Stars Cross
This dream continued for all in Santoff Claussen, but the Guardians were taking particular note. They knew, even in this dream state, that they were learning a great deal about Pitch, which could be useful in fighting him. But they also began to feel the pity Katherine had felt. Pitch had not always been evil. His heart was once as strong and good as theirs. But for Nightlight, this was a feeling that confused him. He thought only in simple terms. He didn’t want to feel pity. He wanted only to save Katherine, and he could not see how pity could help him.
Then Sanderson Mansnoozie appeared and became part of the story he had been telling. The dream had been so intense and dramatic that even in their deep sleep, the villagers and Guardians were glad to at last see him. Sandy had a manner both soothing and blissful. He smiled, sending a blanket of calm to one and all, and then continued the tale. . . .
We in the League of Star Captains quickly became aware of this “new” star. I was born into a family of Star Captains. For generations we had steered stars to every corner of the universe, our primary duty to bestow the wishes made to our stars. But the stars we harnessed needed greater and greater speed, for the Dream Pirates were especially intent on capturing Wishing Stars. You see, in all the galaxies, there are few things with more dreams in them than a Wishing Star. These stars are concentrated dream matter, and their pilots are the key to unlocking those dreams. When someone made a wish that was judged worthy, then a Star Captain would send back one of those dreams to help that person fulfill their wish.
But within each star was stored tens of thousands of undreamed dreams that were made by our brethren since time began.
And so when I heard of this wild new shooting star, I pursued it. I didn’t know its origins. I didn’t know Emily Jane was at its cursed core. But I saw that this star could outpace any Dream Pirate vessel. If I was to saddle it, I would need to be clever.
Many other Star Captains were also after this star, but it had outrun them all. Shooting stars are generally very solitary. They live for speed and wildness. But I had noticed that this particular star would sometimes slow down for schools of Star Fish. The Star Fish seemed to have a kinship with the star, which was most intriguing.
My brother Star Captains tried to sneak up on the slowing star when it neared a school of Star Fish, but they failed. The star was no fool. It could sense a trap and would blast away, leaving any who chased it choking on its stardust.
I don’t like to boast, but I was well liked among the creatures of the cosmos. Star horses and Star Fish have always been my friends. I have a soft spot for them and liked to feed them a star spice they find most delicious, much as you humans do with sugar for your horses. So one day I rode near a school of Star Fish. They were glad to see me and let me swim along. I’d brought supplies of that special spice, and soon they had completely surrounded me, each hovering beside me to have a taste, hiding me completely.
In time the wild star came near.
I waited till it was gliding right by me, keeping pace with us. Then I charged through the Star Fish and lassoed the star with my line. The stun of surprise lasted only a second. The star shot away with more speed than any I’d ever seen, but I held on.
This is not uncommon in trying to catch a wild star. There is an ancient method for bringing them to heel, and I followed it to the letter. I skied along in its fiery wake for ten thousand leagues, pulling myself closer and closer to its burning apex. But it dove and snaked with such fury! It even tried to scrape against a planet or two to knock me off! It seemed . . . enraged, something I’d never witnessed before in a star. It needed to serve my more gentle purposes if only to calm itself—otherwise, it would burn out.
It was the toughest fight I’ve ever had with a star. Days are difficult to measure in deep space, but it took me the equal of fourteen Earth days to finally tame this wild one. And in the end it was tame in only one regard: It would let me steer it.
Not a lot is known about shooting stars. Mortals, of course, never have a chance to do more than watch and wish when they see one. But something happens when you master a star. You come to understand it. Each has an individual personality that you can sense and feel. All are vivid, but this star had an energy that far exceeded any I’d known. It had a voice. It spoke to me. At first it would not tell me its name or anything about its past, but in time it came to trust me. It could tell I meant it no harm, that I wanted to be its friend and ally. And a friend is like a savior to one so angry and lost. But still the star did not tell me its name.
We sailed from one end of the cosmos to the other. I would answer dreams whispered up to us. When the Dream Pirates would attack us, my star would not pause, as most stars did, but would charge them head-on, fearlessly.
Together we won every battle.
Then for a year we traveled in peace. Not once did we happen upon a single pirate. We were curious about our good fortune. In the vast reaches of space, news is slow to arrive. Then word came that the war with the pirates was over. It was said Lord Pitch had been victorious and all the Dream Pirates imprisoned. The Golden Age was safe again! And I thought this would be a cause for great celebration for my star and me. But upon hearing this news, my star broke free of my will. It flew at breakneck speed, trying to crash into any heavenly body in its path—planets, stars, fields of asteroids. I could barely keep it from destroying us both.
Then, when it began to careen directly toward a small green planet, a thousand wishes rose up from the children of that doomed world. These weren’t the common hopeful wishes sent to a shooting star. These were terror-filled wishes. “Please, bright star, don’t kill us.”
I urged my star to stop. Think! Think of the children who fear your coming! You are no better than a Dream Pirate!
And at that moment my star stopped.
If shooting stars ever stop, they quickly become a sun. It takes only a few minutes for this process to become irreversible. In all my eons as a Star Master, I had never ridden a star that had just . . . stopped. I sat at my controls and wondered what my wild star would do next. Then I heard what sounded like crying from the star’s core, and the words, “My name . . . is Emily Jane. Please, I do not want to be feared.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Who Does a Star Wish Upon?
I listened to the long, sad tale of Emily Jane. Now I understood her mysteries. She was driven by a child’s rage that had never been soothed, never been healed, and now this rage had the power to destroy worlds. She was moments away from becoming a stationary star. If she continued to refuse to move, she would never fly again. Her anger or strength wouldn’t ever again threaten any living being. This would be the safest outcome, surely, but what would it do to Emily Jane? To be imprisoned forever in her star with nothing but her anger did not seem . . . fair. Terrible events had twisted her better instincts. But if she could tame her fury . . .
So I offered her a choice.
Emily Jane! You can stay here with your rage until you burn yourself out. Or . . . fly again. Let me guide you, and together we will do wonders.
There was only silence from her. I added hopefully, Perhaps we can find your father and with him . . . peace.
The minutes went by and still Emily Jane said nothing. There were mere seconds left before she’d become fixed forever in this spot. In that moment she suddenly flamed brightly and jerked forward just a little.
“I will ride,” she whispered with a new calm. And before I could communicate how pleased I was, she shot away with a speed that took my breath.
From the start, she had been difficult to steer, always pulling against me, so now I feared the worst. But after that initial burst of speed, she followed my lead contentedly. We inquired about the whereabouts of her father from any ship or planet we neared, but in these faraway regions of the galaxies, very little was known. So we worked our way toward the great center of the Golden Age, to the Constellation of Zeus. It was a peaceful journey. And when wishes came, Emily Jane liste
ned.
She heard every kind of wish there was. Wishes for ponies and pets. Wishes for riches. Wishes for revenge on enemies. Wishes for love. Emily Jane came to understand all the things that people yearn for. In time she could see the difference between wishes that were worthy of being granted and those that were not.
“People are often . . . confused,” she said to me one quiet night as we streaked through the sky. “They want what they don’t need, or can’t use, or won’t ever make them whole.”
True. I was proud that she was learning.
“I think all wishes are the same, really,” she continued. “Whether they ask for this, that, or the other, what they are really asking for is happiness.”
And what do you wish? I wondered. What would make you happy?
She did not answer for a while.
The silence of a peaceful night in the deep oceans of space can feel almost holy. The vast darkness is dotted with stars that go on and on—farther than any light or thought can seem to travel. But they do. In that quiet solitude that wrapped around us, Emily Jane answered my question.
“I wish to be washed clean of my old life. To let go of my tide of sorrows and find my way to a new shore.”
This was a good and worthy wish. It was a wish I wanted to grant.
But fate had other plans.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hope Becomes a Weapon Most Foul
We were leagues away from any planet, and no other wishes could reach us. And I began to think about Emily Jane’s wish. To answer her wish would take all my thought and wisdom. I must go into a sleepier trance to fashion an Answer Dream.
It is during this trance that a Star Captain must let the star steer itself and be on the lookout for any trouble. Our travels had been peaceful for so long that I had no worries, and Emily Jane had always been up to the task of dealing with any attack.
But there was a danger neither of us had foreseen.
In all the time that Emily Jane had been trapped in her star, she had been dreaming one dream over and over: that her father would rescue her.
Lord Pitch had decided that imprisoning the pirates was a worse fate than death, so the Dream Pirates were confined to a planet-size prison on the other side of the cosmos. But they could still detect a dream no matter how far away and faint it might be.
They had heard Emily Jane’s dream.
At first it had puzzled them. How could this be? The child of Pitch died in a raid years before, they thought. But every night they heard the dream again and again, and after a time they realized the dream was indeed coming from Lord Pitch’s daughter. So they hatched an awful plan.
The Dream Pirates knew how badly the loss of his family had wounded Lord Pitch. And he was their one and only jailer. He guarded the single door into the prison that held them; it was such a grim and dark place. Made from giant plates of dark matter, it was a place where no being from outside could ever hear or feel any pirate who coiled inside. Only Lord Pitch could hear them faintly. He had volunteered to be their single guard. He felt he had nothing left since the loss of his family.
The Dream Pirates, with the help of the other dark creatures imprisoned with them, listened each night to Emily Jane’s faint dream until they knew the sound of her voice and could imitate it. Then, one awful night, they huddled next to the single door and whispered to Lord Pitch, in his daughter’s voice, the one thing they hoped would set them free. “Please, Daddy. Please, please, please open the door.”
Emily Jane? he thought to her. He pulled the silver locket from his tunic pocket and stared at the photograph inside. He did not stop to wonder how she could possibly be inside the prison.
“Daddy, I’m trapped in here with these shadows, and I’m scared. Please open the door. Help me, Daddy, please.”
What father could ignore such a plea? Lord Pitch opened the door, his aching heart suddenly hopeful that Emily Jane was somehow alive and near enough to be saved.
He opened the door and sealed his doom.
The Dream Pirates poured out and enveloped him. The cold, calculated betrayal was more than any being could withstand. The locket fell from Lord Pitch’s neck. With his hope shattered, his heart withered and he died inside. At first he resisted valiantly, but there was no fight left in him. Numb and utterly empty, he let the dark creatures take his soul. And they did—they possessed him completely. He became their leader, their king, their warlord.
With Lord Pitch as their general, the Golden Age had lost its greatest strength, its greatest ally. And so began the awful second War of the Dream Pirates, and Pitch was proving unstoppable.
But now he could hear Emily Jane’s dream. He had ten times the wicked thirst and need for dreams as his pirates. And her dream haunted him and fed his new hunger.
All this had happened without our knowing. Emily Jane’s newfound hope was like a beacon, drawing evil and awfulness toward us.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Most Bitter Reckoning
The first harpoon that hit us came as a surprise, but by the second and third, I was fully awake and Emily Jane was already charging the Dream Pirate galleon that had fired upon us. It was a massive vessel—tarnished, ragged, and beastly to behold.
Its decks were swarming with Dream Pirates, who fired harpoon after harpoon with withering swiftness. But Emily Jane displayed amazing agility at dodging their rusted dagger points and using her blazing tail to burn us free of the first harpoons that hit.
She was heading straight for the ship’s bow, her star fires flaming with determination. I braced for our impact, but the pirate galleon swerved to port at the last instant. We shaved so close to the ship, we could see the shadowy faces of the grisly crew who leered and taunted us as we passed. At the ship’s helm stood its captain, tall, gaunt, and unmistakable. It was Lord Pitch himself. Or at least what he had become.
His skin was now a spectral white, his eyes dark and soulless; he was a creature to be feared.
For Emily Jane, this was a shock beyond all reckoning. Her father had arrived at last, but now he was a nightmare come to life.
Then Pitch shouted out to me. “Ahoy, Dream Master!”
I tried to slow Emily Jane, so I could better hear Pitch’s hail, and though she pulled against me, she yielded to my maneuver.
Pitch
“Why do you send this dream of my dead daughter to plague me?” Pitch shouted again.
Before I could send him an answer, Emily Jane implored, her voice trembling with terror, “Please, be careful what you say, Captain Sandy. He is so changed. We can’t know what to expect.”
I sent this thought, taking care with my words: The dream this vessel sends you, it is no plague! It is a dream of hope!!
“I have no hopes!” he bellowed. His voice was edged with rage. “This dream you sent is what killed my soul and made me what I now am! DEATH, I say, to who made me thus!”
Emily Jane had never backed down from a fight. But she understood the madness of rage. Her rage at this man had driven her to the brink of despair. But she had pulled back. Could he? He had not seen her since she was a little girl. If she were free from her star, would he recognize her? Would his hate die as hers had? In an instant her instincts told her a grim truth.
“We must run, Captain Sandy,” she said. “I can feel it. If he finds me, we both shall die.”
Go then, I agreed. As fast as you ever have.
Away we flew. But Pitch’s harpoon men were too skilled and quick. Before we could get out of range, a dozen of their weapons slammed into us, their chains linking us to Pitch’s galleon. Emily Jane frantically tried to burn them away, but as one disintegrated, three more ensnared us. Our speed no longer mattered, for now we pulled the galleon with us. The pirates winched the chains and inched their malevolent ship closer and closer.
I had fought the Dream Pirates time and again and had never been defeated, but never before had they been led by Pitch. I’d never encountered such fury. But Emily Jane swerved and breached wi
th a power that even Pitch’s galleon could not contain. With one great last buck, she snapped free of the chains and we tumbled away.
We spun and spiraled at speeds beyond endurance. I remember seeing a small green and blue planet just ahead of us. I could barely stay conscious. I knew we would crash. I could hear the wishes of children coming from the planet, so I pulled at my controls. We must crash over water so as not to harm any child. I could no longer feel or sense Emily Jane. As we plummeted toward a vast ocean, I did hear one thing: a single wish above all the others. It was bright and clear. “I wish you well” was all it said, and as I fell unconscious, certain that my star and I were doomed, I thought of that wish and nothing else.
Fig. 1. The star falls.
We skipped across the ocean’s surface like a giant stone, then came to a spray of water, and all went black for me.
Fig. 2. The star hits the ocean.
I did not wake for many, many years. When I did, I found that my star was shattered, pulverized into a sandy island. I was awakened by that same voice that had comforted me all those years ago, the voice that had wished me well. It turned out to be your Man in the Moon.
Fig. 3. The smoke clears.
And so it is I come to you, with the Moon’s instructions. I will help you save your friend, Katherine, and fight Pitch. But to do so, I must finally see the girl who lived in my star, Emily Jane, daughter of Lord Pitch and the one you call Mother Nature.
Fig. 4. The star is now the Island of the Sleepy Sands.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Oh, What a Mysterious Morning!
AND AS SANDY REACHED the end of his story, everyone awoke from the dream. They blinked their eyes and roused, surprised to find that it was morning. Those who had fallen asleep while floating in the air around Big Root awoke in their usual beds and under the covers. North was in his customary Cossack bed shirt and sleeping cap. His trusty elfin men were on the floor in a row at the foot of his bed. They snorted awake like a litter of young piglets. Bunnymund was all comfy in his egg-shaped bed, which he always traveled with, his head propped up by half a dozen egg-shaped pillows. He was wearing satin pajamas with matching ear warmers that had small egg-shaped pom-poms dangling from the tips. Bunnymund lifted the egg-shaped patches that covered his eyes and gave his ears a wake-up shake.