[1]

It was dusk, but not for long.

From behind the gnarled, looming trees peered a pair of inquisitive eyes. What was the expression they bore? Was it uncertainty, anxiety, fear, or fulfillment? The unreadable emotion cast over the shadowed face of a boy. With special heed of staying within the shadows, he appeared curiously frightful of what was ahead of him.

The sunrays no longer burned his skin like during the long and treacherous period of day. Instead, the sun toasted him, embracing him with its arms of tempting warmth. Gentle patterns were painted in the sky with a soft, pastel palette. Strider reached his hand out of the shadows to guiltily savor its allure for a moment—and only a moment. He knew better than allowing himself to succumb to its elegance. The Light is a temptation, a sin to which thou shalt not give in. The Elders have repeated this innumerable times.

And the Elder were wise. It was proven so in several cases, the most recent one being the removal of Ink, the youngest Dreamer in the squad. The Elders never liked her, for she was always full of talk about animals, flowers and rivers. Her dreamcast always transmitted images of lilacs and songs of nightingales.

“That girl never focused what she should have been processing,” Elder Delta often commented with a sullen glower, “A Dreamer who dreams not for the Restoration is both a shame and a waste.”

Most of the other Dreamers agreed with him unconditionally, but Strider and a few odd couple secretly enjoyed listening to Ink. Or at the very least, they didn’t mute their audio inputs against her. To Strider, somehow Ink was, in Old Days term, entertaining.

But certainly entertainment was a sin for Dreamers, because Ink was removed. November last saw her wander out to the clearings the night before. She said it was already quite late, for the first shade of dawn could be seen creeping above the horizon. Yet Ink ignored her warnings and trotted out of the protective blanket of the gnarled and twisted trees. That was the last anyone saw of her alive.

“Scorched,” Baker, one of the Workers who went to retrieve her body two nights later, had told us, “The girl was blackened all over. Couldn’t even recognize her face. The Light just ate right through her skin. Even her internal memory was completely wiped.”

The other Dreamers were stupefied. Why did she allow herself to be exposed to direct sunlight? She could have very well prevented it by remaining within the dark sanctuary of the trees. But there was no reasoning to it. She was always the wacked one and no one really ever understood what she was thinking, or saying, half the time.

But in this moment Strider could somehow comprehend why Ink would have rather left the gloomy darkness of the forest for the enticing Light. In a strange, improper way, the sunlight felt right on his skin, like his fingers belonged under its silky blankets. Had the people of the Old Days tried to grasp it like him as well, only to have the Light spill through his feeble fingers? Were their outer shells built to stand the sun? Or were they also completely vulnerable like the people of Now?

Strider savored the only streaks of Light his skin could withstand until the very last moment. Then its final trace completely faded from the horizon and darkness took over the vast, endless sky. Night has come.

People began to wake.

-

[2]

“To dream is a privilege, a blessing God hath given. Thence Dreamers must act upon oath as the sanctified link and devote wholly to the prophesized Restoration.” Elder Alpha recited to the group of Dreamers as he had done everyday since the Discovery. Panning across the faces of the children, teens, and adults, he was greeted with pairs of dark and shadowed eyes. They have recently lost another one among them. Ink was her name; she was too young to become a Dreamer. Alpha sighed. Somewhere within him he knew it was difficult for children so young to be concerned about such things, let alone give them such great responsibility. But the Restoration is indispensible and pertains to the entire future of their race.

“We are close, Dreamers,” Alpha denoted, “God has laid all the clues in front of us. The future of our race is just before us. Let us defeat our worries and fatigue. The Restoration will allow us to escape our pitiful, rat-like lifestyles and tells us the ways of the Old Days. Our brilliant ancestors established a world that they controlled—a perfect world where food was plenty and danger was unheard of. They worked not and lived lives of pleasure and comfort,” he paused dramatically. “But that entire establishment was lost. The ancestors have angered God by appointing themselves as gods. They lost their faith. And God punished them.

“We are survivors, Dreamers, survivors. The people of Now are descendents of those who were granted exemption, but only to be loyal under the great Lord. And we were. For hundreds of years we prayed to the Lord for forgiveness. And with His great mercy we were rewarded with the key.”

The Dreamers have heard this many times before. But every time it seems like the meaning of faith and the importance of the Restoration digs deeper into their memory until it integrates with them, becoming a part of everything they do. Dreamers represented hope for the people. In this village where sleep was predominantly empty, those who dreamt were regarded as the ones chosen by God. The Elders said that dreaming was a trait of the ancestors, lost along the way of their establishment. Therefore, when the large heap of strange, prehistoric materials was found only a few months ago, the Elders decided the Dreamers should take on the task of rediscovering the past. “Dreamers were links to the Old Days. They were created into this world for the Restoration,” the Elders had stated. “That is the purpose which they shall serve.”

And so they shall.

-

[3]

Under the pastel moonlight, Dreamers dispersed across the great piles of prehistoric, foreign materials. From the past months of tireless research, they have found that the strange objects in their area were mostly composed of the same type of substance. Though it took a great variety of shapes, hardness, colors and malleability, it was essentially characterized by its inability to be eaten away by nature.

“Do you think this substance could actually be a key left by the ancestors?” A sweet, melodic voice frolicked into Strider’s ears. “Perhaps they knew a time like this would come and built this monument that would aid us.” Vivace’s florid curls bounced with her exaggerate hand gestures.

“Perhaps,” Strider is a lot less verbose with Vivace’s agitated behaviors around, being more wordlessly acquiescing than anybody else. But Vivace clearly had much more to say.

“They’re such strange things, don’t you think? How mind-blowing it is that our ancestors have actually been able to create matters greater than Nature itself? Look at these, Strider. Our sensors told us that these must have been created hundreds of years ago! Normally things would have decomposed by now. I can’t even imagine how powerful our ancestors must have been to be able to defy the rules of nature.” Vivace shook her head incredulously, “But they went too far. They forgot that God was the greatest and that He held power over everything.” Her eyelashes radiated softly under the soothing moonlight.

Strider nodded in silent agreement. Currently, they were gathering all the information they could draw from these historic artifacts. The two Dreamers bent over to pick up pieces which they assume to be useful for discovery. But progress was slow in their area. There hasn’t been much variety in the objects they’ve found.

“I heard Areas 12, 15 and a few others discovered some weird barrels,” Strider said, “Roy told me. He said they were made up of a metallic substance. All of them were the same size and shape, and he says it might be a breakthrough. They might actually mean something. They don’t know what’s inside yet, but Roy looked pretty excited.”

Vivace’s eyes lit up with mirth.

“That’s fantastic news, Strider,” her lips expanded into a smile of satisfaction. Placing her hands together, she muttered some prayers underneath her breath. Strider glanced over to study his angelic female companion. It was times like these which provoked his wrongful desire that they could stand under rays of the sun. Maybe then he could see all of her features with great detail. Maybe then he could see the color of her eyes. Perhaps even those fine eyelashes will then be visible, sparkling with definition.

But how wrong it was, to juxtapose an immaculate Dreamer such as Vivace with the diabolical sun? Strider was angry at himself for thinking so. He knows he’s slowly being drawn to the allure of the Light. His heart pounded with fear at the very thought. He does not wish to be sinful. He does not wish to be removed. What he wishes for is merely to appreciate the fairness of the girl who stood in front of him with more clarity. His eyes held longingly on to Vivace, who was prancing across the mount like a lively, juvenile doe.

Then his eyes darted to something else. As Vivace’s feet sifted across the heap, a shift in one of the objects caused a direct reflection into Strider’s eye. In slight discomfort, he waited for his lenses to refocus and zoom into it. When they did, Strider’s focus was completely drawn into the small, flat object which laid only a few strides ahead of him. It was not the metallic luster which had drawn him in, for they oftentimes found metal objects within the heaps, but the small symbol which was engraved into it which had.

It was the same symbol Strider bore on his wrist.

The familiarity of the design brought him running towards the small, rectangular disc. Clutching it in his hands, his pulse quickened. The strange familiarity of this object created essence of a long-lost brotherhood which he had reclaimed. What purpose this metal object served, Strider could not tell. But the immense kinship he felt towards it was something he’s never experienced before. He placed the object beside his wrist. The symbols were identical, composing of some odd curving lines which he assumed to be characters of the ancient language. Everyone was born with a symbol on their wrist, but there were only 5 or 6 unique ones within their entire community. Strider’s symbol was scarce in comparison.

Before he can begin thinking coherently about this mystery, Vivace’s delicate fingers began waving at him frantically from a distance. The rooster had croaked its ominous call. Morning was approaching. Without a word, Strider slipped the disc into his pocket and joined the others.

The Dreamers mechanically gathered into an assembly and marched back into the nebulous forest, leaving the forsaken heaps of relics perhaps as the people of the Old Days once have done.

a/n: I just need to say that this story is driving me crazy.