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'The Shadow at the Side'

This fic is chronology the first event in my ROTG Series. The story list in order is as follows (Most are one-shots like this one, or shorter stories):

There Must Be A Rule.

A Blackened Memory

Nightmare Dust and the Silver Sands

Of Silver Horses

Sandman's Wisdom

The Spirit of the Thaw

Tricks and Treats and Forget-Me-Nots

The Shadow at the Side.

Rise of the Guardians

There Must Be A Rule

The Man in the Moon was a silent watcher, a planner. He worked and thought in ways that even his chosen ones could not understand, and perhaps not even himself. The Man in the Moon was wise and powerful, able to grant gifts and breathe a new life into the lungs of those whose own had ended. His moonlight shown over the world he so dearly loved, though no one knew why, and he did what he knew best to protect it.

Through his mysterious ways, many of his guardians grew to understand that somehow, in his own strange way, he could look into the future itself.

And for this boy who stood by the lake, he saw a future indeed.

The youth was in his early adolescence, thin a spindly in frame. His breeches were frayed at the end, his patterned shirt and scarf adorned with faded patterns from his foreign culture. Brown eyes, tinted by hazel, stayed at the waters of he lake in silence.

Sandman was perched on the branches of an old yet strong tree, towering over the rest of the forest. The ground was dusty and the lake reflected the moonlight; the waters still as glass. There was no wind, no sound. Just the small chirp of a cricket now and then, or the far away cry of a wolf.

The boy standing beside the lake seemed deep in thought, his sharp features holding an expression of utmost sincerity. Sandman, being almost as old as the moon itself, had never seen such a serious look in someone so young.

He looked to be a poor lad, barefoot, thin and clad in clothes that had seen better days. In these times, Sandman had seen many of his type.

The year, by the Human's calling, was 1480. People from foreign lands had traveled over the lands in seek of a better one- but the people who already lived in these places did not receive them with welcoming arms.

Saddened as he was by this animosity, Sandman found himself rather helpless to do anything. His job was to bring beautiful dreams to call children all over the world, not to meddle in affairs of adults who couldn't understand each other.

Sandman drfited down from his perch on the tree and landed beside the lake, the boy a little way around from hi. The silent Guardian of Dreams knew the youth could not see him, yet he couldn't help but notice how bright the moon was.

He wondered...what was Man in the Moon up to?

"I was wondering if you were about to ask, My Friend."

Sandman started a little at the sudden voice. Smooth, deep and familiar. He smiled qurtly up at the Moon.

He patiently waited for his old friend to continue. As he did, he noticed another figure wander into their midst. Sandman blinked.

Another boy- similar in dress, coloring and even a few of his looks. Only this boy held no cold sincerity or worry in his expression, rather a curious and concerned one. His black hair was wavy and long in contrast the the first boy's messy curls, and his face was notably softer and rounder. Noting their similar hair, eyes and slightly tanned skin, Sandman guessed they were twins, yet not identical.

The other boy stood beside his brother, watching him with bewilderment. The Man in the Moon said nothing.

Then, the boy with the rounder face stared up at the moon itself, eyes glittering in its light. His twin did not. Instead, he kept his eyes glued upon the surface of the water.

"One of these boys, old friend, holds a powerful yet dormant magic within him."

Sandman looked up at the Moon curiously, then back at the boy who stared up at the light. He guess it was this one, who had moved into view just this moment.

A small question mark conjured above his head, constructed purely of glittering, golden sand. The Man in the Moon continued,

"But it will not surface with as much power as it will his descendants. I have seen much happenings in the future, Sanderson. I have seen him powers...and they will grow in his bloodline."

Sandman turned his attention to the second twin again in silent wonder. Amazing indeed...

You fools.

Sandman froze upon hearing a low, cold and stern voice echo all around him. Slowly, he turned. The light of the moon dimmed, and the shadows seemed to creep closer from the trees.

Standing a few feet away, behind the boys, stood a tall cloaked figure. A pair of deep green eyes pierced through the din, a white bony hand clasping a menacing scythe firmly. Sandman felt his brow crease cautiously.

An entity older and more powerful than himself. More powerful than the Man in the Moon.

Death. The grim Reaper. The biggest fear of adults and the old, the frightening figure who's influence bested that of the Boogeyman's without any competition whatsoever. And here he stood, watching him with a dark tone and a stern gaze.

Sandman was not afraid, but he couldn't help but notice the weight in the air around him and the tense feeling that took over him. This creature demanded respect, and though Sandman was wise and knowing...this entiy knew more than he could ever know, more than the Man in the Moon could ever begin to understand.

So, he was wary.

Death moved his hands, passing his long scythe from one bony skeletal hand to the other. Then, his head raised up to stare at the Moon.

The twin boys were sitting quietly by the lake. The second twin tried to speak to his brother, but the latter remained silent, eyes glued on the water. Had Sandman not been staring at the Grim Reaper, he would have noticed this.

You have crossed me and my work many times, Man in the Moon.

Death's voice was cool and he spoke the former's name with an unimpressed air. Sandman frowned but said nothing. But I am afraid that this time...you cannot interfere.

Another question mark appeared above Sandman's head, this time directed at the Reaper without so much as a blink. The skeleton entity regarded him coldly.

The boy whose line and dependents your friend had seen is from a future, I am sorry to say, that has been compromised.

"Death..."

Man in the Moon spoke almost as serious as Death did, but the Grim Reaper interrupted him with a snap. Sandman's eyes widened.

Many futures there are, but only one comes to pass. And the one you seek will not come to pass by your hand. You may breathe new life, but you cannot extend it.

Sandman, though he did not want to, almost understood what the Grim Reaper meant. Man in the Moon did not bring people back to life. He gave them a new one. Then, after he had, their old lives, their old selves, had ended. It was gone.

Man in the Moon could not bring someone back to life and allow them to continue living as they did, as the same person. Death did not allow it, though why Sandman did not justify nor understand. He began scowling again before he knew it.

Death turned his back on them.

There was a pause. Then, a noise.

A shiver traveled up Sandman's spine as a omnious, fiery glow appeared in the trees behind the boys. The clouds began to gather, and Death held both arms into the air. Sandman's eyes widened as the darkness closed in and the wind began to pick up. The Moon's tranquilly light was blocked out, and Death's frightening figure faded away from his sight.

Sandman found himself along with boys. The two had stood and were staring at the firy light flickering behind the many trunks of the trees, and as it drew closer, Sandman realised what is was. His heart began to quicken its beat.

Torchlight. Held by a group of maybe ten young men, all dressed in fray-less, neat clothes. Local people, not travelers from foreign lands. Seeing this, and their hard expressions, Sandman could feel a sense of forbidding begin to arise.

He looked over a round shoulder at the twin boys, both staring at the approaching group. The second twin looked terrified, apprehensive. His brother, however, had an expression that unnerved him. Sandman saw the boy, though afraid beyond beleive...seemed to look less than surprised. Wide-eyed, but knowing.

Had he know this was going to happen.

The boys began inching along the lake, away from the Sandman. He watched helplessly as they began sprinting along the pebble-filled lakeside, only to be cut off by the spread-out group. Words, harsh and cruel, were thrown. Accusations. Sandman was panicking too much to hear their exact meaning, but he knew that they meant harm.

The second twin was yelling something back, shivering. Then, the crowd parted. Guards, it seemed. Armed, forbidding. Behind them came a judge. His jaw opened slightly in horror as hee finally registered the words.

Daemon. Witch friends. Sorcery.

He knew what happened to such people who were accused of these things. Unjust, terrible things. Sandman did not care if his job wast to bring dreams. His whole existence was to Guard children with his life- and bearing that in mind, he clenched his fists and began hovering forward.

But before he decided how exactly he was going to stop them, and before he could reach the crowd that were backing the two boys further and further back towards the lake, a long wooden staff slammed across his path, blocking him off.

Startled, Sandman's head jerked up to the side to see who it was- finding it to be none of than Death. Closer, Sandman could make out the shadowed lines of his skull face, luminous green eyes piercing and commanding. He froze.

He then gave the Reaper a questioning, furious look. The taller being did not reply.

Sandman looked over the scythe's wooden end at the boys, the one who had seemingly held a great power in his blood standing defiant beside his quiet brother. His brother looked sorrowful, hurt...desperate. His eyes stayed on his brother as the latter stared around, looking for an understanding face- and only finding none.

Suddenly, as the judge shouted words about damnation and the evil beings that resided before them, one of the guards from further back raised a muscular arm. A curved blade was gripped in his gloved fingers. Sandman gasped silently, mouth open and eyes wide.

The blade was thrown. The second twin saw it coming, and watched with equal horror as it neared. Time seemed to slow. Death moved his scythe away.

The first twin, the sharp faced boy, had seen the blade before anyone else. Tears had been fallening far before then, and now he stepped forward, slowly yet quickly, towards his brother, thin arms reaching out.

His eyes, watery yet narrowed firmly, had locked with Death's as he shoved his twin aside, and closed tight as the blade struck his fragile chest and knocked him off balance, slicing through his clothes and spinning him around. The slowness of time almost halted everything as Sandman looked over the boy' shoulder. Death had stood, his scythe poised to strike his brother, but slid down and hit the boy just as the curving, spinning blade had at the same time.

The boy fell back, eyes opening once more. He coughed once, again, then fell back into the water as the air left his lungs. Death watched quietly as his body tumbled into the lake, vanishing beneath the shallow water.

His twin brother cried out in agony. Sandman's breath was gone. He couldn't believe how easily Death had struck the innocent child down- when all around them held hundreds of more evil in their heart.

Anger filled his heart as the living twin sobbed. The crowd seemed...quiet. Some looked regretful. But some did not.

Instead, they turned towards the other boy with malice in theirs eyes, hated in their voices. The distraught brother stumbled back away from them, and as most of the crowd were still surprised by the other boy's death, the brother had a chance to escape.

He turned, tears falling, and ran away. Furious yells followed him, the guards coming after him, but by that time the boy had jumped into the maze-like trees and vanished from sight. Sandman screwed his eyes shut as the crowd pursued him. Sandman clenched his fists as the voices went passed him, none knowing he was there.

He would never forget what he had just seen. That innocent boy- so sincere yet innocent, slaughtered before his eyes. Unforgiving.

The rain began to fall gently from the gathered clouds above. Sandman finally opened his eyes, staring at the pot were the boy had fallen with regret and remorse. He drifted forward, head bowed, and silently asked for forgiveness. For not being able to do anything.

But he could have. He could have sent them all to sleep. Why...did Death...

You must understand something, Dream Bringer.

Sandman turned quickly and scowled heatedly up at Death, who had appeared just a few yards away. He was calm, cool. Unfeeling. He raised a skeleton hand to gesture with his index finger as he spoke again,

The boy know this had to happen. A life had to have ended today. And the boy knew just as so.

The Sandman blinked quietly in bemusement. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at the place the dead youth had fallen. He had known? How?

I saw the future that the Man in the Moon saw, said Death as if reading his mind, And I knew that that future would bring balance between good and bad, fear and belief. Though it does not matter if futures are happy, they have to be brought about in a law.

Sandman frowned.

The Grim Reaper turned to the lake were the boy had died, watching the place he had fallen quietly. A life was to end today. The rule cannot be changed. But it there was one willing to die in that boy's place...then I would allow such to come to pass.

Sandman's eyes widened. His brother...he had known. Known everything, it seemed. So he'd saved his brother. Died in his place like Death just said...

Sandman again looked into the now still waters of the late. He was thankful for the darkness that he could not see any blood. It would have been too much.

Death looked back at him sternly. There must be a rule. Man in the Moon bends this rule however he likes, and many a time have I allowed such accretions. But understand this, Dream Guardian. The rule cannot be broken. Bent, but not broken. On this night, a life had to end. This is something that cannot be changed. The boy's descendants may indeed bring a better world into existence, or keep it as happy and pure as it can be in the darkness...but the price for such a future was great.

A bony finger was pointed towards the watery grave of the other boy. The boy knew as much. There is always a price. Always.

Sandman watched helplessly and conflicted as Death drew back, arms spread wide. His scythe held in one hand.

The rule must always be obeyed.

And as Death faded away from view, leaving nothing but shadows and a lifeless night in his wake, and leaving the Sandman very alone.

Centuries later, Jo Mgeeth was wide awake that night. It was cold in his bare, creaking room, and the moonlight peeked through his curtains dimly. He'd had the strangest dream...it seemed so far away now.

He wondered who the small, decidedly yellow figure had been. Who the tall figure in the cloak was.

And, as he slid out of bed and opened in the window, allowing the bright light of the watchful moon to glide inside, he wondered why the boy had jumped in front of the other in his dream.

But, as he closed his curtains, cutting off the light for good, he decided not to dwell on it. After all, it was only a dream...

Please leave a review. The character at the end is from my fic 'Nightmare dust and the second Sands.'