It was midnight in the Howling Forest. The wind whistled through the tops of the ancient trees. The towering trunks creeked and moaned.

Strange, Bastian thought, this seemed to be the very beginning - the beginning he had started at ten years ago. Was he to read Atreyu’s Quest again? It seemed the choice was not his, so he continued on.

The will-o’-the-wisp leaped to a high branch and stopped for a moment, regaining its berrings. And there Blubb saw it - the clearing up ahead. The will-o’-the-wisp smiled and rested against the trunk, catching its breath. Poor Blubb had been darting relentlessly across Fantasia for - it had no idea how long. Weeks? Months? And at long last it was here, back home from its old home.

Suddenly it cocked its head. There was a strong gust of wind heading for the clearing. All in an instant it had finished its long journey with an effortless ride on the wind and had alighted just before his mountain of a friend, Pyornkrachzark.

They couldn’t be more different. Blubb’s mere inches in height contrasted with Pyornkrachzark’s many feet in height. This tall fellow was of the giant family known as the rock biters whose diet - as well as their bodies - was comprised of rock. Luckilly a single bite of stone was nourishing for months, so the Howling Forest would provide him with food for many years to come. The rock biters’ home far away was an enormous mountain range known as the Cheesiewheezies, named such because over the many, many years it had come to resemble Swiss cheese from the millenias of feasting.

This rock biter sat before the large campfire that was the center of this small and diverse community. Beside him to the right sat Blubb’s night-hob friend. Vooshvazool’s pitch black, furry caterpillar-like body was no more than twice the size of the will-o’-the-wisp. His mount - a large bat - was hanging head-down from a nearby branch.

On the night-hob’s right sat a man so small Blubb could almost not see him in the dark. This was another friend of Blubb’s named Gluckuk - a tiny wearing a mud splotched red suit and top hat. His racing snail rested by the tree near the bat.

Gluckuk was actually the first to notice Blubb, and smiled. One would expect a will-o’-the-wisp to be quickly spotted, but one must remember that these creatures are often constantly darting with surprising speed from here to there, seldom in one spot long enough to be seen. Only when they want to lead people astray - as is their nature - do they move slowly.

‘Welcome home, Blubb,’ said Gluckuk in his tiny voice, removing his top hat.

Vooshvazool flung his arms about. ‘Hoo!’ Though it was difficult to tell if a night-hob was smiling, Blubb could see that Vooshvazool’s two large eyes glowed like twin moons and twinkled twice.

‘Sit down and tell us,’ the rock biter crackled slowly, ‘the news from . . .’ He looked blankly for a moment at the fire, shocked to find that he couldn’t remember the name of his friend’s home. Nor even the nature of it.

These four friends hadn’t seen each other in some months and relished in finally being back together - regardless of the grim news each brought.

They had met many years ago while each had been on the same mission from four very different parts of Fantasia, meeting by chance at this very spot. They had together journyed to the Ivory Tower and had spent a number of days together as they waited to gain audience with the Childlike Empress. During that wait, a fast friendship had formed, and they had decided to return to the clearing where they had met in the Howling Forest and to remain there together always.

‘I fear,’ began Blubb, ‘that if your news is anything like mine, we should be heading off for the Ivory Tower.’

‘Too - hoo - true,’ sighed Vooshvazool, his moon eyes diming a bit.

‘But do sit down, dear Blubb,’ invited the tiny.

The will-o’-the-wisp reluctantly seated himself to the right of the night-hob. ‘It has happened to Moldymoor.’

‘To the Cheesiewheezies, too.’ Pyornkrachzark lowered his head, gazing at his slowly fidgeting hands.

Blubb tooked to its other friends, and they each in turn nodded and lowered their heads.

‘Was it - hoo - all at once?’ asked Vooshvazool, looking up.

‘That’s the strange thing,’ said the will-o’-the-wisp, shaking its head. ‘As before, it started with just Lake Foamingbroth - well, the individual frogs in Foamingbroth first. And then after Foggle was gone, so was all of Lake Foamingbroth. And then other parts of Moldymoor. And then all of Moldymoor.’ Blubb lowered its head into its hands.

‘How - hoo hoo - did you escape it?’ Vooshvazool patted his friend’s shoulder lightly.

'I-' Blubb released its still-lowered head. ‘I ran away when the last of the will-o’the-wips were gone. I knew that the rest of Moldymoor was next. So I flew to the Singing Tree Country and watched the rest of it from there.’

‘That’s dangerous in and of itself,’ said the rock biter. The others - including Blubb - nodded solemly.

‘But their spell didn’t trap me. Gorgeous though their sad song was, the one my heart sang was sadder still.’

The tiny smiled wryly. Will-o’-the-wisps were prone to wordy wistfullness. ‘What did this - this . . . experience look like?’

‘Not like a dried-up lake,’ Blubb returned Gluckuk’s wry smile. ‘Not like a hole.’ It looked to Pyornkrachzark. ‘Not even Nothing.’ It glanced over to Vooshvazool.

‘It as if that person or place never was,’ explained Gluckuk.

The other three turned to him, their mouths open in surprise.

‘Hoo! That’s it - hoo hoo - exactly!’

‘Yes, nodded Blubb. ‘When Foamingbroth was gone, the moor stretched over where it had been. As if it had never been there.’

‘What about - about . . .’ Again Pyornkrachzark could not remember the name of the will-o’-the-wisp’s home, though Blubb had just said it.

‘Moldymoor was gone. The Swamps of Sadness which had been the land beyond beyond - was there.’

‘Also dangerous,’ crackled the rock biter.

‘I could see Tortoise Shell Mountain on the horizon and knew not to venture there.’

After a moment of solomn nodding, Gluckuk leapt to its feet. ‘What are we waiting for? We each of us has seen the same thing happen to our own homeland.’

‘And more,’ grated the rock biter. ‘We should be off for the Ivory Tower and tell M- M . . .’

‘Moo - hoo - Moo - hoo hoo . . .’ The night-hob hooed lowly in frustration.

‘Moon,’ the tiny began eagerly. ‘Moon - er - Moon . . . something.’

The four friends exchanged glances of urgent desperation.

‘Child,’ said Pyorncrachzark slowly.

‘Moon Child,’ they whispered in near-unison, the very name granting calm and joy.

‘Light the way, dear Blubb,’ cried Gluckuk. But looking to where the will-o’-the-wisp had been, the tiny could see that Blubb was already flitting throught he woods - in the wrong direction. ‘Left!’ he cried, and saw Blubb dart left in mid-leap.

The tiny climbed into the silver saddle and grabbed the silvery reigns. ‘Geeyap, old girl, geeyap!’ He patted the snail’s head affectionately and clicked his tongue. And Woosh! They had past the will-o’-the-wisp faster than one can say ‘will-o’-the-wisp’ twice. ‘Slower, old girl.’ He patted her head. ‘Half-speed.’

The rock biter put out the campfire with the palm of his hand and climbed onto his stone transport - which though functioned as a bicycle, suggested a steamroller with pedals. Pumping the pedals as quickly as possible, Pyorncrachzark could not meet their pace, so they slowed down to match his.

The night-hob ordered his bat to make ready with a quick ‘hoo hoo.’ And whish! away they flew, leading the group.

And then there was nothing to be heard but the storm wind howling in the treetops.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed eleven. Bastian was going to miss that clock. He had always enjoyed the stately look of grandfather clocks. He was going to miss this house all together. After a string of apartments since moving out of his father’s house, it was nice to enjoy the room of an actual house again. Especially one with such old charm and one as nicely furnished as this one.

Bastian admired his housemates’ financial status. They weren’t exactly wealthy, but certainly quite comfortable. They weren’t even much older than Bastian, but he couldn’t imagine that at their age he’d be in their position. There was no way he could chain himself to a boring job within a corperation. He couldn’t even keep a simple bookseller position.

Reality was far too drepressingly dissappointing. Bastian was glad The Neverending Story had nothing to do with reality. With that thought Bastian returned to the story at hand.

The four companions arrived a week and a half later. Perhaps they could have arrived within a week’s time, but they chose to take the time to camp. The mood was nearly fesitve, for all that they were racing for their lives. After all, they hadn’t seen each other in months and had much catching up to do and many stories to share. But despite their festive nights of chatter around the fire, their days were filled with anxioous worry as they were spurred on by the notion of the possible destruction of all Fantasia.

Arriving at the enormous garden known as the Labyrinth which surrounded the Ivory Tower, the companions found the massive maze swarming with messengers from all over the Empire, each carrying flags of truce and the same disturbingly familiar message.

They wound their way down one of the broader avenues, enjoying the exotic flowers and unusual Empire-wide truce. Here, Blubb could see a bearded dwarf and a green-skinned goblin walking side-by-side - which otherwise would have been unheard of.

The centuries-long war between the dwarves and goblins was legendary - so far into the past, in fact, that no one in Fantasia could remember the reason. One could speculate that the ongoing battle was a border war of sorts for the caverns which wended within the Silver Mountains, whereat both races made their home.

But something must have caused a disagreement between these two races before the prior peace. Or had they always been at war, since their creation? Such a thing was possible - of course - in Fantasia, which was the realm of human fantasies. Each creature, place, and thing in Fantasia had been born from a human notion.

One might wonder at the idea of war in the realm of human fantasies, but one must remember that humans are prone to imagining evils as well as good. For that reason all creatures in the Empire were regarded equal by their Childlike Empress.

It may seem peculiar that an empress never issue a decree nor sit in judgement over any subject, but really the Childlike Empress was something far different. Just as the Ivory Tower was the heart of Fantasia, the Childlike Empress was the heart of of all existance. Because she existed, so too did they. Everything in the Empire owed their existance to her, and for that she was loved and adored by every inhabitant, good or wicked. No one in all Fantasia would think of harming her, for her death would mean the end of them all - the end of the boundless Empire of Fantasia.

And this is why each creature that had heard of the Childlike Empress’ condition was deeply terrified.

Chapter Two: The Son of Reason