The Dreamweavers

by G. Z. Schmidt

  The rabbit paused and looked at the sleeping baby. It could tell that he had a pure heart, as most children did—a heart not yet hardened by the troubles of the world.

  “You’ve been through particular hardship, and you have your whole life ahead of you. This is what I should’ve done in the first place.”

  The Jade Rabbit pressed a paw to the baby’s forehead. For a moment, the baby’s skin glowed bright like the moon. Then the rabbit took him away from the city walls to a tiny village close to the mountains. It made sure the child was safe in the care of his new guardians, who came upon him bathed in a moonbeam at the base of a willow tree beside a river.

  “Goodbye,” the Jade Rabbit whispered before it disappeared in a sprinkle of moonlight. “I trust you will use your powers for good instead of evil.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  十

  Ghosts and Rabbits

  Mei and Yun kept walking down street after street in the desolate city. Now and then, the wind whistled through the decrepit buildings, which were most certainly empty. Save for the old man who’d passed them earlier, the twins didn’t meet another soul.

  Up ahead was what looked like a temple. The forlorn building was set on the top of a set of stairs and had multiple stacked roofs reaching toward the stars. But the entire temple gave off an uninviting vibe. The windows were dark, save for a single circular one at the very top that had a faint orange glow. Etched in the stone at the foot of the stairs was a single character:

  火

  Fire. The twins exchanged a puzzled look. Mei’s skin prickled. Her eyes followed the stairs to the top, then did a double take. At the top stood several people in hooded cloaks, as still and silent as statues.

  “Maybe we can ask them for help,” Yun suggested.

  “No, Yun.” Mei thought again of the ghostlike old man whose shoulder she had tapped. The last people she wanted to ask were a bunch of hooded figures outside an ominous temple.

  “Why not?” protested Yun, who did not know what Mei knew. “There’s a lower and lower probability we’ll find someone else to help us in this city.”

  Mei tried to tug her twin along. “Let’s leave. I—”

  “No, we should ask—”

  Their back-and-forth jostle made Yun accidentally drop his bag. The contents spilled to the snow-covered ground.

  Grandpa’s porcelain jar dropped in the mess. Its lid fell off, and the flashing green-and-gray substance inside started to float out like thick smoke. Yun fumbled for the lid and tried to clamp it back on the jar, but most of the cloud had escaped. It felt like nothing but damp air.

  There was a sudden swishing sound from behind them. Figures appeared out of nowhere: men, women, even small children. A moment later, the twins were surrounded by at least a dozen people. They all looked like the first old man they saw—visible yet not quite visible, the way a star in the night sky seems brighter in one’s peripheral vision than looking at it straight on. Each seemed to be made of the same thin shadowy material, as if they could fade away at any second.

  “W-We don’t mean to h-harm anyone,” Yun addressed the group shakily. “We’re here to seek help.”

  The ghostly people did not seem to hear or see Yun. They were each absorbed in something else: one woman seemed to be laughing and chatting with another woman beside her, though neither made a sound. Three children were exchanging something invisible amongst themselves, cupping their hands and grinning. Then the closest person—a woman with a cane—walked through the mysterious floating substance from Grandpa’s jar. Her features suddenly sharpened, from her graying hair to the outline of her bare feet. She blinked at the twins in alarm, seemingly noticing them for the first time.

  “Ghosts.” The woman held up her cane, as if to ward the twins off. “You look just like her.”

  Before Mei or Yun could ask who the woman was talking about, a small boy entered the cloud. Like the woman, his outline became more opaque. He gaped in surprise at the twins.

  “Who’re you?” he asked.

  Yun cleared his throat. “Pardon us, we’re from a village in the mountains,” he tried again. “Our grandpa’s been taken, and there was a sudden snowstorm, and—”

  “You look just like her,” the woman with the cane repeated, focusing her gaze on Mei. “A younger version. I see it in your face.”

  “Who?” asked Mei.

  Wham! Without warning, the woman whacked her cane against Mei’s shin. Surprisingly, it hurt quite a bit. Mei yelped.

  “It was you!” the woman howled.

  She raised her cane again, but the cloud had slowly dispersed, and her features faded. She opened her mouth to say something else, but no sound came out.

  As the cloud passed over the others in the group, one by one their features strengthened, then faded again as the cloud moved on. Each time their features became clearer, the people gasped at the sight of Mei and Yun.

  Then a bright white light shone behind the twins. They turned around to see a small glowing rabbit at their feet.

  To their enormous astonishment, the rabbit spoke.

  “Welcome, children. I see you have the gift.”

  This is it, I’ve definitely lost my mind.

  The uneasy thought ran across Mei’s and Yun’s heads as they followed the white rabbit toward a deserted section of the city. The rabbit shone brighter than their lantern, its fur as radiant as moonlight. If it wasn’t for the alarming fact that it glowed and spoke, the twins almost certainly would have tried to pet it, as the animal looked quite fluffy and soft. It reassured them every now and then in a calm voice that “they were almost there,” and that they would “have a serious talk very soon.”

  It was also well past the two children’s bedtime, and the twins were both tired and hungry—ideal conditions for seeing mirages and things that aren’t there.

  The fact that they were following a talking rabbit shouldn’t have been surprising, given everything they had witnessed in the city that night. The twins fuzzily recalled fables involving a mystical rabbit from their bedtime stories years ago. According to Chinese legend, there was a magical rabbit who lived on the moon, where it pounded the elixir of life in its jade mortar. On nights when the moon was full, one could see shadows on its golden-white surface form the faint outline of the animal’s body. The Jade Rabbit could perform strong, powerful magic from the moonlight. It used its magic for good, rescuing cities from plagues, but it also had the potential to destroy populations with its powers.

  In spite of all the tales they’d heard, however, never once did Mei and Yun think the rabbit was real. It was up there with the childhood stories they’d been told of the beloved Monkey King, or folktales of the mythical Nian monster who lived under the mountains. Good stories, but just stories, meant to amuse young children.

  They came upon an open pasture with frozen, wilted trees. The rabbit stopped underneath one of the trees.

  “This is a quiet spot. We should not be disturbed here.” The creature twitched its whiskers and looked up at the twins. Its dark eyes were as luminous as the rest of its body. “Greetings, I am the Jade Rabbit, Guardian of the Moon.”

  “Hello,” Mei and Yun managed to croak. As an afterthought, they gave a bow. If this was indeed a mythical guardian, it likely demanded proper respect.

  The rabbit seemed to appreciate this. “As you may know, this pasture once was the most popular place in the city. Families would take strolls and have picnics here among the many blossoming trees. That was many moons ago...nearly seventy years. The trees have long stopped bearing blossoms.”

  The twins looked at the barren trees, like skeletons in the night. They couldn’t imagine a less likely place for picnics and strolls.

  “We’ve heard some tales,” Yun said hesitantly. “Our grandpa said the city used to be lovely.”

  The Jade Rabbit lowered its head. “Yes. The city used to be one of the most beautiful places on this side of the mountains. It was my personal favorite. Lush green fields,
golden rooftops, flowers on every street corner. But it all ended when the curse swept through the city.”

  “The curse?”

  “Lotus’s curse.”

  The Jade Rabbit proceeded to tell them the story of a poet named Lotus who lived in the city back then. It told them how her husband had been framed and killed by a jealous noble, and how the event drove Lotus to release her anguish and heartbreak upon the public. Since that night, the rabbit said solemnly, the city sank under a frightful curse that continued to that very day.

  The twins were silent. Then Yun whispered, “So the curse on the city is real?”

  “Indubitably it’s real.” The Jade Rabbit cocked its head. “I just told you that, didn’t I? You need to listen better if you want to survive in this world.”

  Yun stammered something in response; the attentive twelve-year-old wasn’t used to being admonished like that. Mei elbowed her brother, biting back a smile. “Excuse me, Jade Rabbit,” she said, having newfound immense respect for the creature. “What did you mean earlier when you said we have ‘the gift’?”

  “It’s obvious. I was referring to your dreamweaving abilities. Why else are you here?”

  Mei and Yun glanced at each other. The Jade Rabbit, sharp as it was, immediately caught the meaning of the quick exchange.

  “Hmm. I take it the jar of dreams you released is not yours?”

  “Jar of dreams?” repeated both twins.

  “Pardon me—jar of nightmares,” the rabbit corrected. “The bulk of the dreamcloud’s colors were bright green and black, which mean anger, uneasiness, fear. Ideally, you want dreams to be a soft blue, or bright yellow like sunshine.”

  The twins stared at each other. “We don’t know anything about dreamweaving,” Mei said to the rabbit. “Or what it even means.”

  “Hmm.” The Jade Rabbit seemed to ponder this for a few moments. “A dreamweaver is someone who works with dreams—and nightmares. They have the power to control a dream, to affect it from all aspects, all angles...even from within the dream.” The rabbit tilted its head and shrugged its shoulder. “But never mind that. I must have misread you. Both of you give off the essence of a dreamweaver, and of this very city. I thought that was what attracted you here, in fact.”

  The twins must’ve looked confused, because the rabbit went on to explain. “You have seen the residents here. They were, of course, not always in such a state. When the curse began, they suddenly found themselves cornered by their own nightmares: things they dread, suspicion of one another, despair. As the curse grew stronger each day, their reality became similar to a dreamlike state. And in a dream, time is boundless. People became trapped in time. The residents you encountered today—they’re not ghosts. They’re still alive, just not in our present.”

  Mei and Yun did not completely follow, but they shivered at the rabbit’s words. They thought of the odd appearances of the people they’d met, how they were not quite natural. Pounding in the back of their minds was also the troubling question of why Grandpa owned a jar of dreams, and what else he might’ve kept from them.

  “How was one poet able to do all this?” whispered Mei.

  “What you need to understand is the physical world is rather like a mirror of the dream world. They work together in harmony, the same way the moon has, for you humans, a dark side and a bright side. In fact, the universe is made up of such contrary forces. They are an ancient magic, very powerful. You can find them everywhere in nature: winter and summer, chaos and order. They are inseparable, and neither side can exist without the other.”

  The idea sounded like one of those mystical concepts Elder Liu or Grandpa might talk about. “What do you mean ‘neither side can exist without the other’?” asked Yun timidly, still embarrassed about the Jade Rabbit’s earlier rebuke.

  “Take the example of light and darkness,” said the Jade Rabbit. “Darkness exists because of the absence of light. And without darkness, one would not recognize light for what it is. Same with everything else. Seasons change. Life comes after death, and vice versa. Neither side is superior to the other, but a correct balance is essential. When there is proper balance, the world lives in harmony. And where there isn’t...”

  “You have the City of Ashes?” ventured Yun.

  The Jade Rabbit nodded. “Imbalance means disturbance. There is great power in such a disruption. Lotus was able to tap into this power. She was consumed by her anger and hate, both of which came from her wounded heart. The imbalance threw both her and this city into what they are now.”

  There was a long silence as the twins digested the creature’s words. “I never knew the physical world was linked to the dream world,” Mei said, her skin prickling.

  “Linked to it, yes, but not identical—the dream world isn’t quite like the physical world,” answered the Jade Rabbit. “Your subconscious plays a big role in the dream world. In the physical world, you raise your arm to reach for an apple in a tree. In the dream world, the apple comes to you because it knows you want it. That’s how it works for most people.”

  “Most people?” echoed Mei.

  “Dreamweavers, of course, are different. They can exert more control in such a scenario. They have the ability to affect the flow and outcome of dreams—their own, and others’, if they so choose. How tall is the tree, how fast does the apple fall, its color and flavor....The dream world is more malleable for a dreamweaver; it’s a realm they can enter at any point they desire, provided they make their wishes clear before falling asleep.”

  “How many dreamweavers are out there?” asked Yun, thinking of Grandpa.

  “Oh, they’re relatively rare,” the Jade Rabbit answered vaguely. “Their magic is usually inherited or attained from a special source....” The creature looked the twins over once more and asked, “Where in the physical world are you two from?”

  “A village just over the mountains,” said Mei. She went on to describe the strange clouds that recently arrived there, the moon’s disappearance, and the storms that followed. “Our grandpa is in trouble,” she finished. “So is our village. A lot of other...weird things...have happened in the last few days.”

  The Jade Rabbit seemed to frown, if rabbits could frown. “I know the place you speak of. It sounds like it’s somehow been affected by the curse. Tell me, did anyone unusual visit your village in the past few days?”

  “Just the emperor’s son,” Yun answered. “He came all the way from the Imperial City for the Mid-Autumn Festival.”

  The Jade Rabbit looked at the sky. “Mm-hmm. That’s quite an honor,” was all it said.

  Mei and Yun also looked up at the moonless sky.

  “Do you really live on the moon?” whispered Mei.

  “Yes. As I’ve stated, I am the Guardian of the Moon.”

  “Can you still get home if the moon is gone?”

  “Of course. The moon is still visible in other areas. I simply travel to one of those places and return home by standing in the moonlight.”

  There were many more questions the twins wanted to ask the marvelous rabbit. But one question in particular burned in the back of their throats.

  “You said the curse started seventy years ago,” said Yun. “What about the people who traveled to the city afterward? How would they even get in?”

  “Although the city is locked to the outside, every now and then, people manage to enter. Like you.”

  “Like our parents,” whispered Mei. She instinctively touched the butterfly pin in her hair.

  The Jade Rabbit looked at her questioningly. Yun explained, “Our parents came to this city six years ago to learn about what happened here.”

  “I see.” The Jade Rabbit seemed to understand, without either twin saying so, how they’d never heard from their parents again. It dipped its head slightly, and its voice had a trace of pity. “If they really were able to get past these walls, then they’re still here in this nebulous nightmare.”

  “Alive?” demanded Mei.

  “Presumabl
y. Except everything to them is as it was six years ago. They would not know time has passed.”

  There was a long silence. It was broken by Yun. “How do we find them?” he asked shakily. “How do we rescue them?”

  “Finding them may be difficult. There are several thousand people in this city, all trapped in time. Rescuing them is only possible if the curse is lifted.”

  “Can’t you help? You can use your magical rabbit powers, can’t you?”

  At this, the Jade Rabbit stood straight, looking rather affronted. “I cannot reverse this curse. It was brought about by misused magic and took on a life of its own. I am powerless to intervene at this point, and frankly, it’s best that I stop getting involved in human affairs altogether.” It twitched its pink nose, seemingly trying to convince itself of this last point. “I presented myself to you only because I was curious about your essence and wanted to know what drew you to this bleak place. But I have my answers, and I shall be going....”

  “Wait!” pleaded Mei. “Please stay. You have to help us. We need to rescue our grandpa, too. We need to get to the emperor’s palace in time, before it’s too late.”

  “And that’ll be impossible without horses or adults helping us,” added Yun.

  “I am sorry. I cannot undo this curse or help you.”

  The Jade Rabbit turned away and started to shimmer, as if to disappear. Desperate, Mei reached out and grabbed the rabbit’s hind paw.

  “Ouch!” Tears sprung to Mei’s eyes as she whipped her hand back. Her fingers burned white hot.

  The rabbit turned to face the twins again. It watched the tears fall down Mei’s face. It studied Yun’s quivering chin.

  “There is one solution,” it finally told them in a resigned voice. “You could try appealing to Lotus—her ghost, her spirit. She unleashed the curse, and therefore she is the only one who can break it.”

  “Where is she?” asked the twins.

  The Jade Rabbit paused. “In the Temple of Fire.”