Sababo’s laughter filled the air. His ever-changing mask of lights seemed to pulsate with delight, a grotesque caricature of my disbelieving face mirrored in its shiny surface.

“Remember me?”

“Fuckin’ duh, Bob,” I said. “I thought I was rid of you—can’t you go bother someone else? I know a matau who would probably hurl himself off a tall building if you started showing up during his snoozes. I’ll give you his contact info and then you can fuck off.”

“But, Loon,” Sababo continued, his voice turning slightly pouty, “I have something important to tell you.”

I sighed, exhaustion seeping into my bones.

“What is it now, Bob? Blow in to tell me I’ve gotta go to Machus City? ’Cuz you’d be a bit late on that front.”

He flashed brightly—literally beaming.

“You’ve already heard the call, then! I love it! But let me give you a bit more context. You see, Loon, Zeol and I . . . well, we’ve been having a bit of a spat.”

“Trouble in paradise, eh?” I sneered. “Guess that’s why they say you should never go into business with family—or whatever it’s called when two gods share a soul and a creepy relationship.”

“Yes,” he continued unfazed. “It’s about you, Loon.”

“Of course it is.”

“I’m rather miffed at Zeol,” Sababo said. “In part for setting you on this perilous path.”

“Um, excuse me,” I said. “You were involved too. Don’t forget, both of you knuckleheads kept scooping me up and pressing me into your, uh, maskinations. Any blame is squarely on both of your . . . well . . . masks.”

You know how sometimes you really nail a pun? This wasn’t one of those times.

“Still contrary, I see, Loon! Beautiful! Wonderful! That symphonic oppositional candor with which you navigate Regaia is why you are so entertaining to observe! I love it!”

“Wait a minute, though, Bob,” I said, trying to find a place to sit down in this darkness and finding . . . well, more darkness. I abandoned that endeavor and just sorta slouched with my arms crossed. “The last I heard from you two, I clearly remember you blubbering about how you were done interfering in my life, right. Y’all were on some bullshit—freakishly conjoined, doin’ double-chat like a pair of doofuses. I thought you said you were both supposed to be gone for a while?”

“Well, that’s true in a sense,” Sababo said. “Great catch! The more substantial manifestation of myself is gone. However, this version of me you’re being graced by is more of a vestige. A dream-echo, I like to think, or . . . a failsafe, if you will.”

“Yeah . . .” I said with a grimace. “I don’t think I will. So . . . what, this is just a nightmare? How does that work?”

“Remember, Loon? I’m the god of sleep! It is well within my realm to perform these sorts of feats and visit my Loon from time to time.”

“Ew! I ain’t nobody’s nothin,’” I spat. “Except, I guess technically Arjee. But that’s a whole thing.”

“You’re wrong but you’re lovely,” Sababo said. “And as for Zeol and I . . . we’ve had to step away to finalize a few things.”

“Finalize a few things?” I repeated, suspicion creeping into my tone. “And what might those be? You guys starting an unsettling Airbnb together? Yeesh, that place is going to be lousy with hidden cameras.”

Sababo laughed in his heaving, hair-raising way.

“Oh, Loon. Always so curious! Have I told you that I love the way your mind works? We’re merely preparing for the next phase.”

“And what, pray tell, is the next phase?”

Sababo shifted, his lights blinking low.

“That, Loon, is something . . . well, you’ll have to wait and see! But I trust you will. Still, shocking for sure! Tiny, insignificant—lavishly peppered, things you missed before. Details hidden in plain sight!

“Bob, do you even hear yourself?” I scoffed. “You sound like a bad translation of a book of haikus.”

“Bad translation?” Sababo’s voice reverberated with tinkling laughter, the sound enveloping the space around us. “I love it! I’m a song of mysteries. You just need to listen more attentively!”

“You start singing, and I’m going to stab my own ears out,” I grumbled, my patience threatening to run thin.

“Loon! You’re such a whip!” Sababo responded cheerily.

“Listen, you use the term ‘whip’ again, and we’re gonna have fuckin’ problems. It should be illegal for someone of your…personality type to be allowed to talk about them kinds o’ instruments.”

“What do you mean? Whips? Ah, Loon…” his voice took on an amused tone. “Are you trying to tell me something about your proclivities?”

“What the fuck?! No! No, no, no! Don’t get any weird ideas or I’m going to start screaming ‘stranger danger.’”

I sighed in exasperation, leaning back against what I thought was something that turned out to be nothing, and lost my balance, falling.

“Ulp!” I exclaimed, before landing softly on a mushroom that hadn’t been there before. I looked down at it.

“Alright . . .” I said, then shrugged.

“Caught you,” Sababo said brightly. “I’ll always catch you when you fall, Loon.”

“Yurgh! Stop that!” I said. “Let’s get back to the subject matter—I got shit to do. What’s with these dream-echoes? A failsafe for what, exactly? Frustrating me to death?”

“No, not death,” Sababo corrected with a chuckle. “Perhaps just to the brink of insanity?”

My eyes narrowed.

“Oh, so, you’re a funny guy, now?”

“Yes!” Sababo cried, his mask lighting up with myriad hues of twinkling stars.

“Great,” I grumbled, resting my hands on the mushroom. “Is that all, then? You summoned me to tell me something I already know, and—”

“Loon,” Sababo began, his voice taking on a rare solemnity as he cut me off. “There is something of grave importance we need to discuss.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You’re being serious? That’s a new one.”

Sababo ignored my comment, his mask seeming to gaze deeply into my own eyes. “There comes a time, Loon, when all games must come to an end. Though I am loath to end the merriment . . . this is one such moment.”

I frowned.

He’d better not get all deep-voiced and spooky again. That shit is uncomfortable.

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“Loon, I am proud of you.”

These words, unanticipated, rang in my ears as if they had been pronounced in the heart of an echoing canyon. Resonating around me into the abyss. Sababo’s voice, usually brimming with unsavory implications and mischief, was now laden with a sincere gravity that seemed to pull at the very marrow of my bones. The world around us stilled, the wind hushing as if in reverence to this rare moment of solemnity from the god of dreams.

Was he . . . literally changing the atmosphere for this?

The pitch-black environment surrounding me warmed to a dull amber hue, a void of honey-colored nothing but backlit with soft light. His ethereal mask, busy with intermingling colors, faded to warmer hues reflecting the surroundings, as if to conjure a heavy moment. The familiar terrain of playful banter and irritation had been replaced with a literal emotional landscape I was not equipped to navigate. My mouth opened, then closed, unsure how to respond to whatever the fuck he was doing.

Ah, fuck. It’s happening. He’s going to try to make a move on me. I swear to god, if Marvin Gaye starts playing, I’m going to hightail it outta here and file a restraining order.

“What the hell is happening?” I asked, a little bit of panic creeping its way into my tone unintentionally. I didn’t like this at all—this was far more menacing than any previous iteration of Sababo’s disconcerting personality quirks.

“Loon,” Sababo began, his voice no longer dripping with glee but . . . inviting. “What I need you to understand is that you have never strayed from the right path. Even in moments when your journey seemed to be shrouded by the thickest cloak of doubt, obscured by the fog of uncertainty that descended like an uninvited guest, you have been moving toward a destination worthy of the effort of each footfall, each stride.”

What the fuck is this? A pep talk?

“Even when you found yourself wavering, even when you stumbled on jagged stones of pain and loss, you were never truly lost. The path was there; it had always been there. Your task was to simply recognize that within this sometimes painful, wretched, burning life, there exist bonds, values, people that are worth the struggle, worth your time.”

Here, Sababo paused, his ethereal visage radiating an air of serenity. A silence fell between us, loaded down with the weight of his words, and I found myself lost in its depth, the mask’s vibrant colors reflecting my own surprise.

“Your journey, Loon,” Sababo continued after a moment, “has been fraught with hardship. You have carried the heavy burden of guilt and self-blame for the loss of your loved ones. A weight that has pressed upon your heart, shaping you, molding you. A warrior, a survivor, who has constantly been tested by the cruel hands of fate.

“And yet,” he added, his voice resonating with a sense of unmistakable pride, “even in the face of unbearable loss, even when consumed by the blinding rage of grief, you never lost your way. You never allowed the despair to consume you completely, to veer you off your course.”

He paused once again, allowing his words to sink in, to etch themselves into the fabric of my consciousness. He had no eyes, but I could feel his gaze, penetrating yet gentle, as if peeling away the layers of my defiance and bluster, reaching into the heart of my pain and offering understanding, validation.

“Loon, you’ve always been on an adventure. One of growth, of self-discovery. You just needed to realize that there are things worth growing for. You have displayed character, spirit, and that is truly admirable.”

I blinked at him, my mind reeling. There was something in his voice that made my heart twinge with an unfamiliar emotion. It was as if a veil had been pulled the fuck back, revealing a fresh perspective of Sababo. The god of dreams, of sleep, was showing me a side that was uncharacteristically vulnerable.Endearing, even.

But I rebelled against it, my mind flooding with thoughts and feelings, both good and bad.

Images surfaced like ghosts from a foggy past, casting their melancholy shadows on the canvas of my mind. Roger’s laugh sounded through the chambers of my memories; as joyous and free as the days when we walked home from school together. Our shadows long in the evening glow, our spirits high, the air around us filled with the promise of a future yet unexplored.

The memory of my mother came unbidden, her tired yet loving eyes etched in the deepest corners of my heart. I saw her sitting, her body weary after pulling a double shift yet her spirit undiminished. Her eyes sparkled with a deep-seated pride as I excitedly showed her a song I’d been falling in love with, the melody of the stereo filling the small, humble room we called home.

Then there was Calden. I could see him vividly, emerging from the dungeon’s ravine’s sludgy depths, his face bearing a comically embarrassed expression. It was an incongruity that had been so humorous, so utterly Calden, that it left a lasting impression on me.

Merra, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, poking fun at Jes, her eyes glinting with mischievous delight.

And Dedyc. The image of him clapping, demanding encore after encore, his hissing voice resounding in the open space, stirred a sense of warmth within me. The memories of those simple moments of joy, of togetherness, were as precious as they were poignant. Brief, too. We’d spent so little time in the belly of the Crypt, but it had left a mark. A dent, really. A group I’d…been accepted by. Belonged to. However temporary.

The onslaught of these images, this mental montage of past moments, stirred a complex cocktail of emotions within me. The pain of loss was intertwined with the comfort of those shared moments, the bitter sting of guilt intermingling with the sweetness of treasured memories. It was as if Sababo’s words had unlocked a floodgate, allowing the river of my past to rush forth.

Despite the turmoil, a sense of resolution took root.. Yes, there was pain, and yes, there were moments when I wished I could turn back the hands of time. Yet, inside all the grief and guilt, there could be more. Those were the things that made it all worth it, the experiences that justified the struggle. It was the knowledge of this, a bittersweet blend of experiences that allowed me to grow, to become who I was today. And according to this freaky mask monstrosity, I just needed to realize it, to embrace it.

Was Sababo doing this to me? Was he forcing these images to bubble to the top of my consciousness and fucking wrench them out . . . No. I realized almost as suddenly that it wasn’t him doing this. He was setting the stage, but I was dragging the actors up for their performance on my own.

My emotions threatened to overwhelm me.

I tried to cough out some words, but I couldn’t. Of all the people . . . Sababo was . . . well, it was kind of him.

“Well . . .” I finally managed to respond, my voice breaking slightly. “Thank you. You’re still a fuckin’ . . . creep, you know? In fact . . .”

I tried to casually sniff to not reveal my hand too much.

“I’d . . . argue that this makes you even more of . . . a clinger.”

I managed to smile.

“Is that it, then . . . ya weirdo?”

Sababo radiated warmth.

“For now, Loon.”

“So, once I go to Machus City, what happens?”

“That is truly up to you,” Sababo said. “But you will know, I’m sure, when the time is right.”

“And if I fail?”

“We all fail. Try not to in this case, though.”

“I’ll, uh, see what I can do.”