"Nightmare Origins"

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

- Exodus 22:18

The Dreamworld...

Kara Murphy opened her eyes to find herself standing in the dark, surrounded by trees. It was incredibly disorienting. One moment she'd been laying on her back in Eli's cabin, deeply breathing in the incense he had been burning. Then, in the time it took her to blink, she was suddenly on her feet, in what appeared to be the middle of the woods at night. She glanced around herself, knowing that this must be the Dreamworld. But it was so real! The cool feeling of the night air on her skin. The trees rustling as they swayed in the breeze. The sounds of frogs and crickets chirping in the distance. The stars, glittering clear and innumerable in the inky blackness between the gaps in the trees overhead.

"I've never seen someone make the transition from the Waking World to the Dreamworld so flawlessly."

Kara started slightly when she heard the deep voice suddenly speak up from behind her. Whirling on her heel, she came face to face with Eli, who stood regarding her with a calm look of intrigue. "You arrived here faster than me. And I've been doing this for a long, long time. You are truly gifted, Ms. Murphy."

"Yeah, great," Kara glanced around nervously as she spoke. "I'm fuckin' over the moon. So where are Rory and Luke?"

Eli's expression turned grim. "I'm uncertain. It was a risk trying to bring them into the Dreamscape at all, but being part of this whole thing, I had thought their unconscious minds might make it easier to arrive at the destination we sought. It may have indeed helped, but they may have fallen off the path into the Deep Dreams. They shouldn't be in any true danger… not physically, anyway. It isn't likely their presence in the Dreamworld will be noticed by anything. But all the same, it would likely be for the best if we made our sojourn here a quick one."

Kara sighed to herself. Great. That's all she needed. To feel guilty for dragging her friends along on this insanity, only to lose them. She took a small comfort in the fact that Lisa and Dr. Burroughs were watching over them in the Waking World, as Eli called it. If anything were to happen to Rory or Luke, hopefully Dr. Burroughs would notice and be able to wake them in time, like she had with Chastity at the funeral parlor.

Kara glanced at the ground, taking everything in, before slowly looking back up at the shaman. "So… this is the Dreamworld then, huh?"

Eli nodded. "Indeed."

"Why's it look like a forest?"

"We came in search of answers. As I explained earlier, all secrets are lain bare in the Dreamscape. Anything that once occurred in the Waking World can be sought out in the Dreamworld if you know where to look. We entered the dream state seeking answers about this woman in black you and your friends have seen. This is where the Dreamworld has lead us."

"So we're in the Dreamworld, but what we're being shown are real events? Or at least were?"

Eli nodded again. "You catch on quickly."

Kara sighed, shaking her head. "This is some fucked up, Ebenezer Scrooge shit, you know it?"

Eli paused a beat, before raising an eyebrow. "I suppose. If that helps you."

"So where are we then? When are we? Is this Crystal Lake?"

Eli glanced around. "I don't believe so. I've lived in Crystal Lake all my life, and none of this looks familiar. As for when this is…" Eli's gaze settled on something over Kara's shoulder, and beyond her, deeper in the woods. "Perhaps we will find the answers we seek over there."

Kara glanced over her shoulder, following the shaman's gaze. There, beyond the trees, deeper in the woods, she could just make out an orange flickering glow, and several shadows moving quickly back and forth across the light. A cool breeze wafted through the trees and carried with it the murmur of several distant voices. Kara couldn't make out what the voices were saying; they were all speaking over one another in hushed, whispered tones. Dimly, she also heard the crackling of fire; the source of the flickering orange, glow.

Kara was beginning to have an inkling of where they were and she was fairly certain she'd been here before.

As if reading her thoughts, Eli nodded once. "Come." He turned and stepped into the woods, moving toward the glow in the distance.

Kara hesitated only a moment, before following him.

Luke Morley glanced up from where he still cradled Rory Lawson's head in his lap on the damp front lawn. Floating above them, high above the bowing, green roof of the ramshackle nightmare version of 1428 Elm Street itself, the three creatures that called themselves the Dream Demons conversed with each other in hushed tones.

Luke glanced around… it felt like they were on an island, floating in a void. The grass of the lawn completely disappeared into blackness just a few yards away from him, and seemed to continue like that all the way around the house. Existence just seemed to fade away beyond that. Luke wasn't sure, but it felt like the blackness was slowly, imperceptibly creeping closer, each time he looked away. Were the Dream Demons what was keeping it at bay? Had they constructed this whole scene, just for his and Rory's benefit? What would happen to them if the Dream Demons decided to make it all disappear? Would they just float around in the abyss until they woke up? Or someone else woke them up?

That brought up another nagging question Luke hadn't quite been letting himself think about until just now: Dr. Burroughs and Lisa had been left behind in Eli's cabin in the real world, to watch over them as they slept, and to wake them if there were any signs of trouble. What if they didn't show any signs of trouble until it was too late? Rory had been through the ringer with that Dream Demon, Briareus, rooting around in her head. Had she shown no sign of that in the real world?

Or worse still, maybe she had shown signs of it, and Dr. Burroughs had been unable to wake her.

It seemed to Luke that something had definitely gone wrong. The Dream Demons themselves had mused that Luke and Rory had "fallen off the path" while dream walking, into something they called a Deep Dream.

Did that mean they were trapped here?

"Luke?"

Luke's eye snapped back down to Rory as he heard her weakly say his name. Blinking as if coming out of a trance, she looked up at him. The glazed look she'd had after Briareus forcefully ejected himself from her body was gone. She quickly sat up, wiping the murky fluid that marked the Dream Demon's exit from her mouth on the sleeve of her letterman jacket.

Luke breathed a sigh of relief. "Rory! Thank God you're okay."

Rory shook her head, before slowly climbing to her feet. "I dunno if I'd go that far. But I'm still breathing at any rate." She glanced around. "Where are they?"

Luke stood himself, pointing to where the Dream Demons hovered, chittering amongst themselves just over the rooftop of the Elm Street House. As he did so he became acutely aware that the orb of blackness that encircled them had closed in even further. The stars and the red moon in the sky had disappeared completely. It was beginning to grow very dark. The top of the Elm Street house was beginning to fade as well, though the Dream Demons themselves showed no sign of being affected by the encroaching void. "I'm starting to think we really need to get out of here. Wherever 'here' is…"

"We're in the Void. On the furthest, outermost edges of the Dreamworld. The Deep Dreams." Rory nodded to the three Dream Demons. "They've been trapped here for over a decade. The only reason they were able to shape this house is because of our presence. They draw power from our fear."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "How in the world do you know all that?"

Rory's eyes narrowed as she focused her gaze on the largest of the Demons; Briareus. "When that thing was tearing through my head, the flow of information went both ways. I could see its thoughts, just like it could see mine."

"It seemed pretty convinced you were going to be traumatized by it."

"Yeah, well, it was wrong. They don't exactly have a high opinion of humans. It knew I could read its thoughts while it was in my mind, it just didn't care."

"What are they? The way the other two were talking while you were, uh, out of it, it almost sounds like they're Freddy's masters or something."

Rory shook her head. "No, not quite. But they are responsible for his powers. Why he came back in the first place after being burned to death." She glowered up at them once more. "They're parasites. They feed off spreading misery and chaos, but they're also weak and cowardly on their own. They latch onto much more powerful entities and use that power to create agents to wreak their havoc for them. And they're old. Very old. As old as the Dreamworld itself, maybe even older."

Luke glanced over at her. "They said they're incapable of permanently hurting us?"

Rory glanced back at him, nodding. "Yeah. They can affect the Dreamworld itself but not the people, the living humans, that come into it. They used to be able to but… something happened a long time ago that took most of their abilities away." Rory furrowed her brow. "I didn't really get much of that. That thing had to leave my body before I saw much more. But that's why they have to get others to do their dirty work for them. Like Freddy."

"I must say, I am impressed, little one!" The guttural voice of Briareus interrupted their conversation, and both teenagers turned to see the three Demons had apparently finished talking amongst themselves and had floated back down to their level, now hovering in the air just a few feet away from them. Behind them, the Elm Street house had faded completely into blackness. The small patch of grass upon which they stood was all that remained in the endless Void of the Deep Dream. "I had expected you to be a slavering mess for much longer."

Rory shrugged, glaring up at the largest Dream Demon. Luke was impressed with how little fear she was showing. "Yeah, well, that's always been your problem, hasn't it? Underestimating humans?"

The three Dream Demons chortled in unison at that.

"Perhaps you're right," Cottus eventually droned. "But it's a mistake we won't be making going forward. Now that we know our Avatar is back at full strength, we will be leaving this place to rejoin him."

"The fear we managed to cull from the two of you upon your arrival has given us just enough strength to do this." added Gyges.

"And without us here to stabilize the Deep Dream… you'll simply drop off into the Void!" said Briareus.

"Forever!" giggled Cottus.

"FOREVER!" All three Demons repeated in unison.

"There will be no waking up!" said Gyges. "No way for you to tell your friends about anything you've learned here."

"You'll be adrift in the Abyss until your minds completely give way!" said Cottus.

"Sadly, we won't be around to enjoy that in person," sighed Briareus. "But the knowledge of your torment will bring us some satisfaction!"

All three Demons cackled again, and suddenly, in a brilliant explosion of crimson light, a swirling red vortex appeared from nowhere in the murky blackness near the Dream Demons.

Cottus and Gyges quickly dove into the vortex, disappearing from view. Briareus regarded Rory and Luke with a vile leer. "Thank you for your assistance, mortals. We'll be sure to give Frederick your regards!"

And with that, it cackled one last time and dove into the vortex. As soon as he was gone, the swirling red light disappeared along with the small patch of ground remaining beneath Rory and Luke.

And everything became Blackness.

The sensation was bizarre. It was like floating in water, but somehow Rory could still breath. The silence was oppressive, like wool had been stuffed into her ears. She turned her head to look at Luke, and saw him suspended in the nothingness next to her, his shaggy hair swaying in the nothingness. He was very dim and hard to see. He locked eyes with her and tried to say something, but the sound of his voice was completely swallowed up in the Void.

"Luke!" she tried to shout out as he began to fade. "Luke!" But no sound would come out. She reached toward him. He reached back and tried to take her hand… before vanishing.

Blackness. Silence. Rory could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. She had no voice, no form, no body. Only her mind, her sense of self remained, lost, adrift forever in the nothingness beyond the wall of sleep.

Panic set in as she realized there was absolutely nothing she could do. This was the end of it; of everything. This was oblivion.

Then, just as madness began to scream in the back of her mind, a sudden thought flashed through her brain like a bolt of white hot lightning.

"If worst comes to worst, and you have no other options, call on me. I will do my best to come to you."

"What do I call you? What is your name?"

"I no longer truly have a name. However, once upon a time, my name… was…"

"Nancy!" Rory started as she hear her own voice cutting through the blackness. She'd spoken! She tried again, louder this time. "NANCY! HELP US, PLEASE!"

For a moment, nothing. Blackness and silence was all pervasive.

Then a brilliant white light burst into being, all around her.

Rory blinked in the intensity of the light and put up a hand to shield her eyes… then realized she had hands again! And form! Instead of floating bodiless in an empty black Void, she now stood in a beaming white space. Though there appeared to be no floor beneath her feet, she could feel herself standing on solid footing. Glancing over, she saw Luke standing beside her, blinking in the sudden light as well, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

And then she appeared before them, her white, dazzling gown, and long, bushy brown hair with a shock of grey running through it flowing around her. Beautiful and angelic, the spirit of Nancy Thompson had arrived to save them.

She extended her arms out to Rory and Luke.

"Quickly," she said. "Take my hand and come with me. We haven't got much time."

The scene that was playing out before Kara as she stood, next to Eli, at the edge of the clearing in the woods was a familiar one.

A crowd of people, holding enough torches that the clearing was lit up like the day time, stood at the base of a single tree, black, craggy, and bare, at the clearing's slightly elevated center. They were dressed in 19th century clothing - the men in frock coats, breeches, button down shirts, one man even wearing just beat up brown pants, held up by suspenders over his union suit; the women wearing ankle length skirts, corsets, and bonnets. And they were all angry, all shouting and talking over each other at once.

At the front of the crowd, at the base of the tree, a tall, frightening looking man stood, holding a rope. He wore a long black, leather duster and a wide brimmed hat. His face was angular, hard lined, grim, and scarred. His right eye was glassy and dead, his left, black and hate-filled.

The rope he held wound up, over one of the highest branches of the tree, before leading down… to where it was tied in a noose around the neck of the now familiar woman in black. She stood, elevated above the rest of the crowd on a narrow, wooden stool. Her arms were bound behind her back. Despite the predicament she was in, she appeared to be very amused, a toothy grin on her pale face, her yellow, red-rimmed eyes appearing to sparkle in the fire light.

"I've seen this before," Kara said softly.

Eli glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. "Have you now?"

Kara nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off the scene before them. "Yeah. Part of it anyway. The night my friends, Tyler and Molly, were killed at the Elm Street House. I saw this bright flash, and then… this." She gestured to the woman in black. "It was the first time I saw her?"

Eli looked over at the woman in black, before nodding. "Ah. So this is the woman you and your friends told me about. The one who accompanies the dream demon. It seems the Dreamworld has deemed to show us the answers we sought."

"It also means I know where we're at now," Kara said. "This is where the Elm Street house is gonna be built. Right where that tree is. This forest is Elm Street." She sighed, rubbing her temples. Could you get headaches in dreams? "The tree, that woman, the house, Krueger… they're all connected somehow. And I think it all goes back to this moment here…"

As the two of them continued to watch the scene unfold, a figure stepped forward from the rest of the crowd. He was thin and elderly, his shoulders hunched, his sloping, bushy eyebrows and downturned mouth giving him the appearance of a permanent scowl. He was dressed in the long, black, cassock of a priest. His thinning, white hair was swept straight back, and he wore a close cropped beard on his face. Clutched in his long, spider-like hands was what appeared to be an old, leather-bound book; a Bible perhaps? As he slowly approached the woman in black, looking very much like a brooding vulture preparing to eat, the woman focused her gaze on him, her toothy grin growing.

"Father Barlow!" she called out, her feathery, accented voice somehow audible, even over the rabble of the gathered crowd. "I thought I'd heard your voice outside when these nice people stopped by my house earlier tonight, but I didn't see you among them, when they broke down my door and dragged me outside. Too scared to confront me without a rope around my wrists and neck?"

Kara shuddered as she spoke. The woman's voice was sweet and soothing, which somehow made the air of malevolence she carried even more unnerving.

The priest, meanwhile, gave the woman in black one more look of contempt, before turning to face the crowd and raising his arms. Instantly, the shouting went silent. For a moment, the crackle of the torches was the only sound that could be heard.

Finally, the woman in black glanced over to the scarred man that held her rope, then back to the priest. "Solomon Voorhees, Ezekiel Barlow." She glanced back out into the crowd, her voice raising. "I assume Daniel Corvayne is in that rabble as well? Come on out, my love!"

A murmur began to ripple through the crowd once more at that. Slowly, a young man stepped forward.

He was dressed in a simple white tunic, and tan breeches. His long brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, and his skin was rough and tanned. His face, clean shaven and youthful, was smudged with soot. He held a flintlock pistol in his right hand. He regarded the woman in black with a dark scowl… and, Kara thought, an undercurrent of sadness as well.

"Ah!" The woman exclaimed as she saw the young man. "There you are, Daniel! Came here straight from the smithy, I see. Good! Wouldn't want you to miss this!"

The priest, Father Barlow, sighed and turned to the scarred man, Solomon Voorhees.

"Silence her," the priest hissed.

Solomon nodded curtly, and tugged hard on the rope. The woman in black let out a choking hack as the noose tightened suddenly around her neck. After watching her gag and struggle to precariously balance on the stool for several moments, the priest finally nodded to Solomon, who allowed the rope to go slack once more. The woman in black took several heaving breaths, before shaking her head and chuckling softly. Father Barlow turned to face the crowd.

"This is the wages of sin!" he proclaimed, gesturing to the woman in black. "For two long years, our town has suffered under the machinations of this vile sorceress, this concubine of Lucifer! Our well water turned to maggots! Dead sparrows raining from the skies! The walls of our church bleeding! Our livestock becoming rabid before falling ill and dying! Our crops rotting on the vine! Bizarre, deformed creatures roaming the forests at night! Disappearances! And the murder of seven children!" The priest turned to face the woman, his expression one of twisted fury. "Two of those children but infants! One of those infants your own flesh and blood son!"

"Monster!" someone from the crowd screamed.

"Witch!" yelled another.

Gradually, the crowd worked itself into another shouting fury.

Kara gasped from her vantage point at the edge of the clearing. That's who this woman was? A witch that murdered kids?

She thought back to the dream she'd had of the woman in her cabin, watching the mob approach… most likely this very mob that had her captured now. In that dream the woman had been deep in thought about rituals and incantations, about spilling blood all in the name of some higher power.

Was that what had made her into the shade she had become that stalked dreams?

Was that what had made Freddy the same thing? He was a child murderer too. Had he inadvertently fulfilled some unholy prerequisites that had given him whatever powers he now had?

Was all that was happening before her eyes right now the reason the house at 1428 Elm Street was so cursed? The reason Freddy Krueger had been drawn to it in life? Why he remained bound to it in undeath?

At length, Father Barlow put his hands up once more, silencing the crowd again. As the crowd became quiet, the priest slowly turned back to the woman in black.

When he spoke next, his voice was softer. "Will you confess, witch? Will you confess to your crimes against God and against man? Will you seek absolution before we send your soul to the hereafter?"

"Will that set your mind at ease, Father? If I confess?" The woman smiled down at him. "I know you don't actually have any physical proof that I am to blame for all of the misfortune that has befallen your town. That is, I assume, why there are no lawmen amongst your ranks tonight." She glanced over at Solomon, who regarded her impassively with his one good eye. "That's why you had to hire your witchfinder here, wasn't it? Was your faith not strong enough, Father, for your God to show you the answers yourself? Were you beginning to lose your grip on your flock due to your inability to find the big, scary, monster that was causing your pathetic town so much pain?"

The priest glowered at her for a long moment, before speaking once more, his tone still soft, though an undercurrent of seething rage boiled just below the surface. "Will. You. Confess?"

The woman in black laughed again. "My confession won't save any of your souls, I can tell all of you that. It won't bring back any of the things that have been taken from you." She glanced over at Solomon. "You least of all, dear witchfinder. Have you ever considered what the consequences of a career like yours might be? You've killed so many of my kind, angered legions of practitioners of the black arts. Do you know what that does to a soul? You've cloaked yourself in such darkness. Evil will be the inheritance of your children, and your children's children, and their children for generations upon generations to come. Your family legacy, Solomon Voorhees, will be one of misery, madness, and death, soaked in blood and human offal."

Solomon simply stared back at her, his expression unreadable.

"Confess!" Father Barlow suddenly bellowed.

The woman in black smiled down at him, before shrugging. "Very well, Father. I confess! I am responsible for all of it! The maggots, the blood, the sparrows. The monsters in the woods, the disappearances. And the murdered children. I killed all seven of them. I slit their throats, I drank their blood, and I dashed their little brains out all over this very tree, in fact! Though I suspect you already knew that last bit. Why else would we be here, if not for some misguided sense of poetic justice that I'm sure makes you all feel so holy and righteous! Tell me, Father Barlow: will you drink my blood after I'm dead?"

"How could you?" the long haired young man, Daniel, suddenly shouted. "How could you murder your own son?" His voice and expression all at once collapsed into one of abject grief. "Our son?"

And for the tiniest fraction of a moment, Kara thought she saw the smug mask the woman in black wore fall away, revealing a look of total vulnerability. Of pure sadness, and grief, and regret. But only for a moment. Then it was gone. Kara wasn't sure she'd seen it at all, as another wide grin broke out on the woman's face.

"Ah! So your townspeople are aware of the fact that you laid with a concubine of Lucifer, outside of wedlock no less! And they haven't strung you up along side me? Huh! The times really are changing, I suppose. I'm very happy for you, my love."

"Young Mr. Corvayne will not be held accountable for whatever unholy thrall you once had over him, witch!" Father Barlow walked over to Daniel and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. The youth quickly cast the priest's hand aside, before turning and walking away, disappearing into the crowd once more. The woman in black watched him go, and again, Kara thought she saw a fleeting glimmer of regret in her eyes.

Father Barlow stepped forward once more. "We have heard your confession. And since you actively refuse to repent for your many crimes, you shall receive no last rites. You shall not be laid to rest in accordance with Catholic tradition. Instead your body as well as this tree you have befouled shall be burned, and the ashes buried in this unconsecrated earth. Mona Bell, I sentence you to death by hanging." The priests eyes narrowed, and a small smile formed on his lips. "God will have no mercy on your soul."

The woman in black, her name finally revealed as Mona Bell, smiled down at the priest… before suddenly bursting into laughter. The laughter slowly grew in intensity, before becoming in insane, breathless cackle. The crowd simply watched her laugh, in shocked silence, until Father Barlow turned to Solomon Voorhees, and nodded once.

Solomon pulled the rope taut, lifted his foot, and kicked away the stool the woman called Mona Bell was perched on.

She fell and swung. Her neck did not break.

The muscles in Solomon's neck stood out like cords as he continued to hold the entirety of the witch's weight on the rope with one hand. Bell's head tilted at an awkward angle, as the rope dug into her neck. Her yellow eyes bulged, and a wet choking sound came from her throat. And yet still, she smiled.

The crowd fell silent as they watched the witch slowly asphyxiate. Even from where she stood, several yards away, Kara could see the veins beginning to bulge on Mona's forehead, see her lips begin to swell and turn blue. A blood vessel burst in the witch's right eye, her entire sclera quickly staining a deep crimson. Foaming spittle formed at the edges of her mouth, and her body began to violently shake as her lungs became starved of oxygen.

The people in the crowd began exchanging nervous glances with each other. Even Father Barlow had to look away from the dying witch. This wasn't what they had come to do. They had come to see justice done, swiftly and easily. This was neither. This was nightmarish.

And still, she did not die. She did not even lose consciousness.

Without warning, a loud crack suddenly rang out, echoing across the clearing and causing Kara to jump in shock. Blood erupted from Mona's forehead and at last the witch went still.

Daniel Corvayne slowly lowered the still smoking flintlock pistol he had just fired, a look of grim resolve on his face.

A long moment of silence passed. At length, Solomon finally tied off the rope he held to one of the tree's lower branches. He reached down and lifted a large ceramic jug from behind the tree. After uncorking the jug, he began dousing the base of the tree and Mona's hanging corpse, with whatever liquid it contained. Eventually, the crowd began to murmur once more, before surging forward. Each man and woman who carried a torch held the flames out to the trunk of the tree, igniting the liquid Solomon had doused it with. In moments, both the tree and the body of Mona Bell were consumed in a roaring tower of flames.

Father Barlow took Solomon by the arm and lead him away from the tree, until they stood just at the edge of the clearing, mere feet from where Eli and Kara were watching them.

Barlow handed Solomon the old leather book he held and Kara realized she'd completely forgotten about it. At this distance she could tell it wasn't a Bible. The lettering on the cover of the book read "Forbydden Mysteriis."

"The witch's grimoire, as promised," Barlow said, as Solomon glanced down at the book. "May it aid you in your quest to exterminate the rest of her kind. Remember our agreement. You may keep the book and you may use it. But when the time comes that you leave this mortal coil, it will be buried with you on the hallowed grounds of my church. Is that understood?"

Solomon stared at the book for a very long moment, before slowly looking up at the priest and nodding.

Their clandestine transaction completed, the two turned and walked back to where the crowd was beginning to disperse, as the massive pillar of flames that had been the tree roared into the night sky.

"Jesus," Kara breathed softly. Answers had been revealed but so had further questions. The woman in black was a witch from the 19th century named Mona Bell, who had lived in Springwood. She'd cursed the town and murdered children before a witchfinder, a priest, and an angry mob had finally caught up with her.

But why? What had possessed her to want the ability to haunt others in their dreams? Where had she learned these rituals? From that book? In that case, where had the book come from?

"They have befouled this land," Eli suddenly said, interrupting Kara's thoughts.

Kara glanced up at him. "They what?"

Eli continued to watch the tree burn, the reflection of the fire flickering in his eyes. "Whether this woman, this Mona Bell, deserved her fate or not, her blood was spilled on this land out of malice. On land she herself befouled by spilling the blood of innocents and engaging in depraved rituals. She died a slow, painful death, for reasons of hatred and revenge, not justice. Her remains were improperly laid to rest on this soiled earth. If what you believe is true, that this is indeed the land upon which the Elm Street house is currently located, it isn't any wonder it has become an epicenter for lingering, malevolent spirits." Eli glanced down at her. "However, now we know the witch's name. And names can have power."

Kara furrowed her brow as she turned that last bit of information over in her mind. The woman in black, Mona Bell, had kept her name hidden, in direct contrast to Freddy Krueger, who couldn't seem to get enough of telling everyone who he was. But what did that mean? How could knowing her name give them an advantage over the woman in black?

She was about to give voice to these questions… when a blinding flash of white light suddenly overtook her senses.

Kara threw up her arm to shield her eyes. The light was so intense! Her entire surroundings had disappeared into the endless white. She could no longer see Eli, uncertain whether he had simply disappeared into the light or was gone entirely.

Eventually, the light subsided. Kara paused, her eyes watering as she tried to blink away the afterimages that now impaired her vision. Slowly, the world came back into focus.

And the scenery had completely changed.

She and Eli now stood on a vast, rolling field made of some kind of sparkling, transparent, purple crystalline material, almost like glass. Multi-branched spires, like trees, made from the same substance, and adorned with glittering, silver leaves, jutted out of the ground, dotting the landscape here and there, like an alien forest. In the distance, A vast, rocky purple mountain range lined the horizon, and nearer, a great, crystalline mesa, hundreds of feet high loomed over them, a roaring waterfall cascading over its edge, and into a sparkling blue pool that separated them from the mesa.

As Kara craned her neck to view the top of the mesa, she caught sight of the sky and gasped.

It was a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors, of purples, and blues, and greens, and yellows of all shades, swirling around each other. An infinite number of stars, dotted the expanse, glowing and twinkling at various sizes. Planets adorned the expanse as well, planets with swirling purple clouds, neon green surfaces. One was a bright orange color, with two sets of rings criss-crossing it, like black and white bandoliers. Three great, white, full moons hung in the sky, directly above them, in a neat row. A burning, yellow meteor suddenly burst across the sky, and Kara could hear it, whistling as it went.

Kara was speechless. She glanced over at Eli, who seemed to be taking in the whole scene breathlessly himself, his eyes wide, his mouth still a grim line, though Kara noted it was the most emotion she'd seen out of the medicine man since they'd met.

The whole scene was so bizarre, and alien, and yet incredibly captivating and beautiful, and in so much contrast to the utterly macabre events in the forest they had just witnessed only moments before. And despite how otherworldly it was, Kara felt warmth and safety, and a strange sense of familiarity, radiating from all around her.

"Where," Kara finally managed to stammer out. "Where are we now?"

"A Beautiful Dream."

Kara and Eli both whirled in the direction of this new voice.

Standing a few yards away from them, just outside a line of the strange, crystalline trees, were three figures.

The first was the angelic woman in white that Kara recognized as the woman she had dreamed about, the one who had told her to seek out Eli Wolfsong in the first place.

And standing alongside her, glancing around at their surroundings in confusion were…

"Rory!" Kara exclaimed. "Luke!"

Rory and Luke quickly looked in her direction. The three teenagers stared at each other for a beat… before quickly running to meet each other.

Kara threw her arms around the other two teenagers as they met in the center of the purple field, and they returned her embrace.

"Oh my God!" Rory exclaimed. "We didn't know if we were ever gonna see you again! We didn't know if we were gonna see anyone ever again for a minute there."

"I'm so happy you guys are safe!" Kara replied. Her face was buried in Luke's shoulder and she clung tightly to her two friends.

The angelic woman and Eli made contact with each other, over the teenagers' shoulders. The woman smiled warmly at the shaman. Eli blinked, before turning his gaze to Rory and Luke.

"I too am glad to see you," he said. "I… hope I did not put you in danger by leading you unprepared into the Dreamworld."

Rory finally let Kara go. The purple haired girl in turn released the blonde as well, though she continued to cling to Luke, who also made no move to break his hold on her. Rory stepped up to Eli. "You warned us it would be dangerous, it's not your fault. But I think we did run into some of those creatures you warned us about. The things older and darker than Krueger."

Eli's eyes narrowed. "Indeed?"

The woman in white stepped forward now and addressed Eli. "Don't feel bad. You were the right person to send these children to. It was a risk, as I knew it would be. But they made it here. And I owe that to you."

Eli tilted his head as he looked at her. "You are the other woman that Kara and Rory dreamt of then? The one named Nancy?"

Nancy offered him another smile and a half shrug. "Once upon a time. That isn't really who I am anymore, but it'll do for the moment. We have a lot to discuss, Mr. Wolfsong. And not much time in which to do so."

With a clank, the bolt cutters finally slid through the rusted chain that bound the exterior green cellar doors together. The shrouded figure paused in its work, its hooded head glancing back and forth in the darkness to make sure it still went unnoticed. After a moment of silence, the figure was satisfied. It dropped the bolt cutters it held in its gloved hands, reached down, and pulled apart the remnants of the chain, before pulling open the rusty green cellar doors that lead directly from 1428 Elm Street's overgrown backyard and into its basement.

The doors came open with a grinding, metallic screech and the figure paused once more momentarily before stepping forward hesitantly, feeling around with its foot until it found the first concrete step, and slowly descended into the basement of the decrepit house. It was very dark out. The figure had waited until well after sundown to make its move. Coupled with the fact that the lone street lamp in front of the Elm Street house had gone out years ago and the city had never bothered to repair it, along with the seemingly perpetual cloud cover that had overtaken Springwood for nearly a month now, the figure doubted very much that its presence here would be detected, even if the denizens of Springwood hadn't made it a habit to completely ignore the existence of 1428 Elm Street as much as possible.

Not that being noticed even mattered at this point. The figure needed only one more day. Maybe less.

As the figure reached the midpoint of the stairs, it turned, reaching back, and pulling the metal doors back shut behind it with a clang. Immediately, the figure found itself plunged into a thick black darkness. Despite the cooling temperatures outside, the air inside felt warm and soupy. The figure didn't know if it was its own imagination, but it could've sworn a faint smell of sulphur was mixed in with the damp, mildewy scent that permeated the basement. Quickly growing uncomfortable in the darkness, the figure reached into the folds of its hooded coat and withdrew a heavy black maglite, clicking it on and shining the bright beam around the interior of the basement.

The scenery the light revealed was all too familiar to the figure.

Everything in the basement was covered with years' worth of grime and filth. Gigantic, moldy cobwebs, that wouldn't have looked out of place in a Hammer horror film, were draped over rotted, empty shelves, and the cold, black, cast iron furnace. The concrete floor was cracked and covered in dust, which flew into the air as gigantic cockroaches, almost the size of the figure's fist, scattered in the beam of the flashlight. On the other side of the basement, a splintery set of wooden steps led up to the house's first floor.

The house had only been empty for 7 years, and yet it had deteriorated as if it had been abandoned for decades. It was almost preternatural.

Given what had transpired within this house, it likely was preternatural.

The figure shuddered involuntarily. It had hoped never to set foot in this damned place again. Killing the priest had been easy compared to this.

But it wasn't like the figure had any choice in the matter.

As the figure shined the light around the basement, the beam eventually came to rest on the wall to the figure's left. This wall, though still stained and cracked, was made of drywall and appeared to be newer than the rest of the basement.

The figure made its way over to this wall, pausing to grab an old rusted shovel that lay on the floor as it went.

As it reached the drywall, it put out a gloved hand, running it across the wall and knocking on a few spots, before finally nodding and lifting the shovel over it's head.

CRASH! It only took one swing for the shovel to punch straight through the drywall. A few more swings and the figure had made a hole large enough to walk through. The figure stepped through, into the room that the drywall had been erected to hide.

It appeared to be an old work room.

Empty shelves lined the walls, and a large workbench, bolted to the concrete floor dominated the room.

The air felt even thicker and warmer in here, the sulphuric smell undeniable at this point. Was that screaming the figure heard, or was that just the blood pounding in its ears playing tricks.

Evil things had transpired in this room. Unspeakable things.

This was what Freddy Krueger had always referred to as his "special room." Where he designed all the instruments of torture he had used on the children he abducted in life. Where he had kept certain grisly mementos of his work. Where he sometimes, on special occasions, carried out his diabolical work. Where the police had found everything they'd needed to put Krueger away for life, if only some careless judge had remembered to sign the search warrant properly. That one tiny, clerical error had caused so much misery for so many...

This was where it had all started. And this was where it would start again.

The figure knew history wasn't going to look back fondly on what it was about to do. But it didn't care. All that mattered was that Freddy and the woman in black kept up their end of the bargain. And this was the only way to ensure that.

The figure stepped over to the work bench and set the flashlight down upon it, before reaching into its coat once more… and withdrawing the book it had taken from the graveyard the night before.

Forbydden Mysteriis.

The figure looked at the book for a long moment, before placing it on the workbench as well. It reached into its coat, and withdrew one last object: a black, velvet bag of some kind, about the size of a softball. The figure undid the rope that held the bag closed, reached in, and grabbed a handful of the red powder within. It began spreading the powder along the floor, in a circle, around the work bench.

Soon its work would be complete.

Soon this would all be over for the figure.

And the real nightmare would begin for everyone else...