The first thing Owen did before going any farther into the desert was pack snow from around the gorge into his water pouch. He had never been in a desert before, but if he had learned anything about them from his royal education, it was that he would need a lot of water. He also knew that it was going to be very hot, which was convenient for melting the snow into water to drink and not so convenient for having an easy journey.

The sun rose as he stepped out across the sand, shining strong rays that quickly heated up the ground. Owen rolled up his sleeves and pant legs, already feeling as if he were being toasted alive. He would have liked to take his boots off too, but his feet would be burned.

And the day had only just begun.

"Walk until you reach the middle," Owen thought, repeating the directions over and over in his head to keep his mind off his discomfort and to keep him moving. "Not too slow or too fast. Ignore the sand." He had no idea why he had to ignore the sand, but he still tried to just in case it was really important. But it was hard; his feet sunk a little with every step he took, constantly reminding him of the stuff the ground was made of. And everywhere he looked all he could see besides the sky, white with heat, was sand.

The snow in the water pouch melted fast, but it also didn't take long for Owen to drink much of it. He hoped that this desert was a small one. If it wasn't, the water supply wouldn't get him to the middle.

"How would Claire feel if I died out here?" Owen wondered, wiping the sweat off his brow. Would she just come back and save him again?

No. She's never coming back.

Owen glanced around, but he saw nothing. The words had sounded as if they were from someone else besides himself, but no one else was there. "I must be going crazy in this heat," he thought.

A wind had picked up slightly, stirring the sand grains and lifting them in the air.

Does it matter if you are? No one would ever find out or care. You made sure of that yourself.

Owen tried to keep walking, but the sand on the breeze struck against his face, stinging his skin and eyes.

You're going to go crazy and die in this desert. Alone, alone, alone...

"Stop that!" Owen shouted, but there was still no one there to yell at. The sand had gotten into his mouth when he had opened it. "Why did I just yell at myself?" he thought. Once it was clear that the small sandstorm that the wind had created would not disperse any time soon, he walked forward, shielding his eyes with his arm.

The voice...was it his own?...grew louder. The sand shifted around him.

Why keep walking? What's the point?

Owen stopped, steadying himself against the harsh wind. "I may feel awful, but I can still finish what I've started," he said.

You just don't understand, do you? You threw away your entire life for this quest of yours, for Claire. She was all you had left, and you lost her too. There's nothing left to do. Your quest is over. She hates you.

Owen blinked, but the sand still scraped his eyes. "What if she doesn't?" he argued weakly.

She does. You know she does.

He knew she did.

Owen's feet had frozen to the ground, the sand swirling around him. His thoughts were numb with defeat.

"She does hate me. I have nothing left to live for."

~*~

Claire had flown away to a shadowy forest. She tried to sit down on a boulder and think for a moment, but the trees morphed around her like clouds driven by the wind. It would have scared her, but she had already seen enough strange things in her dreams that she was merely distracted by it.

"This isn't the place to think," she whispered under her breath.

After a few minutes of wishing herself somewhere else, she dissolved and was swept off her feet into what she had come to call by now the Dream Road.

Claire was floating, nothing above, beneath, or beside her but wispy clouds made of dust and the warping shapes of things like trees, castles, birds, and anything else she could dream of. She traveled this Dream Road swiftly, wondering all the while where her dreaming mind would take her. That lake folding in and out of her vision to her left looked pleasant. Maybe she could think there. But soon it completely fled away. There was a meadow of yellow flowers she had seen a few times, but it too was gone.

She felt herself slowing and saw the images around her solidifying into real features of land. Before she could blink, she was standing alone on a stark, dry landscape with the sun beating down on her.

"Why am I here?" she said aloud, surveying the unwelcoming place. She let out a little cry as she realized her feet were burning.

Thinking fast, she reached down to scoop up some sand, ignoring the heat, and turned it into a pair of sturdy shoes. She put them on and sighed. It had happened before; when she appeared in the snowy place, she had made some snow boots out of rocks. For some reason she only traveled her dreams without shoes and always had to improvise. It was so bothersome.

"Why am I in this desert?" she thought, taking a few steps in her new shoes. What had pulled her here?

Claire shrugged. She hadn't the slightest clue, and she didn't care. "This place is hot, but at least it doesn't have weird trees." She would have to settle for it, since she didn't know how much longer she would be able to travel in her dreams.

"Now to think," she thought. "About poor Owen." She sighed. He hadn't been himself. He had been so defensive. Maybe hurt? Something must have happened to turn him so bitter.

"I shouldn't have left him alone," Claire thought. "Etherea is so tough on him. It's making him confused."

Or maybe it's revealing the truth.

Claire jumped and inch and turned in a full circle. "Who said that?" she exclaimed. No one was there.

A hot breeze rose, sending some specks of sand at her face. Trial brings out truth. This anger is only what he has been trying to hide forever.

"What?" Claire said incredulously. "That makes no sense. " She kept her eyes moving, seeking out what was speaking to her.

He has felt this way, to some degree, all this time. Face it. You weren't meant to love each other.

The sand billowed in a cloud now. Claire squinted to preserve her eyes but never let her guard down completely. "That's just wrong," she asserted. "Where are you now? Show yourself!"

But you understand. Because of your curse he was never supposed to be a part of your life. He's not meant to be the true love that wakes you. He doesn't truly love you.

"You're wrong," Claire said. She thought she saw a shape form then disappear amidst the clouds of sand. "I don't know how you're getting into my mind, but you still know nothing about me. He may have been angry, but he's not completely to blame. I called him selfish; that was my fault. I don't really think he's selfish. He's here for me, and he's doing all these hard things for me. He may be a bit confused now, but he'll never stop loving me, and I'll never stop loving him!"

As Claire said each word, she noticed the sand around her solidifying more and more. By the end, there was a distinct figure standing before her, looking at her out of eyes of sand. "Who are you?" she demanded, poising herself to fight.

The sand figure held up its hands in defeat. "There is no more battle, princess. You have won fairly, and I concede."

Claire relaxed, though her eyes were still hard. "My question remains."

"I have no name. I am a being of sand, indistinct among others of my kind."

"What were you trying to do?" she questioned.

"What my kind do. We test the will of any who pass through our desert. If their will is strong, we concede and are freed from our task. If their will is weak, they are lost in the sands."

Claire was concerned. "Why would you do that?"

"We find it is more merciful to give them rest than allow them to suffer their journey with a feeble heart."

"How many people have you done it to?"

"Not many come through our desert without first having a firm resolve. Though there is someone here now, actually, who will soon find his rest in these lands."

"Who?" Claire asked, horrified.

The sand being looked at her with its emotionless eyes. "A prince."

"Owen?!" she exclaimed. "No, you can't! Where is he?"

"Not far from here." The being started to dissolve into individual grains that drifted away on the wind. "My task is finished. I am free. Thank you, princess."

"NO! Come back here right now!" But the sand being was gone.

"Owen!" Claire cried out, whirling around. "Where are you?" At first glance she saw nothing on the wide landscape. Looking more carefully, she noticed a cloud of sand blurring the air not too far away. Without any more delay, she took off running across the sand.

As she drew closer, Claire could more clearly distinguish two shapes, one standing stationary and the other shifting slightly with the rest of the sand. It was Owen, with a sand being close by. The prince wasn't moving, his eyes were glazed with hopelessness, and, to Claire's dismay, he was turning into sand.

"Get away! Get away!" she screamed at the sand being as she ran toward them. It looked at her, unconcerned. "It is almost done."

"You had better believe it isn't!" Claire wound up her arm and sent her fist swinging toward the creature's face. It exploded in a cloud of sand and was gone.

She immediately turned back to Owen, then let out a little gasp. He was made almost completely of sand. It had started at his feet and crept up; only his head and shoulders remained.

"Owen, can you hear me?"

He didn't answer. His eyes were unblinking.

"I think I know what you're thinking of," she said, watching his face sadly. "You're wondering if I'm mad, if I think you're a failure. Is that right?"

The sand moved up slowly.

"You're not a failure," she assured. "You're doing really well. I must make it look easy, making fires or shoes out of nothing. But that's just because I'm not really here--not all the way. You came here, dedicated yourself completely to this quest, and because of that you have the hard job. I can just whoosh myself away if things get too bad, but you can't. You have to stay and face it with no magic powers and often with no one to help. But no matter how hard it is, you're still doing so well."

Owen blinked. The sand stopped spreading.

"You're my hero, Owen," Claire said, smiling, "and I can be yours too. We have to do this together. We each have our strengths, and neither one of us could succeed by ourselves."

The sand started to recede. It started slowly, then gained speed as it flowed back into the ground, Claire laughing with relief as it went. In less than a minute, Owen was standing in front of her, sand-free and blinking in confusion.

"Claire?" he said. "What are you laughing about?"

Claire said no words. She enveloped him in a tight hug. Owen was puzzled, but not entirely displeased.

"You're a hero," she said quietly. "Don't ever forget it."

Owen smiled. "You're a hero, too." He stepped back, and they pulled apart. "I was horrible, though. I'm so sorry for everything I did. I was just...no, there's no excuse. But can you forgive me?"

Claire's eyes twinkled. "What do you think? Of course I do."

The sun seemed to shine more gently, even the desert didn't look so big any longer. They were a pair of heroes, and they could do anything.