‘Yes, yes I will! But I can’t stay now! I have to leave!’ James shouted, anxiously looking up at the tiny circle of moonlight high above.

The room was small and circular, with walls so high it might have been sat at the bottom of a deep well. There were no windows and no doors. Instead, books of every colour and shape filled a crazy network of bookshelves spiralling up into the darkness. A small pool of flickering light was provided by a large candle sitting on the edge of a scarred, wooden workbench. Its surface was filled with yellowed sheets of paper and strange metal objects which seemed to rotate and hover of their own accord.

James’ eyes climbed back to the tunnel of bookshelves, seeking the silver, coin-sized point of moonlight high above. His body ached to be up there beyond these stifling old walls. He knew that if he really wanted to he could leave this place in a single bound… and yet, the voice in the darkness was begging him to stay…

It was a kind old voice, but frail, like old paper stretched too thinly across a broken window. And as James restlessly stared above, the wizened voice patiently listed reasons for him to stay…

But James wasn’t really listening.

Much of what the old man said made sense, but nothing could make him stay down here when he had the freedom of the entire sky waiting for him above.

‘The last… yes, the last!’ James parroted in frustration, all the while gazing up at the distant exit high above. ‘I’ll remember, I’ll remember! Don’t worry!’

‘Oh, very well,’ the voice finally said with a resigned sigh. ‘A bird that has never felt the wind beneath its wings cannot be kept from the sky…’

No sooner had these words been uttered, did something within the room shift. It was as though a terrible, invisible weight had been lifted from James’ shoulders, and he smiled in recognition.

‘Thank you!’ he laughed, gazing distractedly over his shoulder to a dark corner of the circular room. ‘I won’t forget!’ he shouted, before turning back to focus his mind on the change.

But making the change wasn’t going to be easy. It was like attempting to balance twenty coins end to end on the tip of a finger, or trying to inhale and exhale at the same time. It should have been impossible, and yet, he knew that he could make it happen.

In his mind’s eye a familiar shape grew impossibly big, whilst simultaneously shrinking down to a size beyond imagining. For a moment, he knew genuine fear at the power contained within this simple gesture, but he could not turn back now. He had dreamed of this same frightening shape many times as a child and each time he had awoken half mad with fear…

But this time it was different.

Somehow, the dull ache inside his head seemed to contain the madness of the shape, and gradually he was able to take control of the seething energies that had always before woken him from the dream.

His eyes opened and a knowing smile flickered onto his lips.

The tails of his hospital gown began to curl in the still air, a light breeze ruffling the yellowed papers scattered across the workbench. Pressing his lips tightly together in concentration, he felt the breeze start to swirl and eddy about him.

‘Careful now…’ the voice echoed from the darkness.

The wind grew in strength, tugging loose scraps of parchment from the table and whipping them into a vortex around him. The terrible glowing shape inside his head seemed to grow larger until he could almost see it sparking and flickering in the air. Soon, a howling gale roamed around the small space, pulling books from the shelves to join the swirling mass of paper whirling around him. Beyond the roar of the wind and the tearing of paper, he heard the old man laughing, clapping his hands excitedly as though in congratulation.

Fighting desperately to contain the energies rippling through his being, James drew the shape back inside himself, crystallising it into a single blinding point in the depths of his mind. The focusing of the power had been instinctive, more an act to preserve his sanity than the integrity of the dream, but the simple gesture silenced the prowling wind. The resulting silence was complete, but for the whisper of parchment as it fluttered back to the ground.

‘Do not forget me, boy,’ the wizened voice said.

There was a blinding flash of light and then the stone floor was plummeting away from James’ feet like an elevator crashing down a lift shaft. Forcing his head up, he watched in wonder as his body hurtled up through the tunnel, past countless rows of books and other strange objects half-seen in the darkness. The circle of light grew steadily in the distance and he gritted his teeth, accelerating harder still. The damp stone walls became a blur, his hospital gown rippling around him like blue flames.

With his mind clamped upon the blistering blue diamond inside his head, he shot like a cork from a bottle into a night sky filled with stars. James laughed and pushed himself higher still, twisting and tumbling through the cool night air like a skydiver in reverse.

Gradually, he slowed his ascent until his mind finally found a point of equilibrium within the near limitless power now at his disposal. His body halted in mid-air, his gown shifting lazily in the breeze. He must have climbed miles into the air because when he looked down, there was no sign of the place he had emerged from; only a thin, silver ribbon of river trailing far below, like a piece of white cotton thread discarded on a slate floor.

Slowly, he rotated in place, gazing in wonder at the vastness of sky within which he now floated. Never before had he experienced a dream quite so real! There were so many stars, and all of them fixed within strange constellations that somehow held their positions within the intangible fragility of the dream.

His eyes suddenly widened when he discovered something miraculous behind him. Hanging there in the midst of the glittering firmament were two moons.

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‘Of course! Two moons! Why not indeed!’ he laughed.

One of the moons was small like the real moon, but bright green and as smooth as a polished stone. The other was much larger and gleamed white, filled with craters and swathes of ash like dusky bruises across its glowing surface. Again he laughed, unable to believe his imagination could conjure up something quite so incredible.

Filling his lungs with the delicious night air, he squealed with delight before barrelling off through the sky once more. He pushed himself faster and faster, testing the limits of his newfound freedom. The hospital gown fluttered and snapped against his body, the wind taking his breath and pulling tears from his eyes. There was a clap of thunder as he shot through the sky faster than sound.

At last, breathless and trembling with laughter, James slowed his mad dash across the sky to peer down at a new landscape slowly passing beneath him. An endless tapestry of farmed fields filled his vision like some great patchwork quilt woven out of the blue and silver-green moonlight. Here and there, tiny clusters of flickering lights revealed what must have been distant villages. But he passed them by, transfixed by a new wonder that had materialised upon the horizon.

In the distance, a fine tracery of golden light was etched into the darkness like lines of fire. Steeling himself, he swept downwards, pointing himself at the fiery constellation of lights like an arrow seeking a bright target. As he drew nearer he laughed again in bewildered delight, for he saw that it was a medieval city, composed of countless stone towers and wooden spires. Lanterns of yellow, green and red zigzagged between the avenues of tall buildings, illuminating cobbled streets bustling with activity. Smiling mischievously, James twisted in the air before hurtling down between the tottering wooden houses. Strangely-dressed people ran screaming into doorways and dove into dark alleys as he thundered past, sending the lanterns bobbing and weaving in his wake.

Laughing merrily to himself, he brought his feet beneath him and swept up the side of a church tower, before stepping lightly onto the tiled roof of its conical spire. Again, he had cause to marvel at the incredible detail of the dream; he could feel the lingering warmth of day upon the tiles beneath his bare feet; hear the gritty crunch as it settled beneath his weight.

With one hand resting upon an iron weather vane, he gazed down at the cobbled market square far below. Curious wooden buildings crowded around its edge, and at its centre a huge stone fountain carved in the shape of a fantastical sea monster spewed gouts of silvered water into the cool evening air.

He was contentedly taking these new marvels into his senses when a bell began to toll. Its sound was insistent, almost frantic in its play, and as he gazed out across the sea of spires and rooftops at his feet, he heard another and then another join the fray. The dreadful din jarred in his ears like the discordant chimes of a wedding peal gone horribly wrong, but yet others were joining the clamour. Before long, the very air seemed to vibrate with the deafening sound as every church rang out in demented chorus.

Just as James was beginning to suspect that his very presence might have been to blame for this most unpleasant intrusion upon his dream, something whistled past his ear. Turning his head, he sensed another object take flight and plucked it from the air with a gesture of his mind. The arrow floated before him glinting in the moonlight before he let it clatter to the tiles at his feet.

‘There it is!’ someone yelled from the market square far below. ‘Take it down! Take it down!’

A volley of black arrows laced up into the air from dark shapes mustered below, but with another gleeful chuckle, James launched himself away from the spire, confident that he could fly faster than any arrow let loose by their clumsy hands.

‘What a curious dream!’ he laughed as he climbed beyond their reach. ‘And how wonderful!’

Blazing a path beyond the city walls, he followed a wide river which swept out towards a distant range of mountains. Flying low over the great expanse of slow-moving water, he watched his reflection bend and flicker in its glittering surface. As though for the first time, he noticed that he wore his hospital gown, the bright blue fabric fluttering lazily about his pale body. His spiteful mind sought to remind him of his impending operation and with a defiant yell he barrelled back into the sky.

He found a dense bank of cloud high above him and for a long time played about its wispy top; thundering in and out of clouds made silver and green by the light of the two moons. His body was somehow hot from all the flying and the cool embrace of the vapour made him tremble with pleasure.

Emboldened by his continuing adventure, he plunged deeper into the mass of cloud, seeking its dark interior. A flash of lightning rippled out to greet him, momentarily filling the space with blinding light. He gazed about himself in fascination, once more awed by the beauty of the dream. It was as he hung motionless within the scintillating fire that he became aware of a curious sensation. His body felt suddenly unbalanced and found himself compelled to peer into the gloom beneath. It was as though his body were tethered to a length of thread and it was pulling him, ever so gently, towards the ground. Intrigued, he let the pull guide him as lightning flared all around.

A vast darkness materialised beneath him, stretching off towards a range of crooked mountains like a row of witch’s hats. It was a forest, but a forest unlike any he had ever seen before. Here there were trees that were gigantic, rising up from the ground like towering explosions of wood. At their feet, the lesser trees of oak, elm and ash crowded around them, like young saplings eager to emulate their monstrous cousins.

Beneath the clouds, darkness lay thick upon the land, and it was only through the frequent bursts of lightning that he saw the forest begin to enclose around him. The invisible thread pulled more strongly now and he glided down towards a small clearing, overshadowed by one of the gigantic trees. It was only as he neared the ground that he realised with dismay that the dream was about to end. He wanted desperately to fly back up into the clouds, but the force pulling him to the ground was now as strong as iron cables lashed about his legs. Closing his eyes, he resignedly prepared for the familiar disorientation of waking.

But when his eyes opened, he found himself standing alone in the wet forest.

In the darkness, a distant rumble of thunder growled through the trees, and then there was just the steady patter of rain, quietly tapping the countless leaves that surrounded him. He peered around in confusion, his feet resting upon something hard and unyielding. Disorientated, he glanced down and saw a carved stone platform protruding from a thicket of swaying ferns like the half-exposed altar of some ancient ruin.

Slowly, he brought his head back up, his heart now hammering wildly in his chest. He clamped his eyes tightly shut and tried to control his rising panic. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to open his eyes, hoping against hope that the dream would be ended.

He opened his eyes.

Searing pain ripped through his shoulder as his body was jerked violently backwards. His back thudded against something hard, his breath exploding out of his lungs in a gurgling exhalation. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his hands grasping the long, black shaft now protruding obscenely from his shoulder.

He’d been shot!

He’d been shot by an arrow!

With difficulty, he forced his head up from where it rested against his chest as another blinding flash of lightening detonated above. For a whole second, the small clearing was illuminated as clear as day. In that moment, he saw a nightmare of black shadow creep forward; a cruel, jagged blade clenched in a pale, white fist. Swirling black hair swept above a pair of beautiful eyes made terrible by the feral grimace of a scarred, white face.

In the moments before the blade was brought to his throat, he screamed into the booming thunder the only words left to his panic-stricken mind.

‘Help me! Somebody help me!’