Recorded by Sophia Lionhartt,
Of the events which took place on the 18th day of Radia, into the middle of the night, year of Pinnikle: 1,229.

A little older, a little wiser is a misleading statement. It is only something that may be true. Wisdom does not come with age, but is acting on what is known. Often, children are the most wise. Find one, and learn what it is like to be unstained - not tired, not weighed with bitterness or grief from harsh living; but only excited about what living may bring.

— The wisdom of Lofi Phelix, to defend all who are both young, and wise

And we came, a trio, into the tavern "Starfall fix". From inside, there was a voice like a showman. The voice came from a man on the only stage in the pub, who wore a long, pointy hat. I have only ever seen one person wear a hat like that, and it was Lofi. Every eye was on the showman. He beckoned them toward the stage for a story.

"Can it be!?" I whispered.

"Nah..." Fin answered back quietly, "He looks too young."

The wizard did seem very young, if he even was a wizard. For all I knew, he just stole Lofi's hat, or was impersonating a magician for the sake of entertainment. The brim of his hat covered one eye as he danced and gestured, and riled up the crowd saying, "Come all! Come, hear the bard's tale, of something strange, something far off - something you've never heard of before!"

Below the hat, black hair could be seen, sweeping over hidden ears. His clothing was that of royals: a red overcoat to cover an ornate blue buttoned shirt, and slim blue trousers with brown leather shoes. His cheeks were fair and blushy, and his smile was enamoring; like the brightest of river pearls, in the perfect shape.

Leon thought it was Lofi, too. As he described: "This is no showman, and certainly no ordinary bard. This, my friends, is the wizard we have searched for... but why is he calling himself a bard?". Leon muttered those words, in a quiet and happy tone. I had not known the king long, but long enough to know he was excited about his conclusion... and maybe a little tipsy.

"Bards tell stories," Fin said in a low voice. "Wizards do not."

I was about to respond to Fin, when the shoman threw out his hands! They began to glow, then bright and beautiful sand came from them. I was startled, though the act was not terrifying. It was wondrous and gentle. I supposed I was still on edge, from falling from End's Drop. Glittering sand filled the space behind the wizard, until it formed what looked like a giant sparkling screen of sand. I knew those sands, and upon seeing the sands of dream: I conceded this was not my old beloved Lofi, but the sandman. My heart fell a bit, and at same time I became increasingly curious. I was still very happy to see him though, after such a long time had passed. As he began his tale like a bard, I was hooked from the start.

The crowd erupted, and these words could be heard from many individuals: "Magic show eh? 'E's a wizard in't 'e! Wot a treat we've got on our 'ands! Go on then, get on with yer tale, ol' bard! We've not got the 'ole night!"

They were amazed, impatient, and simple: the type expected to frequent pubs. They did not think to consider "the wizard" did not have a staff, nor that the sand from his hands was the sand of dream; not something one would see from a wizard. Simple, and foolish: They truly believed the sandman was a wizard bard, only because of the hat he wore.

The sandman was not bothered by them. In an elegant, young, and sagely voice (and wearing a whimsical half smile that I had missed), he began telling a tale which resembled my parent's story, before coming to Pinnikle. His story was much more ancient, though. As he told his tale, the screen displayed his story.

"I've heard whispers of a threshold. Have you heard them, too? They say that it glimmers, and you hear it like jewels - if those made a sound. I saw it once, actually... It was a beautiful juncture  - absolutely awe-inspiring, and wonderful! I found it before there were planets, or moons, or suns; back when I was alone in the yonder. Alone, except for the company of lights from stars who glistened, far off and wonderful. This is my first memory, at the beginning of time.

"The threshold stood upon nothing. It had no door, and was open for any to pass through. I felt it was for me alone. Perhaps the feeling was because I was among the few who came first of all things: in empty space, and by my lonesome. I could not see through the threshold, because It was filled with these... spheres... I tell you, those things were a sight themselves! They were like glowing orbs of light, with moving images on the inside! I walked up to the threshold, and passed 'round it once. The thing was so peculiar! On both sides, it was filled with all those spheres, and I found there to be nothing inside, only except for those things, spilling through the front and back of it!

"I leaned over in curiosity to peer at the orbs. From what i could gather: I believe the images in them were actually memories - moving memories, that's right - inside of the glowing balls of light! Suddenly, one rolled out to me. I bent over and looked at it, curiously. The sphere played a memory of me! But I had not yet lived the images. I walked passed the sphere, and looked closely at the ones bursting from the threshold. They were all memories I'd like to make. I was happy in them... I had served many people. I was better in them. I was... all the things I'd like to be.

"Suddenly I thought, 'Why don't I walk through?'

"I rubbed my hands in excitement, and raised a foot to march inside, when from behind I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder... It was cold. With one hand, it held me, and I saw it's other hand slowly reach around my opposite shoulder. It was dark, and cloud-like. I stood at tension, and my eyes followed as its free hand reached over my shoulder. It was a dark and whispy hand. My eyes watched the arm stretch out, like a thin little cloud, and reach into the threshold. It grasped one of my memories! Slowly, it pulled the sphere past my shoulder, holding the memory in its palm, then let go of me.

"I heard a quick rustle, the thrumming of a wooden box being opened, a clatter and a swoosh; followed by the sound of a box closing, and again followed by the plaintive sound of clanging chains. It sounded like my precious memory had been dropped into a wooden box, held by chains! I heard them again, the chains. Then a rustle, as that thing quickly put one hand to my shoulder again. I leaned backward, and felt a point of the box jab my back. I was paralyzed there. I couldn't find words to ask what was happening, and it was all very surreal...

"Days passed! So many, that I lost count of them. During the passage of moments, the dark man took every bright memory from the threshold, dropping each one into its box, somehow. I don't know how they all fit. I was too scared to ask. When the threshold was free of the clutter, I saw green grass through the way. It was a sight, let me tell you! It was a type of grass you'd see at sunset, with  golden hue. It looked so lush, and I could see dew on it!"

"I thought again, 'Certainly, the dark hand has cleared the way! He has helped me! Now, I will walk through!'

"I lifted my leg to walk, or so I thought... I mean to tell you that I willed with all my might to lift one leg! Then I tried to lift the other... But I could not. I was weak from hopelessness: a thing I had not known.

"For the first time, I mustered the courage to open my mouth and ask, 'Familiar hand, who is it you belong to?'

"Then I heard a voice like shadows speak into my ear, 'It is me: Fear.'

"'Well Mr... Fear, you say? What is this threshold!?' I asked him.

"'It was full of risks... But do not be anxious! I have taken them from you,' he answered.

"I thought to myself a moment, silently, then became upset. I told the man: 'They didn't seem like risks! They seemed like good things - things I'd like to live one day! Why did you take them!?'

"He did not answer me, but only held me as I peered through the still-bright threshold. The grass on the inside turned gold in its dying, and then grey, and then... It was barren. Fear walked past me, and I saw the shadow. He had a box wrung round his neck - a pretty wooden box hanging from his chest. It dangled somehow by a chain, round his cloudy neck, and I do not know how. He was only a whispy figure, and the box held by a chian should have fallen through the specter's neck. 

"He put a hand to the threshold. With some effort he heaved. He grunted. Finally, after much effort, the dark man pushed my threshold to the ground. The threshold left a cloud of dust in the air beside him. It disappeared as the dust settled. My threshold... Disappeared. Then, with nothing more to take from me, the dark man began to walk away!

"I asked him: 'Mr. Fear, what's inside the box? Are my spheres in there?'

"He stood a moment before me, and with his back turned, his voice reached my ears: 'It is my box! It is for... safe-keeping,'.

"'Yes, but what is inside, sir?' I asked him.

"He left me there to hear no response. He had stolen memories from me, which I had not yet made. Fear, as you know, always steals moments from us before we may walk into them. In my tale: the thief stole, and walked off into the dark... I was alone. My courage was gone, and the threshold of my future moments had been destroyed. I was very upset.

"I tell you this thing: if another owned the box, they would not have used it in such a contemptuous way. Another has owned the box, and a time will come when they own it again, never to let it fall into the hands of Fear. It is a very special thing, wherein lie all the things that don't exist: none of which should be good moments! Only Fear, that wretched creature, steals ambition."

It was at that moment, that the sandman became silent, as if he had been overcome by emotion. He looked out over his audience, no longer seeming like a simple group, but a room full of pensive thinkers. I had chills, and every person inside of Starfall Fix waited eagerly for the bard to speak again. He did break his silence, masterfully, and it nearly brought me to tears.

"What's that? You know the dark man, too? Hey now... It's okay. We won't give him thought! We've both lost a little... Well maybe one of us more than the other, but I'm not about to say who's lost the most!

"I have an idea, friend. Is it okay if I call you my friend? I mean, we're in this together now, and we both know the dark man. Here is my idea: I am going to tell a greater story. By the end, I believe our threshold's will re-appear.

"This tale will be greater than what has happened to us! It will inspire us! Now be attentive closely, because what I am about to tell you is worth more than anything in this dark place. They call me the teller, among other names, and I'll tell you these things about a place I've heard of.

"I'll tell you about the power of whispers - just wait until you know! And how many stars were made to be - and about queens and kings, and humble beginnings. Perhaps the best thing is this - I am so very excited to say: this story I'll tell has not yet been told, and there are many lessons ahead that are sure to stir hope.

"At the end, the hope you have for better things will be a memory, because you'll be different. This story was crafted to bring bravery to all who have been stolen from, if they only believe. Isn't that why you came here? Would you not like to be ever-more lion-hearted? Good friend, if your threshold still glimmers - whether dimly, or greatly - I promise to make it glimmer even more brightly. I will tell you about things that are so great. I will give you such hope, and fill you with such wonder: at the end of this story, your threshold will appear before you, because it will be brimming with all the things you can do. I'll even help you pass through it. You will march. My friend, Fear will not steal from you again, as he stole from me. 

"Now be attentive closely, for this beginning has no once upon a time - no - It is much different! Are you prepared? Does your heart race to know what lie in wait? Hold your breath, and feel your heart run wild! Where we go, there is freedom. There is victory.

"Imagine with me, if you will, that you had never known Fear. To do so, you might first ask the question: What is Fear? It is a thing like a man, which holds us back from every glimmering moment. He stands darkly at your back, in certain instances - like when looking forward to things that end; while presently you'd like them to remain.

"Fear reaches around your back, stealing away cherished moments from your future - memories you've not yet known! Things like sunny days, friendship, stars, love, and life itself.

"If you never knew that dark thing, you would be free in boldness to walk into each and every glistening moment, and do things like: hatch a plan to lasso a star - swing from it, and snatch a dead man into life - ushering him into moments he might also go into. Those are his own moments, which Fear would like to steal away and keep in that box rung round its thin neck - where it keeps all the things that don't exist. He is the dark writhing shadow, which holds us back from the embrace of all good things. Cherished things! Now in a box, to be kept away from their owner; safe but not-to-be lived in! Future memories of better moments, gone forever. I tell you, Fear is the enemy of time, because in his thieving, he presents the expression: 'All things are stolen by time,'. It is a lie though.

"The shadow presents this notion when it steals our memories before they are lived in. It steals our bravery, before we can know it! It is a lying, tricking, thieving thing; and it ought to never be trusted! Meanwhile... Time - gentle time - is an innocent witness to every moment, endlessly. He knows that dark man, and will tell you that Fear is a boaster! Yet again I say: Fear is the thief! Above all: he is a formless coward, the thief of wonder. Time will tell you: Fear is angry, because he has no threshold. He is inferior, and intends to make each of us as himself. He must be stopped!

"Dear friend, he must be stopped. His box must be ripped from his thin neck, and placed on it's rightful owner: the one who will put Fear, and every terrible thing, in the box wherein lie all the things that don't exist. Fear must be stopped, and my story ends here, with you. These things I've told you have been true. You must hope, and be joyful, and dream very good dreams about things you can do! And you must do the best that your lives can accomplish. And if you do; if everyone on Pinnikle does these things: we could kill the beast."

... And there was silence... The sandman bowed, removing the familiar pointy hat, and there was still silence. I counted the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four, and three quarter seconds went by; and then the crowd erupted.

"Boo!" They shouted, and my heart sank.

The sandman had told them more truth than they could handle, and certainly more than they deserved. I felt it was for me. It must have been for us, the trio: the ones who heard, and believed.