~Foreword~

Well, life's been an absolutely bruising good ride lately, but I'm back. Alive, partially sane, and mostly in one piece, I've managed to survive and find time to finish the thing. It's done. You know what that means---more adventure! More fun! More drama! More unstable demi-maren! More information, finally, on the dreams that were mentioned alllllll the way back in the first story! More annoyingly vague references to the wet noodles! Bleh, you've no idea how happy I am to have finished this…had the absolute time of my life, but I think all those late nights are finally catching up to me.

Getting on to something that actually has a point, I am perfectly aware of the fact that one of my worst vices, as an author, is my tendency to write extremely long and horribly annoying author's notes. This time around I'm going to try and put everything that is important in this one right here, and then hopefully there won't be any others. Please bear with me.

*ahem* I am currently on 'Frankie', our…hang on, lemme count…uh…nearly ten-year-old computer. It takes me more than half an hour to upload a chapter with Frankie, due to his utter slug of a loading pace, and putting up this entire thing in one sitting would be murder. Ergo, please don't take this as a sign of priggishness, but I'm going to wait until I have at least two reviews for a chapter before I put up the next. I know that at least two people are reading this, and I'd very much appreciate it if you'd take the time to click on that lil' blue button at the bottom and let me know that you read this. Therefore I won't feel like I'm sitting in front of the computer for half an hour for no reason other than to help along my mother's idea that I spend too much time on the thing.

If you do review, please---criticize! Tell me if it's too long or too short a chapter, tell me if it was too boring or too fast-paced, tell me what I did wrong, tell me which character didn't have enough screen time or was so annoying you wanted to slap them out a window, tell me what was unrealistic, tell me what was stupid, tell me what was spelled wrong, tell me what was absolutely pointless. I need all the help I can get, as you know! Any and all criticisms and complaints will be received gratefully; flame me if you think I deserve it. (Compliments are the best, obviously, but I want the truth.)

That said, thanks so much for all your kindness, patience, and encouragement, everyone. I feel extremely honored to have such a nice group of people who are willing to read and review my stuff---thank you ever so much!

There, I do believe that's all. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: "My name is Gandalf, and in the name of the pointy hat, I will punish you!!" ---Insomnia

The sky has given over

its bitterness.

Out of the dark change

all day long

rain falls and falls

as if it would never end…

Spring Storm, by William Carlos Williams

~Out Of The Dark Change~

Have we not seen

Purple of the pansy

out of the mulch

and mold

crawl

into a dusk

of velvet?

blur of yellow?

Almost we thought from nowhere but it was the silence,

the future,

working.

The Answer, by Carl Sandburg

Chapter One:

Clouded The Sky

"Gimme back my pike!"

"It's mine!"

"No, that one's yours! That one's mine!"

"It's mine!"

"Mine!"

"MISS LUNA!"

Miss Luna, sparring instructor, youth trainer, and occasional advocate of sanity, found herself taking on the title of argument decider. Unfortunately, despite being quite multi-talented, she was not a morning person.

"All right, whose is it?" She glared at the two young nightmaren, hair dreadlocked from being denied the attention of a comb, as always, and expression very fierce.

This question did not solve the problem. "It's MINE!" exclaimed both verbal combatants at once.

Luna sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "PM?"

Postmeridian, known for being the peacemaker, was often called upon to relate any difficult situation as it had unfolded; he had a good memory, and did not elaborate. He himself did not enjoy doing so---he usually made at least one enemy when he did. This time was different.

"Actually, that's mine."

Miss Luna's hand slipped down to cover her eyes as she tried to decide what to do: laugh, mutter to herself, yell, or sigh again. She went with the last.

The two maren who had both been valiantly defending their ownership of the weapon in question blinked, looking from PM back to the weapon between them. Luna stepped in at this point. "Okay, PM, take it and get in line. You two, where are your weapons? Your weapons?"

Both shrugged, beginning to search for their respective items. Luna nodded gratefully at PM. "And that's not a pike," she added over her shoulder. "It's a lance."

"Yes'm," replied the two obediently.

Miss Luna began polishing her own blade, waiting patiently for the class to get themselves organized and out of the armory. She shot a scathing glare at Morgan, who was chuckling. "Shut up."

"Yes'm," mimicked Morgen. He chuckled once more and continued sorting arrows. Morgen was the odd one of the armory, his eyes made of pure silver irises and no pupils, his hair a mist of silver that floated about his pale face; the 'silver albino swordsman', to quote Amaranth the blacksmith. He was an actor, a person who was constantly imitating people or trying to find drama in life, moving in small, fluttering motions like a bird as he went about his work of cleaning weapons and keeping the armory organized. He was quite good at what he did.

Right now the actor was humming to himself, juggling several arrows to the delight of the students around him. He tossed the batch casually to one side and began sorting another, now singing as he did. "Sing a dey dillo, green grows the willow; lark in the trees and green grass a-growing. Icicles are shorter, turning fast to water; see the green grass and hear the lark sing. Fresh leaves are growing, coming up showing; the woods are leaving Winter and welcoming Spring! Sing a dey dillo, green grows the willow, lark in the trees and green grass a-growing!"

Remembering her duties as an instructor, Luna stopped listening to the song and focused on her students. "Are you done yet?"

"I can't find my pike!" wailed a nightmaren in response. "Someone took it!"

Luna stood and strode over to the girl. "It's a lance. Where did you put it?"

"Here." The maren looked close to tears. She was very enthusiastic about her precious 'pike'; after all, Miss Luna carried one, and Miss Luna was Aster's idol.

Morgen interrupted what could have become a touchy moment. "You looking for a lance with a blue feather? Grey grip?"

The girl nodded hopefully. Morgen shrugged. "That one was broken a day ago---someone came through looking for a lance, and they borrowed that one. It was broken in a fight with a golem, I'm told."

"Broken?" Aster's eyes began to fill with tears.

"A golem?" Luna was more concerned with the latter part of the sentence. "As in, a stone monster the size of Clawz that was supposedly extinct three hundred years ago?"

"Yeah---in Mystic Forest, they say." Morgen was balancing on his toes now as he started on another pile of arrows. "Didn't kill it, either. Still out there somewhere."

"And when was I going to be informed of this?" Luna's voice had taken on a dangerous edge. "For the information of you, the armory staff, whoever it was that told you this, and the world in general, that's where we were going for our training lesson today!"

"I thought you knew." Morgen was truly concerned, and showed it by his startled posture and shocked facial expression, probably more expression than was needed for the situation. "I heard it from Fringe---he said that Dysdane told him. She was out with the party that got attacked by it."

"They were attacked by it?" Luna waved a hand distractedly at the students gathered behind her, telling them to sit down. She needed to hear more. "It deliberately charged them?"

Morgen shrugged and went back to sorting arrows. "That's all I was told. You'll have to ask Fringe or Dysdane for more."

"Ask me for more what?" The feminine voice was cool and sharp. The figure that stalked through the doorway was no more friendly. "You're talking about me?"

"Here she is!" Morgen's expression changed to joyous welcoming, his mood shifting as quickly and sharply as his face. "Dys, Luna wants to know about the golem attack."

"Oh, that." The scorn was clear in her voice---but then, it wasn't often that it wasn't. Dysdane lived up to her name. "We were attacked by a golem while out on a training mission. What more do you want?"

Luna was not turned away by the maren's scornful attitude; Dysdane couldn't help it. She had been created entirely out of the emotion of disdain, and her personality was very closely modeled around it. "Give me a bit more detail. What happened in a nutshell?"

"We were attacked by a golem," repeated Dysdane, with an expression that said You Are Stupid. Luna ignored this.

"More detail than that."

Dysdane sighed and leaned against the door post, thin arms folded across her chest. "We went out for a training mission. Four of us. Near the north side of Mystic Forest, we were practicing stalking when a full-grown golem charged out of the brush and went for Hadrian. He went down, but before the golem could wound him again it was knocked off by Terrance. Tessa followed his attack with a slash of her sword, and the golem dashed off into the underbrush. We decided to head back, and that was it."

"How bad was Hadrian hurt?" asked Morgen.

"His shoulder was cut, but not badly. He's healing quite well." She shot a look at Luna. "Is that it?"

"Yes, thank you," murmured Luna absentmindedly.

Dysdane snorted delicately and moved through the crowd of students, picked up a fencing sword, and went out. Morgen laughed. "Talkative, isn't she?"

Luna ignored his jest. "I can't believe this---golems have been extinct for nearly three hundred years, Morgen. Why wasn't it sighted earlier? And why, for the love of dreams, didn't those four air-heads tell anyone about it?"

Morgen's expression changed to worry. "I don't know."

Luna sighed, turning to face the students around her. "Bit of a break, kids. Go back to your barracks and wait there until your next class---sparring sessions are canceled until I have more information. I have some people to talk to before we start another training session."

There was a muted cheer from the sitting maren as they all stood and hurried out. One remained behind.

"Miss Luna?" Aster looked up at her teacher worriedly. "Is everything going to be okay?"

Luna didn't answer right away. "Yes, Aster, everything will be fine," she said finally. "Why don't you go back to the barracks."

"Okay." Aster turned away, then looked back. "What about my pike?"

"Lance. I'll let you use mine when we go on our training run."

"Really?" Aster's eyes lit with excitement. "I get to use yours?"

"Sure. Now run along."

"Yes ma'am!" Aster saluted sharply and dashed off, her features glowing with excitement and pride. She got to use Miss Luna's pike! For the entire training session! Miss Luna's pike!

Luna smiled as she watched the young nightmaren run off full of excitement; then she turned back to Morgen, and her face became grave. "Morgen, where's Reala? I need to speak to him."

"Reala?" Morgen stopped his work for a moment to think. "Actually, I don't know. Last I heard he was going to meet Lord Wizeman for a meeting of some kind---but that was last night. Think Jackle went with him, too. Come to think of it, I haven't seen either of them…"

"I'll go upstairs and ask around, then." Luna stood and placed her lance against the wall, the long weapon resting in it's spot alongside the other instructors' weapons. "But first I'm going after those siblings. They're both level-headed enough, so why didn't they tell anybody?…See you, Morgen."

"Cheerio!" Morgen gave her an elegant bow, then went back to his sorting. As she went out, she could hear him begin to sing again. "Fair and sunny weather, bees sing together---In the woods laughter and in the air song. Brooks are talking faster, for Spring is now Master; his realm shall be unbordered and his reign long!"

NiGHTS paced his room worriedly. Reala had been gone for the entire night, and he still hadn't returned; his whereabouts were unknown. NiGHTS was beginning to get a bit worried.

Jackle was missing as well, but NiGHTS wasn't half as concerned about him. The demi-maren was known for skipping off into the wilderness without warning, coming back home at the oddest times. He got reprimanded for it often, but just couldn't seem to stay indoors.

Reala, however, had a very good record for being where he was supposed to be. His disappearance was very disconcerting, especially with the rumors of a golem in Mystic Forest…

'Cut that out,' NiGHTS ordered himself, still pacing. 'Reala's big enough to take care of himself. A golem couldn't take him down.'

"Then where is he?" he muttered out loud. "Reals, you should be back by now! Where are you?"

The silent room only echoed the sound of his repeating footsteps.

On the wall top, Hist looked up at the early morning sky thoughtfully. Cloudy. He frowned at the sky, not liking what he saw. 'The winds are too violent for this time of the season.'

They weren't the only thing that was out of place. For weeks nature had been acting strangely; the crows that traditionally nested in Stick Canyon had abandoned it for the shades of Mystic Forest, the winds had changed drastically, the Windingwater had overflown it's banks far too early in the season. Even now the clouds were gathering about Nightmare Castle, focusing on it as if it were the center of some impending storm. Looking up he could just barely make out the farthest clouds actually circling about the Clock Tower, a ruin standing on the edges of Mystic Forest, the highest building of Nightmare. This was strange.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The winds, busy with their moaning through the courtyard, did not answer.

In Wizeman's chamber, two nightmaren stood.

One was Reala, the Seeker General. He was staring at his reflection in Wizeman's palm, eyeing himself with a shrinking amount of surprise and a growing amount of pride. He was frightening, cold, impassive. Powerful. His muscles---he flexed his arm---rippled with strength. Perfect.

The other was Jackle. The demi-maren was also staring at his reflection, although he was a bit more open about his wonder; he turned, watching his face, flashing grins to see the small, dainty fangs glimmer in the low light, flexing his hands to inspect the sharp claws. He was strange and frightening, almost grotesque. Bright and dark, here and gone, shadow and light; a psychotic smile with fangs and claws. He grinned, watching the small canines glimmer brightly. Perfect?

Wizeman's satisfied voice came down from above them as they examined themselves. "Are you happy with your improvements?"

"Yes, Lord Wizeman." Reala bowed. "They are stunning, a true testimony of your power."

Jackle winced, trying not to giggle. Reala sounded terribly full of himself. "Yes m'lord," he echoed, bowing as well. "Thank you."

Wizeman nodded, accepting their humble thanks, and then pulled away his hands. He gestured to the door. "Go and present yourselves to the rest of the leaders."

Reala nodded and bowed again; then turned sharply on his heel and strode out, head held high and expression set. Jackle bobbed his head as well and followed, bounding along in that peculiar hop-skip-float gait he sometimes used. Wizeman watched them exit, thoughtful.

'Reala's personality has improved greatly,' he mused. 'But Jackle is still unsure. It may take more than I expected for him to cultivate a sense of self-confidence.'

Perhaps it would.