Young Writers Society

Sitting up, John was just in time to witness Silas rush through the portal, which sealed shut behind him. Moaning groggily, he picked himself up from the ditch that he’d dug with his nose. A splitting headache assailed him as he stood.

Leaping from the crater of shattered tile, he looked around in the bleak department store. Chaser was nowhere in sight. The girl named Tessa was running towards him, tripping a bit in her haste. Across the aisles, Malfunction and Necrophobia were nowhere to be found.

Tessa was in front of him now. Was she saying something? Her expression looked frantic. John reached a hand to his ear, realizing that he was still wearing his headphones. Pulling them around his neck, he tuned in to the girl’s rant.

“What are you? Who were they? What’s with that mask?” Tessa burdened him with dozens of questions, dumping the fear, stress, and confusion of what just happened straight onto John. Then again, he supposed that such a response was only normal.

John felt his face, but the Mask was already gone without a trace. He rewound the events as they had played out, ignoring Tessa’s questions. Malfunction. Him beating Malfunction. Something about the Hands of Hope. Silas becoming Chaser. Chaser becoming-

“That’s it, then,” he stated, crossing his arms and nodding.

“That’s...it?” Tessa asked.

“Yep. Chaser’s dead. Silas is gonna go take out the big boss, and then we can all live happily ever after.” He grinned, dusting off his hands. “So yeah. We’re done here.”

“So...you’ll be leaving now?”

“Yeah. It’s about time to wake up, anyway. Hate to miss a Saturday.” John turned around, focusing his raw anger on one area of space. Just as Silas had taught him. As the Mask returned to his face, an arc of energy erupted from the mouthpiece into the air. Where the light had struck, a portal opened, with its rainbow swirl wrapping around the emptiness beyond.

“I’m getting the hang of this,” John said to nobody in particular. He began to stroll towards the portal. At the edge of the vortex, he turned back to Tessa, scratching his head. “You coming?”

Tessa looked pained, as though she was struggling to make a decision. “Not yet,” she declared suddenly. “Tell me what’s going on here. Now.”

She was persistent, John would give her that. “Sure.” He shrugged. “I don’t see what difference it makes. Let’s see. Have you ever heard of nightmares? Nah, that’s a stupid question. Can you-”

John was cut off by a portal opening above him, dumping Sophie Oracle straight onto his head. Crawling out from beneath her, he rubbed his bruised back, muttering angrily.

Sophie stood up, taking the situation in as another figure dropped through the portal. John gasped. “Exem?”

“Quite so.” The nightmare tipped his hat towards him, while his crow flew over to Tessa’s shoulder and began preening itself.

“So, Acrophobia,” Sophie interrogated. “What’s going on here?”

“What’s ‘going on’ is the most grievous mistake your father could’ve made. You humans seem to have a habit of meddling too deep.” Exem sighed. “He’s gone to attack the Castle of Nightmares.”

“What? All by himself?” Even Sophie looked shocked.

“He seemed pretty confident going through,” Tessa mused.

“It shouldn’t be a problem for Silas. Chaser’s ultimate weapon is in his hands now. In fact, it is his hands.” John chuckled, more than a little pleased with himself. “Ow.” Sophie’s battle-armored behind had left quite a mark on his back.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Exem waved his hand, opening a portal to the Castle. “All you need to know now is that the world is in greater danger than ever before. For the sake of all reality, we must stop Silas Oracle.”

Sophie nodded, flying through, followed suit by the crow. Exem promptly strolled through, tapping his cane rhythmically. Taking Tessa’s hand, John turned to look at her, a half-smile crossing his face. “Guess I’ll have to fill you in on the way.”

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His sword carved like a hot knife through butter, slicing nightmares apart, their darkened souls captured by his outstretched hand. Those foolish enough to challenge him were met with cruel oblivion, while those not quick enough to escape suffered the same fate. Silas grinned.

He charged through the Castle of Nightmares, extinguishing every nightmare in his way. He reveled in the gore spilt by his blade, staining the obsidian walls a deeper black. A gluttonous inferno brewed in his heart, along with a desire to make the nightmares extinct. But there was an easy way to do that.

Slowing to a walk, he ignited a snowy aura around his body, throwing open the giant double doors of the throne room. “Phobos!” he yelled.

Phobos sat on his throne, boredly leaning on his cheek. His face was obscured by the dull gray armor that coated his body. It would have seemed that the armor was completely empty, were it not for two baleful eyes that fixated their gaze on Silas. “Oracle,” he said boredly. “Back again, I see.”

Silas sparked his sword on the floor. “That’s right. And this time, there’s nothing to save you.” He bared his teeth, snarling. “I will kill you.”

Phobos sighed. “I ought to know better than to apologize again,” he said, standing up and stretching. “So let’s just get this over with.”

“Let’s.” Silas raised his sword, charging forward with a massive thrust. Phobos halted the sword with one finger.

“It doesn’t matter how hard you try, Silas. You’ll never truly wield the Sword of Light.” Phobos flicked his finger to the side, drawing back his other hand and punching Silas in the face.

Silas recoiled, snarling like a bear stung by hornets. “You’re right.” Raising the sword high, he charged again, blindly slashing at Phobos, who dodged each wild swing. “This sword was never supposed to be mine! But it’s my burden to carry! Because Valerie’s dead now!” He struck Phobos in the side of the head with ruthless hysteria. “And you killed her!”

Phobos staggered to the side, disgruntled. “I did not kill her, Silas. But I won’t pretend that I wasn’t responsible for what happened. Forgive-”

Silas’s sword slammed at his neck, driving him against the wall. Silas held the blade with both hands as Phobos struggled to break free. “You’re going to ask me to forgive you? After stealing my wife into your netherworld? Never!” he screamed. He glared at Phobos’s shadowed visage. “Let me see your face. One more time, you bastard.”

Silas ripped Phobos’s helm from his head, stepping back and letting the helmet drop. There, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily with a hand at his throat, was a mirror image of himself. The same bright blond hair, chiseled jaw, and deep red eyes. A copy of his own face. 

He growled at the sight. “You were the one who made this sword. You gave it to my wife as a gift, so she could be with you in her dreams. Valerie…” He shook his head, a tear flying off. “And do you know what hurts the most?”

Phobos grunted, catching Silas’s thrust with both hands. He grimaced as the blade neared his neck. Silas pushed with all his strength, tears streaming down his face. “She chose you! I don’t know why, but she chose you! Alfie-” he broke off suddenly, whispering. “He’s your son. And she died giving birth to him. Triplets. And no mother to hold them.”

He screamed in grief, the raw pain tearing him apart from within. His blood felt like acid coursing through him, burning him into nothingness. “And that day, during my living nightmare, I found the Sword,” he said. “All I had to do was touch it, and I knew it was Valerie’s. And her dreams came flooding into me. I saw myself, but better than me. I saw the wonders of the dreamworld.”

“And I saw you!” he yelled, driving the tip of his blade closer to Phobos’s throat. “I saw you give her that nightmare-child! His presence alone imbued my children with their dream-relics. They’re the links between our worlds.” He drew back, panting, sticking his sword into the ground to lean on the hilt. “This has been our destiny from the very beginning,” he declared softly. “To exterminate you for good.”

He stood there, breathing heavily in between sobs, as Phobos walked over and picked up his helmet, placing it back on his head. “So it is. I can’t deny that I fell in love with her. But she was fiercely loyal to you. So I tricked her into loving me. I should never have done such a thing,” Phobos said with an edge of anger. “But I did. And now...nothing more can be said. I’m sorry.” His shoulders slumped, and the lights of his crimson eyes dimmed out.

“I’ll never forgive you,” Silas rasped. “Until you die!” Raising his sword again, he rushed at Phobos, screaming in rage and agony. But as he swung, the sword vanished from his grasp, dispersing into pure orbs of light.

Phobos watched the Sword of Light break, impassive. “I’m afraid that your fight ends here, Silas Oracle.” He scowled behind the luminous curtain. “Because you have become so hopelessly tainted that even the final memento of your lover can no longer stand your presence.”

Eyes wide in disbelief, Silas grabbed uselessly at the lights, his hands passing through each one. “No,” he choked. “Don’t leave me, Valerie.” He felt as though his heart was sinking through the floor into a cold, black, listless void. The tears wetted his cheeks, rolling down like drops in a neverending rain.

Phobos watched the melancholy spectacle, sighing outwardly. “I’m sorry, Silas,” he said. “But you’ve suffered long enough in this nightmare.” His armored hand shot out, gripping Silas’s face. “Wake up.”

Silas screamed as his soul flooded with nothing but rushing, relentless fear.