The day her husband and son came back from MÄR she wept. For the first time in years, not a single tear shed was one of sorrow. He husband and child had come home to her – safe and whole and that was all that mattered.

At least, until the nightmares began. She didn't have them. Not her. The demons of the night attacked her son Ginta.

She had been walking by his room late at night – she had had an idea for her next novel and had wanted to write it down before she forgot – when she heard strange sounds coming from her only child's room. Instantly her heart constricted. He wasn't leaving again was he? He couldn't! She had only just gotten her child back from the world of Märchen; she couldn't lose him to it again.

Throat and heart clogged with fear, she threw open his door and rushed in, freezing a few steps from Ginta's bed.

Ginta was thrashing and muttering, his brow covered in sweat, and his face was contorted in fear. She took the last few steps to her son and laid her hand on his shoulder. As soon as she made contact with her son, his eyes snapped open and he shot straight up in bed, wide-eyed and panting. He looked around his room wildly, as if looking from the monster from his nightmare. When his wide blue eyes finally landed on his mother, he blinked and gave a sheepish grin, trying to wave the incident off.

She didn't hear a word he said. All she could do was into a hug and hold him for the rest of the night.

She wanted to never let go.

After that night she watched her son more closely. He never wore his glasses anymore – he claimed to no longer need them – he was calmer too.

Before his mysterious disappearance Ginta had had no athletic ability to speak of. Now he was at the top of his Gym class and trying out for sports teams.

But, one thing hadn't changed. He daydreamed always.

That held endless reassurance for her.

One day Ginta had come home from school to find her ranting about her latest writing issues. He had sat down with her and told her a story of a place called Caldia and its princesses, Diana and Dorothy. He told her of Diana's betrayal and Caldia's harsh law concerning criminals. He spoke of Diana creating the Chess Pieces and initiating a war across MÄR Heaven twice – once six years ago and again mere months ago and of Diana's hate of the human race. She learned of Dorothy and Diana's last battle and the elder sister's final words – a declaration of love for her little sister.

At the end he gave her a sad smile, one that told her that this story was so much more than a fairytale.

It had been three months since Ginta came home when the thought struck her.

Ginta was no longer her child.

Her child was innocent and carefree and dreamed of fairies and talking rocks. He didn't dream of death and wars and betrayal.

Her child played games a believed in the fairytales she wrote.

This child that had come home to her was not the child she remembered. He was not her child.

This child was a child of the other world. A child that had fought in a war and seen death.

Ginta was no longer her child.

He was a child of MÄR. A child of war.