Girvyn is unaware he possesses a unique gift: he can enter people's dreams, identifying him as a Dream Traveller.
Girvyn aspires to follow in his uncle's scholarly footsteps. Yet, his future veers off course when a dream entangles his fate with a forest tribe ravaged by demons, led by the rogue Traveller, Crane. Crane has long schemed to merge his nightmarish realm with the Waking world, a plan exposed by a lone survivor's harrowing tale. Crane's vulnerability lies in his physical form; destroying it would disperse his demonic legions. While some advocate for a global military alliance against him, others see hope in young Girvyn, who controls a mysterious and deadly gateway.
However, uncle Laglen fears Girvyn is not prepared for such a grave role. Girvyn must master his emerging abilities to navigate a destiny that binds him to an epic struggle between dreams and reality.
With the world teetering on collapse, can Queen Amelia of Rathnell and her sworn protector, Elaya Faith, persuade other nations to join forces to assault Crane's northern fortress, or will the fate of the waking world rest on the shoulders of a young scholar?
Finalist Best Fantasy Writing Award, Page Turner Awards 2022
Girvyn is unaware he possesses a unique gift: he can enter people's dreams, identifying him as a Dream Traveller.
Girvyn aspires to follow in his uncle's scholarly footsteps. Yet, his future veers off course when a dream entangles his fate with a forest tribe ravaged by demons, led by the rogue Traveller, Crane. Crane has long schemed to merge his nightmarish realm with the Waking world, a plan exposed by a lone survivor's harrowing tale. Crane's vulnerability lies in his physical form; destroying it would disperse his demonic legions. While some advocate for a global military alliance against him, others see hope in young Girvyn, who controls a mysterious and deadly gateway.
However, uncle Laglen fears Girvyn is not prepared for such a grave role. Girvyn must master his emerging abilities to navigate a destiny that binds him to an epic struggle between dreams and reality.
With the world teetering on collapse, can Queen Amelia of Rathnell and her sworn protector, Elaya Faith, persuade other nations to join forces to assault Crane's northern fortress, or will the fate of the waking world rest on the shoulders of a young scholar?
Finalist Best Fantasy Writing Award, Page Turner Awards 2022
Hazel froze on the moonlit tree branch, bracing herself for a quick death. Below her, on the shadowed forest floor, she watched the unworldly shape sniff and snort, wisps of smoke rising from its fur. It had appeared out of nowhere, emitting a putrid stench. She held her breath, careful not to make a sound, praying its burning stare wouldn’t find her among the leaves.
Then it vanished. She remained suspended in disbelief, her heart pounding in the silence, questioning what she had seen. Yet the unsettling feeling that something was terribly wrong lingered as if the ancient forest itself paused in fear with her. She scanned the tree huts, barely visible in the high branches. Receiving no reply to her urgent bird calls, she clutched a vine, swung her legs forward, and descended cautiously to the ground.
She knew she had to warn the others but was torn between choosing the night watchers or the Mothers’ hut. She ran towards the campfire, towards her father, the chieftain. As she approached, relief washed over her at the sight of Faygon and his band of young warriors.
‘Father! I had to leave my post. I needed to warn you, to warn everyone. There’s something out there. This is no Highlander assault. It’s worse.’
‘Isn’t that a relief!’ came the mocking voice of Killian. ‘Will you use the delusions of a headstrong girl as an excuse to increase the watch and divert more men from the hunt, Faygon?’
‘You forget your place, Killian,’ Faygon growled, his voice laced with fury. ‘And you forget our history.’
‘On the contrary, Chieftain, I refuse to let paranoia cloud my judgment. It’s about time someone reminded you that…’
A bloody talon came through Killian’s chest. An instant later, he was yanked into the darkness.
‘Move, Daughter!’ Faygon bellowed, pushing her. ‘Awake the clan. Save the children.’
Gripping twin swords, Faygon sprinted in the direction Killian had vanished. Hazel dashed toward the great sycamore, towards the sanctuary for Mothers and infants, determined to ensure their safety.
Out of nowhere, a fireball illuminated the night sky, devouring treetops. A sentry horn blared. Agile figures bounded on all fours. Foresters scattered in all directions, struck down by the darting attackers.
Something barrelled into her, and she went crashing to the ground. Her bow snapped beneath her and she rolled to her feet, her knife drawn.
‘Run! They will kill us all!’ She recognised one of the tribe’s strongest fighters, his face a gibbering mask of terror.
Hazel stood transfixed as a shape swooped down and carried him away. A creature resembling an ape, but with a horned nose, burst into the open area. From elevated positions, a group of archers unleashed arrows at it. The ape was undeterred, roaring defiantly, leaping into the branches to attack them.
Only when her back bumped into a tree did Hazel realise she’d been retreating from it all. Foul forms were uniting from all directions. Smoke blanketed everything, stinging her eyes. Could she hide? She wondered if she could shroud herself in the ruins of her tribe’s home, below the aura of orange flames.
A deafening explosion reverberated above her, and the Mothers’ hut burst outwards; from the gloom overhead, she felt a weight on the branch above her, shuddering the ancient wooden bough. Then a figure in blood-red armour, towering half the height again of the tallest man, landed on the ground before her. At first, she thought some great knight had come to save them, but as it turned its enormous frame, its slick helmet revealed the contours beneath. A Forester ran at it and was sliced in two by a single sweep of its blade. It savoured the scent of death, and only now did Hazel notice the bulging sack it carried. The hessian writhed, and from it rose the sound of terrified mewling – the babies! The young of the clan!
Hazel fought the urge to charge at the thing and sweep the bag away from it, but her survival instinct won, some guilt-competing impulse for self-preservation. From the dark scuttled spiders, except massive ones. They paused at the dead Foresters, spinning webs around them and lifting them onto their hairy backs to carry.
She knew she had just moments left to live, to fight or to be slain where she stood.
Then, Hazel noticed the handle jutting against her pelvis. She grasped it, twisted, and pushed, revealing the hidden storage space within the tree’s base. She slipped in, greeted by the mingling aromas of ripe fruit and musty air.
Tears streaming down her face, she grappled with her fear and guilt, hearing her clan’s dying cries outside. She, a chieftain’s daughter, hiding in a storage nook while her people fell. Steeling herself, she wiped her tears and peered through a slit. In the flickering orange light, new creatures circled the red-armoured giant, casting her kin’s bodies onto a mounting heap.
What she saw next made her gasp.
Two apes roughly handled her father, pushing him before the giant. Despite his right arm being a mere stump, with tendons like roots, and his body marred by wounds, her father stood defiantly, embodying resilience in the face of agony.
One of the apes raised a curved blade and pointed. ‘We did not kill this one, sire, because it fits the profile you wanted for your experiments.’ It spat on the ground, its free hand nursing a welt across its cheek.
The armoured giant let out a harsh, grating laugh, but the voice of another spoke. A voice emanating from the thin frame of a man concealed beneath a hooded purple robe. There was a jaded intelligence in that voice that instilled terror, eroding any remaining glimmers of hope.
‘Bring him closer. Hmmm,’ the voice whispered, ‘a druid adds body and taste to my special formula.’
Faygon scowled at him.
The man’s cowl nodded fractionally, voice amused. ‘Chieftain knows himself by another term, perhaps a tree-diviner?’
All around, the creatures chuckled.
‘He’s a proper bark licker!’ one sniggered.
Faygon somehow pulled free of the red giant. He drew his knife, but instead of attacking them, he held it to his own throat. ‘Scum. You will not take me.’
The robed figure’s tone filled with annoyance. ‘Careless! You didn’t check him for a weapon?’ he hissed at the horned creatures. ‘Extinction Day looms upon mankind, so I had hoped to keep this souvenir.’ He redirected his attention to a gangly figure cleaning its talons, a creature similar to the one responsible for Killian’s demise. ‘Are there any others left besides the babies?’ he asked.
‘Nar,’ it spat. ‘I think not.’
‘You think?’
‘The cursed trees obscure my sight, Master. It is unclear. There is one faint heartbeat that eludes us close by; it could be an animal or perhaps something more. I do not like it. We should leave, sire.’
‘A witness? How amusing, a hunt! I want my souvenir. When this one finishes himself off, conduct a detailed search in case there is another survivor.’
Faygon had been standing tensed and ready, but now his widening eyes jumped to Hazel’s hiding place, the blade loosening in his grip.
Hazel watched. ‘Do it, Father. Please,’ she whispered.
But instead, he unleashed a resounding howl and charged at the robed figure, brandishing the dagger. The red giant intercepted him before he could reach his target, but even as he was restrained, weapon stripped away, Faygon continued to fight and yell.
‘Ah! What skills you have to last this long, and such bravery. My souvenir may not know what he is but is a druid all the same. How fortunate! As your soul burns in the transformation, consider that those talents will make you a leader in my army. You should have taken the chance when it presented itself and ended your life,’ said the robed figure. ‘An eternity of torment awaits you. Come,’ he snapped at his demonic battalion. ‘He will make a fine servant!’
A fiery doorway materialised beside the hooded figure, emitting a blue glow. The gangly demon paused at the entrance, seeming uncertain about stepping through.
‘But sire, what if there is a witness? We never leave one alive.’
‘True, but the time arrives to take credit for our work.’
One by one, the creatures passed through the door, hauling the sack containing the babies of Hazel’s clan and the bodies of her kin. Then her struggling father, whom she knew had just made the ultimate sacrifice for her, disappeared into the unknown. An eternity of torment, that thin figure had said, and she believed him utterly.
Finally, the robed figure stepped through, and the doorway vanished, and she was left alone in the forest. Overwhelmed with grief, she collapsed to her knees and began to sob.
Dream Traveller: Dark Rising is the first book in an epic dark fantasy series that follows Girvyn, a 14-year old boy, who discovers he can not only enter other people’s dreams but manipulate his own. With this newly realized power, he is guided by his uncle Laglan to wield it responsibly and morally in lieu of the rising threat posed by Cane, a Dream Traveller wielding his powers for destruction. Political intrigue ensues as nations convene at a summit to address this threat, revealed by the sole survivor of a village massacre Cane orchestrated. With political tensions high and the threat increasing as Cane’s demonic minions attack the capital, the Queen’s Protector devises a plan with Laglan and fellow Dream Travellers to stop Cane before any more lives are lost.
For being a debut novel, Nassari’s rich worldbuilding possesses the complexity of a seasoned writer, and creates an immersive experience that treads the line between fantasy and science fiction. The fact that he spent 34 years writing this book, the immense amount of detail depicting the Dream Realm and the extensive landscape his story takes place in is not surprising. The plot develops smoothly and details of the world are revealed subtly through dialogue as well as the multiple POV’s that switch each chapter. This imaginative story blurs the lines between dreams and reality, and creates a psychological narrative that pairs well with the terrifying action sequences.
But more than that, Nassari takes this epic fantasy deeper by addressing conflicts of morality and human nature, which he employs through a complex cast of characters like Laglan. By mentoring Girvyn in his Dream Traveller abilities, he is forced to face his struggle with using the Dream Realm as an escape from reality. Much of his tutelage springs from his past mistakes and expresses the dangerous lure the Dream Realm has towards escaping reality. In this way, Nassari brilliantly uses the Dream Realm to show how a tangible use of the imagination can appeal to the good and bad sides of human nature. This is also portrayed through the political tensions between the emissaries present at the summit. Nassari describes a diverse geopolitical landscape that feels believable, and shines a candid light on the greed and prejudices of those in power seeking to use the Dream Traveller’s abilities for their own political gain.
However, as engaging as the plot is, I found some of the characters difficult to connect with. Particularly Girvyn, who navigates his new powers with ease and resolves conflicts with little struggle; qualities characteristic of the Overpowered Character Trope. This may simply be a personal preference, because Nassari does set expectations earlier on that Girvyn is a “child genius” and possesses an intellect far superior to many of his older peers. But his quick adeptness with overcoming various new challenges, especially juxtaposed with Laglan’s struggle to confront the guilt of his past and quit his escapist tendencies makes Girvyn’s successes less satisfying.
The switching POV’s each chapter among the main and side characters alike also creates an interesting blend of perspectives that propel the story forward. However, many characters are introduced with extensive exposition that tells more than shows their qualities. As much as this writing style shows how fully-formed the characters are, it also slows down the pace and as a result can disengage the reader from the story. However, the slower pace works in the book’s favor because it allows the reader to fully absorb the psychological narrative expressed through the deeper dive into the morality and ethics of each character.
All in all, this book provided a very thought-provoking read that I wasn’t expecting compared to other books I’ve read within the fantasy genre. If you enjoy stories that address the complexities of morality and human nature or the extensive worldbuilding like that of The Witcher, then you’ll enjoy this book.