Alice stepped into a new world, a vision through a window, through the shard of a mirror. The sitting room of her house was gone, the warm walls bathed in firelight replaced by a bright sky of daylight. Clouds drifted in a field of blue overhead. They were in a garden, a maze of rose-twined hedges flanking pristine white stone paths. Birds sang beautiful songs, the kinds of songs never heard in Albia.
Nor in Wonderia, Alice realized.
“It’s… Elysia,” she said in a small voice, taking in the scene. She turned around, and saw behind her a white stone manor atop a cliff. The sounds of the ocean, far below, echoed a soft lullaby. Waves against rocks, in and out.
“Elysia?” Tobias asked, looking around. Alice could understand his confusion. So many artistic renditions of lost Elysia painted it as a golden city, with golden skies and golden flowers. Much of that was true… but only in part. There were many parts of Elysia that never made it into artists’ work.
Like this clifftop retreat.
“Why was this in a shard in the Library?” Alice asked, looking to Mister Carroll.
“I do not know,” Mister Carroll said. He turned his calm, inquisitive gaze on Alice. “Where shall we go?”
Alice looked towards the manor, and then turned away, towards the rosy maze. She thought she faintly heard the sounds of children — girls — laughing. But it was a whisper on the wind, here and then gone again. “We’ll go to our spot,” Alice said softly. With hesitant steps, she led the way.
But while Mister Carroll and Tobias followed, Flynn trotted up alongside her, head up, eyes and ears alert and curious, tail high and swishing now and then. Alice smiled at him, grateful for his joyous comfort.
Banish your dread, Alice. This is a place of beauty and light. You have naught to fear here.
She walked these paths that she hadn’t walked in time uncountable with a familiarity as if she’d been here just yesterday.
So much has broken in me. Too much has been forgotten… but some is still remembered, as clear and bright as the sky overhead.
She turned the ways she knew, her steps quickening, her heart lightening. Yes, this was a beautiful retreat, and she was glad to be back here. The birds, too, sang a song of joyous welcome, knowing Alice as she knew them.
And then Alice heard it, true and clear this time: girls, laughing and playing. She sped into a run, Flynn keeping pace beside her, and turned a corner to find the other side of the maze. Here was a new cliff, a new plateau overlooking a grand landscape, but Alice’s attention was on what was close, not far. A tea table, set for three, with three chairs around it, and an ornate pot of tea steaming lightly, its aromatic fragrance Alice’s favorite: rosehip and vanilla.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she came to a stop, at the sight of the three girls playing by the tea table. Three girls in matching white dresses, with matching long blonde curls, with matching big, inquisitive blue eyes.
Three girls that looked just like Alice. This was the very distant past, Alice knew it, and yet the girls were no younger than she. This could have happened yesterday.
If only things hadn’t gone so wrong, this could have lasted forever.
They laughed together, big smiles and utter joy filling their hearts and the space. And then they ran off, three sisters hand-in-hand, to a deeper part of the maze.
“Wait,” Alice said, but her voice was faint, her heart wasn’t in it. She reached out a hand, and then dropped it. The girls were gone, leaving a heavy weight on her heart. Flynn bumped his head gently against her hip, and Alice stroked his ears. But her eyes remained fixed on where the girls had been.
She could feel Tobias behind her, his unspoken questions, his instinctive curiosity, hanging in the air. “We lived here,” Alice said, softly, finding her voice. “My sisters and me. Myself, Lacie… and Ciela. There were three of us, and we were together, and we were so happy, every day. We were… once upon a time.”
Then there was a pattering of footsteps, and one of the girls came running back: the Alice of this world.
“You’re here!” she cried, and Alice tensed, wondering if her own memory could see her. But no — the Alice of this world raced past the tea table. Alice turned, and saw the girl run to meet a tall, dapper gentleman in his mid-thirties dressed impeccably in an azure three-piece suit. Beneath a blue fedora was thick, wavy hair and inquisitive amber eyes that sparkled with joy as he knelt to embrace the girl.
“Hello, Alice,” he said in a rich, warm baritone voice. “It’s a joy to see you smiling.”
“How can I help but smile?” the Alice of this world asked, pulling back from the man. “It’s wonderful to see you!”
“The wonder is all mine, I assure you,” the man said. “But don’t spend all your time with me. Your sisters are waiting.”
“I just wanted to say hello,” the Alice of this world said, with a little pout. Then she turned on her heel with a “hmph.” “But that’s just fine. I know we’ll have fun later.” She smirked back at him, and then ran off, back the way she’d come.
“I’m not supposed to have a favorite,” the man said, standing. “But, well.” He chuckled, and turned a smile on the Alice who had come from Albia through a glass shard. “Hello, Alice.”
Alice stared at him, taking in the sight of him, the memories that ached within her. “Hello,” she finally said. His smile made her heart dance, but she didn’t smile back at him, not yet. “I’m… sorry. Who… are you?”
“Ah,” the man said, a single syllable conveying a wealth of understanding. “You can call me Hugo. It’s good to see you, Alice. You, and not just a memory.”
Alice tilted her head, sizing up the man. And then she realized where she’d seen him before. “You’re… the Librarian?” she asked. He looked just like the form the Librarian had settled into after destroying his fractured half and escaping Lacie’s trap — except that Hugo wasn’t made of azure light, but flesh and blood. “Why are you here?”
“Ah, so you’ve met another shard,” Hugo said. He took a seat at the tea table, and poured tea in his cup, and in a second cup.
“What do you mean?” Alice asked. She saw the invitation to sit with him, but for the moment declined.
“How did you get here, Alice?” Hugo asked.
“We stepped through a Looking-Glass shard,” Alice said.
“And where did you get the shard?” Hugo asked.
“From the Librarian,” Alice said. “He said… it belonged to me. And that he and I had something in common.”
Hugo gestured around them. “This place is a shard,” he said. “A fragment of a memory — your memory, Alice. I have also come to reside here, because I am a shard myself. A fragment of a greater whole.”
“You’re… what?” Alice asked, puzzling over this declaration. “Then the Librarian… he, too, is just a piece of someone else?”
“Precisely,” Hugo said with a smile. “He and I, both shards of the same fragmented man.”
“How did you come to be here?” Alice asked. “This place, it’s… mine.”
“Indeed,” Hugo said. He took a sip of his tea. “I exist in this shard — this memory. But it belongs to you, Alice.” He stood. “Let’s take a walk.”
He started away, but stopped when no one moved to follow. He looked back at Alice, waiting patiently.
“I…” Alice started, hesitating. What should she say? Where should she go? This man… there was something more familiar about him than his resemblance to the Librarian. He had a warmth to him, and Alice wasn’t surprised that the Alice of this memory-world had run to Hugo and embraced him so eagerly. She felt drawn to him, and she wanted to trust him.
But it wasn’t him that made her hesitate, she realized. To take a walk… to continue further into this memory…
She couldn’t move. Rooted to the spot, as immovable as the stone beneath her feet. She looked at Hugo, but not really at him. She wasn’t seeing him, or the hedges, or the path, or the sky.
She was seeing the unknown. The unknowable. A terrifying emptiness, but not empty, no — there were things in that void, in that darkness. Things she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear, but she knew they were waiting to tear her apart.
“Alice?” asked a soft, gentle voice beside her. She looked aside to see Tobias kneeling at her side, gazing at her with concern.
“I can’t,” Alice said, in such a tiny voice she didn’t think even Tobias would hear her.
“Follow the truth,” Tobias said. “Wherever it leads.” Flynn came to nuzzle against Tobias’ knee, and Tobias petted his face. “It’s frightening. But it’s always most frightening when you don’t know.”
How can you know? Alice wanted to ask. How could he see in her so much that she’d never told him, never told anyone? And how could he be so certain that it would be better to go down this path than walk away?
“It’s your choice,” Tobias said. He kept petting Flynn as Flynn turned to nudge against Alice, and he smiled. “But Flynn believes in you. And he’ll be with you, wherever this journey leads.”
A smile threatened to break out on Alice’s face, and she petted Flynn. There was reassurance in his softness, in his kindness. In his love for her, a girl he’d known for so little a time.
You’ve been through all the darkness that Tobias has faced, that he doesn’t talk about, right by his side, haven’t you? And all those terrors haven’t stolen your joy. They haven’t made you flinch from the unknown.
If you’re with me…
Alice took a deep breath, then looked at Hugo. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“To visit someone,” Hugo said. He turned and started walking. Alice hurried after him, her heart pounding a painful drumbeat in her chest. She longed to ask more questions, to push for more details — but this place was small. Who could they possibly visit? There was only her, and Lacie, and Ciela. But…
Who are you, Hugo? Why are you in my memory? I don’t remember you.
Or, no… there is something. Something familiar, but…
And she shook her head, fighting against a sudden pain in her temple. As soon as she stopped pushing for the memory, the pain receded.
They left the hedge maze, but not towards the white stone manor. Instead they took a side path down to a gazebo on a lower cliff’s edge. And here Alice paused, for when she laid eyes on the gazebo, she knew all was not well.
The manor was clean, as beautiful as it was in her memories. The garden, too, and the spot for tea, and the roses were so fragrant, in gorgeous full bloom.
But the gazebo below was broken. Fractures ran up the pillars, threatening to bring them to ruin — and, indeed, the far side of the gazebo had collapsed, two pillars crumbling, and part of the domed roof caving in. The path leading down there, and the floor of the gazebo, was pitted and marred with dark stains that made Alice sick to her stomach.
Standing within the ruined gazebo was a blonde girl in a white dress. She had her back to them, her eyes fixed on the great ocean beyond. A cold wind was coming in, and the waves far below crashed more strongly against the cliffside, their sound now drowning out the birdsong.
Hugo stopped at the edge of the gazebo, not entering. Instead, he turned back to Alice and her companions, waiting.
Flynn brushed his face against Alice’s hip. She looked down, and found him looking up at her, his pale blue eyes devoid of fear, his slightly wagging tail a gentle encouragement.
“This is wrong,” Alice said, turning to Hugo.
“Perhaps not,” Hugo said. His gave a tiny nod towards the girl within.
Alice took hold of her courage, and led the way into the ruined gazebo. As soon as her feet touched the floor of the gazebo, she heard a faint crack of stone, and froze in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat.
“It frightens you,” the girl in the white dress said, her voice just like Alice’s sisters’. Just like Alice’s. But there was no joy in it. The girl was somber, reluctant. As if she didn’t want to speak at all — or that she didn’t want to have to speak the words on her heart.
“Who are you?” Alice asked.
“The Caterpillar,” the girl said. “That’s his favorite question, isn’t it? He doesn’t ask it for no reason, though. You… me… who are we? Did we ever really know?”
The girl turned to face Alice, and Alice’s breath caught in her throat. Because this was not Lacie, nor Ciela.
This girl was also Alice.
“What… what do you want?” Alice asked, her voice quavering.
The other Alice tilted her head to the side. “Do you not know?” she asked. Then her gaze fell, sorrow clouding her eyes. “It isn’t important. You should leave. You were never meant to come here.”
“What are you talking about?” Alice asked. “You… whoever, whatever you are… I need to be here. I want the truth!”
“Do you?” the other Alice asked. “You didn’t, for so long. You’ve been safe. Why leave your safety now?”
“Lacie’s waking up,” Alice said, swallowing a sob. “She hasn’t changed. She still wants to do horrible things! The only way I can stop her —”
“You know what happened last time,” the other Alice said. She fixed a hard stare on Alice. “Repeat, repeat, and the outcomes repeat, too. Are you as mad as the rest of the world?”
“It’s different this time!” Alice said. “I do have a plan. I just need to —”
“— get to Elysia,” the other Alice said, in unison with Alice. She continued, “It was sealed shut for a reason. The world has changed, Alice. But you don’t have to. Mister Carroll…” The other Alice looked at Mister Carroll with a steely glare. “Why would you bring her here?”
“Technically, I didn’t,” Mister Carroll said, calm and patient as ever.
And the other Alice flicked her glare towards Hugo. “You just don’t know when to quit,” she said.
“I’m afraid surrender isn’t in my nature,” Hugo said pleasantly. “Though I’d hoped you would have realized by now: we both want the same thing. We just disagree on the nature of it.”
“I’m the only one who wants what’s best for Alice,” the other Alice said. Her expression softened as she looked back at Alice. “You don’t need to be here. Go home.”
“No,” Alice said, though that was exactly what she wanted to do. She clenched her hands into fists, and drew herself up. “If there is a truth here that I no longer know, I need to find it. I can’t go without knowing anymore. It’s only caused me pain.”
“The pain came long before,” the other Alice said, her voice gentle and soft. “Go home, Alice.”
“I won’t,” Alice said.
“She won’t face the truth alone,” Tobias said. “We’re here to help her.”
“You would share the burden?” the other Alice asked, looking past Alice at Tobias. “Even carrying such a similar weight already?”
Alice looked at Tobias, wondering what her other self meant. Tobias betrayed nothing, only fixed a determined stare on the other Alice, and nodded. “I would.”
“Into madness,” the other Alice said. “You being here only makes it worse. She doesn’t need another shattered pane.” She looked aside, out over the cliffs, across the ocean. Alice noticed something out of the corner of her eye, and then watched as a small creature came fluttering through the air to alight on the other Alice’s shoulder.
A black butterfly.
“I won’t help you,” the other Alice said. “What I can prevent, I will. But what I can’t… it’s your choice.” She looked at Alice sadly. “This is all so pointless.”
The other Alice turned away. She, and the black butterfly on her shoulder, disappeared. In their place, a trio of white feathers fluttered softly to the ground.
Alice was about to say something, about to ask a question. But the moment the feathers touched the floor of the gazebo, her voice was stolen away as the ground gave way beneath her feet. She was falling, falling through blackness — but strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close in the terrifying descent. Tobias was with her, wherever this plummet led.
“What lies beneath should never surface,” came the voice of the other Alice. “When it becomes too much, I’ll save you. Just like last time.”
Alice cried out at a sudden, hard stop. But Tobias took the brunt of the landing, rolling with her in his arms, keeping her safe.
“Are you okay?” he asked when they stopped.
“Yes, thank you,” Alice said. Slowly, the two of them got to their feet. “Are you?” Tobias nodded. With them were Flynn and Mister Carroll, also rising from the sudden landing — and Hugo, who looked like he hadn’t fallen at all, standing at ease, watching what would happen.
It was dark, and the ground beneath Alice’s feet felt rough, like a rugged plateau. She turned towards a sudden light, a golden glow from a distant place: Elysia.
And in that light were two silhouettes. They were men, but she didn’t know that because of any distinguishing features. She knew because she knew the past, knew how the world had once been, bathed in that golden glow.
“The brothers,” she said softly. The silhouettes did not turn, did not acknowledge her presence. “Their names… I don’t think anyone ever knew them. One was the Conductor. The other, known only as Fate. They were the Composer’s first servants in the world, created to impart his will to the people. The Conductor, to interpret the Composer’s Song for the world. And Fate, to write the first songs of the Canticos, and instruct faithful cantors to do the same.”
“Fate…” Tobias said softly. Alice turned to him, and saw something pained in his eyes. “Why does thinking of him…? Why… what do I…”
“Tobias?” Alice asked. Then she gasped as the golden light went out. A flicker of light, like a flash of lightning, shot through the space, cold and bright. A momentary flash, followed by darkness.
When light returned in the dark, it was dim, dingy. They weren’t on a wide, rocky plateau but in a dirty, stained corridor. The walls were padded, the floors smooth, the lamps overhead encased in metal cages, their pale lights flickering pathetically.
A chill finger traced a path down Alice’s spine.
“What is this?” she asked in a tiny voice. But her voice wasn’t alone.
Tobias had asked the same question, with the same dread, at the same time.
Alice looked wide-eyed down the corridor, towards the distant, shadowed end, where a single door faded in and out of existence in the flickering light. That door called to her… and repulsed her. Her heart pounded, her hands shook, a fear building in her greater than any she’d felt before.
And a question: Why do I know this place?
“Run away!” cried a distant, faint voice. The other Alice. “Don’t continue, please!”
Why didn’t I listen to her? Why have I come here? This truth, whatever it is… it can only bring pain! I don’t want this. I want to go home!
“To the truth,” Tobias said, his voice a hoarse whisper, a desperate push to overcome a fear as paralyzing as Alice’s. “Wherever it leads.”
He took one stiff, resolute step forward. Flynn trotted a few steps past him and turned around, eyes bright, full of encouragement.
The next step was Alice’s. Though everything screamed within her not to go, if Tobias was going to push towards the source of his fear…
She would, too.
Is knowing truly better than not knowing? The only way to find out… is to know.
“Into madness,” she said. But to fear what I do not know… isn’t that the worst form of madness? If I can face it, and know it, at least I’ll understand my fear.
And… I don’t have to go alone.
She reached up, taking Tobias’ hand. He looked down at her, his terrified, summer-sky-blue eyes looking like pale, frosted glass in the light. His hand stiffened in her grasp, and then he held her, too.
“Together?” Alice asked softly. Tobias gave the smallest of nods.
And then, Alice felt Mister Carroll’s touch at her shoulder. No, she was not alone.
Forward they marched, difficult step by difficult step. The hall seemed to warp, its size contorting, as if the door seemed too far away, never getting any closer, despite their efforts. Alice began to grow frustrated. She opened her mouth to shout —
And the door was right in front of her. The light overhead ceased its flickering, so that the door was clear in all its scarred, stained, decrepit detail. A window sat in the door too high up for Alice — but its glass was clouded, and bars were fitted over it.
To find what lay within, the door must be opened.
Alice started to ask Tobias to open it… but then thought better. Slowly, with a trembling hand, she reached for the knob. It was cold, and damp, in her touch, and she wanted to recoil from it instantly. But she held it tighter. Slowly, she turned the handle. With a push, the door opened on creaking hinges. Out from the opening issued forth a smell of mold and mildew, and fouler things — but distant things. Memories of what had happened here. Nothing recent, nothing fresh.
Through the door stepped Alice, and Tobias right beside her, still hand-in-hand. It was a room, like a doctor’s examination room, only twisted. A reclining examination chair was tilted back, with numerous devices attached to it, all spindly arms ending in sharp points, bladed and serrated edges, and grasping claws. Beside the chair was a tank of cloudy liquid with sickening chunks floating in it, and from that tank extended a long, narrow tube ending in a needle. The needle sat upon the edge of a cart with more vile tools, and slowly drip-drip-dripped its foul contents onto the floor.
Alice shuddered as she saw the arms of the chair, and the leather restraints on them. Her wrists suddenly burned, as if she’d fought against those restraints for hours without end, without release. Her breaths came fast and shallow, her chest struggling to take a deep breath. She clenched her jaw and it ached, and she felt a sudden ringing in her ears, growing louder and louder.
Then a voice, a terrible, rough woman’s voice, filled the room, echoing round and round off the padded walls:
“Speak roughly to your little girl,
Beat her when she freezes.
Such an odious little churl,
She won’t do as she pleases!”
Alice’s blood froze at the woman’s voice, and the world spun around her, flickers of different visions playing across the room. A girl in the chair, strapped in, fighting against the prick of a needle, the slice of a scalpel. A girl running, beating against the walls, crying out for help. A girl cowering at a towering shadow, a woman of impossible stature, with burning eyes.
“You don’t know much,” said the shadow, in the same rough, terrible voice, “and that’s a fact. But we’ll soon cure you of that, won’t we, pig?”
Alice dropped to her knees, bile rising in her throat. Flynn came and leaned against her side, but it was too small a comfort, too little to save her from here. The room was filling with noise — the whirring of a drill, the sharpening of blades, the stomping of a giant’s feet.
Then came the woman’s voice again, rising in a horrible sing-song rhyme:
“Speak roughly to your little boy,
Throttle him ‘til he’s great.
He’ll be the ladies’ little toy:
Successor, heir to Fate!”
Tobias suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his throat. He wasn’t breathing! Alice reached for him, sudden clarity ripping her out of her terror. She hugged him, not knowing what to do, and then, suddenly…
All went quiet. Tobias gasped, finally able to take a breath. Alice looked up. They were still in the same awful room. But the shadow was gone, the visions vanished.
On the chair sat a black music box. Its lid was clasped by an ornament in the shape of a black butterfly.
Alice shuddered as she stared at it. She wouldn’t open it. That was one step too far, one truth too much.
But the clasp twisted on its own. The lid popped open, and up rose a songbird on a spindle, twirling as the chiming music began. It was such a light, soft sound, but the discordant tones issuing forth were a sudden shock into the silence. Tobias cried out, falling in pain. Mister Carroll collapsed, and even Flynn cowered in the corner, trying desperately to cover his ears with his paws.
Alice covered her ears, but was still brought to her knees by the pain. She knew this song, the worst of songs that had broken the world: the Hymn of Discord. Why was it here, why in a music box, why now?
No one else could move, no one else could rise. Where was Hugo? Alice tried to look round, but her eyes were transfixed to the music box, to the twirling songbird. This song had to end!
Alice fought against the discordant tones, the bleeding of her ears, the ringing in the air. She reached for the box, trying to grasp the lid, to close it…
It shattered. Alice screamed, as shards of glass filled the air. Tobias wrapped her in his arms, interposed himself between her and the shards. Alice fought against Tobias, desperate to save him from the pain about to come…
But the glass shards turned to dust, a cloud of dust that hung in the air. After a moment, the dust lazily drifted to the floor — a floor covered in shards of glass. Slowly, Alice and Tobias stood. Flynn joined them. Mister Carroll recovered, though he still looked unsteady on his feet.
The terrible examination room was gone. They stood now in the great hall of a huge manor. High above, a crystal chandelier shed no light, held no shine, covered as it was in dust. All around, ornate frames against the walls held only broken glass. Dust, shards, and disrepair in every direction.
“The House is in disarray,” Hugo said. He stood by the door to the hall, his amber eyes surveying the scene.
“It isn’t her fault!” cried the other Alice. She appeared in the center of the room, glaring at Hugo. But she was a ghostly apparition, not entirely here. “Alice didn’t do this!”
“I never said she did,” Hugo said calmly.
The other Alice disappeared.
Alice looked throughout the hall. Where now should she go? What now should she do? Slowly her eyes tracked over the stairs, the high walls, to the floor…
And the shards of glass. Fragments of mirrors, she thought they were. She knelt to retrieve one, to see what it might show her…
But a sudden shattering of wood brought her to her feet, whirling around. The door to the hall was broken open, and outside, in beautiful daylight, Alice’s heart ached as she saw her and her sisters, in identical white dresses, playing and singing in a field of flowers.
She wanted to go to them. But she couldn’t bring herself to. “Stop this,” she said, swallowing a sob. “I failed — and it cost me both my sisters.”
The world cracked. Fractures ran through the scene, like all around was just a stone painting, not real, never real.
The world broke open, and Alice fell once more. Tobias grabbed her, held her tight, and they plummeted together into the abyss. But this abyss wasn’t darkness and void like the first. Alice looked, and flinched back as she saw a horrid face, an older woman with burning eyes and jutting jaw, yelling angrily in words she couldn’t understand. Then Tobias flinched, and Alice looked to see three dark-haired women, fair and beautiful. But their eyes were cruel and conniving, watching Tobias hungrily, longingly…
They spun suddenly, in a gust of wind. Upside-down, Alice and Tobias looked up at the ground far below — a sprawling, wooden chessboard. But it was strange. One side played white, but the other side played red, and the squares on the board were alternating white and red, not white and black. They fell towards the board, and the queens of both sides, white and red, raced for the center of the board, reaching out with stony arms to catch Alice and Tobias…
But they slipped through the queens’ fingers. Darkness, all around. Distantly, a music box played — not discordance, no. This was a gentle, soothing lullaby. Alice almost felt like falling asleep, and it was only the falling, the wind, the upside-down that kept her awake and alert.
Then she saw a bed. A grand, beautiful bed, made up for a queen. And in it, slumbering beneath a black quilt, rested a beautiful young girl. Her glossy raven tresses were spread across the pillows, as if arranged for a photograph.
The girl was sleeping. She didn’t open her eyes. And yet Alice felt a chill, a dread, as if the slumbering child was looking straight at her.
A soft, haunting voice spoke into the abyss. “I’ll save you.” A girl’s voice — and not Alice’s. The sleeping girl, Alice knew, though she hadn’t moved her lips. The girl spoke with a desperate, aching longing. “You and me… oh, Alice. What we could be together.”
Alice and Tobias floated softly down, until they were just above the bed. Just above the raven-haired girl. Alice tried to turn, to twist away, to move off from this place. Her heart was pounding, terror and tension beating a dreadful rhythm in her chest…
The girl opened her eyes. They were black as the darkest night, beautiful and distant as the new moon. She smiled as she laid eyes on Alice, and lifted a hand, reaching for her. “Stop!” Alice cried, retreating into Tobias’ embrace. He held her with one arm, and the other went for his sword. But Alice grabbed his arm, stopping him from drawing. “Don’t!” she said. As frightened as she was of this girl…
She couldn’t hurt her.
The girl reached, but couldn’t quite grasp Alice. Still, she smiled. Laughter echoed on the air.
And the world shattered.
Alice screamed as glass broke all around her, one shattering after another, a horrible chorus of breaking that tore into her heart…
And then, silence. And light. And a lovely aroma of rosehip and vanilla.
Alice opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed. They were back in the tea garden, her, Tobias, Flynn, and Mister Carroll. Hugo sat at the table, and took a sip of his tea.
Alice suddenly felt cold, drained of life and energy. She walked slowly to the tea table, and took the cup Hugo offered. With a single sip, warmth flooded back through her. But the flavor wasn’t quite right. And then Hugo chuckled, and passed her a bowl of sugar cubes. Alice placed seven cubes into her cup, stirred, and then took another sip.
Now it was perfect. But she still couldn’t smile.
“Is it over?” she asked.
“Such as it is,” Hugo said. “One piece of the broken picture can only hold so many answers.”
Alice took another sip of her tea, then set the cup down. She looked around the garden. “Alice?” she called. “Where are you?”
But the other Alice did not appear.
“What is it?” Tobias asked.
“I… wanted to apologize,” Alice said. “I never meant to hurt her. But… you were right. I feel like I’ve barely learned a thing, but… I need to know.”
“Don’t be glum,” Hugo said. “You’ll see her again. One shard implies more to be found.”
“How do I find them?” Alice asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Hugo said. “I only know of the one — this one. But the other pieces of this broken picture will likely rest in places that hold deep value to you. Which may be troublesome, if you’ve forgotten. But nothing is ever truly forgotten. This memory…” he looked around at the beautiful vision of this long-lost sanctuary, “it wasn’t taken from you. It was already within you, Alice. The shard just helped remind you.”
“What about you?” Alice asked. “You’re just a part of a greater whole. Why are you so fragmented? Does it… does it hurt?”
Hugo smiled. “I’m touched. But you needn’t worry after my well-being, Alice. My current state is by design. I — or, rather, the whole — chose to be shattered.”
Alice gaped in shock. “Why would you do such a thing!?” she asked.
Hugo’s smile faded. “There are those who wished to control me,” he said, “to possess me for their own vile ends. I could not allow that — but I was not powerful enough to defy them, after the Fracturing. So I shattered myself, and hid every piece, such that even I could not put myself back together again. Even if the dark forces find a part of me, they will never find the whole — and so their efforts are forever stymied.” His smile returned.
“What is it about you they want so desperately?” Alice asked.
“Oh, I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Hugo said with a chuckle. “I’m just a shard.”
Alice approached Hugo, and reached out. When she touched his hand, it was warm. It was real. She held his hand and looked up at him earnestly. “Will you ever be whole again?” she asked.
“I’m quite content as I am,” Hugo said pleasantly. “But, yes. When the world is restored, so shall I be. Don’t worry, Alice. There is nothing so broken it cannot be mended. Nothing so hurt it cannot be healed.” He gave her hand a squeeze, and then let go. He stood, tipped his hat to her, and with a smile turned away…
And was gone.
Alice waited, watching where he’d disappeared. She knew he wouldn’t return. But she wanted to hold the memory of him in her mind a little longer, to ensure it wouldn’t slip away.
Then, she turned back to her companions. She joined them, and took Tobias’ hand in one of hers, and Mister Carroll’s hand in the other. Flynn headbutted her gently in the stomach, and she giggled, and laughter brightened her heart.
Then there was a sensation, like when they’d entered this place. As if they stood before a window, and then stepped through it. One world vanished, making way for another.
Alice was back home, sitting by the fire, the Looking-Glass shard in her hand. When she looked at it, it was no longer a window. It was a mirror once more, and reflected part of her face in its pristine surface.
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