With his gaze fixed on the ceiling and focusing on the stars that were glued on it, Finnian sighed. He was not able to remember what he had dreamed of, something strange in him. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, perceiving his parents as they cooked. They would soon make him get up.

He had hardly been off school for a day, and with the holidays without having to study, he had weeks ahead of him in which he would do whatever he liked most. Everything was ready for the beach, which wasn’t as fun as many thought. Between his parents worshipping to merge with the sun loungers (becoming a crabbing version of his own) and not making anything unusual, boredom was assured.

“Would they not have time to ‘do nothing when they went to sleep’?” Finnian sank his head on the pillow, containing a grunt of frustration. 

He would prefer to stay there with their grandparents. That would be thousand times more entertaining, and everyone would be less sensitive.

Raising carefully, he sought his notebook in the middle of the gloom but did not open it, conscious that time was over. His parents, Nicolas and Victoria, loved his writing side, partly because they were both journalists and loved their work. However, they then complained when he wrote spells or creatures of a fantastic world that he would love to visit. “Stop dreaming so much and stay in the real one,” his father told him. As if that solution was going to change him suddenly and stop fearing what might be found when he closed his eyes.

He walked out of his bedroom like a ninja, ignoring that he was still in pyjamas, and that would be the first thing they would point out. But he needed breakfast, especially now that his stomach started to get impatient. And maybe, only maybe, he would end up remembering it after eating something.

“Finnian? What do you do still in pyjamas?” his father said.

“We called you a while ago, Finn. Didn’t you hear us?” his mother added, to which he shook his head. “Well, go to wash your face first. What a sleepy look you have, and what a hair!

Obeying without replicating, he found how messy his hair was in the bathroom, just like he was shocked. 

Looking at him, Finnian was not as tall as most children of his age, although he assumed that time would change that. He shared with his mother the same brown colour of his eyes and hair, although in his case, it was much more rebellious than his father’s. His skin was less tanned than him too. He wasn’t so different from them. However, his name could be what most distinguished him from them because of his mother’s whim.

After going back to the kitchen, his father muttered after taking a long drink of his cup, looking at him with his eyebrows close together.

“Still into your pyjamas? Do you have prepared what you will take with you?”

“Since last night,” Finnian murmured, focusing once again on his breakfast.

Actually, he was always prepared. He spent most of his time at his grandparents’ house, so his backpack alternated between textbooks and notebooks and whatever he added. Videogames? Check! Headphones! Check! Notebook for writing and drawing? Double-check! It wasn’t much, but he was rarely empty-handed, especially if he had to face a long trip. Perhaps he was lucky enough and could sleep as they drove away from the Madrid he liked so much.

Their parents continued talking about work, and something happening in the government was coming through one ear and going out through the other. Overall, they would not explain it either, but that prevented them from focusing on him and complex issues. Or that was what he expected until his father started talking about what he would teach him when at the beach: he would learn to swim better, to dive, to play volleyball, and a long list of sporting activities that made him sigh.

Those who didn’t know him had to know two things: The first was about his father and his frustrated passion for football he tried to live through him; the second was that he couldn’t do worse in a sport like that or any particular. But saying nothing was better.

“Hey, everything all right?” his mom asked while cleaning.

“Sure,” Finnian replied, almost like a robot. “Are we going to take a long time to leave?”

However, he got no answer, not even a movement from his parents. It was as if time had stopped. The noise of the outside cars was also interrupted, with a grave silence. He moved his hand over her eyes, trying to provoke any kind of reaction with no result. Even the kitchen clock did not work, nor was he able to smell the coffee. Everything remained frozen in time. The only exception was him.

“Mom?” Finnian called her, knowing that he would not get any answer. He grabbed his hand, and the coldness of his touch scared him even more. “Mum?”

“There is so much to do and so little time.”

Looking around him, trying to find out where that voice came from, he soon realized that no one had spoken or was there. But those words resonated in his head as if they were an echo.

“What was going on?” he muttered.

“Don’t be afraid,” he heard again. “The power is within you. If you shape it and believe in yourself, it will give you strength.”

He was in another dream. Nothing could be real! He ran into the living room, ready to pick up the phone and call his grandparents, but the device didn’t work. Everything remained stationary and lifeless as if anything more than time had stopped. Then, a weak white light came out of his hand, or rather from the small pendant in it.

“The danger now is greater than ever. The stronger you are, the stronger they will be.”

He heard those words as he was running back to the kitchen when his environment changed. His house disappeared, being devoured by darkness. The furniture, the pictures… everything was lost to what spread. He tried to grab his parents, avoid the worst of the scenarios, to see them disappear before reaching them. Only Finnian remained in the darkness, he and the mysterious pendant that soon he put it on his neck, fearing that he would disappear too. If it was shining, it should be for something! However, that was a bad idea. The darkness approached him, trying to catch him with her web, to drag him Gods know where.

Finnian went back, looking around him without knowing what to do or where to flee, for the light he emitted did not let see beyond the darkness. So what seemed like giant fingers caught him, preventing him from running, no matter how much he was fighting to get rid of it.

And so, as before, the darkness began to engulf him. The hand that kept him from escaping began to melt, covering him as if he was sinking into a swamp. First, the legs, followed by the rest of the body. He tried to fight, to get out of it, but there was no way to get rid of it. As soon as everything turned black, those words started something. He did not lose sensation in the dark; and instead, it was a flash that did it.

 

His dream, he remembered it now clearly. It was in such a wild setting that no building could be seen nearby. The sky was covered by dark clouds, whose lightnings hit the ground. Next to him was a huge eagle, a giant dog, a dragon, and a human with wings and armour. The latter spoke to him; he saw how he moved his lips but could not understand what he wanted to say.

Then he extended one of his arms to point something to him. Someone, wrapped in an aura between purple and black, shortened the distance to them. The environment seemed to react to their presence, increasing thunder and causing fires where they hit. The creatures that Finnian had around him tensed, preparing to fight. The eagle threw feathers from heaven, the dragon cast a flare. And the instant the attacks hit, he heard a single sentence.

“But don’t be scared. You will never be alone, and you will never give up”.