Phantasm

“Serafin, please!” Though the voice was muffled by the recently-closed door, Serafin could hear the words with perfect clarity, much as she tried to shut them out. “Listen to reason!”1

Serafin made a vow then and there to wage war upon reason. “Whose reason? Yours? Why should I?”2

“Because you are my apprentice,” the voice pointed out in an exasperated tone. “Because I’m right, also.”3

“I’ve told you,” Serafin replied. “I don’t remember anything. Everyone’s asked me—why should you be any different? They must have done a spell to make me forget, you should understand that, right? You and all your spells. Isn’t it illegal to cast one on someone without their permission?”4

“Well…yes,” the voice, which happened to belong to a wizard named Somnium. “It is, you’re right. But, for that spell, the results are better if you don’t know. I was just trying to help, Serafin.”5

“You have a funny way of helping,” Serafin said scathingly. “Everyone else seemed to accept that if I ever remembered anything, I’d come out and tell it. I’ve told you that countless times, haven’t I?”6

Somnium did not reply. Serafin shook her head angrily, already feeling some of her rage slip away as she began the harsh descent into the abyss of despair that inevitably loomed in her future. While Somnium’s spell had not managed to dredge any undiscovered memories of her parents’ actual murder, it had managed to remind her of the cold, hard feeling that she had experienced shortly following their untimely deaths.7

Serafin closed her eyes as the onslaught began. It had been seven years since she had awoken with no recollection of what had happened the night before, and found her parents’ bloodied bodies to greet her. She had been six years old, and since then—or, rather, since she had been released from the asylum a year following the event—she had been questioned as to what exactly had gone down that day. Of course, she remembered nothing, and her memory was not going to be improving with time, contrary to many people’s faithful belief. Their murder remained an unsolved crime, the investigators’ only lead a key that her father had clutched in his hand. No one seemed to be able to find a lock into which the key fit, and so, seven years later, no progress had been made.8

Frustrated with herself, Serafin swiped a stray tear from her cheek, rubbed her eyes, and stubbornly refused to allow her emotions to control her. Discipline of her feelings was a useful habit into which she had slipped after the murder. She had become quite experienced at remaining blank-faced even when a battle of emotions was raging within her.9

Silently, Serafin got to her feet and padded to the door. Breathing shallowly, she pressed her ear to the old wooden barrier and made use of her acute senses to assure that Somnium was no longer keeping vigil outside her room. She smiled triumphantly.10

She made her way back to her bed, where she promptly flopped down upon it and closed her eyes. She was not tired in the least; she did not intend to sleep. She was enjoying a spontaneous feeling to do something daring. When she was apprenticed to Somnium at age nine, she had been quiet and obedient. As she grew, she became more boisterous and opinionated, but had always upheld her obedience. She had never seen any particular point in disobeying Somnium’s rules; there were not many of them, and for the most part they were sensible and easy to follow. Now, however, she felt as if she needed to get revenge upon her master for taking advantage of her. She knew that it was most likely a foolish idea, and that it was naïve and childish to seek vengeance, but she did not think that Somnium should get away with such an act.11

She quickly ran over his rules in her mind. Most of them were not abnormal—don’t shout loudly, don’t run indoors, what time to get up and go to sleep. However, there were some that she had always wondered about—belladonna is against the rules until one turns thirteen, don’t wear bright colors when mixing potions, don’t talk to the trees about religion. Serafin dismissed each of these, as some would perhaps damage her instead of her master, and some would not cause quite enough reaction.12

And then, it hit her. A smile crept across her lips as she realized the perfect revenge.13

One of Somnium’s most enforced rules was that no one was to enter the attic—the room at the very top of the tower. Serafin had often questioned him as to why this rule was in action, but had never gotten a sufficient answer. Once, when she was about eleven years old, she had ventured to the foot of the attic’s steps and gazed up at the door that concealed behind it the room. She had been scared away by a thumping sound resounding from within, and had not returned since. Now, though, she knew that she would not be scared by such a small thing—besides, she could no doubt fight whatever lay behind the door now that she was more advanced. It would be quite a nice way to get back at her master.14

Serafin did not know where Somnium had gone, but she could not waste time lingering on the possibilities of the answer to this question, or she would no doubt lose her nerve. With practiced precision and stealth, she eased open her door and stepped into the dark corridor beyond. She shivered—sinister shadows played across the walls, creating a creepy ambiance. A shaft of moonlight poured from a nearby window, illuminating a small portion of floor.15

Serafin was aware of the urgent state of her mission—she did not know how long it would be before Somnium would venture back to her room in the hopes of making amends, and though she estimated that her allotted time was plenty, she did not wish to be discovered before she had actually put her plan into motion. She hurried down the hall.16

The going was relatively easy. Every so often she would hear a strange, unexplained sound issue from behind one of the doors that peppered the walls, but had learned from experience to think nothing of such noises. Now, however, she jumped at each, fearing that Somnium would be inside.17

The journey was over surprisingly quickly. Serafin found herself gazing up the steep staircase into the deep shadows that sheathed the attic door for the second time in her life. Now that she had accomplished the first portion of her task, she was hesitant to carry on. Though the door was silent now, she felt a twinge of doubt at the sight of the ancient thing. It seemed to be radiating an aura of foreboding that Serafin found none too appealing. Doubtfully, she considered her other options—there were other ways to get revenge upon Somnium, other ways that were considerably less reckless. Anyway, was vengeance a priority in the first place? Perhaps if she could simply get him to beg for forgiveness…18

Serafin mentally slapped and chastised herself for being so cowardly. She had gotten this far. She would not turn back.19

Serafin crept up the attic steps, unsure of what to find. The ancient stair creaked ominously beneath her feet, sending periodical nervous jolts through her.20

As the door grew bigger before her, she felt a pang of stupidity as a realization that should have been perfectly obvious hit her. The door, she now knew, would no doubt be locked tight. Of course it would be! She had no key. How was she going to get into the attic when the door was locked? Even if she did possess such a key, the door was no doubt protected by intricate spells that Serafin could not hope to break through in her wildest dreams. She groaned.21

Serafin reached the summit of the stairs; she was face-to-face with the old wooden door. Knowing that the action was futile, she clutched the doorknob and turned; unsurprisingly, it did not yield. Her hand dropped uselessly to her side, and she sighed forlornly. It was time to resort to her nonexistent backup plan.22

Serafin turned to leave, but not before she noticed something appearing on the door’s weathered surface. She squinted, tilted her head, and discovered it to be writing, scrawling itself magically upon the wood at the pace of the average person’s handwriting. The script was large and loopy; she recognized it to be similar to Somnium’s. Impatiently, she waited for the message—a riddle—to finish.23

Sleep, sleep, in the heat and the cold,24

Hear the whispers of stories untold.25

Restlessly slumber through the dark and the light,26

Listen to the music of the pain so bright.27

Sleep, peace, silence, I can give you all these,28

Just hush now, my child, let the magic thou please.29

What am I?30

Serafin cursed silently. She had never prided herself on her riddle-solving skills, or lack thereof. But there was a chance—however slight—that this was the only lock. If she could solve the riddle, she could get through. She decided not to dwell on what might happen if she answered incorrectly.31

The answer was something magical, she knew that, of course it was. She squeezed her eyes shut and paced the small landing, thinking hard.32

Her contemplation did not last long, for a moment later she had the answer, one she knew was correct. She wondered why the task had been so easy.33

“The answer’s belladonna,” she told the door. “Deadly nightshade.”34

She heard a click, the sound of metal on metal, and the lock turning. Her heart fluttering excitedly, her hand shaking slightly, Serafin turned the door’s handle once more. This time, it did its job satisfactorily.35

The room beyond the door was dark; Serafin did not venture in while it was all but invisible. She muttered a short incantation under her breath and a glittering orb of light was called into existence to float cheerfully at a point slightly over Serafin’s head. Her spirits were lifted slightly by the sphere’s appearance, and, with one final glance behind her, she stepped into the attic.36

Her light lit the entire room, if dimly, but she could see sufficiently. Contrary to her belief, the room was sparsely furnished, and what little furniture littered the floor was draped in ghostly white sheets.37

A soft, rustling sound that was reminiscent of a sigh caught Serafin’s attention—she turned to see something that she had not expected in any way.38

In the moment she had been inside the attic, her mind had been running over the myriad of possibilities of what the door might have concealed. She had suspected that it contained dangerous magical objects, books full of dark spells and instructions to deadly potions and such, or perhaps an evil spirit.39

What she had not considered was a man in a mask, clutching a paintbrush glistening with red pigment from a jar her held in his other hand, and several large bubbles floating in from a door that was ajar in the opposite corner.40

Serafin quickly recovered from her momentary start, and waded through the furniture to the man. “Er…hello.”41

He glanced at her; she saw his eyes, behind the bird mask, were large, blue, and glittering with contained tears. “I’m trying to paint the bubbles,” he told her tearfully. “But they keep popping when I touch my brush to them.” He demonstrated; there was a soft pop as the bubble in question shattered into oblivion.42

“They do that, yeah. I don’t think you can paint bubbles,” Serafin countered. “They’re too fragile.”43

“But they want to be painted,” the man replied. “They told me. They want to be colorful.”44

“They…told you?” Serafin made up her mind that this man’s sanity had long since fled. “You…talk to bubbles?”45

“Yes.” He did not look at her; instead, he continued his fruitless quest. “They don’t like being to plain.”46

“Right…of course they don’t.” Serafin was edging away from the man, as slowly as she could, so as not to attract his attention. “No one likes being plain.” She pointed to the door in the corner, from which the bubbles were issuing. “Is that the way to go on? Is there more to this place?”47

“The bubbles go out that way,” the man said, indicating an open window, outside of which Serafin could see nothing but darkness.48

“Yeah…I can’t fly, though,” she pointed out. “I’ll just go through here.”49

Hurriedly, she rushed through the door in the corner, unsure of what she would find, but thinking that anything would be better than the insane bubble man.50

However, when she walked through to find herself in a luscious forest, she wondered if insanity was contagious. She whirled around, hoping to retrace her steps and return home, but the door seemed to have disappeared, to be replace with a hole in the ground—a large fissure, yes, but not nearly large enough for her to fit back through. The bubbles, however, seemed to find their way down the tunnel without popping; she turned again to find whoever was sending them there, hoping that perhaps they would help her. What she saw, however, was far from sane—a multicolored lizard sunbathed lazily on a nearby stump. Each time his tongue flicked out, a stream of bubbles issued from his throat.51

“Hi,” he greeted Serafin.52

She shook of the shock at seeing a talking lizard, and answered, “Hello. Um…could you tell me where I am, exactly? I was in my attic, and there was someone there…he was trying to paint those bubbles that you’re, ah, making. I walked through a door, and…here I am.”53

“What is your name?” the lizard wanted to know.54

Serafin dodged a stream of bubbles. “My name’s Serafin. What’s—oh, do you, um, have a name?”55

“I do,” the lizard replied. “And it is Randall.”56

“Randall,” Serafin echoed. “Nice to meet you, Randall. Where am I?”57

“You, Serafin,” Randall said, flicking bubbles toward her, “are in the Realm of Phantasm.”58

“The Realm of—what? I’ve never heard of it.”59

“That does not surprise me in the least. Not many have until they find their way here.”60

“How did the Realm of Phantasm get in my attic?”61

“That,” Randall said pensively, “is a not-so-long story, the time for which is not now.”62

Serafin shook her head, but did not endeavor to pursue the subject further. “How do I get out of here? I can’t go back, I won’t fit through the hole.”63

“Going back wouldn’t lead you home, anyway. Therefore, you must go forward.”64

“Er…where will forward lead me?”65

“Just where you want to be. However, it will be relatively difficult and not a little confusing. It can take years to master dream-traveling, so I will explain it to you a little, as I don’t think you have that much time on your hands. Your goal, in the end, is to reach the Tower of Orion, which contains a portal into the real world. To get there, you must pass through Seven Doors—it should be fairly simple, as each door is accordingly labeled. Unfortunately, they are not always very obvious. Some are very well concealed.”66

“Did that one I just went through count as the first one?”67

“Yes, it did. I will show you the second one, but I’m afraid not everyone will be so helpful. Each door in itself is a portal, to another portion of the Realm, and each time you pass through one you will be slightly disoriented and have to relocate. I’ve heard it’s not a pleasant experience.”68

“Have you ever been through one?”69

“Serafin, I am a lizard. I am perfectly happy in this forest. It has everything I could ever desire. Why would I want to leave? Once I’m gone, I may never find my way back. The Realm is unimaginably huge—as huge as your imagination, which is where dreams come from, which is what this world is made of. I’ve heard that it can be rather tough for a lizard to survive.”70

“So…when I leave here, I’ll never see you again?” Serafin was surprised at the twinge of sadness she felt. She had begun to like Randall.71

“I may pop into your dreams now and again, but that will be only on rare occasion, and even then you may not remember my being there. So, essentially—no, you will never see me again.” The stream of bubbles that issued from his mouth seemed forlorn, or as forlorn as bubbles can be.72

“Oh.” Serafin was suddenly awkward. “You know, I really should be going,” she continued, shuffling her feet. “I should be getting back. Somnium will worry…” she felt a pang of guilt at the thought of him. “Er, right. I probably owe him an apology, too.”73

Serafin could not be sure, but she thought she saw Randall’s eyes glitter with a smile. “I see. Well then, I wish you luck in all your future endeavors. I do hope you will learn something from your time in this Realm.”74

“Yeah,” Serafin agreed. “Me too.”75

“The door into the next portion is just down that path, there. It is in the base of a tree; if you’re looking for it, it should be fairly obvious. I think you will find it without trouble.”76

“Thanks,” Serafin said, smiling at the lizard. Bubbles meandered from his tongue.77

“It was my pleasure. Goodbye, Serafin.”78

“Bye, Randall.”79

Serafin started down the leafy path.80

***81

Serafin gasped as the portal deposited her unceremoniously onto the hard ground. She winced as she banged her elbow, but the injury was not serious.82

Portal travel, it turned out, had not been the ideal way to get to one’s desired destination. Serafin’s head was spinning nauseatingly from the rush of the oblivion through which she had been traversing, and she suspected that she had left her stomach somewhere behind her. The prospect of making the journey an additional seven times made her head swim sickeningly.83

Once she had recovered satisfactorily, she looked around. She appeared to be in a hallway of sorts, but it was unlike any corridor she had been in before. It was extremely dark; she appeared to be sitting in a solitary pool of light. There was no furniture that she could see, but there were things hanging from the walls—as her eyes came into focus, they revealed themselves to be clocks. She gasped in amazement; there were countless clocks, of all different types. A small mound of sundials squatted on the ground a few feet from Serafin’s resting place, and a large grandfather clock stood serenely near her.84

It was completely silent in the hall of clocks, save the subtle ticking of the timepieces. Serafin shuddered to think how it would sound should the clocks choose to chime, all at once. She sincerely hoped that she found her way out of the place before the hour struck.85

Rubbing her head in an attempt to vacate the headache that had taken up residence there, she glanced around once more, searching for someone who may be able to help her find her next door. The hall appeared to stretch on forever, or at least for a tremendous distance, and not another soul was in sight.86

Slowly, so she would not send her head spinning once more, Serafin stood on wobbly legs. She stepped forward tentatively, and found her walking to be satisfactory. However, she did not move again; instead, she wondered if perhaps she should study her surroundings, in case she had missed the door in her short analysis of the corridor.87

She looked again, and again was greeted with nothing but clocks. Watching the various pendulums was beginning to make her feel nauseous once more, but she studied nonetheless.88

“Excuse me,” a voice behind her said in a superior tone.89

She whirled around. Again, she saw nothing but clocks, and was trying desperately to pinpoint the voice when it spoke again. “I’m over here,” it told her.90

She followed the voice and saw a cuckoo clock, its inhabitant perched on its spring, though the hour had not yet struck. It glared down at her so ferociously that there was no doubt it was alive.91

“Er…hi,” Serafin greeted. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I thought you were—”92

“Just a clock?” The bird finished for her. “Of course you did. Everyone does. No one really sees me.”93

“I see you now,” Serafin pointed out.94

“Only after I told you,” the bird quipped.95

“Um…I suppose that’s true,” she admitted.96

“Of course it is. I said it,” the cuckoo preened. “Now, I know there’s something you want. No one comes here just to see me. What is it?”97

“Well—” Serafin began, but was cut off by the cuckoo.98

“Ha!” It cackled. “I caught you! You weren’t going to ask my name, were you? It’s very rude, you know.”99

“But you asked—”100

“I won’t answer any of your questions until you ask,” the bird said stubbornly.101

“Alright then,” Serafin hissed, beginning to feel very annoyed with the mechanical bird. “What’s your name?”102

“My name is Bo,” the bird replied. “Now what is your question?”103

“Where’s the third door?” Serafin asked bluntly.104

Bo snorted as best a bird of any kind could. “Out of time, of course.”105

Serafin decided that she was fed up with puzzles of any sort. “What,” she said wearily, “are you talking about?”106

Bo sighed in an exasperated manner. “It’s in one of the clocks,” he clarified.107

“Oh, thanks,” Serafin replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t even know how far this corridor goes on for. Am I supposed to check every single clock in this place?”108

Unless Serafin was very much mistaken, she distinctly saw Bo roll his eyes. “Not unless you are unbelievably dense. Can you crawl through all of these clocks? No, I thought not. These doors are designed for large beings, all of whom wish to pass through them. Therefore, they must be relatively large.”109

“Oh…of course.” Serafin did feel rather foolish. “So…any that I would fit through?”110

“Yes,” Bo confirmed. “You think you can handle that?”111

Serafin decided not to grace the comment with a verbal answer, instead she glowered at the bird maliciously. Bo seemed unperturbed, and watched her with his beady black eyes as she examined each clock in turn. Several were too high for her to reach, let alone crawl through, but thankfully those were mostly too small in the first place.112

Her task was proving to be harder than she had originally thought it would be. Although a large part of the clocks could be disqualified due to size, there was still an extremely long—possibly endless—corridor of perfectly valid timepieces for her to inspect.113

Serafin noticed, idly, that she had returned to almost the precise spot in which she had first been deposited into the clock room. Her eyes skipped over the monstrous mound of sundials and alighted on a clock that fit her given description perfectly—the ancient grandfather clock that had originally caught her attention. She smiled as she made her way over to it, to analyze it; almost immediately she spotted a small, insignificant number etched into its wooden surface.114

“There,” she breathed in relief. With ease, she released the latch that held the glass door closed—the pendulum concealed within, she now saw, was not moving, and behind the stationary thing she could see the subtle iridescence that was the portal.115

She turned back to Bo. “Thanks, Bo,” she said. “For everything.”116

“Humph,” was Bo’s only response.117

Taking a deep breath, Serafin stepped into the portal.118

***119

The cold, harsh wind on her face awoke Serafin. She winced as small particles of a sand-like substance glanced off her cheeks, stinging her skin. Though her curiosity had been piqued, she made the wise decision not to open her eyes for fear of the sand damaging her vision. Her head was spinning again, of course, and now that she had noticed the feeling it seemed to elevate in power and again she felt nauseous.120

She lay still for a few moments more, in an attempt to regain her lost composure, which, along with her stomach, had been left behind in the portal’s oblivion.121

Taking a deep breath, she sat up, gasping at the dizzy feeling that was an immediate result of the decision. The nausea was over quickly—she wondered if portal travel would get easier the more times she took the journey. She certainly hoped so.122

Tentatively, she opened her eyes—the stinging was not quite as painful in a sitting position.123

As far as Serafin could tell, the particles were sand, though it was probable that she was incorrect. Through the wind and torrent of dust she could see close to nothing, but a hazy vision was available to her.124

In the far, far distance, she could make out what looked like a skyline of some sort, but through the storm she could not discern much else. There also appeared to be an iridescence that was reminiscence of a mirage a little nearer.125

The end of the storm was very sudden; it took her by surprise. One moment her vision was obscured by a nearly-solid wall of sandy substance, the next, she could clearly see the distant—yet nevertheless distinct—skyline of a surreal city, a tranquil pool not fifty feet from her, and tremendous amounts of the grayish-orange sand, stretching for miles.126

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The voice raised a small portion of surprise within her, but after the shock of having an annoyingly enormous amount of sand removed from her vision in a split second, the appearance of a mysterious being did not manage to even cause her to jump.127

Serafin turned, and surveyed the creature with curiosity and mild alarm. It was unlike anything she had seen thus—it topped even Randall, her talking, bubble-blowing reptilian friend. The beast had the head and claws of a great eagle, and the hind legs of a lion. Though she had never seen anything quite like it, she recognized it nonetheless.128

“You’re a griffon,” she said needlessly.129

“Yes, I am,” he agreed. “You know your myths well.”130

“I’m apprenticed to a sorcerer,” Serafin blurted, before realizing that telling the mysterious creature her entire life’s story may not be the wisest decision.131

A smile seemed to twinkle in the griffon’s sharp eyes. “I see. It must be an exciting life.”132

“Not particularly,” Serafin admitted. “I suppose that’s why I came here.” She laughed bitterly. “I’ll never do that again. Er, no offense,” she added, thinking that the griffon probably wasn’t a creature the bad side of which you wanted to be on. “It’s confusing.”133

The griffon nodded sagely. “I quite agree. I myself often have trouble navigating in the Realm of Phantasm.”134

“Yeah,” Serafin snorted. “Tell me about it. Do have a name?”135

“As it happens, I do,” the griffon replied. “I am Maximillian.”136

“Maximillian,” Serafin repeated. “I’m in search of something.”137

“I believe we all are, no? But I sense you are looking for something in particular. What is it that brings you to my sanctuary?”138

“A door,” Serafin replied. “I’m looking for a door.”139

“I think you would want to look in the Dream City for those. I hear they have quite a few. It’s just down that—”140

“No, not just any door,” Serafin amended quickly. “A specific door. You may have heard of it—it should be around here somewhere. It’s in…well, it’s in sort of a series. Of doors. It’s hard to explain. But it leads into a portal…thing.”141

“I believe I know the door of which you speak,” Maximillian said. “And, if I am not mistaken, I know of its location. However, I must ask you a question before you go, Serafin—what is it you’re going back to?”142

“Somnium,” she answered promptly. “My mentor. He’ll be worrying. We—we were arguing, and the only reason I went through the attic door was to get revenge on him. I have to get back and apologize.”143

“Why would you apologize? You did nothing. He was the one who probed into your mind, without your permission, is he not?”144

“Well, yes, but getting revenge was…” she trailed off. “Hang on. How did you know what he did?”145

“I know quite a lot about you, Serafin.” Maximillian’s eyes now carried a trace of unpleasant hunger. “I have looked into your mind. I have seen your true nature. You are rebellious; you find returning to apologize an unappealing prospect.” Maximillian took a step forward, toward Serafin; his sharp eagle talons plunged easily into the palpable sand, causing the girl to take an involuntary step backward. “You know,” the griffon continued, his voice thoughtful. “We are very much alike, you and I.”146

“No, we are not,” Serafin contradicted, though it was perhaps not the wisest decision. “We’re completely different. For one thing, I have at least some idea of personal space. You were talking, earlier, of how Somnium invaded my mind. You just sunk down to his level.”147

“I only wanted to know more about you,” Maximillian protested. “It is not often that I have a visitor, particularly one who stays long enough to have a conversation. You are very interesting to me. We are the same.”148

This time, Serafin did not reply verbally. She simply snorted.149

“Perhaps you would like to stay here with me,” Maximillian suggested. “I think you would quite like it. Let your mentor worry for you. He deserves it, no? Stay here, live a free life.”150

Serafin had not felt fear for the griffon before, but now she felt the feeling sink in. She glanced at his talons, and lion claws—though she strove to keep the thought from her mind so he would not hear it, she considered how much pain the bodily weapons could inflict upon a creature such as her. She shuddered. “Please, Maximillian. Just show me the door.”151

“I’m afraid I can’t, now. The thought of keeping you is far too intriguing.” Serafin did not like the way he said the word ‘keeping.’ “It will not be difficult for you, Serafin. In time, you will come to forget your old life.”152

“I—I don’t want to forget my old life,” Serafin told him. “I want to go back to it.”153

What she did next was both rash and foolish. When she thought about the decision later, she realized just how idiotic it had been, and yet she was extremely happy that the plan had worked.154

She turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction of Maximillian, toward the Dream City, in the hopes that, if she could get there, she could seek help, or at least a large crowd in which to conceal herself. Of course, she had no idea how far away the City was, and was quite aware of the fact that the griffon could fly with his eagle’s wings, but she could not give herself up quietly.155

She could hear and feel the ground shaking with his mighty footsteps. Serafin wondered if he might be preparing to leap into the air, and managed to speed up. If he did catch her, she would most likely be dead within minutes, but she somehow managed to entertain hope. She would rather lose her life than lose herself.156

The small pond glittered in a corner of her vision. At the sight of its sparkling, she was hit with a stroke of inspiration. She altered her course and headed toward the water—if she could stay under until Maximillian passed over, she would be safe…hopefully.157

She had reached the pool in a matter of moments. It was only when she was too close to slow when she noticed a large three-shaped indent stamped into the reeds that grew beside the pond. She cried out in a mixture of fear, excitement and joy, as she realized where her current course would deposit her.158

She smiled as she imagined the look of surprise that would glisten in Maximillian’s eyes when she did not resurface as the murky water lapped at her calves. She splashed toward what appeared to be the middle of the pool with as much speed as she could muster, knowing the griffon was close behind her.159

Maximillian’s cry of outrage rang in her ears as blackness embraced her.160

***161

When Serafin came to consciousness for the third time, the first thing she noticed were the colorful flickering lights that danced behind her closed eyelids. Due to her prior experiences concerning the final destinations of the portals, she was hesitant to examine the lights further, though she knew she must.162

She did, however, notice that the headache that seemed to be a side effect of journeying via portal seemed weaker. This cheered her slightly; perhaps the trip got easier as one practiced the method. Still, it was with relative tenderness that she raised herself into an acceptable sitting position, and even then she refused to open her eyes until she had sufficiently prepared herself.163

Serafin chanced a tentative glance through her lashes. The mysterious lights, it turned out, were unusually bright magical orbs, similar to the one that Serafin had conjured earlier, but much more powerful. Though their strength suggested a being of great prowess, which was not necessarily a good thing, the sight of something so familiar in such a strange world had an immense comforting effect on Serafin. She felt a cautious ease creep over her.164

She opened her eyes fully—a hopeful gesture. Perhaps, by some strange glitch, she had landed back home; she had seen Somnium conjure things of similar power, it was possible that he was the orbs’ creator. The chance was slight, but…165

Her heart sunk as she took in the rest of her surroundings. She was obviously in a closet of some sorts, a room belonging to a wizard or someone of the like. Potions lined nearly ever wall, each letting off a weak aura of their own and giving the room a psychedelic feel. Spell books and runes were scattered here and there. Serafin had often been in similar rooms, but this particular storage facility did not seem familiar.166

Serafin stood, marveling at how easy the gesture was, so soon after her journey though the portal. She looked around, hoping to find something that would lead her to the next door, but of course, seeing nothing but the softly bubbling potions simmering in their various-sized containers.167

“Hey! Where’d you come from?”168

Serafin yelped in spite of herself at the sound of the voice, which was gruff and carried an accent that she did not recognize. She whirled around, and at first could not pick out the speaker from the background of potions. She did spot him eventually—a short man who sported a shiny bald head and a shockingly scarlet goatee. The suit in which he was clothed camouflaged almost perfectly with its colorful surrounding; the hues sewn into the fabric were boisterous and almost painful to look at. He approached Serafin, his black leather shoes glistening with the multicolored light on his every step.169

“Er…” Serafin shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly sure. Some sort of desert, I think. It’s a long story,” she concluded quickly, seeing the man’s skeptical expression.170

“I’m sure it is,” the man commented briskly. “Why are you here?”171

“Looking for something,” Serafin told him. “What’s your name.”172

“What’s yours?” he challenged.173

“Serafin,” she told him truthfully, thankful that he had chosen not to probe her mind; she hoped that that was not an option in this situation, as she seemed to be having very bad luck when it came to mind-reading powers.174

“I’m Xavier,” the man replied. “I’m keeper of this particular…place.” He gave an agitated sigh. “It’s not as easy as you may think.”175

“Um…it looks very nice,” Serafin complimented. “Very…clean.”176

“Do you really think so?” Xavier asked eagerly. “I’m cleaning nonstop, it’s—” He seemed to catch himself, clear his throat, and managed to put on a serious face. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”177

Serafin was having a hard time keeping her amusement in check. When she trusted herself enough to speak without bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, she replied with, “No problem. There sure are a lot of potions, aren’t there?”178

“Someone’s observant,” he muttered. “Yes, there are,” he replied in a louder tone. “I’m no magician; I don’t know what half of them do. I’m pretty sure a lot of them are poisons and antidotes for those toxins. Some of them carry their own, though, but I couldn’t tell your which. I say, whoever designed the room should have taken the time to label their work.”179

Serafin, in an effort to be of some help to someone, promptly began examining the various concoctions and putting her extensive education in the subject to good use. She found that many of the bottles contained simple mixtures that she had been cooking up since she was first apprenticed. She conveyed her conclusions to Xavier, who was taking notes, and in no time, she had identified an entire shelf.180

“It’s good to have someone with some real knowledge in here,” Xavier commented, by way of thanks. “Most of those who pass through don’t know a single thing, or if they do, I’m not important enough for them to talk to.”181

“I’m sorry,” Serafin told him sincerely. “And I’m glad I was able to help you. You might be able to figure out some of the others based on those notes. But now, I need you to do something for me. See, I’m just passing through, too—I need to get home, back to…well, I don’t really know what you would call it, but I need to get out of the Realm of Phantasm. There’s a door I’m supposed to pass through here. You wouldn’t know where that is, would you?”182

Xavier shrugged, not looking up from his extensive notes. “No idea. I told you, I don’t know half this room’s secrets. I’ve lived here ages—literally—and still I haven’t learned everything about it.”183

Serafin sighed, sinking to the ground; a resigned gesture. It seemed to her that she was stuck here forever. She could identify potions, she could conjure dancing orbs of light, and she could escape from insane griffons, but she did not see any escape in this situation. Xavier had existed in this room for eons, and the place still kept things concealed from him. What hop did she have of discovering a way out before she disintegrated into dust? She winced as she calculated the approximate odds.184

Xavier was speaking of his plans to identify and label each potion, but Serafin, lost in her abyss of defeat and despair. She watched the spheres of light glittering above her, untouched by the years that passed.185

She ran her hand along a shelf of potions that were yet unfamiliar; perhaps in the coming years she would learn them. It would be something to pass the endless time, of course.186

She stopped suddenly; one of the bottles had caught her eye particularly. There were several reasons why it could be considered different from its fellows—it was smaller, if only by a fraction, and its shape was unusual. It gave off a different light than the others, more subtle than those surrounding it. Its color, too, was slightly different; duller and murkier, as if something dark and exciting lurked in its depths. But she thought that drew the delighted gasp from her lungs was the number that was painted a bright blue substance on its surface.187

“Look!” Serafin squealed. “I found it! Xavier, I found it!”188

“What? What’d you find?” Obviously, in his excitement, the odd man had completely forgotten about Serafin’s predicament. She ignored this fact, and instead gave him a hurried account of the situation. He seemed crestfallen when she related her discovery.189

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.190

“It would have been nice to have some company,” Xavier sighed wistfully.191

Serafin felt pity for him, but knew that she could not say. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to go.”192

“Of course you do,” he agreed, much to her relief. “So, um, how exactly do you go about, er, activating this door gizmo?”193

Serafin frowned; she had not considered that the fact that the door happened to be a small bottle into which she could not fit three fingers, let alone her entire body, would no doubt complicate things. Gingerly, she took the bottle in her hands, fingering its fragile surface and admiring how the dancing lights reflected off its iridescent contents.194

“You could drink it,” Xavier suggested when silence had reigned for a few moments. Serafin gazed at him, knowing that his statement made more sense than anything she had considered.195

“I guess…” she said reluctantly. She examined the potion closely; it certainly did not look particularly appealing to her. She had had countless unpleasant experiences concerning potions—the majority had been her fault, and she had no desire to repeat any, particularly in a strange, foreign land such as the Realm of Phantasm. “But I’m not so sure. It could be poison. Maybe I’m supposed to bathe in it or something.”196

“I doubt it,” Xavier countered. “Seems too complicated.”197

Serafin uncapped the bottle; a sickly sweet scent issued from it. She winced as the aroma invaded her nostrils; it was not helping her find the concoction appetizing. She glanced at Xavier for encouragement; he simply shrugged helplessly.198

“Right,” she murmured. Stifling the urge to gag, she pinched her nose closed firmly before downing the mixture in one gulp.199

The potion had no particular taste, but it burned on her tongue like acid. She could feel her eyes popping wide, her ears ringing, and her taste buds dying painful deaths at the hands of the potion. Fleetingly, she made the final decision that the stuff must have been poison; there was no way that this feeling could be a good sign. She prepared to spit the potion onto the ground, but before she knew what was happening it had slithered down her throat, painting a trail of fire behind it. She suppressed the yell that rose in her immediately following its descent; she did not want to worry Xavier. Already the man was wearing a look of anxiety.200

Serafin gasped as the potion-induced haze began to vacate her vision. She blinked repeatedly before she trusted herself to speak. “I—I’m fine,” she assured Xavier, though she was not entirely sure the statement was true.201

“Good,” he sighed. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”202

Serafin was confused. “Where am I going? The potion didn’t work. I think it may have been poison.”203

Xavier did not reply verbally; instead, he gazed intently at her ankles. She glanced down as well, and could not stifle the yelp of surprise that issued from her throat. Her ankles, it seemed, had disappeared. She was floating about five inches above the ground. As she watched, her calves, too, began to dissipate. She was slightly alarmed, but had used up her allotted amount of surprise.204

“Er…I guess this is goodbye, then,” Serafin amended.205

Xavier smiled. “Nice to have met you, Serafin.”206

Before she could respond, the blackness had enveloped her once more.207

***208

The first thing Serafin noticed upon waking was the icy fingers of cold playing along her spine. Her skin was uneven with goosebumps, and her teeth were chattering subtly.209

She was able to open her eyes immediately this time with few side effects. Immediately, she stood, enjoying her spontaneous freedom. When she had found footing on the icy ground, with several slips and numerous curses, she looked around.210

Somnium had often told her stories of the ice creatures that lived in the far reaches of the deep north. At the time, she had not really understood exactly what their relevance to anything might be, or why he was telling her about them. Though those questions were still mysteries, she could now see why the ice creatures had evolved in the cold and dark rather than choosing warmer climates and sunlight.211

Serafin was standing, quite literally, in a palace of ice. Enormous spikes protruded from the floor around her, some joining with the icicles that hung from the ceiling. The walls were decorated with beautiful rosettes of ice, and large garlands and wheels into which Serafin could easily have fit her entire body into. Cold light filtered in from a hole in the ceiling, ricocheting back a thousand times against the slippery surfaces. It pained Serafin to look at it, and she blinked several times before she could see with relative ease.212

Serafin gazed around in awe, admiring the impossible beauty that surrounded her. There was something, though, that unsettled her—she could not place it for a time until suddenly, it hit her: the cavern was completely silent. In her previous locations, there had been the rustling of the trees, the ticking of clocks, that howl of wind, and the soft simmering and bubbling of potions. Here, there was nothing, only ice, and the eerie light.213

Serafin threw an anxious glance around as she came to terms with the realization that she was completely alone. She knew it was probable that she would not find her way out off the cavern without a guide who knew his way around the palace.214

She sighed in a resigned manner. She would, of course, explore the entire cavern in search of the sixth door, but it would be a long, long time before she made any real progress. She idly wondered if she might freeze to death in the ice before she discovered her preferred means of escape.215

Serafin flexed her hands as she began to lose feeling in her fingertips. She did not wish to contemplate what temperature the cavern might be. Though everything was beautiful beyond imagining, it also happened to be several degrees below freezing, which was certainly a drawback.216

She sniffed, irritated, and vigorously rubbed her hands along her arms in a feeble attempt to warm herself. It was then, however, that she noticed a shuffling sound that had not been present a moment before. She was not sure of the sound’s origin, but she decided that almost anything was better than the suffocating silence.217

Quickly, she pinpointed the sound—it seemed to be issuing from behind a large, warbled chunk of ice that had fused itself to the ground. Serafin could not see anything, as the chunk was enormous, but as she approached it, she was able to identify some of the sound as a voice.218

It cursed. “Damn ice,” it muttered. There was more shuffling, and then the chinking of metal-on-metal.219

Serafin crept toward the ice structure, her feet silent on the slippery ground. She prayed that she could avoid slipping as she listened to the sounds of whoever was hiding from her.220

She peered around the edge of the structure; the person’s back was to her, he would not notice.221

The man was very small; a dwarf, if she was not mistaken—the knowledge immediately struck suspicion within her. She had never met a dwarf in person, but had heard tell of their nasty reputations of pick pocketing and deceit. She had been warned to stay away from them in any circumstances, but she deemed this particular situation to be worthy of disregarding such warnings. She cleared her throat to make her presence known.222

The dwarf yelped, causing a few of the smaller icicles that dangled from the ceiling to quiver dangerously. He whirled around, and set his green eyes of Serafin. He reached her navel, she decided, with a coarse gray beard covering much of his face. His clothes were simple, made of burlap, and a pile of strange gold coins lay at his feet.223

“Who’re you, then?” he demanded, his stance defensive.224

Serafin crossed her arms. “I think I could ask you the same thing. I doubt either of us is supposed to be here.”225

The dwarf slumped. “You’re right, o’ course. I’ll tell you ’bout me if you do the same, then. Deal?”226

Serafin nodded. “Deal. You go first.”227

The dwarf seemed to hesitate, contemplate a protest, then comply. “My name is Jigsaw. I’m a dwarf, and I just attained a ridiculous amount of gold.”228

There were several more things that Serafin would be interested to know about Jigsaw, but she did not ask. He had kept his end of the bargain, if barely; she, too, would be as elusive as possible. “My name is Serafin. I’m not a dwarf, and I am in search of a portal to the real world.”229

“The real world, eh?” Jigsaw inquired. “Very interesting. And what might your business there be?”230

“Certainly none of yours,” was Serafin’s cool reply.231

Jigsaw raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard tell of the real world, and the methods of reaching it. Something about Seven Doors…?”232

“Yes. Seven doors. I’m currently in search of one of them. Think you could help?”233

“I could,” Jigsaw agreed. “For a price.”234

Serafin sighed and rolled her eyes irritably—she had expected this. “Fine. What do you want?”235

Jigsaw rubbed his beard, obviously contemplating a price. He circled Serafin, looking her up and down with an appraising air. She stood, trying her best to look bored, but secretly praying that his payment would not involve the sacrificing of her soul or something of the like.236

“I have made my decision,” Jigsaw announced as he finished his assessment. There was a glint in his eyes that did not do much to reassure Serafin. Nonetheless, she kept her anxiety from her voice as she answered.237

“Yes?”238

“I want you to bring me something from the real world,” he told her. “Not just any something. I want a leaf, off of a living tree. Do you think you can do that?”239

Serafin was relieved—she had expected something much more difficult. However, she had immediately found a flaw that would cause problems. “The leaf should be easy to get. But how am I supposed to get it to you? If you think I’m coming back here and finding you to give it to you, you’re wrong. I’d rather just work alone.”240

Jigsaw threw his hands up defensively. “You’re forgetting something. I can come into your dreams, see? That’s what this place is all about. Dreams, right? So, you give it to me in a dream. It’s that simple, ain’t it?”241

Serafin decided that she could deal with the fact that she did not possess the power to beam things through her dreams later. Perhaps Somnium would have something that would help her. “Of course it is, I should have known. Now, for your part of the deal. Do you know how to get out?”242

“I do,” Jigsaw grinned. “But first, I need something to prove you’ll keep your side of the bargain. Is there something you can give me to keep until I get my leaf?”243

“No,” Serafin admitted. She had brought nothing with her into the Realm of Phantasm. “But, how about this—if I never give you that leaf, you can give me horrible nightmares for the rest of my life. Does that sound fair?”244

Jigsaw seemed to consider, then shrugged. “Sounds fair, I guess. You can’t say you weren’t warned, though. Anyway, the way out is this way. Follow me.”245

Serafin waited impatiently as Jigsaw gathered his gold coins, cursing each time he sent one clanging down to the icy ground. In the end, Serafin’s pockets were weighed down with several of the little discs, as were Jigsaw’s stocky arms. Serafin wondered again about the coins’ origins, but decided that that particular fact was one that was better left alone.246

Jigsaw grunted and, without any word of explanation, set off down the icy corridor at a quick pace. Serafin hurried to follow, though the going was difficult on the slick ground. She was unsure how Jigsaw managed to keep such unerring balance.247

Several times they stopped and the dwarf would rearrange his armload of coins; Serafin, who was having no trouble, as her burden was contained to her pockets, waiting impatiently as he did so.248

Serafin did not know how long she jogged alongside Jigsaw, but she did notice when she began to develop an uncomfortable stitch in her side and her breathing became shallow. The merrily jingling coins that weighed down her pockets were not doing anything to help.249

“Here we are.” Jigsaw’s voice echoed through the empty cavern, and Serafin raised her eyes from the ground. Before her stood the gaping, ragged hole that was the dark mouth of a new tunnel. She could not see what lay within, but she supposed that it was another portal—unless Jigsaw was tricking her, which, she found, would not be a tremendous surprise. A leaf was a suspiciously simple thing to request in exchange for valuable information without which she never would have been able to go on; she would not have been particularly surprised to find that he had double-crossed her. She glanced at him, half expecting a mischievous grin to be spread across his face, but he was preoccupied with his coins.250

She cleared her throat conspicuously; he looked up, startled. “Is this it, then?” she asked.251

“End o’ the line,” Jigsaw confirmed. “I haven’t the foggiest what lies beyond that tunnel—I can’t seem to go through. It’s hard to explain. But, I imagine you can.”252

“Why can’t you go through?” Serafin wanted to know.253

Jigsaw shrugged, fiddling with one of his coins; he did not seem particularly concerned. “Dunno. It’s like there’s a barrier blocking me.”254

“Huh.” Serafin had not considered that perhaps residents of the Realm of Phantasm could not travel into the real world, or even through the portals. “But you can go into dreams, right?”255

Jigsaw sighed irritably. “Yes, I can. And I expect you to give me my leaf. Or you risk eternal nightmares. Right?”256

“Of course.” Serafin felt an unpleasant twinge in her stomach—she had yet to figure out a way to transport the leaf through her dreams. She pushed the thought away firmly; she could not worry about that now. Instead, she gazed at the hole before her, though the sight was not much of an improvement.257

She took a deep breath. “Bye, then, Jigsaw.”258

Jigsaw grunted. He mumbled something to the effect of, “Don’t forget.” Serafin smiled in spite of herself and stepped into the portal. A blast of freezing air, and the soft darkness closed around her.259

***260

Though the light-headed feeling was almost nonexistent when Serafin came to consciousness, she was reluctant to open her eyes. She was aware that this was the last stop, and she was nervous as to what she might find. There would, no doubt, be something guarding the portal back into the real world, and she doubted that it would be pleasant. Instead, she sniffed—there was no aroma that stood out; indeed, there was no aroma at all. Serafin could remember at least some sort of perfume in each of the previous locations, though at the time perhaps she had not registered them. Now, however, when faced with a place absolutely devoid of smells, she remembered each with distinction.261

The air, too, felt oddly empty. It was not a feeling that she could exactly place, but it was entirely different that anywhere she had been prior to this, the final place.262

Finally, when she had gauged that the room was relatively safe, she allowed her eyes to flutter open lazily. When her eyes had adjusted to the pale, dim light that illuminated the small room, she saw that the room was, unsurprisingly, empty. The floors were constructed of a hard, dark wood, and the walls were smooth and nondescript. The only feature, in fact, as a large, plain door with a bloody seven painted on its surface.263

Serafin was immediately suspicious of the door. It was, of course, the final door, but she found it strange that it was not cloaked beneath a web of puzzles. It perplexed her, too, that there was no guardian—surely something was wrong. It seemed unnatural that the door into the real world would be left unguarded.264

She noticed she was on her feet, and walking slowly toward the door. Her eyes were locked on the sinister number, and it seemed to draw her in, against her wishes. She was not ready to go through yet—she needed to solve the mystery, why there was no one here…265

She felt her hand closing around the cool metal of the antique doorknob. The cold penetrated her skin, but it seemed dull after the biting temperatures of the ice palace. The knob twisted under her hand seemingly of its own accord, despite the warnings that her mind screamed at her.266

The hinges of the door creaked ominously as she applied weight to it, and she felt a stab of contradiction, but did not act upon it. She had cultivated a slightly sick curiosity about what lay beyond the door.267

Eagerly, she peered around the doorway, hesitant to enter the room, unsure of what might lay within it. But now, as she gazed hungrily into the room, she saw that she needn’t have been afraid—for there was nothing there. There was not a portal, only a room quite similar to the one in which she had been; simple, with a wooden floor. The only difference that she could see was the walls, which carried an unnatural iridescence different from the bland white in which the previous room had been coated.268

A slight movement caught Serafin’s eye—she immediately followed the movement, but saw nothing; just a shadow dancing across the wall…it soon disappeared.269

“Hello?” she called; her voice ricocheted off the walls around her, creating an echoing chorus of voices. Gingerly, she stepped into the room. “Is anyone there?”270

No answer came, which did not surprise her in the least. However, she did catch the subtle movement again—but, again, there was nothing to see.271

Serafin exhaled in an exasperated manner. She was fed up with the Land of Phantasm. She had passed through the Seven Doors, and here she was at a dead end. Was this another puzzle? It must be, there was no other explanation. Serafin had a sudden and unexpected urge to burst into tears—was she never going to be able to leave here?272

She was yanked violently from her abyss of despair by a loud crash. She looked up abruptly, to see that the door had slammed shut. She cried out and hastily tried to open it, but the efforts were useless. It was either jammed or locked tight.273

Could her situation get worse? It seemed impossible to her. She was trapped in a small room, with no method of escape. No doubt she would rot here.274

‘Your efforts are useless.’275

The voice, she knew, was in her mind, but nonetheless it sent shivers down her spine. Her thoughts immediately flew to the shadowy movement she’d witnessed, the thing that she had not quite been able to capture. Could this awful voice belong to that? She did not know. “Who are you?” she asked aloud.276

‘We are the stuff of nightmares,’ the voice told her. ‘We are what the darkness fears.’277

Serafin sank to the ground, helpless. “What do you want with me?”278

‘We are here to assure that you do not escape. We are the guardians of the Doorway into the real world.’279

“Why won’t you let me pass? That’s where I belong.”280

‘No one passes through. Not alive.’281

Serafin closed her eyes, not sure of how to respond. “Why? Why don’t you allow anyone passage?”282

‘We are the guardians. It is our duty.’283

Serafin nodded. “Right. So, if I agree not to come back, will you let me go?”284

‘No. You tried to come through. We must punish you.’285

A horrid iciness clutched Serafin’s stomach. She had no doubt that the nightmare creatures would not hesitate to punish her. “But I must get home!”286

‘You cannot. It was your mistakes that brought you here, and here you must stay. There is no going back.’287

“I’ll fight you,” Serafin said rashly. “I have to leave here.”288

‘We will win. We always win.’289

“Not this time you won’t. I won’t give up.”290

‘That’s what they all say. But none of them fulfill their wishes. Observe.’291

Serafin gasped as icy fingers began drumming on her skin. She shivered, hating the feeling. “What are you doing?”292

‘We can see into your mind. We can see your deepest fears. We feed on them. We can read your soul.’293

Serafin felt real fear clutching at her heart. She could feel the nightmares probing her, searching her deepest feeling for those of terror on which they could feed. She saw several of her worst moments flashing before her eyes, but each was rejected when her reaction was minimal.294

She felt them come upon the memory of her parents’ deaths—their sightless eyes, the blood smeared upon the walls. A feeling of horrid glee came over them.295

‘We will tell you a true story. It will create much fear within you. You will not be able to control yourself. We will feast.’296

Serafin wanted to protest, but did not have time before she was plunged into blackness.297

When she opened her eyes, she was in a long hallway. She did not recognize the place, though there did not seem to be any distinguishing features—it was possible that she had been there before. The lighting was poor, but she could see that the corridor extended into the far, far distance in one direction, while a plain wooden door blocked her way in the other.298

Serafin shook her head, frustrated—she could not remember why she had woken up in the narrow hallway, nor could she recall how she appeared there or where she had been prior to opening her eyes. If she strained her mind, she could call up hazy, vague images of a shining room, and a sinister shadow…but even those were slipping away now.299

“Just a dream,” she murmured to herself in an attempt to shake the uneasy feeling that had come over her. She had been asleep, after all, though how she had let herself doze in such an odd place was unbeknownst to her.300

Warily, she approached the door. She could hear her heart beating noisily within her chest, though she did not know why she was nervous. Of course, she did not know what lay behind the door—perhaps part of her was under the impression that it was not a good thing. Stupid, she thought. That was impossible. What could possibly be there?301

As the wooden barrier loomed closer, voices reached her ears. She could not make out specific words, but it was not difficult to work out that they were in a dire predicament from their high-pitched tones. With an unusual squirming in her stomach, she quickened her pace.302

Serafin paused, her hand hovering slightly above the doorknob. She could now tell that the voices that issued from within the room were not saying anything in particular—as far as she could tell, their yells were unintelligible, but perfectly capable of conveying feeling. Serafin’s heart ached at the conviction concealed in the ghastly screams.303

She could not help hesitating, however—for what help could she give them? She was unprepared, and she would be no match whatever horrors were causing these people to slowly lose their minds.304

On the other hand, she could not simply walk away without giving even the meekest attempt to assist them. For one thing, she had no idea where to go—she was unsure of the corridor’s length, and did not find the idea of trekking along the shadowy hallway until she reached its end very appealing.305

So, taking a deep breath, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open before she could listen to the intelligent voice that was screaming a contradiction.306

On first sight, she was certain that her eyes were deceiving her. She was unable to comprehend what she saw, the two people who were sprawled on the floor of the room, which, she noticed, was identical to the one in which she had been trapped in her terrifying dream. A sinister shadow clouded the walls, and seemed to be draining the life from the two beings, who lay, helpless, in bloody heaps, their screams reverberating off the walls.307

But it was the identity of the two people, who she immediately recognized, that caused her to stumble backward in shock.308

They were her parents—there was no doubt in her mind. Though her memories of them were vague, she had persistently studied her recollections of their faces on a regular basis. The shadows were no strangers, either; they had been in her dream, which she now knew was no figment of her imagination.309

A fresh scream rent the air, and Serafin strove to control herself. The scattered pieces that had been the mystery of her parents’ deaths were coming together, very slowly. A haze of shock remained to cloud her vision, but through it she could see that the shadows, the living nightmares, were to blame for her parents’ gruesome deaths.310

Serafin’s eyes flew open, glowing with rage. Her penetrating gaze was directed at the nightmare shadow, and when she spoke, she spat the words in fury. “You,” she hissed. “You’re the one who killed my parents.”311

‘Yes,’ the shadow replied simply.312

“Why?” Serafin demanded. “They did nothing! They were my parents, and you murdered them—worse than that, you destroyed them.”313

‘We did naught but our duty. They tried to cross over.’314

Serafin closed her eyes. She could feel the shadows’ presence within her mind, and she wished that it would vacate. Of course, she knew it had no intention of doing so. “You robbed me of my family,” she murmured. “I spent a year of hell in an asylum because of you. You and your rules.”315

‘We see your intention. We will not let you cross over. We will do the same to you.’316

Serafin laughed bitterly. “No, you won’t. I won’t make the same mistakes my parents did. I don’t know what caused them to give up, but I can assure you, I’ve learned a lot since they died. I won’t let you win again.”317

‘We always win. You will see.’318

It came as a complete surprise to Serafin as she was immersed in an abyss of pain. She felt her mind imploding, shattering into a million small particles that cut into her with brutish force. She cried out, but knew it made no difference—the shadows would not relent. Her bones were snapping under the weight of the impact, and the jagged edges punctured her skin from the inside. The ground beneath her felt moist—she did not dare open her eyes, but she suspected that the substance was blood.319

And yet, some part of her knew that the pain being inflicted was but a manipulation of her mind by the shadow. She knew that this was what her parents had gone through, and she sympathized with them now. She did not know how their injuries had materialized into the real world, but she knew that there was still a chance she could save herself.320

As far as she could tell, the shadow was blocking off any happy memories she had stored in her mind, but she fought hard against their hold. Finally, she could feel them beginning to relinquish their possession of those memories, and she clutched at them gratefully. She concentrated on those memories—her mentor’s face as she had seen it for the first time, the joy and pride there when she concocted her first successful potion and wove her first charm. She remembered the beauty and color of a blazing sunrise, that rustling sound of wind in the luscious trees, the exhilaration of running through a meadow, the grass tickling at her feet. She remembered her friends, both alive an imaginary—Randall’s kind, knowing eyes, and the giggles of her childhood playmates.321

“You won’t win,” she told the shadow. “I can’t leave my life. It’s too beautiful.”322

The shadow was despairing, now; she could feel the cold hands of desperation grasping at her mind, but ignored them. She held tight to her memories, ignoring their persistent claims that they always won.323

The shadow’s final scream was unlike anything Serafin had every experienced. In it was the anguish and turmoil of everyone, everyone’s worst nightmare, their deepest fears, the things they imagined were hiding in the dark corners of their room. In it was every scream that had ever been uttered, and every tear that had ever been shed. For a split second, Serafin saw it all, and she felt like screaming herself.324

And then it was over. The shadow was gone from her mind, and though her eyes remained closed, she knew that it had also departed from the small room. As to where it had fled, Serafin had no idea, but she knew that it was still alive. As long as there was fear, as long as there was pain, as long as there were tears to cry and screams to yell, the shadow would exist. There was nothing she could do about that, not now.325

Serafin sighed contentedly. Her bones were not broken, but she could feel minor wounds littering her arms. She would need to ask Somnium, someday, how the nightmares gained influence in the real world. He would know.326

Of course, that was assuming she could find her way back.327

A feeling of unease sank into her stomach, but it was mild. She could not feel strong emotions at the moment—the entire world was numb. She would have time to worry about her means of escape; she would find time, later. Now, all she wanted to do was sleep.328

She considered, with fleeting idleness, how strange it was to desire sleep in the land of dreams, and then a merciful, velvety blackness embraced her.329

***330

“Serafin.”331

She was not sure if it was the voice that stirred her, or if the voice was simply the first sound she was aware of. In either case, it took her a moment to recognize the voice—it was calm, but veiled behind it was a thick layer of anxiety and worry.332

For a moment, she wondered who would waste such emotions on her. Then, a second later, she recognized the voice—it was that of Somnium, her mentor, her friend. The one on whom she had sought to get revenge.333

“Serafin, please, wake up…” he pleaded, his voice rife with fear. For her? She supposed so. Even when she had made such a mess of things. She felt a flutter of affection as she allowed her eyes to flutter open.334

She was sprawled on the winding steps that led to the attic door, laying in an uncomfortable position. The riddle which had once been emblazoned there had disappeared, though she could feel from the pain in her body that the wounds the shadows had inflicted had survived.335

She felt Somnium’s relieved exhale tickle her face. His kindly eyes were alight with happiness. “I thought you had died.”336

“I-I did too,” Serafin admitted. She sat up, her head spinning in a manner to which she had come quite accustomed. Still, she felt nauseous as Somnium’s face swam before her. When she had regained her vision, she gazed into his eyes earnestly. “I’m really sorry.”337

Somnium shook his head. “You have no need to apologize. It was my fault, I should not have probed your thoughts in such a way.”338

“But…I know now,” Serafin told him. “I saw, in there.” She jerked her head in the direction of the door. “The shadow showed me.”339

Somnium closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that. I was trying to control them with my powers, but obviously I didn’t manage to.”340

“It’s fine,” Serafin assured him. “I think it’s better that I know. I defeated it anyway. I know I didn’t kill it, but I did destroy that particular shadow.”341

“You…defeated the shadow?” Serafin could tell from her mentor’s awed voice that she had accomplished what had been believed to be impossible. “I suppose you must have, otherwise you wouldn’t be here now. I suppose you would be like your parents.”342

Serafin nodded. “I suppose so.” She glanced back at the attic door—it looked so ordinary, showing no signs of concealing a dangerous secret. “Why is the Realm of Phantasm in your attic, anyway? How did it get there.”343

Somnium sighed wearily. “The Realm was contained many years ago—no one can remember the exact circumstances or method. Through the years, guardians have stepped up to protect it; it was proved that the Realm was too dangerous to be running amok, and too clever to be left unguarded. Your parents were guardians themselves. They were very good at their appointed job; once every year, they would check up on the Realm, make sure everything was passing smoothly. They had managed to slip past the shadows’ grasp every time. But, this one time, they didn’t manage to. No one knows exactly why they didn’t make it, but—well, you saw for yourself the result.”344

Serafin was shocked by this news, but managed to have a small epiphany nonetheless. “It was me,” she said. “That’s why they never came back. It was close to my birthday, I remember. They wanted to get back.” A silent tear painted a glistening trail down her cheek, which she promptly wiped away before Somnium could see.345

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Even I did not know how they had died—until you went in. Then I worked it out. When I was trying to subdue the shadows, I saw a little of what they were showing you. Only then did I know. I am sorry.”346

“It’s fine,” Serafin said, though she was not entirely sure it was not a lie. “So, you took over guardianship of the Realm after that?”347

“Yes. After the catastrophe, there were no other takers. I kept the place concealed in my attic. I decided that I could simply leave it there, and not interfere with it, just let it sit until I die and someone else took it over. My plan worked well—it did not effect me in any way. When you came, I became nervous that you would stumble upon it at such a young age…but you proved to be obedient to my rule.”348

“Until today,” Serafin murmured, blushing.349

“Yes. It was partly my fault, of course. You see, as you were growing up, you began to look like your mother, who happened to be one of my closest friends. By then, I had learned to overcome the worst of my grief, but when you began taking on her characteristics the pain returned. I became furious that her death remained an unsolved mystery, so I decided to get to the bottom of it myself—by probing at your memory.”350

Serafin shook her head, as a sign of forgiveness, then fired another question. “Where did the shadows come from?”351

“They are part of the Realm; they always have been. They are our nightmares, our fears, our darkest secrets. They are constructed of all the pain in the world. You were correct when you said that they have not died—they can never die; or, at least, it is highly improbable that they will do so. But it is quite a feat to have destroyed that particular persona, which was, as I understand it, very important.”352

Serafin shook her head. “It was awful. It was—I can’t describe it.”353

“You don’t have to,” Somnium said gently. “Now, you just need to sleep, I think. You’re tired, I can tell.”354

“Yeah—I think I need that,” Serafin agreed. She was having trouble restraining her eyelids from slipping closed. “I need…that…”355

“A sweet, dreamless sleep,” Somnium continued. “That’s what you need.”356

“No!” Serafin exclaimed, suddenly awake as she made a realization.357

“What?” Somnium looked taken aback.358

“Not dreamless,” Serafin amended. “There’s something I need to do.”359

***360

Serafin opened her eyes to see swaying branches above her. They were a luscious green that she found beautiful—however, she knew that they were not real. The fact that their trunks were tinged with an unnaturally violent purple was enough to alert her to the fact that she was in the Realm of Phantasm.361

She sat up, rubbing her head, though she had experienced only a slight case of the whiplash that came from portal travel. The ground beneath her was springy and slightly moist. A path extended in front of her, and when she was prepared to stand she began to follow it.362

She had been relatively uncertain that her method of entering would be successful. She had gone to sleep with a leaf under her pillow, and she could feel the coarse green leaf in her hand now. She smiled.363

Serafin pushed past a large fern that was blocking her way and stumbled into the brightness of a meadow encircled by trees. The grass was a bright green that was almost unnatural, and grew a little past her ankles. Small red flowers dotted the space, swaying in the light breeze.364

She made her way toward the middle of the field, where a large blanket had been spread on the ground. As she approached, she could see that a meal had been provided, and lay prepared on the blanket, which depicted a galaxy of stars. 365

She sat down next to Jigsaw, who looked impatient as he gnawed on what appeared to be a leg of some sort, though it was streaked with bright pink. The sight caused Serafin to feel slightly nauseous, though she did not think she had an appetite for any of the cuisine; each dish was just as strange as the last.366

She had not been aware that there was a third guest until she became aware of a stream of bubbles caught in the breeze. She followed the bubbles’ path and, sure enough, Randall the lizard was sunbathing lazily on a nearby rock. He gazed at her intently, and Serafin thought she saw warmth in his eyes.367

“Thank you,” she told both of them. “For helping me escape. I couldn’t have done it without you.”368

“It was a pleasure to help,” Randall told her.369

Jigsaw shrugged, blushing slightly, then said, “Do you have my payment?”370

Serafin smiled in spite of herself and extended the leaf to the dwarf. “It’s from a laurel. They have magical properties, though I’m not sure you can use them here. Still, I thought you’d like it.”371

Jigsaw examined it, his face still slightly red. “Thanks,” he grunted.372

“It was no trouble,” Serafin told him truthfully. She turned to Randall. “I thought you said I wouldn’t know if you were in my dreams.”373

Randall flicked some bubbles toward her. “I decided that your achievements merited an announced visit. You were quite heroic, after all; saving us all from the shadows.”374

“Yeah, life wasn’t good with them around,” Jigsaw agreed.375

“No, indeed,” Randall said. “It will be much easier now they are gone.”376

“Are they gone, though?” Serafin wanted to know. “I know they still exist in the real world. Are they really gone for good here?”377

“Sadly, no,” Randall admitted. “But you destroyed one of their main guards. They will be much weaker now.”378

“That’s good to know,” Serafin sighed. “I think they’re strong as ever at home.”379

“But that is not your fault,” Randall assured her. “Humans can be extremely…easy to anger. As long as there is anger, and pain, and tears, the shadows will exist. You must not hold yourself guilty for the faults of your people.”380

“I suppose you’re right,” Serafin said, though she knew there was at least some small part of her that would always hold herself responsible.381

“So what are you going to do now?” Jigsaw asked, still analyzing his leaf.382

Serafin shrugged. “I suppose I’ll finish my magical training. There’s still quite a lot I need to learn, and I want to know everything. Perhaps I’ll even become guardian of the Realm, someday. I really don’t think I’m up to planning that far ahead, though.”383

“Can’t say I blame you,” Jigsaw muttered.384

“Yes, you’ve been through quite a lot,” a Randall agreed.385

Serafin laughed. “Can’t argue with that. I think I’ve been through enough to last me for the rest of my life, thanks.”386

There was silence for a moment, the only sound being Jigsaw’s noisy eating. Serafin thoughtfully picked a nearby flower and pocketed it. She was caught be surprise when a bell tolled in the distance.387

“I’m afraid we must leave now,” Randall said, a stream of forlorn bubbles issuing from his mouth. “We cannot stay forever. Perhaps, someday, we will meet again. As you surely know, life is never predictable.”388

“Maybe we will,” Serafin agreed; she was hopeful.389

“Until then…” Jigsaw began.390

“…Sweet dreams,” Randall concluded.391

Serafin looked at her friends, and smiled. She thought of everyone who had helped her on her journey through the Realm of Phantasm, everyone she had met, and sent up a silent thank-you to them. She felt sure they heard her.392

“Sweet dreams.”393