(TW: Drowning(very detailed))

  It was the finale all over again.

  Except, it was much colder. And the person running ahead of him wasn't Shelly. Instead of the baby blue cone-shaped shell he'd come to know, they were a cream colored stranger, with two red rings on their body and a small sphere on their head. Shieldy didn't even know what kind of object they were.

  Shieldy wasn't himself, either.

  He felt taller. And he couldn't see his face, but just from looking down he could tell he was a similar cream color as his opponent. 

  A whistle brought his attention back- his opponent jogged off the path as a horse emerged from the trees.

  "Pawn, wait!" He stretched out his hand; Pawn didn't answer. They didn't even look at him. They jumped onto their horse and with a crack of the reins, they were gone, leaving him in their dust. 

  He kept chase, but knew it was to no avail. Pawn cheated. He'd never catch up.

  He looked to the right, at the vast frozen lake. It glimmered under the winter sun, almost as if calling to him.

  Unless...

  He dashed to the shoreline and tested the ice. Frozen solid. He slid out a little further and smashed his heel into the lake and split the surface with a grinding crack. Pushing all his weight onto his foot, he drove it through the thick ice, and his shortcut was there. His heart was pounding.

  Briefly, he looked at his reflection in the wavering water. He was some kind of cylindrical object, with a crown that resembled his own points. And his eyes were hard. Determined. He fought like hell to get here.

  This was the only way he'd win. He had to win.

  He took a deep breath and dove in; the freezing water stung his skin, froze his face- yet he had to keep his eyes barely open for the other shore. The world muffled around him as the cold numbed his senses, almost as if he were in a dream. He pushed onward under the ice as the water got darker and darker.

  But surely this would be much faster than Pawn. He'd been dreaming of this day for ages, and after all his hard work, surely he deserved to win. His shortcut was better. A near tingling sensation came over him. The icy ceiling stretched on, but it would all be worth it once he crossed the finish line, and the stands would roar with cheers of his name.

  A blurry mix of mud and ice grew closer. He was nearly there. His hands came to rest on the ice that he could hardly feel. He curled his hand into a fist and thumped at the icy barrier.

  Nothing. 

  Not even a sound, nor a crack. Nothing happened.

  He thumped at it again, with all the force he could muster, and still nothing. Both his hands punched at the ice, the one thing between him and winning, between him and his freedom, his life. He was suddenly aware of how his lungs burned and screamed for a breath, how his stomach twisted and his own limbs grew heavier and heavier as they seemed to freeze and burn at the same time. 

  It was too late to swim back. He punched, slammed, scratched desperately at the cruel ice that sealed him in and promised to drag him to a frozen grave. Time slowed to a crawl as he poured his draining energy into fighting for his life. 

  Don't breathe, don't breathe!

  His throat strained and tightened and his legs were like lead. Water overwhelmed him and suddenly his insides felt like they were being stabbed as freezing water rushed into his nose, his mouth; he swiped at the ice only to meet more water as he fell in slow motion. His screams came out as strangled gurgles while he was being frozen from the inside out. Darkness speckled his vision while the silence grew louder and bubbles drifted up from his now still mouth. The water faded to a void- one he couldn't feel or see or hear. 

  He reached out one last time- one last attempt- and cried out silently for someone to save him.

  Shieldy gasped for breath and choked on nothing; his heart raced trying to pump his life back inside him. His blanket had been thrown to the floor and he was freezing. He snatched up his blanket and wrapped it around himself, trying to ward off the prickle of death on his skin.

  He shuddered and wiped at his eyes. There was no way he was getting any more sleep- not without moving around. Shieldy shifted and stepped onto the cold floor and fell over himself.

  More than confused, he was terrified. He couldn't feel his legs and his fingers felt like falling off. His chest hurt and dizziness threatened to knock him out. He curled into a ball and laid there for a few minutes, whimpering to himself and waiting to stop shaking and hurting.

  What was that dream? And...why? He wrapped the blanker tighter around himself and buried his face in it.

  Soon, his breath steadied itself. Shieldy slowly stood up and made his way to the front door. Already skittish, he nearly jumped seeing Shelly already sitting at the porch.

  She was surprised to see him, too.

  "Shieldy..! What are you doing up so late?"

  "I had a bad dream..." Shieldy closed the door and sat next to her. Even in summer, Canadian weather always had some sort of coolness to it. He still felt deathly cold.

  "Oh...me too."

  Shieldy turned to look at her. "What was it about?"

  Shelly looked at Shieldy, then stared at the ground thoughtfully. "It was...strange. I was in the final race again, but it wasn't me. I was someone else, but it wasn't anyone I know.

  "And I was riding a horse. Then I got off where the forest ended and ran toward the finish, but...I died. Just like last time. And," she looked at Shieldy again, "everyone watching was different, too. They were all chess pieces, or other objects from the medieval days. After I died, I woke up. I came out here to get some fresh air."

  "That's weird. I dreamt about the final race, too."

  "Really?"

  Shieldy nodded. "I saw that person too- the one riding a horse. Their name was Pawn, I think?"

  "Huh. So...who were you?"

  "I dunno. He looked like me, but was tall and like...cylinder-shaped." Shieldy used his hands as visuals. "And he had a crown thing? Kinda like mine, but more flat."

  "...You mean a rook?"

  "What's that?"

  "A rook is a chess piece. And so are pawns, actually. But it's weird we dreamt about nearly the same thing." Shelly tilted her head. "What happened in your dream?"

  "Well, I was racing against Pawn, and then they used the horse to get further ahead, so I used the lake as a shortcut and..." Shieldy shivered, "I drowned."

  "Oh...are you okay? Is that why you have the blanket?"

  "Yeah...I still feel cold, though. But- it's weird, 'cause I had the same idea when we were racing. After you ran ahead with that rock giant, I thought about going through the lake. I just didn't because someone could've seen me."

  "By any chance, was the lake frozen in your dream?"

  "Yeah! That's how I uh- drowned. Because I couldn't go back up."

  "So..." Shelly looked back down as the gears in her brain turned. "We both dreamt about the final race, but were different people... I died like last time, and you got the idea to cross the lake, except..." Her gaze briefly flicked up to Shieldy, alarmed and concerned.

  "What?"

  "It's, uh, nothing. Just...thinking about what it could mean."

  "And what would that be?"

  Shelly pursed her lips. "I'm not sure yet. But for now," she stood up, "you said you were cold, right? Let's get you to the fireplace so you can warm up."

  "Hey, good idea!" Shieldy sprung up as well. "I'll make hot chocolate for both of us, too!"

  Shelly smiled. "Yeah, I'd like a warm drink right now."

  His dream out of mind for now, Shieldy seemed full of life again. He held the door open for Shelly as they both went inside and set to work on making their drinks while Shelly got the fire started. And with those few minutes to herself, she couldn't help but wonder about their dreams. 

  Who were Pawn and, presumably, Rook? They seemed connected to her and Shieldy, but how? And why? It was no coincidence they dreamt of those two.

  If she remembered correctly, the types of objects she saw in her dream often lived in kingdoms. The king and queen chess pieces sat on thrones, so their dreams must've taken place in the past, and maybe in their exact location, too.

  She had to write this down.

  "Shieldy!" she called out- then realized the others were still sleeping. She rushed into the kitchen. "Shieldy, I'm gonna grab a pencil and paper. I'll be back soon."

  "Oh- okay. Don't take too long!"

  Shelly dashed to her room and took her notebook and attached pencil- an accommodation for armless people- in her mouth and hopped back downstairs just as Shieldy carried their drinks out. She didn't need sleep anymore; she needed answers.

  And once she recorded their dreams, and after a proper rest, she'd get to the bottom of this.