A moonless sky of stygian blue, illuminated by countless glittering stars that wheel ceaselessly overhead.

  The sound of the waves gently lapping at the beach tickled my ears, as the beach sand crunched beneath me as I sat up. The sand is the same colour as the sky.

  But the waves aren’t the only things lapping at my mind.

  There’s also this strong, undeniable feeling of…

  Familiarity.

  This…

  “This isn’t my dream, is… it?” Hang on, I can talk this time.

  I’m pretty sure this isn’t a lucid dream my brain came up with, but apparently I can talk this time. Better than… what’s his face with the sword who just recited some poetry at me and then killed me.

  If I can talk, then… ah!

  “Wings! You’re here too! At least, you look like you are, but… wings?” I poke them. “Wings… You’re asleep, aren’t you.”

  Yeah, they’re asleep. At least they’re here.

  The next question is whose head I’ve accidentally dreamwalked into.

  People’s dreams are strange places, concocted by an individual’s mind, yet they’re often as baffling to the owner of said mind as they are to anyone else. That Heian man’s dream space was an endless, shallow plain. Minegumo’s was a blizzard-beset forest, with a single lone hut. But this…

  There’s no perceptible colour here, only light and darkness. I know I’m standing on a beach looking out to the sea beneath a starry night sky, but the sand, the ocean, and the sky are all the same colour. Everything is bejewelled with countless shimmering lights. Even my own body bears the same colour. This is certainly different. As for figuring out who this dream belongs to…

  … I may not need to, as I spy a familiar figure out on the water, drifting along the ocean’s surface on a canoe.

  “The old man…?”

  He appears to hear my murmur, and he turns to look in my direction; appearing the same as he always does. Only this time he’s holding a boat’s paddle. Just like myself, his body is swathed in colourless darkness, yet I can still perceive him as if it were bright as day.

  “You should not be here, child.”

  Before I can speak, someone else answers for me.

  “Well, neither should you, mister. Last I checked, dreams were my domain!” The sing-songy voice of a young girl replies.

  I’m almost blinded for a moment as I look down beside me, and lo and behold; a child is standing beside me. From this angle, an ordinary child, with pale skin and long, flowing orange hair. Which is too ordinary, given the old man and I are both utterly devoid of colour. I can make out the old man’s features, but this child…

  “Besides! I always like checking up on new dreamwalkers!” The orange-haired child looks up at me and beams a bright smile. She appears normal, from what I can make out, barring the fact that her irises are the same as the starry sky above.

  “... And… you are…?”

  “Fantasy!” She grins.

  “That’s not a name.”

  “Well, who says Marina is a name? Names are names are names. They’re just noises and drawings at the end of the day!” She huffs, puffing her cheeks out.

  “You are correct, child. Fantasy is not a name. It is her… title.” The old man adds, having paddled to the shore but remaining in his canoe.

  “Her title?”

  “You live in a library, do you not? Surely you have read about the Thirteen High Daemons, child.” He asks, a little surprised.

  The Thirteen High Daemons… the most powerful beings in this world. They all had titles referring to their purpose, as all Daemons do. Remembering all 13 of them was…

  “... Wait.” I look down at the girl beside me. “You’re a daemon?”

  “Yup!” She beams again.

  “The Daemon of… Fantasy.” I clarify.

  “Yup, yup!” She nods emphatically.

  Fantasy. One of the 13 High Daemons, usually counted the last, but no less important than the rest. Stories, myths, legends, lies, dreams—all things outside of reality are her domain. Or something like that. I was never good at theology, and my limited knowledge is failing me now that something… equivalent? To a god of this world is standing before me.

  “A-and you’re here because…” I stammer out.

  “Because I like checking up on new dreamwalkers! I thought you’d be quicker than this, Marina. I’ve been watching you since you got here!” She frowns at me.

  “You’ve been watching me…?”

  “She watches everyone’s dreams.” The old man explains, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “She has nothing but time on her hands, and she spends it bothering others.”

  “You sound like you know her quite well, old man.”

  “Hmm.” He smiles. “You will see. At my age, I’ve seen her many times in my dreams. Not that I ever sent her an invitation.”

  “What invitation? Everyone’s dreams are out in the open. Not my fault if I trip and fall into one!” She complains, before pointing an accusatory finger at me. “She did the same!”

  “I did?!”

  “Dreamwalking is like having a teensy tiny bit of my power in you! Dreams are lonely places, after all, filled with shadows and pictures of others. What better ability is there than inviting others in to share your dreams together?” She smiles earnestly.

  “But I came here by accident…”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that! Keep at it, and you’ll be a pro dreamwalker in no time~”

  “But that just makes more dreamwalkers!”

  “And what’s wrong with that, huh?” She pouts again.

  “You are correct, child. Sleep is a reprieve from the world of the waking. That would no longer be true if everyone could dreamwalk.” The old man answered for me.

  “How many dreamwalkers are there in this world…?” I ponder out loud. It can’t be that many if this Daemon goes and visits… all of them.

  “Not as many as I’d personally like, but that’s not the only reason I came here! After sooooo long, this boring red hole in the ground is finally doing something interesting!” She throws her hands up in the air to emphasise both her frustration and excitement.

  “Something… interesting? You mean-”

  “Imagine it!” She cuts me off. “A band of gallant knights, trapped in a terrible pit of death but holding true to their oaths. A princess, lost to the world and thought dead by her family, waiting to be saved! A terrible path out of the Abyss, a challenge declared by a wrathful god, both their salvation, and perhaps even their doom! What a story this’ll be!!”

  “Hang on, have you met those knights? They were anything but gallant.”

  “Oh psshhh, don’t sweat the small stuff. Little things like that don’t get added to the stories~” She brushes off my concern with a dismissive flick of her hand.

  “But they sounded like they’re going to take the princess with them whether she wants to go with them or not.”

  “It’ll be fiiiine. Weren’t you basically abducted by Haven and made to do all their dirty work? If you were writing your own story, would you include something like that?” She retorts.

  “I…” I mean, they did, but they also gave me food, a bath, and a bed, and they do care in their own way, but…

  There’s no denying they did… abduct me and put me to work.

  “You will find no luck in debating such things with her, child.” The old man shakes his head. “This is, unfortunately, her domain.”

  “What do you mean “unfortunately”, you old stick!” Fantasy sticks her tongue out at the old man.

  “What about Haven’s story, then? A community that came together behind the goal of escaping the Abyss together, to rescue the young and elderly alike so they may live a better life beyond the confines of the black cliffs?”

  “Hmmmmm…” Fantasy seems to ponder my suggestion seriously, surprisingly. “I don’t know… it sounds nice, but is everyone behind that goal? You’ve been there a hundred years, and you’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

  “How do you know if everyone’s behind it or not-” I retort, but a hand on my shoulder makes me stop. The old man simply shakes his head at me.

  “Of course I know! This world is full of countless stories, with as many told as there are untold!” Fantasy smiles proudly.

  “Does that mean you know how those untold stories end?”

  “Pff, Who cares about how they end? An ending is just another beginning! You should know that better than anyone, Marina.”

  “After all…” A voice speaks inside my head, with a similar but deeper cadence to Fantasy’s sing-songy childish voice. “I’ve been watching your dreams for a long time, Marina. The sights in your dreams… they’re too real to be fantasy. Metal boxes with wheels that move without beasts. Towering obelisks made of glass. Plastic. What a strange material! Television. Airplanes. Phones. Smartphones! How do you fit all those little people into that tiny box!? But…”

  Fantasy frowns. “You’ve known great pain, too. Death… really hurts, doesn’t it? And to think, you’ve died… twice. You dream of this world, the world before this, and… the world before that. I’ve never seen someone like you before, Marina. How could I not be fascinated with your dreams? How could I not be so invested in your story! Yet when I try and peek forward a few pages, all I see is…”

  “Fire.”

  “Fire, huh.” I cross my arms. I know the dream she’s talking about.

  “O-Oops! I wasn’t supposed to—you didn’t hear that, teehee!” She quickly backpedals.

  “So you do know how untold stories end!”

  “N-no I don’t! Nuh uh! Anyway, I heard there were other dreamwalkers down here, so I’m gonna go say hi to them! Bye! Byeeeeee!” She pivots on the spot, running off down the beach and disappearing into the darkness, leaving the old man and I alone by the ocean.

  “You have finally met a Daemon, child.” The old man smiles at me.

  “Finally? Are they that common?”

  “Outside the Abyss, they are not that uncommon, though few, if any, would ever think of venturing down here. Fantasy can do so because, as you have seen, she does not exist in the same realm as us. Dreams are her realm, and she is forever bound to them.”

  “Speaking of. How am I here? This definitely isn’t my dream, so that would mean that… you pulled me in here. Have you been a dreamwalker this whole time?”

  The old man smiles knowingly, lowering his head a little. “In a way, you could say. This is my dream, yes. This was my home, but also the moment of my death.”

  “How did you die…? Does that mean he is Damned, after all?

  “I grew too curious.” He reaches down to the water’s edge, picking up a shimmering white light from the water and holding it aloft between his fingers. “I plucked something I shouldn’t have.”

  With a distant rumble, a scorching red light appears high in the sky above us, growing larger and larger as it’s… no, it’s coming towards us. It’s hurtling towards us—it’s a damn comet!

  “And I paid the price.” He gazes up at the burning red ball falling from the heavens, then chuckles to himself and pats my shoulder.

  “You may visit when you wish, child. I’m never far from home.”

  …

  “Marina.” The Chief’s voice cuts through my bleariness. She’s standing at the end of my bed, looking a little concerned.

  “... Chief.” I answer. My wings are messily splayed out beneath me as they always are; they really did sleep through all that.

  “What happened?” She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorway. “You look like you’ve had yet another distressing dream.”

  “Well… could we discuss it over breakfast…?”

  …

  “... I see.” The Chief puts down her cup, processing everything I’ve just told her. She knows for a fact that nothing I said was a lie, but it’s still a lot to process.

  “Well, we have attracted the attention of someone who’s technically outside the Abyss, it’s just the one person… thing? That can’t help us.”

  “So you dreamwalked into that mysterious old man’s head, the one who gave you that enchanted Azorii-made cloak, and while you were there you encountered none of other than the Daemon of Fantasy, one of the Thirteen High Daemons and thus one of the most powerful beings in all the land. Correct?” She repeats my points.

  “Yes.”

  “Honestly, Marina…” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I’m starting to think you have a talent for just tripping over these things. First you were found by us, then Crow, then Arezza, and now a Daemon has paid you a visit.”

  “I promise to… whatever powers that be that it’s not intentional, I swear!”

  “I know that, I’m not mad at you.” She waves off my panic. “Everything’s worked out so far. What concerns me more is the implication that the Daemon of Fantasy, a being that exists only in dreams and stories, may have an inkling on how the… story of Haven will end, if she alluded to knowing what comes next in your story. Though it is concerning that it apparently involves fire.”

  “I mean, there is plenty of fire in the Abyss. It’s not exactly specific.”

  “More concerning is her greater interest in the “story” of the Keepsguard… and their goals with Arza.” She frowns, standing up to browse through one of the many bookshelves on the first floor of her library.

  “I have read.” She continues, picking out a book and flicking through the pages. “Fantasy is one of the least-understood of the High Daemons, despite the relative ease one has to speak with her compared to others like her. The only certain fact about her is that she doesn’t exist like you or I do, unlike most Daemons. She has no certain physical form, and as you said, most who see her describe her as a little girl with orange hair and stars in her eyes, but struggle to give any further description. Stories and dreams are her domain, and like any Daemon, she wields considerable influence over her domain. The only way people know this is that stories and dreams favoured by her… tend to come true.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “If she just met any members of the Keepsguard, she’d know what they were like, but for all we know from Ingrid, the only dreamwalker they had died at the hands of that Heian man.” Even if she had met their dreamwalker, she didn’t mention them.

  “Yet she seemed to know that Haven is not as united in their vision of escape as the Keepsguard are. Not that she explained how she knows.” The Chief walks back over to her chair, leaning against it as she reads through the thick book in her hands.

  “I sort of understand that… building a crane is less exciting than knights rescuing a princess from danger, and fighting their way out of…”

  Wait.

  “Marina?” The Chief raises an eyebrow at me, no doubt seeing the gears turning in my head.

  “You said that the stories and dreams favoured by her tend to come true, yes?”

  “From what records say, yes. Some of the most famous authors of this world credit Fantasy for inspiring and driving them to write.” She nods, musing through the pages of her open book for more information.

  “Fantasy’s exact words were “A band of gallant knights, trapped in a terrible pit of death but holding true to their oaths. A princess, lost to the world and thought dead by her family, waiting to be saved! A terrible path out of the Abyss, a challenge declared by a wrathful god, both their salvation, and perhaps even their doom!”. She spoke of a “terrible path”, a challenge declared by a wrathful god. If the stories she favours turn out to be true, and she is the very idea of dreams and stories personified who can influence our world because of it, then…”

  “Then if she speaks as if there is a path out of the Abyss… you don’t mean she’s talking about the Gauntlet, are you?” The Chief’s eyes widened in realisation.

  “People have escaped the Abyss before, and they had to have escaped somehow. If the Daemon of Fantasy of all people is talking about a way out like it’s real, then it has to be real, but-” I sigh, taking a breath before I get ahead of myself. “She’s also not wrong about not everyone in the Abyss believing in it, either, and I don’t think “it came to me in a dream” is going to convince anyone.”

  “You are correct, it won’t. As far as I’m aware, you’re the only living member of Haven to have even seen a Daemon, let alone speak with one, and they’re treated as a myth down here. But we needn’t convince everyone with just this, Marina.” The Chief smiles knowingly. “All we lack is evidence. It’s time we went about securing some evidence.”

  …

  “No.” Is Rann’s blunt answer.

  “What do you mean, no?!” The Chief retorts, trying to keep her voice down behind the armoury where Rann was training. “We’ve gained information no-one else in the Abyss has! The Gauntlet could very well be real, and we need to be the first to find it!”

  “Information from Marina’s dream from some Daemon we don’t know?” Rann raises an eyebrow, leaning on the fence.

  “Yes, I know how it sounds. That’s why I came to you, instead of announcing this to the entire town and looking like an idiot.” She frowns.

  “Mia…” Rann sighs, rubbing his forehead. “This isn’t your usual impulsiveness. Where’s your usual months of single-minded planning before springing an idea on everyone?”

  “What else would you have us do? We don’t have a plan! The crane is gone, we don’t have another choice to get out of here!” The Chief states as clearly as she can, though a hint of desperation leaks through her voice.

  “Your predecessor spent decades looking for the Gauntlet. He lost his life looking for the Gauntlet. There’s a reason you never found out what he was looking for until now.” Rann crosses his arms, taking the clear and stern tone of a father gently reprimanding their child.

  “Because what, I’d get as obsessed with looking for it as he was and neglect all my other duties as Chief? I was there, Rann. I’m well aware of my predecessor’s shortcomings, and how Haven suffered from his long absences. Do you think I’d fall into that same trap so easily?” The Chief straightens her back with her hands on her hips, not letting herself get talked down to so easily.

  “Yes.” Is Rann’s second, blunt answer. “You’re doing so right now.”

  “Ghh…” The Chief groans, rubbing her eyes. “I’m not saying I’m going out to look for it. I’m saying you, and the Expedition Team, should go look for it, starting with the places my predecessor didn’t have the chance to search.”

  “The largest area of the cliffs we didn’t search were in the Bloody Mire. I’m not sending anyone there unprepared.” Rann points out.

  “Then start preparing them! What else can we do!” She yells, before taking a deep breath to try and calm her temper before she continues. “We can’t just send Marina on her own out of the Abyss to chase the vain hope that someone out there will help us. I highly doubt the Keepsguard would let us borrow their pair of magically-bound teleporting banners that Ingrid failed to mention they have, and we certainly don’t have the resources or ability to put a castle to siege. If the Daemon of Fantasy, which I know you’ve read about, even hinted that a way out of the Abyss is real, it’s the best chance we have!”

  “They’re all vain hopes, Mia.” Rann’s voice softens, placing his hand on the Chief’s shoulder. “You know that.”

  “I know they are.” She bites her lower lip, looking away. “But that's all we have.”

  “Marina.” Rann turns to me. “Do you think this is the best option we have?”

  “I…” Gods, I caused this mess. All from a stupid dream with some stupid Daemon showing up and prattling things off without a care. “Unless you think I can fly over the Keepsguard’s castle, sneak in, and steal both banners, I don’t see any other option.”

  “That sounds like a great way to get yourself killed, Marina.” He sighs.

  “It… probably is, yeah. I don’t know how to fight people wearing full plate armour, if it came down to it.”

  “You can train her to handle that though, can’t you?” The Chief speaks up.

  “Meaning?” Rann raises an eyebrow.

  “Armour always has gaps. No defence is perfect. Her wings are quite adept at striking precision targets, can’t you train them to target the gaps in their armour? She could handle them quite deftly with practice.” She explains.

  “Mia…” Rann sighs, but he lets her finish.

  “This isn’t about sneaking her into their castle. There’s just the chance that, as we search for the Gauntlet, we may run into… others. And conflict may be unavoidable.” She admits, but she’s been avoiding looking straight at me when she’s talking about me.

  “So you want me to train her to kill.” Rann crosses his arms again.

  “That’s not… To defend herself, and defend others. Though I know down here that means…” She trails off, glancing away from me again.

  “Killing.” Rann finishes.

  “You do know I have considered this possibility already, Chief?”

  “Marina…?” She finally looks up at me, reluctance in her eyes.

  “I mean, I woke up in hell with wings with swords in them. Wings with a mind of their own, that have proven more than capable of protecting me. After the carrion hawk and the bloodbeast, I figured as a member of the expeditionary team, at some point, I’d… come into conflict with people, and it’d be a life-or-death situation. My father made sure that my older sisters and I knew how to defend ourselves, even from a young age. He grew up in more troubled times than we did, and he taught us to defend ourselves. To block, dodge, and parry, to avoid getting hurt. But he made it clear that, if we felt like we were in extreme danger, it’s safer to kill your opponent than try to disarm them. The neck, or the chest, is an easier target to strike than a hand.”

  “Hmm.” Rann rubs his chin. “Sounds like your father did know a thing or two about combat.”

  “I never thought I’d need that training, honestly. All I knew as a kid was that it felt better to know what I was doing when I swung a stick around like a sword.”

  “Still.” Rann lowers his eyes slightly. “You’ve never killed, have you?”

  “... Not a person, no.”

  “Well, I’ve had to deal with a fair few in my time here. Keepsguard aside, a carrion hawk or a bloodbeast is a more dangerous opponent than most people down here. You just need to be ready to take a life with your own hands, if the situation calls for it.” Rann nods solemnly.

  “... It’s not that hard when it comes down to it, believe me.” The Chief mumbles, her arms crossed and gaze averted.

  “Ah. One of your carriage ambushers, yes?” Rann asks.

  “He was the one who shot me with a crossbow that eventually killed me. He deserved the same.” She scowls at nothing.

  “There is a slight difference between blasting someone to nothing with magic, and driving a sword through a man’s chest, Mia.” Rann raises an eyebrow slightly.

  “Is there?” She shrugs. “Still results in a dead man.”

  “Anyway.” Rann sighs. “I can see about training you for proper combat. I knew I’d have to, sooner or later.”

  “You knew?” The Chief wheels about on the spot to stare down Rann.

  “I knew I’d have to from the moment I first found a child in the Abyss. For anyone who goes beyond Haven’s walls, knowing how to fight is a necessity. Nearly every adult down here died fighting. No child is born knowing how to fight.” Rann answers.

  “... I suppose.” The Chief glances away again, knowing Rann’s answer isn’t wrong.

  “No one can talk her down like you can, Rann…” I think aloud.

  “I know.” The Chief chides me. “We’re done here for now, Marina. Will her training start tomorrow, Rann?”

  “We’ll see.” Rann shrugs, standing back up and stretching his arms.

  Without another word, the Chief heads back to the main street, making no notion for me to follow her, but I know I’m expected to. Rann’s blunt refusal left her in a sour mood, but I know by now that’s mostly because all Rann’s points are perfectly reasonable and she knows it.

  “Marina.” Rann calls before I leave with the Chief, once she’s out of earshot.

  “Yes?”

  “How much have you thought about fighting other people down here?” He cuts to the point.

  “... Not as much as I made out I have.”

  “Hm.” He chuckles. “Bold of you to lie right to her face, knowing she’d see through it.”

  “She didn’t call me out though, did she?”

  “No.” He looks sullen for a moment. “She didn’t.”

  “I should catch up to her.”

  “Go on.” He nods in her direction. “I’ll see you later.”

  Vain hopes.

  That’s all we have.

  That isn’t good enough for a pessimist like Anton, and it’s barely good enough for a realist like Rann. For someone like the Chief, though, if it’s all we have, it’s all we can do. Rann has agreed to train me to fight, but nothing more than that for now. He knows as well as the Chief does that Haven’s situation will only grow more and more tenuous as time goes on, and a way out is needed.

  Things are, relatively speaking, fine. For now. We have food, clean water, enough raw materials to keep us going for a while.

  But not forever. That fact alone is what gets under the Chief’s skin. We can’t go on like this forever.

  She’s really giving me time to think as we slowly meander up the main street of town. She was in a rush to get here, or rather, get away from Rann, but the minute we rounded the corner she slowed right down, seeming just as deep in thought as I was.

  But something, or rather someone, catches my eye, in a building near the top of the street.

  The Daemon on Fantasy said there were other dreamwalkers “down here”. She was probably referring to the entirety of the Abyss, but there is one other dreamwalker in Haven I know of.

  “Hey, Minegumo.”

  I spotted Minegumo leaning against the windowsill inside her bakery at the top of the main street, staring out at nothing. It’s getting towards lunchtime, so as the town’s baker, this is her first break of the day after being up early tending to her ovens. She always looks tired, but today she looks especially tired.

  She halfway glances towards me before sighing and staring back out at nothing again. “What.”

  “You… look like you didn’t sleep well.”

  “And whose fault is that, huh?” She retorts, tired and angry.

  “If I could guess… some orange-haired girl with stars in her eyes?”

  I’d barely finished speaking before Minegumo had jumped up and grabbed my shirt to pull me down to her level, staring me in the eyes with a scowl. I feel my wings rustle under my cloak, so I try and make it clear in my mind that despite how angry she is, she can’t actually hurt me. Mostly. “So this DOES have something to do with you!!”

  “It—okay it kind of does but it’s not like I can control her or anything!!”

  “Who was that? The orange-haired brat who invaded my head and pranced about claiming she was a Daemon or something? Was she yet another dreamwalker you invited in here?” She growls. I forget that her scowl more than makes up for her lack of height when it comes to scaring people—wings. I feel you back there, calm down. She isn’t going to hurt us. I hope. Just don’t cut her up again, please.

  “She was a Daemon, Minegumo.” The Chief answered, having quietly followed me and seen Minegumo grab me.

  “And how would you know? Did she bother you too?” Minegumo lets my shirt go, glaring up at the Chief.

  “No, but when Marina recounted what happened to her last night I knew none of it was a lie. Going by your reaction, you certainly encountered the same being that she did.”

  “... So you’re serious?” Minegumo’s anger slowly turns to disbelief. “A real Daemon invaded my head last night?”

  “Yes. If you’re having trouble believing it, I can lend you an appropriate book to provide more evidence.” She gestures towards the library.

  “N-no, it’s just… wait.” Minegumo backpedals, knowing the Chief would happily follow through on that offer. “So, not only are Daemons actually… real, they can just visit your dreams like that?”

  “That one in particular can. She called herself the Daemon of Fantasy, didn’t she?”

  “Yes…? I think so…? I was mostly just telling her to go away already.” She frowns at me, puzzled.

  “You did the same to me when I was in your head.”

  “Because you’re not supposed to be there. No one real is supposed to be there!” She hisses.

  “Well, the Daemon of Fantasy isn’t real in the sense we are. It seems she can come and go as she pleases.” The Chief explains matter-of-factly. “What’s more important is whether she said anything important or interesting to you.”

  “She’s… what?” Minegumo only looks more and more puzzled as the Chief explains. “Why do you care what she said? She looked and acted like some bratty kid.”

  “Because it is important, Minegumo. What did she say?” The Chief pushes.

  “Nothing! Nothing important! She just kept babbling about the snow and the house I was in before I finally got her to leave!” Minegumo snaps back.

  “So you were in that same house, Minegumo? The one I… visited you in?”

  “Yes, I was.” She glares back at me. “I often end up back there. Hard to forget the place my little sister and I starved and froze to death in. You being there was bad enough. She… she made a mockery of it.”

  “How so?”

  “For one, she just… stopped the blizzard. Like she could just do that.” Minegumo scoffs.

  “Go on, Minegumo. There’s more to this.” The Chief comments, drawing an angry sigh from Minegumo.

  “What does it matter? All she said before she left was something about “The way out is right where you think it is”, like that was any help to a starving, freezing pair of children.” She grumbles, heading for the door. “Now are you two done bothering me? I have a job to do, if you want to have any lunch today.”

  “Yes, we are.” The Chief nods courteously. “Thank you, Minegumo.”

  “Don’t know what I helped you with, but fine. Sure. You’re welcome.” She throws her hands up, slamming the door behind her, awkwardly leaving the Chief and I… in her bakery. It’s not like the door’s locked, either.

  The Chief sighs, and stares up at the ceiling.

  “Marina.” She says, after a while.

  “Figured something out?”

  “Not entirely. But I have this terrible feeling I’m right about my suspicions.” Her head drops, staring down at the floor as she pieces things together. “I think your orange-haired visitor knows far more than she lets on. For example, she knew you’d go find Minegumo after she mentioned that she had “other dreamwalkers to visit.”

  “She did… hint that she knew how “untold” stories would go.”

  “Yes.” She sighs in annoyance. “Which is why I believe she left us a clue when she paid a visit to Minegumo. I know we have absolutely no proof on the matter, but I’ve never believed in coincidences, and I don’t intend to start believing now.”

  “The way out is right where you think it is… Well. If you think she means the way out of the Abyss, where do you think it is?”

  “The largest area that hasn’t been searched. The… Bloody Mire. Gods, who named the places down here…” She sighs a third time, bringing her hand to her face and rubbing her temple. “I hate this. I hate feeling right when I have no proof that I am.”

  “Like we’re following the plot thread that’s been laid out for us?”

  “Like… Yes. Exactly like that. Of all the beings outside the Abyss that we could have possibly grabbed the attention of… it had to be the one obsessed with stories.” She’s scowling, and I don’t think she realises she is.

  “Well. I don’t think the Daemon of Fantasy is the author of our story. Or anyone’s story, for that matter.”

  “And what makes you think that?” She raises an eyebrow and half-glares at me.

  “I think she’s just a reader. An obsessive one, at that. But for all the good and ill that may bring, I think she read ahead a few pages to try and help us, not hinder us. She doesn’t have any control, but… I think she’s the type to prefer happy endings, and will do anything she can to help that come true.”

  “Hmm…” She crosses her arms, pondering. “You have a point. Only time will tell if you’re right or not.”

  “Speaking of time… Lunch?”

  “Oh, very well. I’ve had enough discussions of metaphysical beings for one day.” She relents, and the two of us head out towards the enticing smells wafting from the tavern ahead.

  …

  Bed time.

  Hopefully, I won’t be paid a visit again tonight, but even without that, her words are on my mind.

  The Daemon of Fantasy’s words, exactly. I don’t know how long she’s been… watching me, I guess, but it must have been a while if she’s seen that much.

  She spoke of cars.

  Skyscrapers.

  Plastic. Television. Airplanes. Phones. Smartphones.

  Things that didn’t exist in Marina’s life, but in the one before it. That place in my mind that I know as the “real world”, despite this world and the one before it being just as real.

  Yet, no matter how long I stare at this same damn ceiling, how much I think of that real world, only the vaguest memories come to me.

  My mother… the first one. My home. My school. I was studying some kind of engineering, I think. I was twenty-something.

  Twenty-something, yeah. Which probably means I died around that time, before I ended up as Marina.

  I don’t remember how I died the first time.

  I can’t even remember my name.

  The name I had before I was Marina Retali.

  The only memories left are bits and pieces, shadows cast through windows and scents carried on distant breezes.

  Is life and death just endlessly cycling from one world to the next? Is the only thing special about me that I remember the faintest things about the life before my last?

  Gods, I have no idea.

  It irks me a little that she does, though. She knows far, far more than what she’s willing to let on.

  The gods-damned Daemon of Fantasy paid me a visit. Nor was she the bearer of good news, either. She seems to think the “story” of the Keepsguard and their plans to kidnap Arza is a better story than Haven’s plight, but…

  No.

  If she did, she wouldn’t have left us a trail. She wouldn’t have given us something slightly more than a vain hope.

  She knew that’s all we have, and I earnestly think she wanted to help.