffs, where grass grew on vertical surfaces and waterfalls poured from mid-air. He slowed to admire it. The dreamer who had crafted the scene wasn't currently visible, and only the small forms of Nightopians moved below.
"Where do you suppose the Pians go when there's no dream to run around in?" NiGHTS asked as Reala came up beside him.
Reala, scanning the dreamscape, showed no interest in the carefree, sprite-like creatures. "Who cares? There," he pointed. He'd spotted the dreamer, a teenage boy strolling among the cliffs some distance away.
Many more dreamscapes now surrounded this one, closely packed in their way, yet never touching. "I'll take this one," Reala said. "Let's get started." NiGHTS sighed as he finally resigned himself to the night's work. Slowly his fingers shifted into claws, though less fearsome-looking than those his brother wore.
Reala frowned again. In Nightopia, form was defined by thought, and that halting transformation betrayed his brother's reluctance as surely as the contrast between his gentler, flesh-toned features and Reala's own harsh, dead-white face illustrated the difference in their personalities. Sometimes Reala wondered what would become of his brother if NiGHTS didn't fix that overly soft attitude of his. Well, at least he would get the job done.
Nightopians scattered as the Nightmaren swept down into the dreamscapes below. Reala arrowed straight toward the dreamer, who lost precious seconds staring in shock. By the time he turned to run, it was too late and Reala was upon him. On the other hand, it didn't really make a difference. It had been too late all along.
Even as the dreamer struggled to escape, Reala's claws sank into his back and shoulders. Ignoring his victim's desperate thrashing, Reala concentrated on the energy he felt from inside the dreamer. Drawing out his claws, he pulled the energy with it. He watched as it instantly condensed into a yellow orb of Ideya in his hand. Yellow for hope.
Stripped of his dream energy, the boy vanished from Nightopia, and the dreamscape began to dissolve back into mist. Ignoring this, Reala again took flight, and went in search of more victims.
---
NiGHTS drifted above the dreamscape he had come to. A small girl sat in the middle of a field of flowers below. The scene was beautiful and peaceful, and it seemed such a shame to ruin it. Unfortunately, that was what he was here for.
Regretfully, NiGHTS descended until he landed in front of the young dreamer. She looked up, surprised but not yet afraid. Well, Reala had once told him that he didn't look as scary as a Nightmaren properly should.
NiGHTS forced himself not to hesitate. He swiftly jabbed his claws into the girl's body. Turning away so he couldn't see the look on her face, he struggled to maintain the form of the claws long enough to draw out the dream energy. Dimly he felt the Ideya materialize in hand, and he watched sadly as the beautiful flowers faded away forever.
---
It wasn't until the night came to an end that the two brothers rejoined one another. Reala drew with him a great swarm of Ideya, illuminating the dark mist with the glow of the multi-colored orbs. It was with annoyance, but no great surprise, that he observed his brother's comparably few acquisitions. Was he trying to get in trouble for slacking off?
"Is that the best you could do?" Reala demanded.
NiGHTS grinned impishly. "It was a slow night."
"It was not," Reala said sharply. He pointedly indicated the large collection behind him.
"So you got better results than I did," NiGHTS shrugged. He grinned again. "Maybe it has something to do with your charming personality. The Ideya practically seeks out your company."
"You can at least make yourself useful and carry some of these," Reala announced. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed a sizable portion of his collection at his brother, then set off with the rest. NiGHTS followed.
It wasn't long before they reached the palace where their master, Wizeman, waited for them. They and the other returning Nightmaren entered the great chamber where he waited, and presented their earnings for the night. Although Wizeman's large form was mostly hidden in the shadows, they could feel his gaze as they delivered the orbs of white, yellow, green, and blue.
"Well done, my minions. Especially you, my two greatest creations," he added. Both Reala and NiGHTS had carried in larger collections than anyone else. "Our store of Ideya grows night by night, yet always we have been lacking the greatest prize of all- until now. I have sensed the presence of red energy: the Ideya of courage."
An awed murmur ran through the freakish crowd that filled the chamber. Red Ideya was far more powerful, and far more rare, than any of the other four kinds. Wizeman had been scanning for a trace of it for weeks.
"I have detected the dreamers who bear it," he continued. "Children both: a boy and a girl. NiGHTS," Wizeman announced, "you have the ability to sense the proximity of red Ideya. Tomorrow night, you will fetch it for me." NiGHTS bowed his head, and only Reala, standing next to him, saw the doubt in his eyes.
---
NiGHTS gazed out the window at the ever-present mist. Wizeman's will kept the palace solid, but the rest of Nightopia would remain formless until the dreamers returned that night. It was too bad, NiGHTS reflected. The place would be more cheerful if it came with a view.
On the other hand, soon there might be nothing but. If Wizeman had his way, all dreamers would be stripped of their Ideya, barring them from Nightopia forever, and Wizeman would use the dream energy to craft this world according to his own design. Somehow, NiGHTS doubted that the results would be as pleasant as what the dreamers created.
"This job is important," came Reala's voice from behind him. "I hope you plan to apply some effort for once."
NiGHTS turned and grinned at his brother. "I put in plenty of effort, when something's important enough."
"When Wizeman commands, it's always important," Reala pointed out severely.
"You know, Reala, you should lighten up." NiGHTS drifted upward and stretched out on the ceiling, arms behind his head. "What's the point of life if you don't take time to enjoy it?"
"I enjoy a job well done, something you seem incapable of. For once, take your duty seriously. Wizeman will tear that grin from your face if your irreverent attitude causes you to fail him tonight." Without waiting for a reply, Reala turned and strode from the room.
Even though he couldn't see it, NiGHTS waved cheerfully after his brother. He wasn't worried about his ability to get the job done. It was what Wizeman would do with the Ideya after he brought it that concerned him.
---
That night, for the first time, Reala couldn't concentrate on collecting Ideya. It was surely within his brother's capability to retrieve two orbs, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. Finally, Reala went in search of him.
NiGHTS wasn't anywhere near Wizeman's palace, though there's been time to do the job and return with the prize. Neither was there a sign of him in any of the surrounding dreamscapes. The night was nearly over when Reala finally spotted him.
NiGHTS hung, empty-handed, in the air above an unusually intricate setting. The boy who had crafted it wandered below, unaware that he was being watched. NiGHTS continued to hover, unmoving, and Reala had the feeling he'd been doing so for a long time. Seconds later, the scene faded as the boy's dream came to an end, and NiGHTS slipped away into the gathering mist.
Reala stared after him in shock and fury. A whole night to retrieve the Ideya, and that fool had wasted it goofing off and admiring the dreamscape! Could he do nothing right?
With a growl, Reala shot off in pursuit. The direction was that of the palace, but NiGHTS seemed to have vanished. Reala didn't know if his brother was that much swifter, or simply taking a meandering course. It was only upon reaching the palace that he caught up.
NiGHTS was entering the main hall when Reala appeared to block his way. The Nightmaren's white face was furious, and his voice shook with tightly controlled anger. "I've warned you, again and again, to cease your slacking. Now you've gone too far. The red Ideya is vital to our master's plans. Are you so scatterbrained that even that means nothing to you?"
"I know what it means," NiGHTS answered quietly. "It's his plans that are the problem."
"What!" Reala stared at his brother in shock. Only then did he realize that for once, the expression on his brother's face was very serious.
"Reala, you've seen the beauty that the dreamers create. What do you think Wizeman will replace it with? More bleak places like this palace. Do you really want to see that happen?"
"What are you saying?" Reala demanded. "Wizeman's plans are absolute, and it's our job to help realize them."
"What he's doing is wrong, can't you see that? I let that boy go because the Ideya, and the dream he created with it, belonged to him. It was a beautiful dream; they usually are. We can't keep destroying them."
"So you would betray Wizeman for the sake of those pitiful dreams," Reala stated coldly.
"Don't look at me like that," NiGHTS pleaded softly. "I want you on my side, not fighting against me. Please understand what I'm getting at."
Reala's fingers sharpened into claws. "I don't side with traitors… even you." He raised his claws as if to strike. "You will come and account to Wizeman for what you have said and done, or else I will put an end to your treachery myself, here and now."
"Sorry, but I don't plan to be dragged in as a prisoner," NiGHTS said with a half smile. "If there's no use talking to you, then I might as well leave." He started to turn away.
Furiously, Reala struck at him. NiGHTS skipped out of the way, and reluctantly grew claws of his own. Reala struck again, and this time NiGHTS blocked and struck back. Their claws clacked loudly against each other as the two brothers fought fiercely.
Reala was shocked to find that they were evenly matched. He'd always assumed that he was the better fighter, but NiGHTS was putting up a fight that neither seemed likely to win easily.
Then NiGHTS slipped a blow through Reala's defenses. Reala suddenly found his vision decreased as his brother's claws raked over his eye. Instantly, NiGHTS backed off, looking shocked at his own handiwork. His claws shifted back into hands, and both brothers sensed that they would never be claws again.
Reala took full advantage of the moment, slashing as hard as he could across his brother's face. NiGHTS went down, silvery blood streaming from parallel gashes.
Reala turned toward the crowd of Nightmaren who had gathered in response to the noise of the fight. "Take this traitor away."
---
Standing before the mirror in his chamber, Reala brushed the dried residue of his own black blood from his eye. He didn't know how badly it had been damaged, but either way, it was fine now. The proud Nightmaren would never allow himself to remain physically handicapped.
On the other hand, the scar remained, a vertical black slash over his eye. It was a reminder of his brother's treachery, and it would never disappear unless Reala were willing to forgive the cause.
The wounds he'd inflicted on NiGHTS had been disappearing from his face even as he was seized and dragged off. Did even this mean so little to him? Or was it that NiGHTS had already truly forgiven him? Somehow, that last thought infuriated Reala the most.
Well, he would not forgive so easily. Not this- not from him. Reala raised a claw to his face, and in a swift motion slashed down over his other eye, making a second scar to match the first. He would never forgive, and he would never forget.
---
Reala still wore his claws as he and the other Nightmaren gathered in Wizeman's great chamber to witness the traitor's punishment. Whispers and muttering swept through the vast, dark space.
NiGHTS himself, bound and under guard, stood before Wizeman, who stared at him grimly from his shroud of shadows. NiGHTS looked back at his creator, apparently unafraid. After a long moment of silence, Wizeman spoke.
"I am most disappointed to find that you, one of my greatest creations, should prove unreliable and treacherous. I had had such high hopes for you. You would have stood by my side as I ruled over all Nightopia, and someday all creation. Yet you have chosen to throw all this away and turn against me. You are still my creation, and I will not harm you, but neither will I allow betrayal to go unpunished. You, NiGHTS, shall be imprisoned far from this place, immediately and forever."
There was a brief, expectant pause, then NiGHTS smiled slightly. "I'm not going to apologize or beg for mercy, if that's what you were waiting for," he said quietly. Without another word, Wizeman gestured for him to be taken away.
As NiGHTS was led toward the doors, he looked around one last time. Reala, as he usually did, stood at the forefront of the crowd. For a long moment, the gazes of the two brothers locked, but neither spoke a word. Then the moment passed, and NiGHTS was gone.
The Nightmaren returned to murmuring among themselves or began to disperse. Reala slipped out and made his way to the roof. There he perched alone in the darkness.
That wretched traitor! Had his routine failure to collect adequate Ideya been the result of deliberate failure all along? Had he been a traitor at heart from the beginning?
Reala clung to his rage, and tried to forget that last moment. He tried to forget that NiGHTS hadn't been phased by Wizeman's displeasure, or by his own imprisonment- that only at the sight of his brother's scarred face had he looked distressed.