"The ultimate test of man's conscience may be his willingness to sacrifice something today for future generations whose words of thanks will not be heard."

- Gaylord Nelson

The stars will rise, in the western skies.

Sitting on the sandy shores of the empty beach, Tim sang the song alone, carrying the voice across the sea, which waves were muted by the mystical workings of the dream world.

The Watcher deems, the peace will last.

Sister strolled to him from a ways down, her long dress dragging snakes in the sand, her trademark smile, often sly, was nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a solemn sadness.

The gathered stars, living after death.

So one last tale, one last battle fought.

“Our future's done...” he ended monotonously. Sister stood beside him, unwavering. Not even fluttering within the breeze. Tim continued, “I've finally figure it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“The singing. From the first night, I've heard this singing.”

“What does the singing do?” she asked.

But he remained silent, watching the soundless wave crash at his feet, dirtied water washing his legs, soaking his shoes.

Ignoring her question, he said, “I figured out I can close the portal. It's possible I may be the only person alive who can do it. Maybe it's because I've smashed my head in. Or maybe I just don't have anything left to fight for. No more worries. Never felt this clear headed in years,” he stood up, taking in a deep breath of the ocean air, which he was thankful existed, unlike the sound around him. Turning to Sister, he said, “I'm going to kiss you.”

“What?” before she could reply, he leaned in. She stumbled back to avoid him, somehow tripping over herself, her entire calm demeanour vanished as she fell flat on her back. She screamed at him, “You can't do that! You'll die!”

“I know,” he stoically replied. He took a step forward, the scene disturbingly similar to that of a girl about to be raped.

Regaining her senses, Sister pushed herself off and floated far away from Tim, before gently hovering to her feet. White cloth ropes extended from the end of her dress, shooting towards Tim and wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, binding him in place.

She asked, “Why are you doing this?”

Instead of fighting against his captor, he dropped to his knees in defeat, arms limped by his sides. Tears streamed down his eyes, like water from a fall. It gushed without stop, mucus dripped unceremoniously out of his nose. All the movies he watched that showed heroes crying beautifully with a single drop of tears were wrong. He cursed the movies. They were always wrong.

“Everyone's gone!” he cried. “My father. My best friends. Everyone's dead!”

“Tim...” she wanted to approach him, but was afraid he was still too unstable to control himself.

“You killed her! YOU KILLED STELLA!” he screamed at Sister.

She wondered if, as the dream entity that she was, she was able of tears. Turns out, with the water that ran down her eyes, she was. “I had to. If I didn't take her, she would be trapped here. She would never move on.”

Tim fell his head to the ground, arms and legs still bound. “I know...I know...” he sobbed. “That's the worst part. I know.”

She ran to him, kneeling in front of him and cradled his head in her arms. She held him tight, making sure he could not bring his head up to her lips before fully embracing his back.

Continuing through tears, “There's no one left to save,” Tim sobbed. “There's no one left to fight for.”

“Tim. This is not the time to give up. The world is about to end, and you said you're probably the only person who can close the portal. You can't give up now.”

“I couldn't save the people closest to me. Now you're expecting me to save the world? I can't just close the portal. I have to kill The Father as well, or it'll just happen again. I can't do all that! I'm just a stupid kid,” he gently pushed himself away from her. Sure that he would not try to kill himself at that point, Sister faced him. Tim continued, “I can't save anyone.”

“You have to try,” she placed her hands reassuringly on his shoulders, rubbing it gently in comfort like a mother would a child. “The people you loved, loved you as much as you loved them. You're not the only one willing to die for the other. They gave up their lives to get you here. Joshua. Clay. Stella.

“There's no one left to save. There's no one left,” he repeated the mantra, eyes looking blankly down at the grains of sand beneath him. He looked up, staring into Sister's misty grey eyes. His stare widened, his pupils dilated as his brain strained itself with the connection. “There's no one left to save!” he leapt to his feet, hands on his head, ruffling through his hair madly as all the thoughts flowed in.

“Tim?” Sister asked, worried. “Are you okay?”

Again, he ignored her, and she was getting slightly annoyed by it. He exclaimed, “You were there! You were in Stella's room!” he said excitedly. “You were right. They would sacrifice themselves for me. My friends. My dad. They did just that. But Stella, she had time to prepare. She wouldn't do it unless she knew I could handle it! Don't you see? Hah!” a maniacal smile spreads across his face.

“I don't say this often but you are seriously scaring me right now.”

He pulled her up standing and hugged her joyously, all while the last remnants of his tears and mucus dripped and dangled. “Wait!” he pushed her apart again. “What did you say Father is doing with the souls of the people he killed?”

“He's...trapping them in the dream world to tear open the fabric of reality...” she stopped as Tim burst out laughing.

He exclaimed, “Oh! This is fantastic! Do you know what this means?”

“That...you've finally lost it?”

“No,” he pulled her close until his nose was scrapping hers. Looking her in the eyes to make sure she understood how serious he was, he said, “It means I can save everyone. Happy endings for all.”

Zoot. Zun. Zoot. Zun.

Grinning, Tim stated, “He's here,” before asking Sister, “You've marked me?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You're safe. What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking, after what I'm about to say, he's gonna want to kill me,” he spun on his feet, turning around to face the newly materialized Father. Still grinning, still maniac, he stepped towards the creature without fear, “Hello. My name's Timothy Kleve. I'll be your demise soon. Are you my daddy? Of course not. Not yet anyway. Soon though, hah!”

The creature growled, raised its rusted saw with its blade to Tim's throat, an act of hostile threat unbecoming of a mindless beast. But of course, Tim already knew none of the hunters were actually 'mindless'.

“You don't scare me anymore. Because in this exact order, I'm going to save my best friend. Then, I'm going to close the portal, save the world. I'm going to save to save her,” he pointed to Sister behind him. “After that, I'm going to kill you,” The Father roared, though Tim could not see its lips move underneath the straw hat. “I'm going to save my father. And last but not least, I'm going to save my best friend's sister. Well, maybe not that exact order, but I am going to do all that!”

The Father pulled its weapon back and swung it at Timothy's neck. Sister gasp, but the saw, though as sharp as it ever was, merely pierced and stopped just half an inch into the skin. Though bleeding, though enduring the pain through gritted teeth, Tim managed to spit his last retort at The Father.

“You are going to lose.”

The creature pulled the weapon, slicing off his neck.

XXX

11:56 p.m

3 days earlier

He wasn't sure if the pain in his neck was due to having smashed his head against a steel post or the after effects of being decapitated. He knew though, that the blood flowing down his face and into his lips were his own. His watch beeped as it passed the midnight line, and through veils of red, he saw he had been unconscious for over 24 hours. Tim wondered how his body, still slumped against the lamppost, was left untouched for such a long time, until he realized that people probably had more problems on their hands with a hole in the sky than a kid passed out on the streets.

His head throbbed, and wished the constant ringing would stop, until he realized the sound was that of a vehicle's alarm wailing into the night.

Slowly, he climbed to his feet, using the bloodied pole as a support to stand. He was still in the suburbs but almost half a mile away from where the Barbers' house was. He must have ran all the way to that one random street corner, which would explain why his entire body, not just his skull, was burning with aches and pain.

Steeling himself, he wiped off what he could of the blood on his face with the sleeves of his shirt. A glint reflected from the light in his eyes as he said to himself, “Let's end this.”