Recorded by Sophia Lionhartt,
Of the events which took place on the 19th day of Radia, after midnight, year of Pinnikle: 1,229.

The crowd yelled, but it was not the shout that was expected (at least not by Fin, Leon, and myself). Guttural discontent came from many hearts, and they mocked the sandman, whom they thought was a bard! They even denied the magic sands, which they saw with their own eyes. They complained about it, as if it were some messy stage trick. Meanwhile: tears fell from the sandman's eyes, collecting droplets of sand, as they slid down his face and plopped heavily onto the stage floor. He remained silent and shook his head as the screen of sand, which had illustrated his story, fell and scattered across the stage.

The moment took me back to the morning we awoke without our parents, to a mess of sand from his body. This was much different though. That day, I was very sad for myself. This day, I mourned for the complete loss of sanity in the nix. The world is mad, but they do not mean to be: it is easier for them to believe their own truth, which is a lie.

There is no such thing as personal truth, and that is hard for some believe. What is true will always align with what is real, though many conclude that reality is only what they believe; because they will not believe in magic. The truth is this: Fear is is real, he is on the move, and he will topple the fools that will not believe in things that are greater than him. Fear will overcome those who are like the nix in that pub. Those were my thoughts, before I was unable to block out the clamouring around me.

"Oi!" A long eared nix yelled out. "It is I who should be shakin' my head at the notion of yer tale! You speak of nonsense begotten by quests of folly!"

He threw an empty bottle of ale at the sandman. Another nix threw an unfinished bottle, and another threw his plate, which was heavy with food. The crowd followed, as crowds do: incapable of control or reason. The sandman procured a shield of spiraling sand before him, which only enraged the crowd more.

The sandman's voice could be heard whispering truth into every ear, including mine: "You won't understand until this story fails to come true. By then, it will be too late."

Then a loud snap was heard, and the angry crowd fell into an ignorant slumber - all aside from our trio, at the back. The sandman whipped from himself the ale, food, and other things that had been thrown at him. He peered over the sleeping audience to see us at the back, and squinted. I guess he had noticed we were awake, or maybe he had known all along, since he did not put us to sleep with everyone else. Then, with the sound of rain, he became a spiral of golden sand, and whirled from the stage to land in front of us. Though he did not land with his feet on the wooden floor, but stood above it. His sands recollected into the form he had taken on stage: ornate clothing, and a wizard's hat.

"Jack...?" Fin stepped forward and questioned him.

"Yeah, it's me," He said; and his voice came from every direction, though he only spoke to us.

He was distraught from the upheaval, and did not care to dull his powerful, ancient tone. He tilted back the brim of the unfitting hat, and we saw his face: still pouring out slow, sand-filled tears.

Fin put a hand on his sand-clothed shoulder and affirmed him: "Fantastic tale, old friend. I'm sorry they didn't understand."

Fin made eyes with the sandman, and somehow brought him comfort. Only Fin would think to console the master of dreams, as if they were close-knit friends.

"Why didn't... We fall asleep?" I couldn't help asking. The words came out unintended, though I had burned to ask with them in the moment. I blushed.

He did acknowledge my question, but answered Fin, "Finnegan Lionhartt, you are correct."

Fin was startled to be addressed by his full name, after so long a time had passed from our last interaction with the sandman.

He continued to speak to all of us, and it seemed like he spoke my very own thoughts: "The world is indeed mad. A darkness has overtaken them, and has taken advantage of their pride; swelling it in secret. What they do is not their fault, but is because they will not believe the truth; which is why they sleep now - to gifts of good dreams."

The sandman's words always were elegant and gentle, as they were then, even though he was saddened. He made his way out of the tavern, and we followed him outside, to the edge of the dock. He walked away for the sake of silence, though it was not for silence from the pub: all who had been there had fallen into deep sleep. It was silence from the mood. Dustings of golden sand trailed from him as he walked, and we followed. We followed his glittering sand, and globs of sandy tears.

"Time, himself, doth mourn, this night," Leon spoke. I was confused by his words, but his tone conveyed there was something up his sleeve... The king prodded, diplomatically: "We came, because we were led to you by a guiding red ribbon from Lofi... Though it seems we were only led to his hat."

"Yes, the hat," Jack chucked, and his voice came from himself. He was soothed by the silence under starlight.

He took off the wizard's had, which did belong to Lofi (I knew it!). His unkempt black hair, and very young face was revealed. He looked at the pointy hat in his hands with adoration, sniffled and chuckled, explaining: "This was my disguise. I couldn't have the nix thinking I was... Well... Who I am."

Leon sauntered a few kingly paces closer to him and with an endearing snicker, he asked: "And what did you hope from your disguise?"

"Tonight, I was but a bard, with the command of a wizard — "

"— Perhaps until you put them all to sleep," Leon cut in. "Then, you were sandman again."

The king was compelled to understand the sandman's motives. We all were, but of our trio, only Leon knew how to drive the sandman to unveil his answers. He was, after all, the king; and had dealt with a great many mystical things.

"Ah yes, that was anticipated," Jack said.

"Oh? You meant to put them to sleep?" the king said, and leaned in.

"Yes, you see: I knew the crowd would respond the way they did, because of the very same darkness that took the lives of your family, great king of Pinnikle; and because of the very same dream-beast who your parents silenced for a time, dear Finnegan and Sophia Lionhartt."

My heart raced as I realized I could have answers! All I needed to do was ask him a question, if only I could form the words to ask it! But I kept silent beside my brother, and behind the king. I trusted Leon to stay on task. Perhaps, I should have asked about my parents, and what they faced - but I lost my chance. Fin turned the conversation, in a way that was very unexpected.

"Jack," he said, and walked close to the sandman. "That name was used by a mirror man. who recently saved my life. Do you share a name, or a bond with that man?" Fin asked in a way that was firm, though not demanding.

The sandman looked into Fin's eyes deeply, and said words which did not answer the question directly, but were things we had heard before: "Are not dreams only cries for more memories - for more time, FInnegan Lionhartt?"

A smirk appeared on the sandman's face, before he spiraled into a gentle tornado of silver. Fin jumped back. Leon came to my side to shelter me from whatever wrath or sleep Fin had just provoked! But the sandman was not angry. From the spiral of sands, he emerged a silver, reflective man, with no clothing; whose form was smooth. His face had no dimples for eyes, nor a slit for a mouth, but was a polished oval atop a silver, featureless body.

"Does not sand turn to glass, over time?" he asked, and I knew that if his new smooth face could have grinned; it would have.

We were silent. I could not think of a response, Fin didn't fire one off, and Leon was perhaps overcome by awe. Not even the king had been familiar with the ways of the sandman. He had not known that Jack was also Time himself. As for the king's prior statement about time mourning: It was only a declaration that something very sad had happened; something that Time would be sad about, if he were a man, which we then knew he was.

"Does not time reflect all who come to look upon it?" Jack asked, rhetorically.

My eyes widened, and I squeaked out a delayed conclusion: "You're... Time."

"Yes, Sophia Lionhartt. I am time himself, and the giver of all good dreams, both. As dreams are only cries for more memories; and memories desired are those good and whimsical things - achievable or not. Though I'm not the wizard you look for this night, surely I will help you on your path."

He changed back into the form of the sandman, though without the showmanship as before. With glimmering sounds that turned to a chatter of sand: he transformed into his other body. His sandy face came first, then the rest of his body.

Fin spoke, again, with his own agenda: "Take us to the future! Then we will not be overtaken by the darkness,". He wanted to keep me safe. That's why he said it.

"Fin, the future is a thing even I have yet to trod," Jack replied. "The past. Well, we could go there," He said, chuckling. Then his tone became serious as he gestured with a nod to the building behind us. "Perhaps being in the present, you ought to turn your gaze back round to Starfall Fix."

We all became very curious about what he meant, and our curiosity moved us to look behind. There were dark, wispy clouds coming from inside the tavern.

"Try to stave off the terror," He said, in an experienced tone. "Now that the nix have heard of Fear, the nightmares have come."

"You wish to end us!?" Leon said with a grimace, assuming the sandman had thrown the nix into a nightmarish sleep.

"No, no - quite the opposite. I have never had intent to end the life of any living thing. Not you, nor those inside, nor the stars, nor animals. I did, however, anticipate the crowd would be enraged, because they would believe my story to be folly. So I had planned to put them to sleep after they lost control of their sensibility."

I clarified: "So you put them to sleep, in good dreams, and then nightmares came?"

He responded with a parabolic question: "Do you not lure a fish with bait?"

"What does bait have to do with anything!?" Fin asked.

Darkness continued to grow inside of Starfall Fix. Fin, Leon, and I became very anxious, believing it might spill out, or that Fear would come to collect the darkness. All the while, Jack nonchalauntly (and perhaps necessarily) gave us unbelievable and untimely context for the story he had told.

He explained: "You see: tonight was a test; an experiment. I wanted to see how the nix would respond to the truth. My story was true. Fear is ancient, as myself. He did, indeed steal all the things I was meant for. He did take away the life I was supposed to live, and topple the threshold I should have passed through. But all that was before something happened that neither of us anticipated: the creation of planets, of peoples to populate them, and of creatures that are magnificent. Since then, I have been the lone witness of all things, powerless to stop Fear... until now.

"Necessary context aside: tonight was a test. Fear often produces rage, and that produces more fear - a terrible cycle. That is what happened: my story made them angry; and it was a kind of anger that is not just, but comes from lack of understanding. When a person does not understand something, they become afraid of it: thus, the angry crowd became afraid. I did hope they would understand the truth I told them, but knew it would not be likely. Anticipating the crowd would become angry: I put them all into good dreams, and, as you understand: before I put them to sleep, they had already become fearful. Darkness was already rampant in the room, and the slumber has slowed it from growing. It was so that Fear might not feast on the darkness you see billowing inside the tavern, but be baited."

"I think I'm understanding..." Leon said.

"But how will you handle the darkness you've coerced!? And what will you do if Fear comes!?" Fin asked, annoyed by the risks of the sandman.

"Ah yes, the solution: I will not be handling any of it myself, at first; but the man to whom belongs this hat will do something very great."

My heart raced. "Lofi..." I muttered, excited that I might see him.

Jack threw the hat into the air, pointy top up. With a pointing finger: he produced sand that spun the hat as he shouted, " Lofi It's time!". The sandman shouted with impeccable volume, as if he were calling out to the ends of Pinnikle.