Finian stopped abruptly, then turned to August and stiffened. “Not your fault, per se. But people like you. The sleepwakers. The first to wake banished us here, as punishment.”

“Punishment for what?” asked August.

“We created such wonders, as was our task. Our greatest creation, among so many, was you. We guided your evolution for centuries.” Finian raised a finger to his chin, just below the tentacles. “I wonder, though, if it was a mistake.”

“I don’t understand.” August looked around him, admiring the strange creatures, and the alien predicament he found himself in. He worried he had insulted the creature. Would they devour him? What does one even eat on the moon? The reality had set in.

Finian waved his hand. “I should not be the one to tell you. Come, they are preparing a feast in your honor.” Then he continued on.

Now August was concerned.

Like a termite den, the Malgarii had carved out innumerable caves and grottos, leaving the moon pockholed like Swiss cheese. Their humming crystals punctuating the entrance to each den that lined the walls, where they no doubt lived.

“How do you know so much about us?” said August. “You mentioned Houdini. How do you know about him if you’re way up here?”

Finian erupted in a smile, if you can call it that. “Television! We receive your signals. Although, it takes time for us to decode them and we are left wanting for the necessary equipment to display them correctly. I am famous here as a repository for your cultures, and your starlets. Chief among them, I am a great admirer of Fred Astair.” Finian clicked his heels and bowed, glancing up pensively.

August looked to either side, the rows of onlookers only stared back at him. Not knowing what else to do, he applauded. The Malgarii mimicked him, and roared and clapped their hands. Finian took another sweeping bow towards his new audience, clearly enjoying the attention. Then, spinning around, he motioned to a doorway which seemingly opened on its own. “And, voila!”

The large room had rows of tables with fine dining on each. A silver serving tray covered in a fancy dome adorned each table, which August thought looked just like the high-end room service he had only seen in movies.

Finian entered first, his arms outstretched, and he was welcomed as a returning hero. No doubt for bringing August. That made him uneasy. The crowds of Malgarri moved past him and into the dining room, finding seats at the tables. They raised up their tentacles and began humming and gargling in unison.

August felt his stomach turn. It was all too much for him. And as he often did, succumbing to his avoidant personality, he shook his head and fled.

He turned down a corridor lined with crystals, like the others, and found himself in a forest of them. Large ones. They rose from the floor in vibrant pinks and blues, like a kaleidoscoping festival of colors.

He moved through them, looking for a way out. Unsure of whether there even was one. And he caught a glimpse of a figure moving behind the crystals.

A girl.

Her delicate fingers appeared around the crystal nearest him, and she poked out her head. She looked to be his age and had blonde hair in tight ringlets. Her skin was pale, and she wore the same white robes as the Malgarii.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“Hello,” said August. Not sure what else to do.

“You’ve come along way,” she said. Her voice was sweet. She remained hiding behind the crystal.

“Yeah. Further than I ever thought I would in my whole life. Honestly, I don’t know why I came here.”

“I know why you came,” she said.

August didn’t respond.

She moved from behind the crystal. She was slim, beautiful, and moved with fluidity like them. “It’s so messy down there. And you rejected it, and you sought anything else. An escape. And here you are, still searching for an exit.”

“I think I want to go home.”

“You will. But not through an exit, but an entrance. It’s here. It always has been. You can feel it. It calls to you. It calls to all of us.”

“What?”

“We call it the Gossamir. Through it all things are connected. The moon, the stars, and even dreams…” She moved up to August and put a palm on his chest. “You and me.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Sophie. I am trapped here, like the Malgarii. It took all we had to make the ship we sent for you. But I’m glad you made it here without it.” She began circling him, her fingertips trailing along his shoulder.

“Why me?”

“You and me are sleepwakers. We dream of the Elsewild. It touches our minds, and we struggle to live in both places at once. The Gossamir is an engine, it draws power from the consciousness of the life around it. It was dormant for millennia, cold and frozen, wandering alone in a desolate wasteland of a universe. Then it collided with a newborn planet, and the dust around it coalesced here, into the moon. And on Earth, by some miracle, something woke up, and it dreamed. And the Gossamir woke up, and gave it so much to dream about.”

“My daydreams.” August closed his eyes. He could see it now. Purple mountains, blue skies. “It’s a real place?”

“Oh yes. It’s the center of the universe. It is a place made manifest by countless dreaming civilizations, all died out. Save one. Us. The greatest of them made the Elsewild as a port in an endless cosmic storm, where they could go and hide and survive. And the last vestiges of that ended empire is this Gossamir, and the world our dreams keep alive. It is a doorway, an entrance, and it exists here, beneath us.”

“Are we going there?” asked August. Sophie’s fingertips still tracing their way around him, finding their way to the small of his back, and to down to his waist.

“I can’t. That’s why I needed you. There is an evil there, a despot. He calls himself the King of Nightmares. He has plunged the Elsewild into chaos, into darkness, and he will destroy it. He has my animus, and without it, I cannot travel there to save it.”

Sophie’s hand, now at his waist, reached deep into his pocket, and she retrieved the compass—the gift his father had given him.

“You, too, have an animus. It is your companion spirit. It is your guide and your key. It need but awaken.” She held out her open palm and set the compass on top.

August furrowed his brows. “It’s just an old compass.”

“It’s so much more.” She pursed her lips, and gently blew onto it. Then, the compass stirred and began to take shape. Like a butterfly unveiling its wings to the warming air after emerging from its cocoon, it unraveled itself into a metallic insect—a praying mantis.

The creature fluttered its wings and landed on August's shoulder. It began preening, moving its metallic little legs through its mandibles.

Sophie beamed. Her smile was warm, reassuring. “She needs a name.”

“How do you know it’s a she?” asked August, looking at the creature now perched so delicately on his shoulder.

“The animus is in many ways your opposite, but also so much yourself. Where you run and hide, she will charge in. She is your courage. She will open the door for you. If…” Sophie began, clasping her hands together. “You help me.”

August thought to himself. He lifted his hand up to the tiny creature and it nimbly climbed onto his finger, starting with its long forelimbs, cocking its head to the side to look back at August. “What should I call you?”

The tiny metallic insect stood upright on four legs, its raptorial legs tucked beneath its head, and it looked as though it was waiting.

“I’ll name you after my Grandmother. Her name is Hazel. How is that?”

The insect lowered its head, and began preening its legs again.

Sophie looked up from the mantis. “I think she likes it. Now come on, there’s a feast waiting for you.”

“Wait,” said August. “I still don’t understand who you are.”

Sophie turned and winked. “You’re smarter than that. I’m the Princess of the Moon.”