Alice would have been quite content to keep walking until sunset, but her merry band didn’t make it nearly that far. They really only walked until they couldn’t see the Knights behind them anymore before they came to a stop to rest.
It was perfectly understandable, though, and Alice didn’t begrudge them the stop. Flynn and Ava both needed a much more thorough cleaning and brushing. Tobias had actual bleeding wounds from where Saoirse had tried to pull him down with her that he’d been ignoring until now, and needed proper cleaning and bandaging. And Guinevere’s hand needed special attention.
“You should avoid using it at all for about a week,” Sheena said, after unwrapping the injured hand and examining it. There was enough obvious bruising on her hand to make Alice wince, and while Guinevere put up a brave front, she wasn’t able to hide the slightest of whimpers at a few of Sheena’s proddings at the injury. “I’ll apply a new salve and bandage it more firmly. If it still hurts, even a little, within its bindings in the morning, let me know, and I’ll apply more medicine. Don’t try to tough this one out. It will only heal if you let it.”
“Then I hope we don’t expect any more extravagant fight-and-flights in the near future,” Guinevere said, casting a glance at Tobias.
“I’m certainly going to try to keep us out of trouble,” Tobias said. He had already wiped down and brushed Flynn twice, and was now giving a third go with special cleansing wipes designed for animal hygiene, paying particular attention to the area around Flynn’s eyes. Flynn was quite content. “We should reach the Library by tomorrow evening, and spend the following day there. Beyond that, I can’t be sure of our next path, but like Elliot said, there aren’t many places in Wonderia more dangerous than Saoirse’s land was when under her control.”
“And we’ll see Elliot and Ninian again at the Library!” Alice said. “They were quite a delightful pair, weren’t they?”
“I thought so,” Sheena said, nodding.
“What precisely is ‘the Library’?” Guinevere asked. “You keep talking about it, and we’re going there now, but what makes it so special?”
“It’s only the most wonderful place in all of Wonderia!” Alice said, leaning forward from her perch atop her trunk, eyes wide. “It has more books than any other place in all the realms! It’s full of knowledge, of course, but also stories! Oh, the most delightful tales, from all sorts of authors throughout all of history. It’s called ‘the Library’ without any special name beyond that because it quite literally is the library. As big as a city, full of books, and books, and books!”
“So we’re going there for knowledge,” Guinevere said. “The Librarian can help decipher the clues, but… what sort of man is the Librarian, that he’s given such trust, that he knows so much that you don’t?” She’d turned to Tobias already, not at all inspired by Alice’s excitement.
“Why do adults so often miss the point?” Alice asked with a gloomy sigh.
“The Librarian is… more than a person,” Tobias said. “It’s difficult to explain, really, if you haven’t met him before. So it’s a good thing you will soon. But if anyone could possibly know the truth to something, it’s him.”
“Then why not just ask him how to reach Elysia?” Guinevere asked.
“Either he doesn’t know,” Tobias said, “or he isn’t allowed to say.”
“Allowed?” Guinevere asked. She winced slightly as Sheena started re-wrapping her hand. “So he answers to some higher authority?”
“Don’t we all, in the end?” Alice asked airily.
“Like I said, it’s difficult to explain if you haven’t met him,” Tobias said. There was an almost-smile on his lips, and Alice sensed there was a bit of a private joke in that somewhere. Why did Tobias have to still keep his guard up, now that he was among friends? “He’ll know about the black butterfly symbol, though. Symbology is one of his fortes.”
“I’m curious about that symbol for a great many reasons,” Sheena said. She finished with Guinevere’s hand, inspected it once, nodded, and turned so that she could speak to everyone equally. “We all saw a black butterfly when we were inside the Mirror, didn’t we?” Nods went around. “Why was it there? What did it mean for us? It wasn’t part of the Mirror itself, was it?”
“It felt like an intruder,” Tobias said. “Not a prisoner like us. More like… a third party. One that found its own way inside the Mirror. I’m… not certain Saoirse or the Mirror realized it was there, actually.”
“Curious,” Guinevere said, staring at her hand. It was wrapped much more snugly than before, so that she could barely wiggle the tips of her fingers. “That black butterfly is the symbol of the organization that sponsors the assassin guild, correct? That’s… no coincidence. Is it? The butterfly we saw… was it some spy from that organization?”
“It’s definitely suggestive,” Sheena said. “We don’t know enough. But the fact that we all saw it, and yet neither Saoirse nor the Mirror seemed to acknowledge its existence, nor be in control of it, makes the third party option seem more likely than anything else.”
“Or just a figment of our imaginations,” Alice said. “We were all in the Mirror together, clearly connected in some way, since we could often hear each other and feel the fears and struggles we each felt, and even see each other in the end. We could have had a shared imagining.”
“See each other?” Guinevere asked. “I never saw anyone else until you and Tobias finally freed me from that cruel torment.”
“Nor could I,” Sheena said, and Tobias echoed the sentiment.
“Oh, right, it was only me,” Alice said. She hopped down off of her trunk, laughing. “Yes, well, that was odd, wasn’t it? Anyway.” She pulled out the handle of her trunk and gestured towards the eastern horizon. “Are we ready to continue on? I’m quite excited to get to the Library as soon as possible. The answers to all our questions await!”
“Not all,” Guinevere said, standing. “He won’t tell us how to reach Elysia.”
“Yes, well, it’s more fun that way, isn’t it?” Alice asked, smiling. “Come on, then. Let us away!”
Alice started in the lead with Tobias, but fell into her own thoughts and ended up trailing to the rear of their group.
She didn’t want to think about the Mirror. More than that, she didn’t want to think about the butterfly. It hadn’t just fluttered about and watched them. There had been a voice, too. Just a laugh, but that laugh…
She shuddered and shook her head.
Forget it. We’re going to the Library! That’s exciting! Even if it means we’re going to learn more about this cult of villains, it also means we gain greater direction for the next leg of our quest. Or, really, the first leg. We… haven’t really started until now, actually, have we?
Silly Saoirse. Ruining all our best plans, delaying our journey to Elysia. Not very sporting of you.
She looked up, and her eyes found Tobias. Despite the downfall of the Queen of Hearts, the ruination of her palace, and reuniting with his best friend, there was a tension in his shoulders that wouldn’t go away.
Saoirse really did a number on you, didn’t she? Not that I’d want a fanatical admirer like that, myself. And your tragic past still haunts you so heavily. You put on such a brave, stoic mask, soldier onwards as best you can, but…
You feel things very deeply, don’t you? You can wear a face of stone when it suits you. But you can’t shield your heart so easily.
And then Alice watched Flynn, trotting along beside Tobias, tail held high, and smiled. She hurried up to the front of the group again, adopting a bouncy, happy gait as she strolled on the other side of Flynn from Tobias. “I saw a few other Knights with dogs, aside from you and Elliot,” she said. “But it isn’t particularly common, is it?”
“A lot of dogs bred and trained for the Knightly Orders are trained for specific roles, and have handlers also trained for those roles,” Tobias said. “Having regular canine companions for Knights outside of specializations, like me or Elliot, is less common. And even those dogs still have a certain specialization, a role they’re best suited for and primarily trained in.”
“Ooh, what’s Flynn’s speciality, then?” Alice asked, watching Flynn trot along, listening to the conversation with eagerness.
Tobias chuckled, reached into his pack, and pulled out one of Flynn’s favorite objects — a blue ball. “Flynn specializes in retrieval, tracking, and search-and-rescue,” Tobias said. Flynn was still keeping pace with them, but his tail had gone extra high and rigid, and he had his eyes fixed on Tobias — or rather, the ball in his hand. Tobias waited a beat, then hurled the ball down the road, and Flynn bounded after it. “The ball games aren’t just for fun. That’s been part of his training since he was a pup.”
“And he certainly is an exceptional search-and-rescue dog, seeing as how he found and rescued us from Saoirse’s dungeon in record time!” Alice said, beaming. Flynn came racing back, ball in his jaws, and tossed it with a flick of his head to Tobias before coming right back in step with him and Alice, like he’d never left.
“Yes, he has gotten to show off that side of his training best in rescuing, well… me,” Tobias said. Was that a bit of self-deprecating humor in his smile? “He’s quite excellent at getting me out of trouble.”
Alice turned on her heel, walking backwards now, so she could eye Guinevere and Ava. “What’s Ava’s speciality, then?” she asked. “She’s quite a capable canine as well, I’ve noticed.”
“Oh, she’s…” Guinevere started, then looked aside. “She doesn’t have any special training. She’s just… mine.”
“So she’s like a pet, but the best pet in the whole world,” Alice said. That perked Guinevere up a bit, and Alice smiled.
“I’ve… actually been wondering,” Guinevere said, glancing at Tobias — rather reluctantly, Alice thought. “How do you determine a dog’s speciality? And how do you go about training them for it? I… feel that both Ava and I should do our utmost to improve ourselves on this journey. Who we are has worked very well for ten years, but… we could be so much more.”
“Oh,” Tobias said, and was silent for a beat. There was an interesting look in his eyes — something rather pleased, though surprised, Alice thought. “Right. Well, determining Ava’s specialty is something I can help with. It’ll take time, but we’ll get there. As for training, how you go about that is a combination of her aptitudes, her desires, and your own aptitude and desires. Think of yourself and your dog as a team. Training isn’t about getting her to do what you want her to do. It’s as much about training yourself as it is her — learning how to be a team together.”
“You and Flynn do make an excellent team,” Alice said with a smile.
“We didn’t get there immediately,” Tobias said, he and Flynn sharing a look. “But we had quite the head start. We can talk it over more when we stop for the evening. But I’m happy to help you.”
“A team…” Guinevere murmured, and went on for quite a while in silence, she and Ava sharing several long looks.
As they walked, Tobias tossed the ball for Flynn, who eagerly chased it down and ran it back. He occasionally called out a few specific throws and return patterns, which Flynn excelled at, naturally.
“Can I try?” Alice asked.
Tobias handed over the ball, and Alice happily tossed it for Flynn. She couldn’t throw nearly as far as Tobias, but Flynn didn’t seem to mind one bit. He was just happy to run — and run, and run. Did he never exhaust himself?
When Alice tried out some of the maneuvers that Tobias had called out, she found it difficult to throw it just right, and at the same time, something curious happened — Flynn showed signs of struggling to match the return patterns she called out. It was subtle, but there was more hesitation in his steps, and he wasn’t as fast as he was with Tobias. After a few efforts, Alice looked up at Tobias. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Not really,” Tobias said. “He’s used to working with me — he knows how I’m going to throw the ball, where it’ll land, how it’ll bounce, all of that. He isn’t going to perfectly adjust to someone else’s throwing arm.”
“Or aim,” Alice said, sighing. “I never was the most adept at ball games. I’m sorry, Flynn.”
Flynn didn’t seem to mind at all, though. Panting, he wagged his tail and headbutted her leg, and his tail wagged all the faster when Alice petted his head.
Sunset came on, and Alice was just about to ask where they would stop, when Tobias pointed to a hill not too far away. “We’ll set up camp there for the night,” he said. “That’s just past the border of these lands. We’ll get a good look at Southeastern Wonderia, and the path before us.”
Alice couldn’t help herself. She raced ahead, trying to reach the top of the hill first, eager to see the view. Flynn dashed along beside her, but when he outpaced her he circled back, doing a lap around her before darting ahead again. She wanted to call for him to slow down, to let her get there first, but all she could do was laugh herself silly.
Oh, how wondrous it was to have a dog in her life!
She did manage to crest the hill first — Flynn turned out to be quite the gentleman, racing back down the hill at the last second to Tobias, letting Alice have the victory. She came panting up across the top, propped up her trunk, and stared.
And stared, and stared, and stared.
Oh, Wonderia. How I love you.
There were a great many trees on this hill, but they parted right behind her and right in front of her, giving her a stunning view of the lands beyond. The red of Saoirse’s domain — red-brick roads, red railroad tracks, red rose gardens, ruby ore mountains — gave way to blue and purple, yellow and orange, a whole riot of colors bursting across the plains and forests beyond. Alice gazed upon a wild, untamed land, with bouquets of wildflowers bursting out amongst the rippling green grass wherever they well pleased. Willows bent their boughs over babbling brooks that carved paths through the wilderness with playful randomness. Birds flitted from bush to tree, singing their varied chorus, joyous and free.
It stretched on and on before her, towards a distant horizon glowing behind the hills with the fading vestiges of a fiery sunset. There were no paths or roads to follow, no signs of settlements or even lone cottages or huts, no clear destination to find and pursue.
“Oh, wow,” Guinevere breathed, as she and the others joined Alice on the hilltop. For a moment, they all just stood and took it in. Alice turned around after a while to compare to the landscape of Saoirse’s domain behind them, and found Tobias doing the same. Even from here, they could just barely see the great scar that had opened up in the earth, swallowing up Saoirse’s palace. Though the palace itself had been a blight on those lands, that yawning chasm and the ruination of the palace was quite an eyesore itself.
“What do you think they’ll find?” Alice asked. “Saoirse’s corpse, or Saoirse alive and well?”
Tobias gazed darkly at the distant ruin. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “And I’m not sure which I’d prefer.” He turned on his heel, leaving the unpleasant sight behind.
And then Guinevere let out a rather undignified yelp, and at the very same time Tobias said firmly, “Wait.” Alice turned to see Guinevere frozen like a statue, hand raised as if to swat at something, her wide eyes locked on her other arm. There was something tiny, and speckled, on the sleeve of her jacket. And it was moving.
“What is it?” Guinevere asked in a taut, frightened voice. “Is it poisonous? Can it sense fear? What do I do?”
Tobias stepped right up to Guinevere, and then held out a finger to her arm. The tiny speckled creature — a red-and-black beetle, Alice realized, barely as big as her smallest fingernail — crawled up onto Tobias’ finger. He raised his hand, pointing his finger to the sky, and after a moment, the ladybug tested its wings once, twice, and then took off on a breeze, flying far away from them.
“She was just looking for a high perch to catch the wind,” Tobias said. “That’s what they do. She just happened to think you were a tree to climb.”
“I… see,” Guinevere said, and then turned away, frowning, her cheeks reddening.
“You’ve quite the way with animals, don’t you?” Alice asked.
“I suppose,” Tobias said with a shrug.
“Or,” Alice said, with a sly smile, “is it you find animals more tolerable than humans?” Tobias had nothing to say to that.
“I do, sometimes,” Sheena said. Akko was perched on her shoulder, nuzzling against her cheek. She smiled, and for the first time, Alice saw something deeper in that smile.
Even when she smiles, even when she enjoys the company around her, it’s like… she isn’t truly happy. There’s something lonely in that smile.
They set up camp, Alice happily setting up her tent-cottage, and then trying not to pout as her companions set up sleeping bags outside. She understood their reasoning, and this was how they’d gone about things since they’d started journeying together, but she wished, after the bonding trial they’d just overcome, that they’d be a little bit closer.
And then, once the campfire was cheerfully crackling away, Sheena asked for everyone’s attention. Seated around the campfire, she gazed into the flames, and the loneliness Alice had seen in her smile seemed more pronounced than ever.
“I know you would not ask me to be more forthcoming than I wish,” Sheena said. “I appreciate the kindness you’ve all shown me. But… I feel, after the Mirror, there is more value in being entirely forthcoming than in leaving you trying to fill in what still remains of the story that was told.”
“Of you and your brother?” Alice asked. “And your wish?”
“Yes,” Sheena said. “My brother, Asbel, he… was always plagued by nightmares. Nightmares of another self, a self that was trying to unmake him. He was… torn, between warring identities. I failed to understand the extent of his struggle until it was too late. He was transformed, warped, by fyouwa. I don’t believe it has a proper name in Standard Albian. There have been very few cases of this devastating disease. The best word for you to understand it might be ‘dissonance.’ A fundamental war of the self, unresolved, warps the afflicted into a monstrous being, the internal war becoming external. Confusion, fear, they can so easily be turned to rage. That is what the dissonant are. That is what… my brother has become.”
“And there’s no cure?” Alice asked.
“None that any medicine or magic has found,” Sheena said. “There have been too few cases, and those that have arisen are always so violent, destructive, and terrifyingly powerful that they cannot be captured, restrained, or sedated. The only solution has always been…” Her voice faltered, and she broke off. But no one needed her to finish that sentence.
“Hence your wish,” Guinevere said at length. Sheena nodded.
“But where is Asbel now?” Tobias asked.
“In Wonderia,” Sheena said. “Somewhere. I do not know exactly. He… upon his transformation, he opened up a terrible Fracture in Taiyoushi, ripping the Academy for Political Arts in two, swallowing up so many wonderful teachers and students alike. After that, while he roared in rage and frightened all around him, he didn’t attack. He… fled. Before anyone was on his trail, before anyone raised a hand against him, he fled from our city at all speed. We found the door that he departed Albia through, but where in Wonderia he is… I still do not know.”
“And no one with this disease has acted this way before?” Guinevere asked.
“Every past instance on record has seen them launch into a violent rage wherever they transformed,” Sheena said. “They have never run away from anyone. They fight, and destroy, until… they are killed.”
“Then there’s hope for him, isn’t there?” Alice asked. “We don’t know enough, of course. But just from what we know, it seems suggestive of him seeing the destruction his transformation had wrought, and wanting to prevent further harm to his city and people. If this disease is fundamentally about warring selves, then the Asbel you know is still in there somewhere, beneath the monster.”
“I…” Sheena started, her voice shaking. “I very much wish to believe that. And I thank you. That’s… the first time anyone else has said the same.” She sniffed, and wiped at her eyes. “I apologize. I… just wanted to be clear with you all. About my mission, and my wish. If something comes up in the future, if there is danger to my brother, or a way I can help him that conflicts with what the rest of you want to do… I may leave your company.”
“Why would you have to leave?” Alice asked. Everyone stared at her. “After what we just went through, after feeling that sorrow and fear with you, why would we let you go alone? If there’s a way we can help Asbel, we’ll all help. Won’t we?”
“You…” Sheena started, staring at Alice.
“If all that can save him is a wish, then we should make for Elysia with all haste,” Guinevere said. “But if a detour is required to aid him and you, of course we’ll oblige. Should you expect any different?”
“It’s easier to bear this heavy burden with others than alone,” Alice said, smiling. She nudged Tobias. “Come on, then. Say something!”
“I’m with you wherever you go,” Tobias said to Alice. “But yes. If there’s any way I can help you, Sheena, I will.”
“Thank you, all of you,” Sheena said. She wiped her eyes once more.
Night fell deep and dark. The fire was a welcome cheer in the middle of their camp, and food was an even greater cheer — Alice and Tobias made dinner, and they all ate together. By the time the meal was eaten and dishes washed, the mood had brightened considerably. As Tobias sat in the grass, throwing the ball for Flynn, Alice brought up their earlier conversation. “You said you two had a head start in being a team,” she said. “What did you mean?”
“I’ve known him since…” Tobias started, glancing aside. Was there a bit of shyness in those eyes? “Well, since he was born.”
“Since he was born?” Alice asked. “That’s not common at all, is it?”
“It’s very irregular, yes,” Tobias said. “I had special permission. Elliot did, too. We met Flynn and Hector almost on the very same day.”
“How’d you choose Flynn?” Alice asked, leaning close. Guinevere and Sheena came nearer, too. “There must have been a whole litter to choose from, right?”
Flynn came trotting back with his ball and, instead of tossing it to Tobias for more playtime, dropped it at his feet and lay down. He wasn’t very out of breath, but he gazed lovingly up at Tobias, as if he was delighted to reminisce on this story.
“He… chose me,” Tobias said, ducking his gaze and petting Flynn. Alice was just able to see Tobias’ smile in the shadows. “All of his siblings went straight for their mother, like they should. But this little one… he just stumble-walked right towards me, as soon as he was born. He had to be guided back to his mother, and I couldn’t actually interact with him, you have to be very careful with newborn puppies, but… from day one, we both knew where we belonged.”
Flynn leaned into Tobias as he told the tale, nuzzling right up against him.
Now that’s an even cuter story than I imagined for them. And you can see it written all over them. They’re linked, like they belong together. One without the other would just feel… incomplete.
“It, ah, took a while to figure out exactly what made Flynn tick, though,” Tobias said. He cleared his throat before continuing. “He wasn’t very interested in treats, or really food at all, at first. He was always happy to see me, but his natural state was a very strange combination of restless and lethargic. He didn’t respond to the standard training systems the Knights prescribe. And then…” Tobias picked up the ball and tossed it in the air, catching it, and Flynn watched eagerly, “we cracked the code.”
“Balls?” Alice asked.
“Play,” Tobias said, smiling. “Flynn didn’t care to take anything seriously as a pup. He was really quite a rebel when it came to rules and strict oversight — but I can’t really talk.”
“You were a rebellious child, too?” Alice asked, hanging on every word.
“You… could say that,” Tobias said. He chuckled, then looked away. “Anyway. I finally realized that Flynn’s favorite thing in the world was playing. And when we started framing all of his training as play… that changed everything.”
“He can take things seriously when he needs to, though,” Guinevere said. “He raced to your rescue and even bit Saoirse.”
“He’s a good boy,” Tobias said, and Flynn rolled over onto his back as Tobias petted him. “But that’s what you can expect.” He looked up at Guinevere. “It takes time to figure out what your dog responds to. What inspires them to push themselves, to go beyond just regular, everyday existence? For Flynn, he needs to be able to play, and see all of his training, and even his work, as a game. He had to go through even more rigorous training than dogs specialized in search and rescue or tracking, because he was always meant to be my lifelong companion. He had to have a more versatile skillset, to be able to respond to just about any situation. Even with it all framed as play, it was intensive for both of us. And we still practice, train, and do our best to continue to grow. The learning never stops.”
“That’s why you don’t just throw the ball and let him run it back normally,” Alice said. “Well, not all the time.”
Tobias nodded. “We still run through drills when we can,” he said. He turned his attention back to Guinevere. “But keep in mind, we’ve been at this together for thirteen years. As soon as Flynn could come home with me, we started in on training. He’s a professional. Not only should you not expect Ava to be like him, because she has a different build and personality, but you also shouldn’t expect her to reach his level anytime soon. We have a huge head start.”
“I’m prepared for a long road,” Guinevere said. She held up her wrapped hand. “Once I’m healed, I hope you and Sheena will both help me improve my swordsmanship. Ava and I both need to heal, need to learn, need to grow. This isn’t a vacation for us.”
“You’ll have our support,” Sheena said. “But you don’t have to wait until your hand heals.” She stood and drew her azure katana, and then switched it to her left hand, holding it with just one hand. “There’s great value to training your non-dominant hand. We can run through a few slow drills, if you’d like.”
“I…” Guinevere faltered, for a moment. Likely she was taken off-guard by the sudden offer. But a moment later she drew her sword — in a backhand grip, since she couldn’t cross over with her actual sword hand, and then flipped it to the proper grip. Even though Alice was a complete novice when it came to swords — and that would be a remarkably generous descriptor — she could see that Guinevere carried her sword with a lot less confidence and poise than when it was in her dominant hand.
“I’m ready,” Guinevere said, her eyes flashing with determination.
She and Sheena went through a variety of very slow drills, focused on technique, posture, and footwork rather than speed, strength, or even practicality. “This is all about getting accustomed to the sword’s feel in your non-dominant hand,” Sheena said. “You’ll build flexibility, strength, and confidence from these exercises.”
And Sheena also asked questions, because she wasn’t at all familiar with Guinevere’s court fencing style of swordsmanship. She asked Guinevere to show her, as best she could with her weaker hand, some of her basic forms and drills, and then helped her run through those more effectively.
Alice sat beside Tobias, petting Flynn as they watched. “You’re not going to join them?” she asked.
“If she asks, I’ll join,” Tobias said. “But her path forward has to be on her terms. And watching them helps me learn, too.”
“ ‘The learning never stops’,” Alice said, smiling.
Guinevere never did ask Tobias to join in. But even though the session with Sheena was full of slow movements, nothing fast or strenuous, by the end of it Guinevere looked exhausted. “Can we do it again tomorrow night?” she asked.
“We may reach the Library tomorrow,” Sheena said, and Tobias nodded in response. “But even so, we can find the time for this. Don’t be discouraged.”
“I’m not,” Guinevere said quickly.
Sheena smiled a small smile, calm and patient. “The learning takes time,” she said. “You did excellent for one night. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Guinevere said. When Sheena sheathed her sword and bowed to her, Guinevere sheathed hers and bowed back.
It wasn’t long after that that bedtime came around. Alice didn’t really want to retire to her tent — she was having such a lovely time petting Flynn, and he was so receptive to affection — but constant yawnings guided her there in time. She sprawled out in bed, sinking into her pile of pillows, a sleepy smile on her face.
Today, a triumph over Saoirse and a lovely time together. Tomorrow — the Library!
——
Guinevere woke with a start. Eyes wide, breath coming in shallow, quick gasps, she found herself staring up through the dark boughs of the trees at the few faint stars that twinkled distantly in the deep, dark sky.
Where was the light? She needed the light, now more than ever. She rolled over, gazing at the glowing embers of the campfire. She could see the dark form of Tobias in his sleeping bag, shadowed. Sheena’s was vacant — it must be her shift on watch. She and Tobias took turns, kindly sparing Guinevere and Alice from a task neither was really suited for.
And, thankfully, Sheena wasn’t here in their campsite right now. Guinevere was torn between wanting comfort and wanting solitude, and the desire for solitude won, because…
Of the dreams.
She shuddered, her mind drawn back to that dark place, standing before that black throne, gazing up at the imposing shadowy man. The nightmare that the Mirror had tried to draw her back into.
The nightmare that Saoirse had spared her from.
“But how? How can you have the same dream…?”
“No,” Guinevere whispered, fixing her eyes on the warm orange glow of the fire’s dying embers. They were a lighthouse in this dark ocean, a beacon guiding her home.
But she also felt… guilt.
Because Sheena’s descriptions of her brother’s dreams, of this sense of being unmade… they rang familiar. Not exactly like her own, but…
How could she say that? How could she bring herself to tell the others that she might have similar dreams, a similar danger, a similar fate to Asbel? How could she face the fear, the terror, the deep pool of dread Sheena’s story implanted in her heart?
But how could she not? How could she keep this secret, when Sheena would completely sympathize with her struggle, when Alice and Tobias had pledged such support for Sheena? Surely they would help her, they would stand by her, they would make sure that she didn’t…
I won’t become a monster.
And she was thinking about her own dream again. Because it was different, wasn’t it? She wasn’t being invaded by another self, torn apart by warring identities.
No. The shadow upon the throne… that was the true evil. The ultimate source of all her dread, of all her conflict, came from him. His words still beckoned to her, words that she could never quite recall upon waking, but words that carried such seduction within the dream, and yet also such revulsion. She hated him and desired him all at once.
No… not him. What he offered her. What he promised her.
Guinevere only shut her eyes for a moment, and then suddenly sat up, eyes wide. She tried with all her might to still her pounding heart, to quiet her rampant breaths, but it was no easy task.
She couldn’t sleep. Not tonight. Definitely not.
Ava stirred beside her, but only slightly. Guinevere so often valued how heavy a sleeper Ava was. It made her the most perfect of companions, an ever-reliable warm and fuzzy comfort each night, and the perfect excuse to sleep in rather than wake early.
But right now, she could use her dearest friend’s waking support.
“Ava,” she whispered, gently caressing Ava’s lovely white fur, right atop her head between her pointy ears. “Ava, darling. Are you awake?”
Ava’s ears flicked twice, and she shook slightly, then rolled over onto her other side, facing Guinevere. She wasn’t one to roll over flat on her back for tummy rubs. She had a dignity befitting of a Queen’s closest friend. But her eyes were open, and fixed on Guinevere, asking a wordless question.
“I just need you,” Guinevere said softly, so softly she barely heard herself speak, trusting that only Ava would hear the words.
And then there was another voice. Faint, distant.
And far too familiar.
“We’re as unusual as they come, aren’t we? And that’s never going to change.”
Guinevere’s heart caught in her throat. It couldn’t be. And yet…
She found herself standing, walking, before she realized she’d begun to move. Barefoot she trod across the grass, into the trees, and Ava padded along after her.
She saw a light, distant, through the trees. Down the hill, flickering faintly. It was like a fairy, dancing in the air, a mote of white light bouncing here and there.
But no matter how many steps she took, no matter how fast she walked, it didn’t get any closer. It maintained its distance, far off in the trees. And Guinevere continued to pursue. She didn’t hear Artorius’ voice again, but she could feel it in her heart, guiding her onward.
She stepped out onto the plains, and saw a copse of trees farther on. The light danced therein, and Guinevere made for those trees. Ava followed along, not letting out a single whimper or cry, not making any move to try and guide Guinevere back. Perhaps she had heard the voice, too. Perhaps she was as hopeful as Guinevere herself was.
The trees here were dense, and it was hard going. But after only a short while, they pushed their way through the thick branches out into a clearing ringed by trees.
The light was gone.
Guinevere stepped out into the center of the clearing, turning in a slow circle.
“Where…” she murmured softly, tears stinging her eyes. “Where has it gone?”
“I’m terribly sorry,” said a young girl’s voice, startlingly familiar. “I just wanted to get your attention.”
Guinevere turned around, and was terribly confused. There at the edge of the clearing, on the opposite side from where she’d entered…
Was Alice.
“What… what are you doing here?” Guinevere asked. “Getting my attention? How dare —”
She almost started on an indignant tirade. But something stopped her. There was a faint bit of a confusion at Alice’s attire — she was wearing a black dress, sleeveless, with no jacket despite the midnight chill. And then there was her face. Alice had such a disarming smile, and yet there was something genuine in those eyes, kind, honest…
“There you are,” Alice said, her voice soft, warm, inviting. “You see? There’s no need to be disturbed by dreams. Dreams, after all, are just windows to peer into our true selves.”
Guinevere felt strangely tired. Drawn, forward, as if by a spell. Alice’s words were so true, so inviting. The dreams needn’t disturb her. Not as long as she had Alice to guide her…
“The… voice,” Guinevere managed to say. Her lips felt so sluggish, her mind so tired. It was difficult to form words.
“Don’t worry,” Alice said, smiling brightly. “You wish to see him again, don’t you? To hear his voice again? Follow me, Guinevere. I’ll take you to him.”
“You’ll…” Guinevere started, her heart suddenly so full. The promise she’d longed for, the hope she’d dreamed of. Someone, at last, who didn’t just affirm Artorius wasn’t dead, but promised to take her to him!
She took a step forward.
But that was as far as she got.
“Guin, don’t listen to her!” shouted a frightened, familiar voice. Guinevere shuddered. The spell was broken. She turned around, and saw Alice standing in the clearing from where she’d entered, in a white dress and black bolero jacket, her hair and clothes tangled with twigs and leaves from the frantic rush into the clearing. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her expression a taut blend of righteous anger and abject terror. “That’s not me!” she cried, glaring past Guinevere at…
Alice.
Guinevere turned and looked back at the other girl, the girl who looked exactly like Alice. And she saw it, then. Nothing physical, not really, but… something. Something in the gleam of her eyes, in the tilt of her smile. No, for all the ways this girl was perfectly identical to Alice, she was very much not Alice.
“You can try to spoil my fun for now,” Not-Alice said, smiling at Alice. “But it won’t last.”
“Leave!” Alice said. Her clenched fists were shaking.
“As you wish,” Not-Alice said, still smiling. She looked at Guinevere. “Think on my offer, won’t you? When you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
A sigh of breath blew through the trees.
And Not-Alice was gone.