There were nightmares-nightmares where people he knew were snatched away before his eyes and eaten by shadows. There was a light in Justin's hands, but for each step he took forward to drive back the darkness, more shadows pressed in from every side. It was either save the people he loved, or let the light die. It was a turn-based system. And for every step he took, the opponents hidden in the darkness took two, burning, destroying, and hurting as they went. He saw predators without form or substance break through a frosty kitchen window and abduct his father out of his wheelchair to the tune of a screeching guitar-the solo during the interlude of a twelve-minute-long track from one of Benjamin's 1970s progressive rock records that was spinning in the background. The scene faded to black,
