~AN~: Yep, this is it. The last chapter. The finish. Done. Bam. Fertig, to say it in German. The End.

*sigh* Yes, I KNOW it is about as complete as a teacup without tea! But like I've already been telling you for the past two chapters---and cushioning this blow was really my only reason for writing those long things---this isn't meant to stand on it's own. It's just the first of the series, so to speak; think Narnian Chronicles or something. Only more dependant on each other.

So please, don't flame me or send reviews saying "It's too short!!!" I know it is, and if I had my way around this place I would now spend the next five hours working on the second story. However we have a little rule in our house that states, without question, that when it comes to matters of school MOM IS BOSS. And she says I'm not to continue writing until I finish that research paper. *sighs again*

I'm writing it as fast as I can! Please, give me some slack. And I'll try and write the second story as soon as is humanly possible.

*grin* Thanks for the reviews, guys. 'Til my next dream.

Claimer: Mom, no matter what my brother says, I had nothing to do with the burnt teapot. Really.

As for the nights I warn you the nights are dangerous:

The wind changes and the dreams come.

It is very cold,

there are strange stars near Arcturus,

Voices are crying an unknown name in the sky

Glimmers Of Truth:

Winds Rising

Nights was half-way out of bed before he was awake.

"Wha?…"

He halted on the edge, blinking confusedly. He was in his room, on his bed, with the solid floorboards underneath his feet. His coverlet was still warm to the touch. The last few stars were just beginning to fade outside his window.

He got up and staggered over to it, leaning out and taking a gulp of the fresh crisp air. It helped clear his head. Blinking again, he took a deep breath and continued to lean out, mind a bit more organized now.

'What was that?' he questioned himself. 'Was that---a dream? It felt so real…but there's no other options, really…but I thought nightmaren didn't dream…what was that?'

No one answered him. He looked up at the lightening sky, seeing without really noticing; his eyes focused on a faint blue star. He didn't remember it…

'What was that dream for?'

Reala bolted up, muscles tensed, reflexes ready to fight in an instant. The only thing he saw was his own wall.

He gazed around, trying to process the fact that where a strange bottle-filled room had been moments before, his bedroom was now. Had he been dreaming the whole time?

The warm blankets underneath and above him were what clinched it. He hadn't moved an inch for awhile.

'A dream?' he mused, getting up and moving to his window. 'I don't recall any incidents of nightmaren having dreams. Why have I suddenly been given the experience?'

He looked upwards, feeling the night breeze whisper through his hair. "Why me?" he murmured.

The stars did not answer. But one lone blue one twinkled knowingly.

Jackle knew before he even opened his eyes where he was.

He sighed, wondering whether or not to get up. He was nice and warm here in bed, but it wasn't worth it to try and get back to sleep if it was too near dawn. Concentrating, he waited for the faintest scent from outside to be wafted in his window; after a moment, he was rewarded by a wisp of breeze. It smelled like almost-morning air. Might as well get up.

He rose slowly, stretching and moaning pleasurably as a tight spot in the back of his neck began to ease out. Rubbing the spot gently, he went out on the balcony.

He was lucky. He had his own balcony out on the side of the castle. He liked it that way; he was close to the air and wind, and the smells of the forest were carried to his room. It was a nice sitting place.

He'd been right about the time---the last few stars were going in now. Leaning on the railing, he inhaled, filling his lungs with the near-dawn air. Feeling calmed and peaceful, he cocked his head up to see the stars.

The morning star was still bright above, but very few others were visible. Straining, he could only faintly make out the familiar form of the Sickle constellation to the left, and the Ship's Wheel out across the horizon. Then he found the odd star.

His brow furrowed. For the past few weeks he'd noticed strange stars in the sky. They were new, sharp, different then the others. They were strange.

He stared upwards, feeling the dawn breeze ruffle his short golden hair. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

And the stars answered all his questions.

It was just at dawn that the winds began to change.

Hist, leaving the wall top, noticed the difference in the air and stopped. He could feel the breezes shifting, moving about and murmuring. The winds were rising.

'That is…odd,' he thought. 'They shouldn't be changing now. It's not the right weather.'

But they did. The winds changed that day.

No one expected it.

It was supposed to be a normal day: Ideya collecting, Nightopian harassing, dreamer frightening, the usual. True, Wizeman's summons were almost always abrupt, but they were summons for certain nightmaren who had distinguished themselves, whether in a good way or a bad. His call for each and every nightmaren under his control to be there in his throne room in half an hour was startling, to say the least.

Nights was flurried. What was happening? Wizeman would only call for such a great assembly if he was going to make an announcement that would change their entire world. He had enough to worry about, what with his odd dream; he didn't need this problem as well.

Reala had no idea what was going on. That bothered him to no end. He knew Wizeman---knew him well. He could always tell when the ruler was about to put forth some new idea or change in the Nightmare Kingdom. So why hadn't he seen this coming?

Jackle---Jackle was not surprised. He'd known something was wrong. The stars had told his heart so.

The gathered Minions murmured and shuffled, wondering what was going on, what was happening. Wizeman watched from his throne, waiting until the last maren had made it in the door. And then he spoke.

"My faithful children, welcome."

There was a wave of movement along the crowd as they all bowed or kneeled, every sound suddenly cut off by their master's voice. He nodded, pleased.

"Listen carefully, for I have a great business to speak of, and you are all involved. All of you may serve me well through this new mission."

The room was as silent as an abandoned field at night, with not a single maren daring to even cough. They were to listen closely, he said, and so they did.

"All of you know of the Ideya," began Wizeman, his eyes gazing out over his vast leagues of Minions. "They are what you collect and bring to me, and they are our purest form of dream energy. You know them very well: Purity, Hope, Maturity, and Knowledge. Countless numbers of these Ideya have been brought to me. Yet none of you has ever brought me what I truly search for. A Courage Ideya."

His voice, thought it did not change in tone or pitch, conveyed his desire for what he spoke of. "These are rare beyond belief, and I am not surprised by their lack of number. And until now I have remained focused on the others, having you gather them without regard as to what their color is. Now that changes.

"I wish for two Courage Ideya to be brought to me. The nightmaren who finds one will be rewarded with untold wealth and a high place in the kingdom that is to be."

He smiled down upon his creations. "For that is why these two Ideya are so important to me. With these two Courage Ideya, I may make a bridge to the living world---and rule there as King."

The silence did not change.

But outside the winds did.

Nights stood frozen, not noticing the mass exodus streaming around him. He was still trying to grasp ahold of what Wizeman had said.

'We're taking over the Waking World.'

Numbly he turned and left, pacing through the crowd on a direct course to his room. He needed to think. Part of him was proud; his master would soon rule all, and be glorified everywhere. He would be part of a great and glorious campaign, serving his master to the best of is ability. After all, that was what he was there for. And it would be fun.

The other part of Nights didn't know what to think. All it could focus on was one lone thought that stood out in front of all the other babbling and confusion, one that he soon dismissed as inconsequential.

'Why?'

Reala exited quickly, mind awhirl with ideas and ponderings. His hand was grasped tightly about his sword hilt, an indication of his tense mood.

His dream last night faded in importance, and all he could think about was the huge mission ahead. They would be combing every inch of the dream ground until they found what was needed to satisfy their master, and then helping him take over a world. It was going to be quite a job. Planning, leading, strategizing, fighting; as leader of the nightmaren forces, he had a lot that would have to be done.

He shivered slightly from the sheer adrenalin rushing through him. What a wonderful, glorious journey this was going to be.

Jackle was excited, his mind chattering away with possibilities and thoughts. Taking over the Waking World---what an adventure. Seeing new places, fighting new foes, facing new challenges, doing new things. He could hardly wait.

For an instant, he heard an answer moan through his head; then it was gone.

'Neither can we.'

And there were a few strange stars in the sky, showing a glimmer of something never seen.