Authors' Note:I spent the last three days in Vancouver, and on the Greyhound bus ride I finally got to finish "Peeps." I'm enamored with Scott Westerfeld's writing, and it's a huge inspiration to me right now. I'm sad that I don't have "The Last Days" or even "The Midnighters" yet. I did pick up a book called "Firebirds" yesterday at Chapters (I love my iRewards card), which is an anthology of fantasy and sci-fi stories. I only just cracked it open this afternoon, but it's enchanting so far. Hopefully I'll be able to draw even more inspiration from it.

I love soft-covers. There's just something about them that I absolutely adore.

To all those who have read and reviewed: You guys are wonderful! Thanks so much for all your great feedback and advice, I really appreciate it! I feel that something about this story sets it apart from my others. I don't know why, but it's special to me. And you guys make it that much greater, so I really do thank you!

And in response to Juniper: don't worry. The majority of the stories on my profile are one-shots. Only about five or six are multi-chaptered that have yet to be concluded. But this story takes precedence. (:

Chapter Two:
The Prince and his King

He was in Terabithia again, but not like he'd ever seen it before. The whole forest was shrouded in darkness, the moon shining silver slivers through the treetops. Terabithia looked different at night, less magical. Shadows played on tree bark, like a thousand Dark Masters all leering at him. It made him nervous.

Another difference this time was that Terabithia was no longer silent. Owls hooted, crickets chirped. The sound of animals jumping from branch to branch (squirrels, he told himself, not squogers) cracked and fizzed above his head. Along the ground was the skittering of tiny feet, small twigs snapping. It set his nerves on edge, this overdose of ambience. He couldn't decide which he hated more, the misty, silent Terabithia, or this noisy, acheronian place.

Suddenly a light burst through the darkness, quickly obscured by shadows. He watched it bob between the trees, ducking behind bushes. It dodged the moonlight, never illuminated for more than split second, as it made swift circles around him.

"Who are you?" Jess asked, suppressing fear that dared to invade his tone. "What do you want?"

The light disappeared, then the snapping of sticks erupted behind him. He spun, catching a glimpse of the light just as it was blotted out again. He suddenly wished he'd been paying attention in Biology when Mr. Humphrey was droning on about bioluminescence.

"Follow me!" the light called, and finally Jess realized what it was. It was Leslie, her blonde hair evading the moonlight and hiding her face.

"Leslie?"

She stepped into a beam of moonlight, resplendent in the silver streak. She was just as he remembered her, from the colorful high top sneakers to her blinking blue eyes. She looked up at him, a short little ten-year-old with a tall imagination. "Don't make me wait!"

"What do you mean?" he barely finished saying before she swiveled on her heel and sprinted into the darkness. "Hold on!"

Jess ran after her, not noticing that he was wearing his pink shoes again. Leslie laughed, dipping between trees like a slalom skier. How many times had she been here? he wondered. How many times without him?

"Leslie, stop!" he called. Despite his longer legs, he had trouble keeping up with her. It made no sense: for the most part, they used to run at equal speeds. With his seven years and inches upon inches of height on her, he should be at the same speed, if not faster. But he still found himself staring at the heels of her Converse, unable to gain an inch of ground.

"You're so slow sometimes!" she teased.

He ignored her. The darkness around them seemed to dissipate, the trees growing less numerous. Moonlight coated the ground now, Terabithia a brilliant landscape of white gold and diamonds. Over Leslie's taunting, he heard the rushing of water. They were approaching the creek.

Jess's heart beat faster as he began to panic. "Stop!"

"Why?" she said over her shoulder. "Scared a girl will beat you?"

The creek was coming up fast now, a reflective ribbon not fifty feet away. "Leslie, I'm serious! Stop!"

Disregarding him, Leslie laughed and sped her pace. He was panting for breath, arms stretching to grab her and stop her. But she stayed out of his reach, fingers a hair's breadth from her skin. Then, before he knew it, she was jumping into the creek. The water's spray hit him in the face, Leslie disappearing below the shining surface.

"Leslie!"

He waited and waited, but her head didn't bob up. The day at the museum came flooding into his mind. He had been enjoying himself, looking at silly pictures when he could have been saving her. Stifling the memory, Jess looked into the river and took a deep breath. Then he dove in, rushing headfirst into the crashing water.

Jess salt bolt upright in his bed, sweat sticking his clothes to his skin. His covers were a mess, strewn across the floor and tangled in the mattress. Even his pillows lay helter-skelter, and he supposed he had been thrashing in his sleep.

Sleep… "It was a dream?"

Jess groaned. This was his seventh dream in two weeks, and they just kept getting worse. The last couple times he had just slept in, but now he was waking up in the middle of the night? He already felt like he was running on zero gas, any more of this and he'd collapse.

Sick and tired of his stupid dreams, Jess swung his legs over the bed and stood. Peeling off his clothes, he put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a sweater. The clock read two o'clock, which meant everyone was effectually asleep. Luckily, he hadn't woken May Belle with his pesky dreams. Slipping out from behind his blanket-wall, Jess slunk down the stairs. Grabbing a flashlight from the kitchen cupboard, he slid out the door and into the night, prepared to face Terabithia's demons once and for all.

Surprisingly, it wasn't difficult to navigate in the night. He knew exactly where he was going, like a train car on a well-traveled track. He mused that he could make it without the flashlight, and even dared turning it off. But within five minutes he whacked his shin on a tree stump and turned it back on. The track may have been well-worn, but he was still a little rusty.

The path to Terabithia was slightly grown over, but discernable. Storms had knocked some trees down, and those he had to climb over or crawl under. By the time the bridge was in sight, he had torn his jeans in three places, and they had gone from blue to brown. Picking dirt from under his nails (two of which were broken), Jess stopped just short of the bridge.

Above it still hung the old sign, reading a smeared "Nothing Crushes Us!" Despite the sealant he had applied seven years ago, the paint was cracked and chipping. The sun had faded the rich golds to dull yellows, and the letters were barely legible. Overall, he found the sign fitting for Terabithia these days, if not incredibly redundant.

Then, Jess's gaze traveled to the bridge itself. Even when he crossed it once a year, he never took the time to look at it. He shone the light over the planks of wood, most of which were sawed unevenly. The railing was falling apart, a few branches hanging out over the creak and others lying in the center of the bridge. Nails stuck out in some places, bent, deformed and caked in rust.

He wondered when Terabithia had died. Seven years ago, this bridge was gloriously crafted. It might as well have been molded from pure gold, such was its glamour to him. But now it just looked like the shoddy work of a ten-year-old whose dad happened to work at a hardware store. The nailing was clumsy, and the gaps between the boards screamed inexperience. Not to mention it was built on a rotting tree, and there was no telling when it would collapse. Leslie had always been better at building things than him.

Jess raised the light to shine on the banks of Terabithia, but just as the edge of the yellow circle prodded the earth there, it flickered and went out. Jess glanced down at the flashlight, pressing the button and even whacking it a few times. But there was no luck: either the bulb was dead or the battery was. Sighing, he placed it on the ground. Oh well, it didn't matter. According to his dreams, he still remembered the layout of Terabithia perfectly.

Tonight's dream tickled his mind again, begging for attention. Glimpses of shadows came rushing back, images of the Dark Master danced about in his head. Jess tried to shake off the uncomfortable feelings, but they only returned in droves. He pictured Leslie smiling at him, and then plunging to her death into the swirling water. And then he took that fatal dive, only to wake up before he could save her.

Looking across the bridge at Terabithia, a foreboding sensation overcame him. It was cloaked in darkness, just as it had been in his dream. Not even splinters of moonlight shone through; the entire forest was an amorphous mass of black. A tingle of cold fear ran through his veins, mind playing tricks on him. It was as if Terabithia had become the Dark Master himself, now a looming, sinister nemesis. It towered over him, blocking out the moon and the stars, coaxing him to cross into the nightmare.

But more frightening than what lay across the bridge was what hung beneath it. If Jess circled around he could still see the rope hanging in the gap, frayed end swinging back and forth in the night breeze. That was the other reason he'd built the bridge – it hid the rope. He couldn't bear to look at it after what had happened. It felt like having an old friend betray you, because that's what it was. It had killed her that day.

A sharp sound cause Jess to jump, startled. He looked wildly around, searching for the noise. It came again, and Jess realized with relief that it was the sound of a bark. Following that came a whimper, and one that wasn't entirely unfamiliar. Glancing down at his feet, Jess beheld a small white dollop of fur against the dark forest floor.

"Prince Terrien?" he asked aloud, leaning down to pat the dog. He hadn't seen the Burkes' dog in so long, but the little thing hadn't grown at all. He was still the same Troll Hunter Extraordinaire that Jess had given Leslie all those years ago.

The dog yipped, licking Jess's fingers. Jess smiled, scooping the dog into his arms. "What are you doing here?" Sparing one last glance over the decrepit old bridge, he sighed. "What am I doing here?"

Suddenly, a dog panting in his ear and a broken flashlight in his hand, it all seemed ridiculous. They were just dreams after all, and Leslie's anniversary was only a week away. Naturally he was getting a bit overexcited over something that meant nothing. Shaking his head, he adjusted his grip on the flashlight and PT and turned away from the bridge. He began walking away from Terabithia, taking a small, fuzzy piece of Leslie with him.

The trip back to his house was considerably less graceful than the trip from it. Without the flashlight, he stumbled more often than he walked. By the time he sidled back into the house, he knew his jeans were unsalvageable.

Jess put PT down in the kitchen, setting out a tray of leftovers for him to eat. He wrote his sisters and parents a note about their unexpected guest, telling them he'd find out where PT came from tomorrow. Jess bid PT goodnight and headed upstairs, thinking of a tangible excuse for his little midnight adventure to tell his family tomorrow.

Crawling back into his bed, fatigue set in over him. He didn't bother changing out of his dirty clothes or fixing his blanket, instead falling gracelessly onto the bare mattress. Closing his eyes, he exhaled deeply before falling asleep.

"I can't believe you're gonna make me wait…"