Dream of the Lioness

It was a slow, sleepy morning; the leaves on the trees were lazily waving in the breeze, not quite caring if the bleary sun shone on their green visages. One leaf gently let go of the twig that it had called home and sailed away on the waft. The gentle wind carried the leaf across a calm pond, over a silent school, past the branches of other trees, above the tops of uniform houses, to the white sill of a window, beyond which was a room belonging to a little girl. The room lay undisturbed and unconscious of the outside world; the wooden desk stood like a grave relative at a funeral on one side of the room and a bed, freshly made, was tucked cozily against the other wall. A tiny rag doll dressed in a decorative cape and hat sat at the head of the bed, watching with an unchanging smile as the owner of the room entered and closed the door behind her. Glancing at the winged yellow bear laying on her pillow, the girl walked over to the window and opened it. She sighed happily, leaning out of the pane, the motion creating an opening for the leaf to blow through. The withered bit of plant flitted to the girl's desk, next to a book.

The book was quite old and dusty; it had been found at a used book store. Its cover was textured with pale roses and blue chicory, fading dandelions peering out from behind ivory water lilies. On the spine was the title written in delicate golden letters: "The Dream of the Lioness". It was an intriguing title, especially to its owner. The girl had plucked it from its high shelf in the book store, and the mother had agreed to buy it.

"A gift to you," the mother had said. "As long as you let me read it when you're done, okay?" The mother had winked and turned to the counter with the necessary money in hand. The daughter had given her mother a winning smile as she happily fondled the hardback cover on the way home.

Now the girl walked over to the book; she picked it up and leaned back in her bed to read it. Breakfast had already come and gone, so she had a bit of time before she and her parents left for the forest. Opening the book, she skipped the title pages, glanced at the dedication page and started to read the Prologue.

"My dream is to be free from this prison. What other wish could there ever be? The sordid raindrops are relentless, and within this supposed shelter, I sit high and dry while others suffer. I am in a cage with no key, a cell with no bars, only strong stone walls to keep me trapped. And while I worry and wallow in self pity, there is something immense about to happen, something so utterly painful and bleak that my feeble mind cannot cope with such disaster. I only hope she will figure out in time what she must do. There is nothing else in the world as important as this. My prayers for my own freedom are overshadowed by the desperate hope that she will know what must be done...

"You know the actions that must be taken, don't you? Torika..."

The girl dropped the book in shock, awakening the winged plush toy that had been sleeping peacefully on her pillow. It watched its master blearily as she scooped the book from the floor, carefully smoothing out a corner of the page that had been wrinkled in the fall.

"Torika?" it questioned, rubbing the sleep out of its eyes. "Why d'ya gotta be so loud in the morning?" The plush toy ignored the unpleasant glare that its master sent its way and plodded over to where she was sitting.

"You seem to have slept lighter than usual last night, Kero." the girl observed.

Kero shrugged his tiny shoulders and sighed. He sat back and looked up at his master, Torika.

"I was having a nightmare," he said darkly. "All the pudding in the 'fridge was gone!"

Torika merely rolled here eyes and opened the book to the prologue to show her small companion.

"This is what made me drop the book," she said, pointing to the last sentence on the page. Kero ignored her finger and read the whole thing before settling his eyes on the mysterious last words. After re-reading the passage a few times, he looked up at his master.

"I can't see what this is hinting at," he grumbled with a sigh. "Nobody we know is trapped at the moment...."

Torika gave Kero a sideways glance. "They might not be trapped physically," she suggested. "They could feel like a friend or a foe is pressuring them into something they can't get out of."

Kero merely shrugged and turned the page. "You haven't read beyond the prologue, right? Perhaps this person just named their heroine Torika, that's all." He didn't sound very confident. The words of his creator echoed sharply in his mind... Torika started reading aloud from the first chapter.

"The world grows abundantly around me, and I am contented. My heart sings with joy to see a long lost face again, and I can feel the love growing between us. The days are bright despite the rain, and the birds sing along with my heart.

"But... there is one thing that haunts me. There is darkness that I witness in my dreams, a darkness that rises rapidly like a sudden tide, but refuses to recede with the pull of the moon. Since the moment when I was happiest, it has come again and again, wishing to envelop me. The thought of it makes me shudder. Even after many confrontations with the darkness, I feel lost, unsure of what might come next. It has often left me to wake with glittering jewels in my hand, as if beckoning me closer..."

Torika looked up from the page and shivered slightly. She looked at Kero questioningly.

"It seems... very similar to your situation, if you were to make assumptions when interpreting the symbolisms." Kero sighed. "This is also written in diary form. We'd also have to assume that the character 'Torika' is writing this down."

Torika's eyes lit up. "Usually, when you end a diary entry, you sign your name, right? If we skip to the end of the chapter, maybe they'll include a signature!"

Kero shrugged in reply and flipped to the end of the chapter. There was no signature, or anything. Only: "I just hope that in the end, I won't be betrayed by my dearest friend."

Turning to his master, Kero asked, "Torika, do you fear betrayal?"

Torika turned this question over in her head. "I have my suspicions about a fellow classmate," she said carefully, "but I wouldn't call him a dear friend..."

Kero put a paw on his chin in thought as his master's voice trailed off; he failed to see the faint blush that had colored her cheek.

"It's too vague to come to any conclusions," he said finally, "We don't have enough evidence to say that this is depicting your life, or that the author is addressing you. You can believe whatever you wish; just be careful not to take it too seriously lest this be a red herring."

Torika nodded, looking into the distance. Something about this book was familiar. It had an old, tired feel about it, as if the pages were worn and heavy from the burden they carried. Something inside told her that this book was important, and misunderstanding its message would be a grave mistake. She was convinced that the book was speaking directly to her.

"Torika!" A muffled voice came from downstairs. The girl in question called back, telling the voice that she'd be down in a minute. Kero was forced out of thought as Torika leapt from the bed, snatching the leaf that had blown in and placing it in the book as a bookmark and, before he could protest, she had also snatched Kero from his place on the bed. She ran downstairs, managing to stop short of crashing into her father. The father smiled warmly at his daughter and took her by the hand, telling her that the mother was waiting in the car.

It was going to be a balmy day, judging by the small clouds that hung in the air, and the soft wind. The sun shone cheerily upon the family car. Torika's mother was already in the automobile, as the father had said, trying to re-fold a large map and failing miserably at it. Her husband walked over to her and gently took the map from her hands, folding it perfectly. The wife gave her spouse a thankful look and put the map away. The husband leaned down and gave her a swift smooch, causing the daughter behind him to smile.

Soon they were on their way, turning off of the well-worn roads to travel the rougher paths that lead to the forest. The mid-morning sun glinted faintly on the shadow-mottled road before them. Torika tried to count the patches of light among the shadows as they passed, but she soon lost count as the trees shifted with the wind and the car sped up. Beside Torika was the book. It lay on the seat closed, the leaf poking out from between its pages. Torika sighed, picked it up and started to read from where she had left off.

"If only life were this perfect every day. The sun shines, the flowers are in full bloom and my family and friends, for the most part, are contented. But it feels as if I'm forgetting something. No, I have not forgotten about the haunting darkness. My heart trembles at the mention of it, though I don't know why. Though it opposes me, it feels natural, as if life would be empty without it. Such trials are to be expected.

"This sense of forgetfulness, however, is not comfortable. It fills me with dread, as if this forgotten thing will soon die and whither. It feels important, but no matter what, I cannot recall what it might be..."

Torika almost scowled. Forgotten something? She didn't feel as if she was forgetting anything. She shifted in her seat, trying to think of a time when she had felt as if she was forgetting something important. Kero was still napping in a cup holder; Torika did not wish to awaken her guardian or alert her parents about this odd book. It was supposed to be a happy, relaxing day today and she didn't want to ruin it by making everyone worry. She sighed and shut the book just as her father parked the car just outside of the forest. The family climbed out of the car, stretching their unused muscles as they took a look around them and retrieved the picnic ingredients from the back of the car.

Taking a deep lungful of crisp air, Torika wandered lazily toward the edge of the trees. The leaves were still green, but they were starting to stiffen and subtly change color. Already, there were splotches of gold and red among the boughs of the trees. The forest around her was totally silent; few people came to such a remote place nowadays -- the public park was closer to civilian homes.

"The best thing about the place," her father had said, "Is that it's so secluded that even Kero can show himself without being seen by others."

There was something about the forest, though, that unnerved Torika. It was silent, save for the slight breezes blowing through the trees. No birds were singing; it felt cold and empty. And yet... there was a presence, weak through it was. It felt frail and desperate, as if somebody were crying out for help with their last breath...

"It's much too quiet here," Torika could hear her mother mutter. Though the woman was talking to herself more than anything else, her husband replied, "I know, Sakura. Despite the silence, I can feel no evil here. Nothing will cause us harm in this forest." He rested his hand on Sakura's shoulder. She gave her husband a warm smile and murmured, "I know it'll be all right."

Torika went back to the car to wake Kero up. However, as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, the plush toy of a guardian shoved his face into his master's.

"You might have gotten me up when we arrived," he muttered grumpily.

Torika eyed the little fellow in an irritated manner. "I was going to wake you up. I just needed to stretch first."

Her words were lost on Kero, who had flown out of the car and was looking around warily.

"This place is so..."

"Quiet."

Kero turned toward Torika, putting a paw to his chin and crossing his legs. Torika took "The Dream of the Lioness" out of the car and put it in her pocket.

"This place is unnaturally silent, but I don't feel any hostile --"

"Presences. Neither did Dad or Mom." Torika began to walk toward her parents, who were signaling her to follow them.

"But there is a presence," Torika continued. "It's very faint, but it's there."

Kero scowled. "Are you sure? This place feels empty; even the wind brings no warmth."

He was right. The wind was blowing southward and yet it wasn't warm nor cold; it was merely there, as if for decoration. Torika shivered involuntarily.

"I know I feel somebody," muttered Torika. "I still feel them, and they seem to be growing weaker and more desperate every moment."

Kero shook his head. "I can't feel anything, and your parents can't either. Perhaps you're imagining it."

"I am not imagining it!" Torika growled. "The presence is faint, but I know it's there -- it's the only thing to feel in such an empty place!"

"How can you be sure?" Kero returned haughtily. "I know what I feel, and I feel nothing."

Torika turned away and gave an impatient grunt. "Then what am I feeling? If you're so smart, you figure it out."

But when she turned around, he was gone. Looking ahead, she could see Kero perched on Sakura's shoulder, looking rather sulky. Torika sighed, wearily realizing that she would have to swallow her pride and apologize to Kero. It wouldn't be a "relaxing family picnic" if two of the family members were in the midst of a spat. Torika began to speed up slightly so that she wouldn't loose sight of her parents.

The light seemed dimmer in the forest; the trees cast ominous shadows upon the ground, and the odd pools of light reaching in between the branches seemed to have depth to them, as if the darkness magnified their meaning. The wind blew weakly throughout the wood, sometimes carrying odd bits of twigs and leaves with it. It wasn't blowing in one straight path; it would wrap around a tree or dive under a shrub and almost pause before starting again in a different direction. Dead leaves twirled where the wind eddied and twigs fell to the earth in odd patterns. Torika wondered if the forest had a life of its own, and its presence was beyond her power to sense.

At last the family came to a small clearing surrounded on all sides by shrubbery. Torika carefully stepped over a briar bush into the odd, oblong shelter that the trees had created. Their branches were closely twined above, letting little light through. The ground was blanketed with long-decayed leaves and dry switches that crumbled as one stepped on them. The silence here was even deeper; the crunch of stepping on a dead leaf or branch was oddly muffled here, and one felt inclined to whisper. Sakura whispered to her husband as she laid the checkered cloth down, "There are no animals here. No bugs, either. How weird."

"I know," replied her husband in a whisper. "There's no life here except for us."

While the couple set up lunch, Torika cornered Kero.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to her guardian. "I didn't mean to growl."

Kero sighed softly and looked at her earnestly. "It's not your fault. I was worried. If there are things that you can sense that Li, Sakura and I can't, that means Yue won't be able to sense them either. It'll make our jobs tougher; it'll be harder for us to protect you if we can't identify that you are in danger."

Torika looked thoughtful for a moment. "The presence I feel isn't dangerous," she said slowly. "It feels desperate and lonely, yet kind. But I see what you mean."

Kero sighed again and looked upward in thought. His concentration was broken when Sakura called them over for lunch. The family sat in a circle, passing sandwiches and bowels of rice around. They ate in silence; talking seemed to be beyond them at the moment, and peace resonated throughout the clearing. A lamp had been set upon the blanket, and a wide circle of flickering light encompassed the family. Sakura managed to finish her lunch early and decided to lean against her husband as he ate. They both sat contentedly, happy to be with each other. Torika smiled to see her parents so blissful; she wished to join them, and she knew that she could, but she had other things on her mind.

When she had finished her lunch, she told her parents that she would be exploring with Kero. Her father removed his arm from Sakura's shoulder to hand his daughter the lamp.

"If you get lost, this will lead you to us," he said. "We'll stay here. Please don't wander too far."

Torika nodded solemnly, took the lamp and turned away from the cuddling couple. Kero flew after, keeping above his master to watch for danger from afar. The light grew brighter as she stepped over the briar into the main part of the forest. She didn't know where she was going to go, but her feet seemed to. They carried her through the trees as if acting on their own will; Torika could see no path nor was she worried about following one. She contentedly walked through the forest knowing that she would be able to find her way back using her father's lamp.

They traveled in silence for a long time; it was long past two o'clock when Torika finally halted, the instinct in her feet now starting to fade. She had stopped before a large tree. It loomed before her, tall and dark and heavy and old; the ancient notches in its trunk were untouched by human hands. Bits of bark and branches had fallen away to reveal that once, long ago, the tree had been carved hollow by a bolt of thunder, though it stood strong and tall, seemingly unaware of its empty middle. Torika gingerly reached out to touch the tree. Its bark was cool and damp and sticky with sap. In the dim light it seemed to gleam where the sap had hardened. Suddenly feeling tired, Torika sat down at the base of the tree and let Kero lay back in her lap. The girl pulled the book out of her pocket and started to read more of the story, choosing for the moment to ignore the bit mentioning forgetfulness.

"And thus it rose, like the golden froth of the sea,

And there was nothing more to the world than me and it."

Looking up suddenly, Torika could see him. He, the darkness of her dreams, stood in his robes, his wand in hand, his bangs casting a shadow on his face. Only his grin was visible, and it was wide with triumph. Torika rose placidly, laying the book and the sleeping Kero and on the forest floor.

The opposing boy moved his lips, but the words were unintelligible; the language was rough as sandpaper to the ear, and yet the chant was light and melodious. Torika summoned her wand and instinctively reached back to pull a Heart Card from her pocket. Her hand only brushed the warm cloth of her inner pocket and nothing more. She had left the Heart Cards at home. Her eyes widened in shock; the boy laughed and finished his chant. The leaf that had been used as a bookmark by Torika glowed red with a golden sheen; with a wave of his hand, the leaf shot out from the book, the force of the sudden tug flinging the cover of the book open, the pages flapping madly as other leaves rushed by with the same golden glow. Torika ducked and covered her head with her arms, trying to avoid the withered plants; though the leaves did brush by Torika none made contact with her. The leaves seemed to be going around her and once she realized this, Torika rose from her position and watched as the leaves swirled around as if in a tornado and start to connect and fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Soon, a wall of sheer light stood in the way of the boy and Torika, surging back and forth like a golden wave fringed with red.

The wall grew bigger every moment and, to the ignorance of Torika, it was rapidly nearing its target. The girl stood, transfixed as more leaves connected to make the light grow; it was such pure light, and yet it held such malice. The book suddenly blazed with a piercing white light and Kero rose, as if in a trance, to read the pages out loud.

"This lonely vigil I have kept for many years. I was born when she was born, and yet she could not accept me. She thrust me away because she feared me, and was too ignorant to see what I was. I wandered, but one such as I cannot wander for long without a master, so I chose my home. My choice was not wise; there was another one such as I that wished to keep me there. Though it has long withered and died with its master, I am still prisoner here in this silent place.

"So long have I waited, and the time has finally come. The rain has stopped, and the thunder now sounds. There is no escaping fate; I am almost free. Now she can accept me with a heart of goodwill and hope. Now is the time. Torika, I beg of you... You know what to do! The words were engraved in your heart at birth!"

The wall crashed down upon Torika, and the girl was enveloped in pure magical energy. It was an abyss, filled with light and her. It had lost its malice, and seemed to have gained an unfathomable, irrepressible grief. A deep, humming music echoed in her ears and shook her very bones, casing her to fall to her knees. The music grew louder and louder, the tones deeper and darker despite the light, and Torika clutched at her head, unable to stand the elegy of sorrow. Faintly, she could hear somebody sobbing and crying out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You must forgive me! I'm sorry!" The pitiful yells tore at her heart like the claws of a merciless lion. She panicked; she couldn't breathe. The light was closing in on her, trapping her, suffocating her...

"It was crying, pleading forgiveness -- I could hear it in my head. Such a low, mournful cry sounded in my ears that moment; my mouth moved of its own accord..."

Kero's voice rang from somewhere outside of the abyss, the mere sound of it causing Torika to lower her arms and struggle to stand. She staggered slightly as the music grew louder, but now she could stand without falling; she closed her eyes and from her lips came the words, "From the deep of my heart, I forgive you."

The light subsided, still distressed, but ceasing to cry out in pain. It trembled slightly and became transparent, the boy clutching his heart behind it, tears flooding down his face. He slowly raised his other hand and muttered something Torika could not hear, and disappeared, taking the light with him. Only one leaf remained-- the leaf that had first landed on Torika's window sill. It was now made of pure gold, its edges fringed with rubies, lapis and emeralds. In the middle was a diamond in the shape of a heart; it glittered almost solemnly in the dim light. Underneath the heart in curved letters were the words: "Thank you."

Torika took the leaf and carefully pocketed it; the book was still shining with the same pure light behind her and she turned to it. Kero, still in a trance, flew away from the book and away from Torika, though he was still in earshot. A root from the hollow tree rose from its half-submerged position on the ground, and gently laid itself upon the open book. Without thinking, Torika walked forward, kneeled down and placed her hand on the book; as soon as her fingertip touched the yellowing page, a sudden gust tore through the forest, tearing the great hollow tree down branch by branch, the gnarled boughs flying away in glorious showers of splinters and leaves. Soon the trunk was blown away in great chunks, revealing a stolid stone cube where the mighty tree once stood.

Torika rose and walked toward the stone; it was almost as tall as she was, and words of an ancient language were inscribed upon its ebony face. She placed the open book upon the stone and searched her heart; words rose to her throat and took form immediately. Torika raised her wand above her head and read the ancient words aloud, understanding some of it and knowing nothing of the rest. The stone started to tremble as the last word escaped the girl's lips; almost gingerly, a blob of ebony light rose from the stone and took on the form of a wolf. It leapt off of the stone, causing Torika to step back so that it could land. The wolf looked Torika squarely in the eye; the weak presence from before now dominated her senses.

"Torika," it murmured in a soft, lyrical voce, "Your heart is ready. You must do battle with the Darkness of your Dreams one last time."

Torika nodded. She knew this quite well.

"He, too, uses the magic of cards to attack." continued the wolf. "But he has a magic of his own. You too have a power beyond the cards, but it has been sealed inside of your heart. Clow Reed made the Clow Cards, and they are his own magic, regardless of their master. They still reflect his heart. Though your own heart powers them, they are not entirely yours. That's where I am concerned. I was made the day you were born, Torika. I am the key to your magic."

Torika's face suddenly lit up, as if a long-forgotten memory was coming back to her. Her eyes widened for a moment; her heart beat faster and her mouth became dry; this was it.

In a breathless whisper she asked, "Why were you trapped?"

"You didn't hear your friend read the book?" it replied almost incredulously. "Your heart rejected me at birth so that another magic could enter. I am the Key of Despair; if I had been able to unlock your true magic, you would have easily fallen into hopelessness. Your heart closed itself to me in order to accept Hope and the Key thereof."

"The Hope Card... And the Light Card!" Torika gasped and gripped her wand.

"Yes. Because I was unable to enter your heart, I had to find a temporary home. I ran away in hopes of finding refuge, but I was lured into a trap. I used what little of me there was so that I could to create that book to guide you here, but it could not appear until you were ready. You have overcome despair and will not easily fall into its traps again; you are therefore ready to unleash your true power."

Torika looked down at the entity gravely. "And all I must do is touch you?"

"Yes," it replied. "You need only to touch me in order to unlock the true magic of your heart..." The magic trailed off and looked at the ground; it looked utterly guilty.

"At one point, Torika, I tempted you and tugged at your heart. I wanted to draw in into desolation. I was lonely, so I..." It trailed off again, and there was a long pause. Finally, it squared itself and went on without stopping.

"I could feel your deepest fears and sorrows, and I took advantage of them. I drew upon your mother's power, even as the Star Cards were being transformed." It looked down in pain. "You were her daughter, and the magic in her blood was similar to yours; it was easy for me to take. I wanted to break free so badly so I... I wanted to use her power to fulfill my own dreams!" It touched its nose to the ground and stretched its forepaws before it, as if it were bowing.

"Please," it begged. "Please forgive me. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you."

Torika stepped back a little. A sudden rush of thoughts and passions had hit her, and she felt a little dizzy. Trembling with emotion, she fell to her knees; her eyes were wide in shock and her breath was quick and choppy. Tears streamed down her face without her knowing; she shook and quaked, unable to harness the rapidly rising anger and sorrow that were quickly overpowering her senses. Finally, in a burst of willpower, Torika forced herself to calm down.

The girl closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She evenly evaluated her feelings and weighed them with the situation at hand. It took a long time, but she stood, her back straight as a ramrod, rigid in determination: she had come to a conclusion. Closing her eyes, she began to speak.

"I won't make excuses for you; what you did was wrong. It was greedy and heartless and stupid." The girl shuddered and opened her eyes. She looked directly at the wolf, her expression both stern and kind.

"But... I can forgive you. I was able to capture and transform the cards in time and my mother survived. Because of you, I pushed myself harder to accomplish my goal." Torika's expression softened completely, and she continued in a cheery tone, "Besides, I'm sure my mother would forgive you, too."

The magic trembled violently and jumped away. It was suspended in mid-air, trembling and starting to change. It was subtle at first, but then it spread like flame slowly engulfing an old piece of parchment. Its "fur" rippled and a white line slowly crawled across its back. The line spread in random directions, filling up in some places, leaving holes in others, slowly transforming the ebony wolf into a white one. Torika stepped forward and with a voice for both her and her mother she cried out. It was a violent shout, not quite befitting the words that it magnified.

"Though my heart aches, I forgive you! I cannot hold a grudge; my heart assents to your forgiveness!"

The wolf, now pure white, took on a different form; this time it shaped itself into a white key. Without warning, it flew forward, striking Torika in the heart. The girl gasped, her eyes wide in surprise. The key turned with a vicious wrench, and Torika's body glowed from within; the leaves on the ground and trees stirred as she was lifted into the air with a flourish. All at once, a blinding light came from Torika's wand. The light filled the entire forest for a split second, time and space seeming to fall away as it turned slightly in its owner's hand. Then the light went out as quickly as it had come, and Torika was slowly lowered to the ground. The key jerked back and Torika gasped again. The magic reverted back into the shape of a wolf and slowly began to fade.

"And thus sorrow has turned into joy, despair to hope, anger to forgiveness," it whispered. "A new power, a magic purely of your own, has been engraved upon your heart. When your heart is moved, it will come." And then it was gone.

Torika stared after it for some time, until a hand gently gripped her shoulder from behind. She jumped slightly in surprise and craned her neck around to see who it was.

"You've found it," murmured her father with a proud smile. Her mother stood beside her father, and nodded gently.

"I'm so proud," she said, "But I think we ought to go. This forest is free of the jurisdiction of mankind; we do not belong here."

Torika nodded back with a smile and walked over to the waking Kero. The small plush toy of a guardian looked confused for a moment, but a look from his master told him that he would hear the full details when they got home. Making sure her friend was perched safely on her shoulder, Torika followed her parents as they headed toward their car.

As she climbed into the car, Torika's eyes widened.

"Mom," she said, "I'm so sorry! I forgot the book!"

Sakura smiled gently at her daughter.

"I don't need to read the book, my dear," she said. "I have somebody to tell me the story in person."

Torika grinned back at her mother, stepped out of the car and gave her a hug.

The book lay on the stone where the tree had been; the wind came again in a strong gust, and the pages flapped wildly in the wind until the last page was visible.

"I just hope that, in the end, I won't be betrayed by my dearest friend..."