Happy Easter! As a gift, here's a super-long update for 2015 proving that I'm still here!

Please enjoy and review!

NiGHTS blinks, unsure of whether or not in the course of her thoughts, something had occurred. It doesn't seem like anything is awry, so perhaps it's just her panicked imagination starting to get to her. She knows that she has to find Reala, and soon, so that he doesn't find and assume Wizeman's throne, something she knows he is more than capable of doing and will take advantage of to the fullest.

As a rebel, she's disturbingly aware that one can be scary when there's nobody left to control them.

It is with this thought that NiGHTS relinquishes Sim's hand. "Listen, eh, Sim, I have to leave now. I have, er, very important Nightmaren things to do."

"Oh, of course, Miss NiGHTS." Sim replies with an odd smile on his face. "I'd hate to have to keep you from your business. I'm sure you have quite a bit to worry about, especially now."

"Yes...yes I do..." The jester agrees warily, the strange smile and tone of the boy's voice arousing some form of suspicion within her for a reason she doesn't quite understand...

...Until she realizes something strange, indeed. She notices that she has to push past Sim in order to get to the door to exit this part of Nightopia, but...she entered behind him when he dragged her in, and they hadn't changed position since then. Not purposefully, anyway.

As much as she desires to shrug this off so that she can focus on more important matters, NiGHTS' curiosity gets the best of her, and just as soon as she puts her hand on the door to push it open, she turns and faces the strange Visitor who, much to the concern of the Nightmaren, is staring at her exit and smiling, most likely having done that since he was nudged from her path.

"Is there something wrong, Miss NiGHTS?"

"Uhh...nope! Not at all. Just, uh...leaving..."

She turns again and quickly reaches for the doorknob, not entirely sure why she is suddenly so unnerved by a mere Visitor. She finds, however, that her arm is halted from reaching the door, confusing her greatly. Even more confusing is the cause of her delay which, to her utter shock, she discovers to be a little piece of the ever-present Awaker, which has bound itself to her arm.

NiGHTS stares at it in alarm, waving her arm to attempt to shake it off. "No, Awaker, no! The Visitor...is over...there!" She looks back toward the Visitor, only to take another Awaker piece out of nowhere to the chest. The pieces start their upward pull, though with the small number clamped onto their victim right now, NiGHTS' natural strength and flying ability easily overpowers them. In shock, she stares at Sim, who is still offering only that unsettling grin, only this time around a bit more intense.

It clicks in the jester's mind almost immediately.

"What...what have you done?" She demands, advancing on him.

"Perfected it." Sim answers simply, sounding almost on the brink of mania.

"Perfected what? What did you do to me?" She flies forward, about to make a grab for the little bugger when her path is thrown off by an Awaker to the hip.

Undeterred, NiGHTS tries again to get to the conniving little dreamer, only able to get as far as reaching an arm out toward him before Awaker lays claim to that, too. With four bits of Awaker pulling upward on the Nightmaren, she's having a small bit of difficulty resisting being dragged into the sky.

"Sim!" She exclaims somewhat threateningly. "Stop what you're doing right now! I'm warning you!"

"Warning me of what, exactly?" The lad retorts, a smug grin and breathy chuckles breaking through his demeanor. "What are you going to do?" His eyes flash maliciously as he flicks jet black hair away from them. "Give me nightmares?"

Angered and confused, NiGHTS attempts to dash at the boy, not entirely sure what exactly she's going to do once she gets there. Sim only avoids a painful impact by dropping to the ground at the last second, as yet another Awaker piece attaches itself firmly to his opponent's waist opposite the piece on her hip. It is getting steadily harder to go against the collective pull of Awaker, a fact of which the Nightmaren is dreadfully cognizant.

"Mmph! You insolent little..."

"Now now, Miss NiGHTS!" Sim chides over a minor fit of nervous giggles as he gets up. "You should watch your language around children!"

The audacity of the comment is enough to actually make NiGHTS stop and stare at this kid. Watch her language? She has half a mind to take out a spray bottle full of water on this kid, but alas, before she can summon the item, yet another Awaker section binds itself to her neck area, obscuring half of her face and completely distracting her as she tries to pull it off.

Unfortunately, the temporary distraction of the Nightmaren combined with the now-unshakable jerking of Awaker leads to NiGHTS slow but sure ascent toward the white expanse of consciousness.

"Reverse this! Now!" She commands, unaware that she could be this irate at any non-Wizeman Visitor.

"But it's so funny!" Sim answers tauntingly. "I mean, a dream creature being taken off by awakening spirits? It just doesn't get more theatrical, more deliciously ironic, more perfect than that!"

"What?" She questions, put off by his labeling briefly before returning to her furor and attempting to fly down to the ground. "You're insane!"

The boy simply mutes his smile and demeanor, lightly pushing himself off the grass and drifting upward, getting face-to-face with the jester as she continues to climb ever higher. This ascent is accelerated slightly by an Awaker grabbing her ankle.

"I prefer to think of myself as a genius. A visionary, if you will." He replies in a completely level tone of voice. "Reverse Dualizing is no easy feat, you know, and besides, it's not like I don't have a plan. Don't you worry. Everything will be completely fine here under my care."

"Under...your care? You can't do anything to change this place! Not unless you're in your own dream! Those are the rules!" Here, NiGHTS realizes that the boy's dream, save for a few uniform green hills and trees of random variety, is pretty much empty. "Besides, it doesn't seem like you're terribly creative..."

"Oh, you haven't seen the best of it, my dear." Sim counters snidely, booping the Nightmaren's nose much to her further irritation. She lashes out as if to bite him, causing him to withdraw his hand. He scowls at her, but the expression quickly fades as her upward trip is again sped up by the onslaught of more Awaker segments, the sheer amount of them making it impossible for her to move against them.

"Nnnh! Why...are you doing this...?" She asks, grunting with effort, "And what are you talking about, reverse Dualizing? Dualizing only works- mmph!- one way!"

"Au contraire, my dear! Not if you're me!" He retorts, getting nose-to-nose with the furious detainee momentarily before appearing to come upon a thought and backing away. "Oh! I nearly forgot! I need your opinion on something."

NiGHTS, left without much of an option, begrudgingly complies.

"Now, this entire process is only one part of a very complex plan, and, as I'm sure you can guess, I have to employ certain strategies in the interest of its advancement. For instance, I had to act like an innocent child in distress to get your attention and trust, because you're unpredictable otherwise. Of course, you're not the only obstacle I'll have to surpass, so here's my dilemma:" In the nature of a true SEGA character, he reaches behind him and produces and object seemingly from thin air. It appears to be a crescent-shaped silver mask bordered around the edge with a thick black line. "In order to carry out the next part of my plan, I will have to create a character, a Persona, if you will, so I want you to tell me," with a prideful grin, he dons the mask, "Do you think Ringmaster would be a suitable enough theme to fool a Nightmaren like...oh say...your brother?"

Surprise and anger fueling a sudden burst of strength, NiGHTS manages to lose a little bit of altitude from her ascent, bringing herself toward the unwelcome Visitor. "You leave him alone!"

"How sweet." Sim chuckles, "You don't like anybody fighting him unless it's you. Frankly, I didn't think you cared, but that's complicated, isn't it?" He sighs, smirking contentedly at his prey. "Besides, as has been discussed, you have bigger things to worry about."

The jester doesn't even need to look up to know to what he refers, and so, with a growl and a rage scream, she feels a paradoxically gentle feeling of detachment as everything goes white.

As she disappears, Sim feels a growing sense of accomplishment welling within him. I've done it! It's really happening!

As this happiness grows, his outfit changes from a plain shirt and jeans to a coat-tailed black suit and tie with white cuffs. He looks down at himself, quite satisfied, though still recognizing that he still has important business to take care of before he can devote his time to needless celebrating.

With that thought in mind, he lowers himself to the ground and approaches his Nightopian door, unaware of a few Pians who had been watching in horror the entire time and flutter off as he exits that section of the Night Dimension.

/*|*\

In all of his eons as a being of Nightmare, Reala has never found it so hard to search for something through darkness. He's normally so adept, so quick, so...professional. It's almost unnerving how much difficulty he's having finding that one stupid ring.

Or at least, that's what he's reasonably certain that that's what he's looking for. What else could it be, really? The ring about his head was the most notable feature about Master, er-eh-former Master Wizeman. Not to mention the fact that it was a huge silver ring with spikes coming out of it. How hard could it possibly be to find?

Apparently, it could be impossibly hard.

"Where is it? Where?" Reala murmurs to himself, darting about through the vast expanse of black nothingness all around him. "How on Earth can I miss it? It has to be around here. Something like that can't just vanish!" He sighs, realizing that he's carrying a dialogue with himself as if he were some sort of madmaren. There was a time when he had at least two compatriots with whom he could speak about such matters as these but, alas, one was a Master-murdering traitor and the other...well, no one's seen the other in years.

It's almost a shame, really, despite the fact that Reala normally couldn't stand the other one on a good day, what few of those there were, but at least that one wasn't obsessed with "righteousness" or some squall like that. Reala's come to believe that he failed as the first direct creation of Wizeman, and, with all his power, he failed to stop the rebellion that nearly killed The Master the first time. As a result, he must have been destroyed. There's simply no other possibility.

Reala shakes his head, clearing himself of memory lane. He isn't normally the reflective type, unless the reflections are fuelling his desires for revenge which, in this case, they're not. And yet, he can't help but wonder what will happen after he gets this revenge on his sister...? Well, simply, he'll assume rule as King of Nightmare...however that works. Perhaps this plan isn't completely thought through...?

Of course it is! The Nightmaren thinks, once again shaking the confusion form his head. It's the entire reason he's here in this dark expanse, after all. At least, it's an expanse until he is suddenly met with a solid piece of dark. Not expecting it, he promptly destroys it with a small ball he summons much less grandiosely than he has in the past. Upon doing so, he examines what's behind it, and realizes that the thing is not a what, but rather a where. Behind that black wall is what appears to be the remnants of a city, namely, as he recalls, Bellbridge, and in the distance are the Nightmare remains of Twin Seeds, as well.

Both cities, despite their currently leveled status, rise menacingly, jabbing into the night sky that is only partially lit by the moon. It's no surprise to Reala that the cities are in ruins. Nobody's bothered to keep care of Twin Seeds since the first rebellion (quite frankly it's a surprise that it's still there), and as for Bellbridge, well, the King of Nightmare himself practically exploded just beyond it, let alone the brawl NiGHTS fought against her brother right in the middle of it. It's little wonder that that dream city would be in ruins.

Perhaps it's here...? The clown wonders, venturing into the wreckage. He doesn't get very far before he ends up colliding with another object.

Completely ready to break apart said object, he discovers that it's not a what, but rather a who. Some brat dressed pretentiously in a suit and mask has flown straight into him, and is currently recoiling dizzily.

While normally, Reala would label this sort of brat as one not worth his time and mere fodder for lower-level Nightmaren, he can't help but be a little curious as to how and why some black-tie Marti Gras cosplayer ended up in a place like this and with a creature like him. Besides, if he's going to be on a treasure hunt for a while, why not have some fun?

Smirking, Reala dips below the stranger's line-of-sight, said Visitor just regaining his senses and looking with clear confusion around the area. "H-hello? Is anybody here?"

The boy is answered by a cackle from below, and as he stares down into the darkness, he reacts with alarm as a rush of darkness even deeper than the black of the city scene rushes around him, horrifying and nearly choking him.

Everything's failed. It's all over.

Sim stands, unable to get his bearings in the pitch black. He's vaguely aware of the little bit of strength obtained form his reverse-Dualizing, but he can't otherwise make out anything, barely his own form. Not knowing what to do, he walks forward, numbly aware that he's no longer flying as he had been upon entering Dream City Bellbridge. This would be more of a shock to him if he weren't a human by nature and therefore normally unable to fly.

He doesn't know where he's going, only that he's going forward (right?) and that wherever he's going, it surely must have a light switch. It would be nonsensical not to have one somewhere in this place.

Suddenly, he feels a force slam into his back and take him to the floor, the ghastly scream of "Surprise!" piercing his eardrum. Luckily, his face isn't injured, as it's struck something rather soft and moist. Wait...is this...icing? Whatever had slammed into him has manifested itself into a weight keeping him on the ground, which presently lifts and allows Sim to stand up. What he sees is, to him, shocking.

A small room with two bunk beds and three children opened before him, two boys, one girl, all of them cherubic, back-lit by the sunny window behind them but still too bright for him to comprehend. He's covered in an array of colors of saccharine-infused war paint, and at his feet, a dent remains in a large yellow cake.

"Happy birthday!" The children chant in unison, one of them, a lean boy almost of his height and with messy black hair gives him a bear hug, followed by a shorter, slightly chubbier, clearly younger boy with light scraggly light brown hair, and finally, the girl of his age with her smooth fiery red hair back in a ponytail. Around the room, numerous crayon drawings on the wall that nobody's ever bothered to clean off, prancing fantasy figures that the children all claimed to have seen somewhere either in real life or their dreams, seem to smile at him.

In a moment of weakness, the Visitor closes his eyes and hugs them back, barely able to take in their collective companionship and happiness before they're suddenly gone into thin air. Startled, he opens his eyes to see everything has strangely faded to gray scale.

He's now in a long hallway, the end of which fades to a fog he can't see through. Looking around for a moment, he suddenly feels something around his hand. Quickly checking, he discovers the girl, red hair hardly tempered by the gray, squeezing his hand. Her eyes are filled with tears, but none fall down her face. She's wearing a very nice dress compared to the one before, and as she squeezes his hand one last time, she lets go and hugs him just as tightly, kissing him on the cheek before, hesitantly and almost dejectedly, she lets go and walks down the dark hallway, her already-dulled colors fading to match the fog as she disappears into it.

Sim is dumbfounded, unable to move until he realizes what has just transpired. Against his more rational judgement, he sprints headlong down the hallway, acknowledging but not really caring about the sudden pastel-colored figures of his crayon drawings on the walls.

"Alyssa!" Comes his unnaturally high cry.

This is against his plan! They were all going to stay together, and now even she was gone! Nothing works! Not papers, not begging, not even magic!

As the realization that he's not going to see his friends again passes over him, he starts to slow down a bit, enabling the colorful figures on the walls to leap onto him, cackling and slowing him further. He struggles, but to no avail, and suddenly he is overcome by the black mist that had formed and started following him sometime since he started running.

Whatever ungodly creatures dwelling within the mist immediately spring upon him. They wrap around him. They suffocate him. They choke him. The only thing he can hear is their harsh, cruel whispering.

A failure! You're a failure! All is lost!

Unable to close his eyes, Sim is force to watch as five lights come out, seemingly from him, and present themselves before him. One by one, they materialize in front of his face.

Blue. White. Green. Yellow. Red...

Five beautiful lights, they themselves comforting, but the strengths they provide being sucked away from him, leaving the cold shell of a Visitor behind. From the lore he'd acquired, Sim knows this is the quickest way to his goal...but by far not the right one.

He struggles valiantly against the creatures holding him in place once again, but still nothing comes of it. One by one, the lights start to dull.

They're leaving you! You're doomed! It's over!

Eventually, the boy gives up his struggle, watching as the partial rainbow before him starts to die. This really is it. The end. Everything he's worked for dissolves before him...but no! No! No no no! He shakes his head. He simply can't let this happen! He's come so far! This is not the end! He refuses to allow it to become the end!

You're ours now, boy! All hope is lost! You're never getting out of here!

The boy releases a scream as he plants his feet on the ground and, with that strength he had felt earlier from what he'd taken of NiGHTS' power, lunges forward and out of the grasps of the black creatures, swiping his Ideya into one arm and charging down the now semi-formed hallway. He hears screeching behind him, but he pays it little mind, eager to escape and continue with his plan.

I'm going to succeed! I must!

Once a decent portion of the way down the passage, he crouches low and leaps to the air, now flying through to the end and into the opaque, heavy fog. He forces himself against the end of the hall and thrusts into it repeatedly, feeling small bits of the vision already starting to snap around him, bringing him closer and closer to the rest of the Night Dimension. As he does this, his Ideya come away from his arm and, glowing brighter than ever, fly about him in a peculiar orbit and speed up the dream-ending process.

Almost there!

Reala stares down at the darkness below, hardly amused but not unimpressed. He can't fathom why it is that that...thing is even trying. It seems like quite a bit of effort to pull oneself out of a vision of Nightmare, when the final destination is not only not a door to Nightopia, but is also the gateway to even more brutal torture. Is he stupid? Perhaps just clueless?

The Nightmaren watches as, from the tangible darkness below, the lad pops out and darts straight upward, past him, and into the ghastly pale light of the moon. The boy's silhouette freezes, head down and limbs limp as if he'd been hanged. He remains there a few moments before breaking his still frame and dropping lifelessly to an exposed platform formed by a lack of walls around the floor of a Bellbridge skyscraper across from Reala.

A bit curious, the clown approaches the heap on the floor, staring down at it as it slowly recovers and attempts to stand, failing several times before it gets to its feel and looks around, facing opposite of its observer. It's not until it turns around that it shows a veritable sign of life, jumping and turning so fast that it appears as if its head might have been wrenched off its body.

Unsurprisingly, the heap turns out to be the Black-Tie Marti Gras boy. The moonlight reflects strikingly off of his silver mask and shocked green eyes.

"Y-you!" He cries almost accusingly at the clown before him.

Reala, the shadows created by the moon behind him making him appear even more real and menacing, crosses his arms, smirking and snickering at the boy. "My my, what have we here?"

"My name...is Sim..." Martis Gras boy introduces himself, giving a name to the strangely shining face and extending his hand.

"Mmmm...I see..." The Nightmaren comments, disregarding the hand and circling its owner. "Well-

"You're Reala." Sim suddenly states, dropping his hand and cutting off what his opponent was going to say.

Reala freezes, turning to stare incredulously at the back of the boy's head. He knows for a fact he's never met this particular Visitor before in the past. He would have remembered his somewhat-bipolar shifts between terrified and emotionless. Nevertheless, he keeps his cool, creepy demeanor.

"Oh...? And just how do you know that?"

"Simple. I know about everyone who plays a major role in the Night Dimension. You. Owl. Wizeman. NiGHTS."

The Nightmaren doesn't like this twit's stoicism, or his apparent attempt to out-creep a creature specifically made to be scary, especially one who pulls it off as perfectly as himself. He keeps a stand firmly and aggressively.

"That's all well and good, Visitor, but it won't save you!"

Sim turns, eyes flashing and face determined. "If I were you, Nightmaren, I'd be a bit more worried about saving yourself."

"Oh?" Reala counters, getting uncomfortably close to the boy's face, smile downright murderous. "That's awfully big talk coming from a scrawny child inches from losing his soul to Nightmare." He withdraws, eyes glinting mercilessly, and puts up a hand. "I think you might be mistaken...Sim, is it? You clearly don't know who I am." At this, he dashes right into Sim's midsection, knocking the wind out of him, and hoists him into the air above the black rectangle of a courtyard by the front of his shirt, holding him very close and forcing him to look into his eyes.

"I am Reala, First-Level Nightmaren and deputy to Wizeman, King of Nightmare! I am not to be taken lightly, little fool! I can and will make the darkest, most horrid parts of your mind come to life and destroy you!"

Sim chokes, having to wait a moment before finally getting words out.

"So you're...a deputy now, eh?" He chuckles weakly. "Not even a "most loyal servant." Feeling powerful now...Reala...? Do you feel stronger now that...a traitor has destroyed your only...authority figure? Or do you just feel like you're trying to...make up for something? Do you perhaps feel...say...worthless?"

The venom of Sim's tone, regardless of the terrifying effect it was probably supposed to have on Reala, infuriates him beyond reason, not that he had much to start out with. He hurls the insolent Visitor into the smothering gloom below with great prejudice, said Visitor unwillingly leaving behind his Ideya in his descent.

Reala looks at the luminescent orbs as they drift toward him, snickering and about to take them all into his arms to be collected when they all suddenly dart to the ground.

The Nightmaren is dumbfounded for a moment, then suddenly realizes what has happened, just in time to be struck hard from below by a flying Visitor.

Reala is knocked back, growling as his opponent smirks just above him.

"It's nothing personal, Reala. Please understand." Sim explains as his Ideya, revolving around him, proceed to disappear within him as they had before. "This is just business. I have to do this in order to further my goal. It really is the only true way to do this right." He shrugs. "Hey, it could be more insulting. I was originally going to try to trick you!"

Still not finding the boy worth his full power, the Nightmaren charges at him, arm back and fully ready to strike him with a considerable amount of force. As he hits, Sim extends his hand, resulting in a painful hi-five that, much to Reala's surprise, has sent him flying diagonally upward into the air as if unimpeded. He stops himself, looking confusedly at his hand and turning to look at the Visitor, who is grinning up at him in such a fashion that, if Reala wasn't seething with hatred toward the child, would impress him.

Immediately, the Nightmaren assumes the worst. "What have you done?" He exclaims, about to attack the boy once again before feeling a strange pull on his right leg. He stops short, looking down and halting almost instantaneously at what he sees.

A little bit of Awaker has latched onto him, making itself nice and comfy. Contrary to what Sim had expected, Reala does not fight back. He simply waits calmly, as Awaker summons itself and, unimpeded, attaches itself to its host.

Curious and a bit unnerved by the Nightmaren's lack of response, Sim flies upward, following the dream creature in its slow ascent. He cannot see said creature's eyes, the light from the moon and Waking World's portal working in conjunction with his Persona to shadow them. Wordlessly, Reala seems to evaporate into the vague whiteness above.

Sim stares a moment, unable to comprehend the un-predicted unpredictability of this particular Nightmaren. Just as he's about to leave, he receives and even bigger shock as a clawed hand breaks through the portal, puncturing his shirt and leaving deep scratches in the upper area of his chest as he is jerked into the face of Reala once more, the Nightmaren's eyes filled with rage.

The Visitor can't help but cry out.

"Weren't expecting that, were you, Lucentio?" Reala snarls, causing the Visitor to wince at his last name being mentioned in such a way. "You can never predict my movements. Don't even try. You're going to pay for this, insolent little brat, and mark my words, read my lips: It will not be pleasant!" The clown grins maliciously, chuckling maniacally. "You could say it will be your...worst nightmare." And with that, he vanishes.

Without him realizing it, Sim's breathing had increased in rate. Once he discovers this, he immediately takes deep breaths to calm himself. He gingerly puts a hand to his chest, examining the cuts as well as his heartbeat, which is also racing. He can't fully comprehend what's just happened, but he also can't forget it, no matter how hard he tries. He dismisses it as a recent event that will eventually fade into the deeper reaches of his memory.

He looks around, figuring out his next course of action. Oi. This is the longest, most boring part of his plan, but it has to be done. There's simply no way around it. As soon as he settles this matter, his hand once again returns to his chest, this time because of a sharp pain arising from it that can't possibly be from the scratches. He huffs loudly, groaning and putting a hand to his head (that he swears is exploding!), finding that to be more difficult than it should be, as his arm and hand are rapidly twitching and in a great deal of pain and...growing? His hand appears to be changing shape to a more pointed, clawed version of his own.

The pain extends to his mouth, his teeth feeling as if they're about to split apart. He curls up in the air, unable to bear the incredible amounts of soreness and pain shooting through, engulfing, and otherwise taking over and racking Sim's body. Far from stoic in this condition, he cries out, he groans, he's almost reduced to calling for help, but doesn't allow himself to eradicate his dignity like that.

He's twitching, convulsing, gasping for air, which goes in and out shakier than the weak foundations of the buildings around him. He's out of control of his muscles, his bones, even his facial features, which he can feel moving and forming beneath his skin and against his mask.

After less than a minute, the boy is so overwhelmed and overcome by the agony that he falls from the air, once again hitting that platform that he'd landed on after his nightmare. The way he lands, his head is tilted toward the ruins of Twin Seeds, and he sees something- or rather, someone- shining in the distance.

He reaches a still-bulging-and-reforming hand out toward the figure, but it doesn't come any closer, and that's the last thing Sim Lucentio realizes before everything in his view sinks to black.

/*|*\

"Claris? Claris!" A voice calls out in the murky half-awake space of the girl's hearing. "C'mon! You're on my stuff! Not just yours! Get off!"

"H-hunh...?" The pink-haired girl mumbles, lifting her face off of a little pile of books as her roommate, a dark-skinned, slender girl, shakes her lightly. "D-Delilah..? What's up? When'd you get back?"

"I got back at, like, five. Class ended on time tonight." The roommate, Delilah, replies, taking some of the books from beneath Claris as she lifts her head.

"Wow, crazy for Darbus. Maybe she had a date." Claris remarks, taking her own books and setting them aside on the desk on which they'd been resting.

Delilah laughs. "Even for your stories, that's pretty far-fetched, there, girly."

"I'm a Theatre major! Anything's possible!"

"Ugh! Now you're starting to sound like her!"

The pink-haired girl shrugs, turning to a notebook before her that she hadn't swept away. On it is a series of notations about music and dreams and such that would only be even remotely readable to her. She closes the notebook, fully exposing the name Claris Sinclair written in fancy script on the cover.

"So, seemed like you'd been out for a while." Her roommate comments, putting her school materials away for the night. "Anything new to add to the ol' journal?"

"I don't...think so..." Claris replies, trying to remember exactly what it was she'd dreamed about during her apparent study nap. What had she seen?

The normal schpeal...nonsensical images...no! No...the nightmare from three years ago! The one where she'd found Nightopia!

But no...this time it was different. It was like a carbon copy of a carbon copy...she wasn't in any real danger...but she ran anyway...

When she got to the end...she was her own age again...she was in Twin Seeds, except it was all dark and ruined...

There were Pians! Man, they were cute. They were trying to warn her about something, but she'd gotten distracted...why...?

The fight! Oh goodness, did Reala get what was coming to him! But wait...no. It was wrong. He'd...woken up? Awaker. What was that about, anyway? Reala can't get woken up like that, or at all, really. He's a Nightmaren, just like...

"Oh my God!" Claris exclaims after several moments of staring down at her desk, her sudden cry startling Delilah and nearly making her drop a case of colored pencils.

"What's wrong, girly!?" Delilah asks her friend.

"N-nothing! Just...uh...forgot about something for...uh...a project. Yeah, a project." Claris quickly answers, reaching to the other side of the work desk and grabbing and opening a laptop.

"Is it due?" Her roommate asks, approaching her curiously from behind.

"Uh...yeah. Soon. Real soon. Just...give me a sec." She answers distractedly, pulling up a forum that she visits quite often entitled "Dreams, Dreams!"

She'd found this forum a while ago and has been using it for some time now, usually to keep in touch with Eliot, who'd gone on a basketball scholarship to some big-shot school she can't quite recall the name of despite its probably high status. The forum had been made for the people who are interested in "The wild, telling property of dreams and what makes them tick!" (After some of the things Claris has seen in her time as a dreamer, this definition of the power of dreams in combination with the observations of what users of the forum claim about them still makes her want to laugh a bit.)

Under the "Discussion" tab, Claris starts a new thread and fills in the title and body spots rather frantically, hoping that her friends across the pond are still up to read it.

"Calling All NiGHTWatchers!"

/*|*\

At a concert hall in Bellbridge, England, a young blond girl walks out of the back room, exhausted from a long performance. At this point, after playing the violin currently resting in her case for a good portion of the night, all she wants to do is go home and sleep.

Her mother is there, at the exit, ready as always with tight hug and a bouquet of flowers. The girl smiles, always finding joy in these things even though they come after all of her recitals.

As always, standing beside her mother is her father, with another warm hug, and, at least most of the time, her best friend.

This night is like most others. She receives her affection from her mother and father before turning to her friend, a boy of dirty blond hair and blue eyes who, tonight, is wearing a red jersey, having probably come from a soccer game to see her perform. The girl's smile gets brighter. She always feels flattered whenever he does this for her even though he himself is probably exhausted- but tonight, her smile fades when she sees the serious expression on his face.

"Will? What's wrong?" She asks, taking a concerned step towards him.

"Helen...we got a message from The Lady of Song today..."

"Claris?" Helen exclaims incredulously, having not heard from Claris, "Dreams Dreams!" username "The Lady of Song", for some time.

Will nods solemnly, holding up a touchscreen phone for his friend to see the message. She gasps, putting a hand over her mouth.

"Calling all NiGHTWatchers!

Please message me immediately when you get this!

Went to the Night Dimension tonight and saw some terrible things involving a weird dark-suited kid and some Pians in a panic. It's a really long story, but it all boils down to this:

NiGHTS is alive, and she's in trouble!"