"And that's why turtles are dumb," Marie concluded the next morning as the group walked down to their normal spot.

"But they're so cute!" Adrien cried.

"Cute, but evil," Marie giggled. "Anyway, can we continue Fleur's story now?!"

"Yeah, let's do that," Mac breathed. "Because, no offense, but this turtle Ted-Talk you're giving us is... how do I put it...?"

"Poorly written," Fleur giggled, making everyone else but Marie burst into a fit of giggles.

"Hey, it's not poorly written!" Marie exclaimed.

"Well, half of your arguments are only based on their appearance," Mac pointed out. "And the other half use Bowser as an example, who is a Koopa, not a turtle." 

"Whatever," Marie huffed, sitting down and crushing a patch of buttercups. 

Mac gasped and rushed over to her, immediately grasping her arm and pulling her to her feet. "Careful! You're killing them!" he cried.

"Huh? Dude, we pick flowers all the time," she giggled.

"Yeah, but you're crushing their heads! Now they're all crumpled and sad..." 

Marie shook her head and rolled her eyes as Mac kneeled down by the crushed buttercups and carefully started to stand them back up. They were already dead, though. There was no point in trying to save them.

"Buddy, they're gone," Adrien said with a grim tone as he gently patted Mac's shoulder.

But the smaller boy refused to give up. 

"No, they're okay!" Mac exclaimed. "They're fine, see?"

The flowers were not fine.

But Fleur didn't tell him this. Instead, she sat down next to him, then started helping him "save" them by trying to straighten their crushed stems and petals. 

"You know what, I think they're better than fine. They're resilient flowers, now! They lived through something super traumatic. They're survivors," she smiled.

"Yeah. Being crushed by Marie's butt DOES sound pretty traumatic..." Adrien laughed, making Marie turn red with embarrassment. 

"Whatever, can we just continue the story?" Marie huffed.

"Ooh, yeah!" Adrien exclaimed. "By the way, I have a few more... notes-"

"What now? I didn't kill off Mr. Blumiere," Fleur giggled.

"Yeah. But you also didn't INCLUDE him!" Adrien exclaimed. "He's not even in it."

"Oh, believe me, he will be."

"When?"

"How about right now?" 

~ Music Start ~

The rest of the friends all gathered around as Fleur clutched her notebook, ready to continue telling her tale. There was always an excited glint in her eyes whenever she got invested in her own stories. It was similar to childlike wonder but more fierce, more powerful.

She took a deep breath, briefly reminding herself where she left off, then started telling.

Fleur: The Tribe was led by a powerful man
With the ancient world in the palm of his hand
To all intents and purposes
He was known throughout the land and sea
Whatever he did, he was showered with praise
If he cracked a joke then you chortled for days
No one had rights or a vote but the king

In fact, you might say it was a family thing

Fleur, Adrie, Marie, and Mac: When a tribesman's around
Then you get down on the ground
If you ever find yourself near the Bleck family...

Fleur: Get down on your knees

Adrien, Marie, and Mac: A Tribesman's story
A Tribesman's story
A Tribesman's story
A Tribesman's story

Fleur: Down at the other end of the scale
Dimentio is still doing time in jail
For even though he is in with the guards
A lifetime in prison seems quite on the cards
But if my analysis of the position is right

At the end of the tunnel, there's a

Fleur, Adrien, Marie, and Mac: Glimmer of light

Fleur: For all of a sudden indescribable things
Have shattered the sleep of both peasants and kings

Fleur, Adrien, Marie, and Mac: Strange as it seems

There's been a run of crazy dreams

Fleur: And a man who can interpret could go far
Could become a star...

 Adrien, Marie, and Mac: Could be famous, could be a big success
Could be famous, could be a big success

Fleur, Adrien, Marie, and Mac: Strange as it seems,

There's been a run of crazy dreams

Adrien, Marie, and Mac: And a man who can interpret could go far...

Fleur: Could become a star... 

Adrien, Marie, and Mac: Could be famous, could be a big success

Fleur: A star...

Adrien, Marie, and Mac: Could be famous, could be a big success.
Strange as it seems...

Fleur: There's been a run of crazy dreams!!!

Mac smiled at her as she set her book down and met his eyes.

Adrien and Marie: And a man who can interpret
Could go far...

Fleur: Could become a star!!! 

Adrien and Marie: Could be famous, could be a big success
Could be famous

All: Could be a...
Star!

~ Music Stop ~

As the storm clouds gathered on the horizon, the wind began to pick up, howling through the trees. The air was thick with tension as the first drops of rain began to fall, pattering against the windows like the footsteps of some unseen foe. The power flickered, then went out completely, plunging the room into darkness. All around, the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for whatever was coming next. From the depths of the murky water rose seven creatures, covered in the thick liquid, which slowly seeped off of them. Behind them, seven other dark figures, walking closer...closer... closer... their footsteps echoing like beating drums, just barely out of unison. They drew nearer and nearer until-

"FATHER!" Blumiere shouted, sitting up in bed. His heart rate had quickened and his breathing was rapid as the line between his dreams and reality became clearer and clearer. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, then lowered his face into his hands.

That had been the fifteenth night in a row he woke in a fit of terror from the same dream. It was common knowledge that all dreams had meaning, but there wasn't a single person in the Tribe of Darkness who knew how to even begin deciphering Blumiere's dreams. They were all just so... unusual.

His father came rushing into his room upon hearing his cries and threw the door open, making Blumiere flinch.

"What's wrong?" he demanded. Blumiere's father had the kind of voice that made it seem like he was always demanding or commanding.

"More dreams," Blumiere muttered. 

His father's face dropped slightly.

"Oh."

His father then fell silent. He was ever so slightly annoyed that he had been woken up yet again because of something as silly as dreams, but the silence was more so due to the fact that he wasn't sure what else to say. He tried comforting his son before (which he wasn't exactly the best at,) he tried speaking to other tribesmen, but there was nothing he could do to make the dreams go away.

Meanwhile, ever since the dreams started, Blumiere had been overwhelmed with an impending sense of doom. He was constantly on high alert as if something was waiting within the shadows, ready to grab him and drag him away. He started to notice how everyone's eyes were always on him. He started to feel as though he was always being watched, always in the spotlight, (which he was, but he hadn't really realized it earlier.)

"I told you, there's nothing we can do," the tribe's primary medic had told him the following day when he went to her and informed her about the reoccurring dream. 

"But they're so vivid, so real. I can't shake them, no matter how hard I try. I was hoping you might know something about dream interpretation, or maybe some kind of spell that could help me. Come on, we're the Tribe of Darkness!" Blumiere exclaimed, his voice rising in frustration. "Dark magic is capable of practically anything. You're seriously telling me we don't have anyone who can stop the dreams, or at least tell me what they mean?"

"I'm afraid we don't have those kinds of talents," the medic said, shaking her head. "We've tried everything, but nothing seems to work. The dreams are too powerful, too deep-seated."

"Yeah. It's not like we have that one guy," her assistant shrugged, looking up from his notes.

Blumiere immediately perked up. "One guy? What one guy?" he demanded.

The assistant hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "You know, the one who's able to decipher the meaning behind dreams and stuff. He's imprisoned in the Dark Lands for killing their king or something-"

"King Boo is dead?" Blumiere questioned.

The assistant rolled his eyes, just slightly annoyed with being interrupted. Blumiere noticed, but he didn't say anything.

"Well, what do we know about this guy? Maybe he can help me-" Blumiere started to say.

"Nope. Nu-uh. Your father would probably kill us for even mentioning him to you," the primary medic said, cutting him off. "He's not part of our tribe."

"I know, but if he can help-" Blumiere persisted.

"Blumiere, that's enough," the primary medic said firmly. "I understand that you're frustrated and scared, but we can't just go around seeking help from strangers. Your father has his reasons for keeping us isolated, and we have to respect that."

Blumiere nodded, feeling somewhat defeated. Even as a young adult, his father still controlled every aspect of his life. Who he could speak to, where he went, he even controlled everyone around him! Sometimes, he envied other tribesmen. Tribesmen who didn't have to live with a leader for a father. It felt like he was living in a prison, and he couldn't escape. Not the same kind of prison this dream-interpreted person was locked in, but a metaphorical prison. One that he couldn't escape from. An arguably worse prison.

Well, maybe not worse. He wasn't starving or cold. He was still legally "free." But it was still bad!

When the time came for him to become the next tribe leader and have children of his own, he would go about things way differently. Most importantly, he would be a father to his own children and a leader to his people. He wouldn't force his children to live without a normal, loving parent. He would give them the freedom to make their own choices and be their own person. He would be there for them, to guide them and support them, but never to control them.

Not that his father wasn't loving. He was. Or... he said he was. He didn't really show it, and Blumiere didn't really feel it. It was a different kind of love. A love that was more about duty and responsibility than about affection and connection. Blumiere wished that his father could see him for who he was, not just as the next in line to lead the tribe. He wished that he could have a real conversation with him, one where they talked about their hopes and dreams, their fears and doubts. But that seemed impossible. His father was too distant, too focused on the bigger picture, to really connect with him on a personal level.

Although, thinking of the future got him thinking about the present. He already was an adult. He was his own person. So why shouldn't he have been able to do what he needed? His dad didn't legally have as much power over him anymore. What was stopping him from summoning this dream interpreter himself? As the next in line for the position of the tribe leader, he still had some power. He could probably send a group of men to retrieve this guy without his father's permission.

Would he get in trouble? Yes, 100%. But maybe it was worth it. He had to take a chance and do what he felt was right. He had to break free from his father's control and start living his own life. He couldn't let fear hold him back. Besides, he couldn't live his life waiting for his father to die and pass the power on. Who knew how long that would take? He had to take matters into his own hands and make things happen. It was time for him to step up and be the leader he knew he could be.

There was more behind his dreams, and he knew it. His father knew it. Everyone knew it, but it was up to him to actually do something about it. He had to find a way to make sense of his dreams, and the only way to do that was to seek out the dream interpreter. He couldn't let his father's disapproval stop him from finding the answers he needed. He had to be brave and take a risk. He knew that if he didn't do it now, he might never have the chance again. He had to be willing to face the consequences of his actions, no matter how severe they might be.

And knowing his father, they would be pretty severe.