"Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?"
~John Lennon

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I was lying in my bed, fully clothed and staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. After we had returned from the Dwarf City tonight, we all headed off to Mr Blackwell's office straight way. I had explained there about how I had bumped into Grimm, just a 'friendly ole dwarf.' I relayed the information about xiyalor, the weapon that might have been used by the Hooded Ones.

When I had said that, Mr Blackwell looked like I might as well have taken a lightning bolt and struck him with it. Instantly, he had jumped up from his seat, an almost crazed expression on his face. He had rushed off to search his book shelves, all the while muttering something along the lines of, "I should've known...should've seen it..."

I had looked at the others for help, thoroughly bewildered but they looked just as perplexed as me. When Vanessa had finally ventured to ask what was wrong, Mr Blackwell had straightened, blinking, as if coming out of a daze.

After that, he had thanked us for our immense help and calmly ordered us to go to our beds, promising to talk later. I didn't know what to make of his eccentric behavior but the others, despite looking confused and a little annoyed at the abrupt dismissal, weren't too worried. I had lingered back at the door, wondering over and over again if I should tell him about the old dwarf, Grimm and the Mead of Poetry. Maybe he could help me make sense of it all. But at the end, I had decided against it.

So now, here I was, lying in bed, my eyelids refusing to close despite how tired my body was. Er, I might also have a drunk a cup of coffee. Or three. Sue me.

I found my mind drifting back to the vial that I had placed in my bed-side drawer, right beside my mom's sapphire necklace. I wanted to swallow that liquid and get it over with it. Get my answers, as Grimm had insisted I would. But I didn't even know what answer I was looking for. Sure, I still had an avalanche of questions about Morlea, its people, its history. But I suspected that is not what the he meant. He thought I was looking for something that he knew I wouldn't get if I asked Mr Blackwell. But what was it? And what did he mean when he said I needed the mead to realise my full potential?

I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't drink the mead now. I would...sometime. Just not now.

If only you were here, mom. Things would've been so much easier then, I thought wistfully. I could feel the tears stinging the corner of my eyes. I blinked them back before I could turn into a sobbing mess. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to lure me to a blissfully restful land.

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I opened my eyes, blinking and a little disoriented. I looked around and found a dark sky above me with barren and withered trees swimming into my view. The moon was a silver halo, almost invisible because of the thick black smoke. I coughed, suddenly aware of the overwhelming smell of burning oil, metal and...flesh. I heard distant shouts and cries and a trumpet blowing.

I felt a cold hand pressing against my wrist. I turned and shrieked in fright and astonishment. Staring back at me was a man. I was pretty sure I didn't know him. His messy brown hair was plastered with sweat and blood. A deep gash ran all the way from his left eye to his parted lips from which blood was slowly sipping out. My eyes met with his and I realised they were vacant. He was dead. I twisted away from him and rolled right into a pool of blood. Horrified and a little grossed out, I sat up. My back clattered with the sharp heel of a foot. I turned and found yet another dead man leaning against a gnarled and decaying tree. This time I was able to bite down my cry.

I could tell he was a soldier by the way he was dressed in iron armour and a helmet. A long javelin jutted out from his guts. I turned away, feeling bile rise on my throat. I stood up on my legs, although my trembling knees threatened to give out any second. Where was I? What is this place?

I whirled around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. It was then I spotted a lake, its water dirty and bloody. The forest behind it was burning. But no one tried to control the wildfire.

It was then I came to the harsh realisation. I was in Morlea. But this Morlea wasn't even remotely close to the one I was familiar with. The sound of the trumpet blowing distracted me again. I spotted a large army gathered at the horizon, shouting and chanting what seemed like a war cry. I rushed towards it.

My eyes widened at the army of Guardians standing tall and proud in perfect formation. Red banners with gold trim and two crossed swords at the middle were unfurled and waving in the air. Soldiers were dressed in iron armours and helmets. The cavalry stood in the vanguard, their horses neighing and swords and spears at ready. They looked weary and tired but determination was clear in their faces.

Behind them was the infantry that seemed to stretch on for miles, with at least a thousand soldiers, maybe even more – men and women included. They were similarly dressed and carried various assortment of weapons, ranging from swords, shields, daggers, metallic whips, chakrams et cetera. I also saw the mammoth sized catapults in the front right beside the cavalry. I looked above, hearing unearthly shrieks and gasped. Flying in circles with their wings spread out was a different type of cavalry altogether. Guardians sat in golden chariots being pulled by three pegasus each. They were accompanied by griffins, the ones who were shrieking as if bloodthirsty.

Down below, another army had joined the Guardians. A mixture of creatures marched together from the foot of the hills. Bright sparks of the warlocks lit up the sky, the howls of werewolves echoed, accompanied by the roars and snarls of vampires, the sound of hooves followed the centaurs, fairies flew and zoomed above the rest of the army with their wings, goblins and dwarfs staggered forward in their short legs but with rage twisting their features, elves followed closely behind with long elegantly carved bows and quivers in their backs. All at ready. Some stood at the back, some went to the front, and some flanked the sides. Anticipation hung in the air. Everyone stood still, their gazes fixed in the front, as if awaiting someone's arrival.

It was then I noticed the strangely familiar man standing at the very front of the entire army. I squinted, trying to confirm my suspicion if it was who I thought it was. Suddenly, I zoomed forward, flying past the army. But no one seemed to notice me. And then I was standing right beside none other than, Mr Blackwell. 

He looked different, not much though. A little younger maybe with short buzz cut hair and a determined face. He was dressed in silver chain-mail and mounted on a pegasus who closely reminded me of Storm. He carried a long sword. I inspected it closely and saw the angel on the hilt of the sword. I realized it was that same angel that was carved on the edge of the cane he carried. His sepia cape, the symbol of his power, bellowed behind him, almost dramatically.

"Mr Blackwell?" I asked in a whisper. He didn't seem to hear me.

"Mr Blackwell? What is going on?" I asked, a little louder. He blinked and looked around, confusion clear in his eyes. I realized he might have heard me but he couldn't see me. But why? What was happening?

Abruptly, I heard a galloping sound. A lone man in a horse came charging towards them. He seemed to be yelling something. I could see the relief in Mr Blackwell's eyes.

"Sire!" the soldier yelled as he neared. "I spotted the army. They are not far. They would reach before dawn breaks. God help us, their army is huge. They have those siege towers and battering rams. And all sorts of demon! A-and h-he was in the front. Ozoman. I saw him! It's no use. W-we should just give up, surrender," the man said, sobbing. "I saw it all. We can't possibly win. W-we can't..."

"William," Mr Blackwell said, the authority in his voice clear. "We will not surrender, lad. Never, not until our dying breath. We shall fight."

"B-but, sire, the Elders are coming too. I saw them. They are flying and gaining speed. They will reach here in just a few hours, sir!"

There was an uneasy ripple through the army.

"Then we shall fight them too," Mr Blackwell said firmly and calmly.

William nodded, although his sweaty and filthy face was still streaked with lines of tears. "Go join your ranks," Mr Blackwell ordered.

"Sir, there is one more thing," he said, hesitating a little.

"What is it?"

"The Elders...there were only four of them. I don't know where the fifth went."

Almost in cue, a flying streak appeared in the sky and a long dark shadow fell on the army. The shouts and cries increased in intensity. The archers looked ready to start flying arrows. Mr Blackwell held up a hand and ordered loudly, "Hold your fire! I repeat, hold your fire!"

I looked up and gasped, stumbling back as a huge dragon appeared on the sky, its giant wings beating through the air, the sheer velocity of it making me lose my ground. It had a long shiny body, horns curling from its snout with claws and teeth as large as my torso. It let out a roar and a plume of fire lit up the night sky briefly. 

And that's when I spotted her. A woman astride the dragon, looking fierce as a goddess. As she came nearer, I saw her long flowing blonde hair and beautiful face. She was wearing a breastplate and a helmet and carried a sword in a scabbard that hung from her waist. She was easily one of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen – regal and fierce. I spotted the white flag in her hands.

When the dragon landed, the entire army collectively stepped back, gaping as the woman jumped to her feet, appearing as if she were climbing out of a car. Again, I heard the uneasy stir. They didn't know whether to trust her.

"I come in peace!" she called, her hands held out. Behind her, the dragon beat his wings once more, crying out and flew up. Everyone's wide eyes followed as it disappeared in the night sky.

"Get out of here, traitor!" someone shouted, now that the spectacle was over.

"Kiss my arse, bitch!" another said.

"You shall rot in the pits of hell for betraying us, right after I'm done slicing you into ribbons!" another cried with fury.

She ignored them all and walked forward slowly. Her gaze fixed into Mr Blackwell's. "Can we talk?" she asked. After a second of hesitation, Mr Blackwell nodded and landed on his feet.

"Elizabeth," he greeted, although his voice was cold and devoid of emotions.

"Patrick," she replied. "I am here to explain. You have got it all wrong. We didn't join ranks with Ozoman because we wanted to. He forced us and--"

"Oh spare me, Elizabeth," he said scornfully. "I'm willing to hear what you have to say but do not lie to me. I just need to snap my fingers and you would be a corpse in my feet."

"I know that. I don't expect you to believe me but I need to try. Ozoman, he has his hold on us. It's like he has taken possession of our body. I didn't even know it was possible. Somehow, I was able to break free of its clutch. I can't explain how. There is no time. I would be back in his control in no time, I am sure. I came to warn you, Patrick, he has a large army. You can't possibly defeat it--"

"Oh the faith you have on us," Mr Blackwell replied sarcastically.

"Do not mock! Their sheer number is enough to frighten your army. The first volley they released yesterday was nothing compared to what they are going to do now! Look, look at the destruction left behind after the very first attack. The demons are vicious and merciless and hungry for blood. But you would have a chance if we, the Elders turn on your side. You need to distract him. Ozoman, that is, so that we could break free of his hold. I did it once, I am sure I can do it again. If you can do it, then the Elders could take control of their body again. I would be able to take control too and help--"

"So now you want to help us? Why, was the pay not good enough? Or did you not get your promised power?"

"I am trying to help you, Patrick!"

"Well, forgive me if I don't trust you. You have given me no reason to. Go back, Elizabeth, we don't need your help. You went to him willingly for God's sake!"

Elizabeth's shoulders dipped in defeat, her face hung low in shame. I realised she was crying. "I know, Patrick. I'm sorry. We didn't know...we thought it would do Morlea well if we could make peace with--"

"Go back, Elizabeth," Mr Blackwell repeated, his voice low and tired. "We shall meet in battle."

"No, don't let her get away!" someone yelled.

"Kill her!"

"Yes! Finish her off!"

"Nobody is going to kill her!" yelled Mr Blackwell, his voice so strong and powerful that I almost cowered. His kind grey eyes were hard as steel and I could see the vein at his temple pulsing in anger. He looked like a complete different person, strong and less likely to be sympathetic. "We do not know the consequences of trying to kill an Elder. It hasn't been done before and I am not willing to test it out, especially now, when we have a war to fight."

"I am neither immortal nor invincible. You can kill me, Patrick, if you wanted," Elizabeth said softly, low enough that only Mr Blackwell could hear her. "But you're right, there would be consequences. I do not know of which sort for no one has attempted it before. However, maybe it is your only option now. If you are not willing to listen to me, the least you can do is kill me. I have no desire to fight alongside Ozoman. Maybe you should kill me right now when I won't put up a fight. It would be merciful."

"Well, I am not feeling very merciful. I shall not kill you, Elizabeth. I don't want to risk it. But neither does that mean I will let you go. Alexander, Charles, come forward!" Mr Blackwell ordered.

Two young guys with bulky shoulders and biceps marched forward and did a brief salute. "Sir?"

"Tie her up and keep her locked in the dungeons. I will deal with her later. Keep a lookout and do not let her escape."

"Yes sir!" both of them said in unison and proceeded to tie Elizabeth's arms and legs with wires. She didn't protest as they forced her to her knees. But she did look up to Mr Blackwell, her eyes filled with emotions. I turned to look at Mr Blackwell and spotted the slightest flicker of sorrow, regret and something else, something I could only guess, flash through his eyes. But it was gone quickly.

"Patrick," Elizabeth said, her eyes lit in tears. "I have one last thing to say--"

"Save it," snapped Mr Blackwell. Then he waved his hand and blue sparks teased his fingertips. Elizabeth's eyes drooped.

I dropped down beside her. "Elizabeth?" I asked tentatively. Her closed eyes fluttered open. My own eyes widened when her blue ones met mine. She could see me!

"Elizabeth?" I asked. "Why? Why did you do it? Why did you betray them?"

"Don't make the same mistakes we did," she instead whispered, her voice frail and regretful before she closed her eyes again, as if her eyelids were too heavy to stay open and slumped against the arms of one of the guards.

"What? What does that mean?" I asked. "Elizabeth? I don't understand!"

She was fading though. I tried to hold on but in vain. It was slipping through my fingers, like water. Before the vision entirely faded, I spotted a familiar emerald pendant hanging in her neck.