“Did you know,” said Lilac, letting the foam rush between her fingers, “when you visit a dream, you can take what you find there back with you?”

  Proto, of course, had taken the red rock back with him from Mercune’s dream to Somnus’ Palace, and he’d stuck it in his tracksuit pocket. His ability to do that had made sense, at that time, since Somnus’ Palace was part of the dream realm too.

  This, in contrast, made no sense at all. How the Hell had he taken this red rock from Somnus’ Palace into real life? Up into the “breathing world”, as Somnus would’ve put it?

  Whatever the answer was, one thing seemed clear: whatever had happened during his months-long dream last night had not just been a normal dream.

  Which means that, maybe, Astrid, Lilac and Dahlia really were . . . The unfinished thought tingled through him.

  It made no sense. That whole story about him getting hit by a car, going into a coma, and dreaming his way into Somnus’ Palace plainly hadn’t happened. Here he was, hale and healthy!

  Yet somehow, in some way, Somnus’ Palace must be real. She must be real.

  Proto wasn’t even sure who the “she” was—the one whom he’d declared his true love—if anyone. His memories of Somnus’ Palace trailed off right before that point.

  Yet even her shadowy prospect was enough to tear his heart out.

  When he’d woken today and concluded Somnus’ Palace had been a mere dream, he’d felt more numb than pained. Like an expert amputation, it’d been such a sharp and sudden cut that he’d hardly felt the severing of so much of his life.

  Now, though, things were different. Now, he felt like the cut had only made it halfway. Astrid, Lilac, Dahlia, and the rest hadn’t been lost yet. He was still attached to them. He could feel them.

  He had a sudden vision of Astrid, Black, Dahlia, Red and Lilac, all facing him ominously:

  “Proto, we have a question for you,” said Astrid. “Which one of us do you dream of?”

  “One? Or maybe one’s not enough?” prodded Black.

  “There’s apples and oranges, Sparky, but this is ridiculous!” declared Dahlia.

  “Going for a complete game, huh?” Red accused.

  “We’re not like bottles on a shelf, you know!” cried Lilac.

  “I think it’s time we paid you a visit!” glared Astrid.

  “ . . . am I dreaming?” questioned Proto.

  “You’d better be! You’d better be!” they all repeated.

  Proto shook away the addled fancy. “Ugh. What the F.” He felt tired, even though he’d only been awake for several hours and had downed a coffee. Maybe it was the drinks.

  He’d left on Illusion of Gaia after saving his game a while ago, and a song he liked—Longing for the Past—was playing quietly. Its dreamy wistful consolation lulled his racing mind.

  Yeah, maybe I should be dreaming. His thoughts were just going in circles.

  Falling back upon his couch, he closed his eyes. Once again, memories swirled up like the mists that’d risen during his dream visits—memories of today and yesterday, and the dreamy months that’d happened in between.

  The lounge. The blue caves beneath the Palace. The elysian fields of Anima’s realm. The images flitted by. The River Lethe. The Sea of Dreams. The twelve-statued courtyard. The cliff that faced the barren plains. The slumbering shades that roved amid the mists there.

  Fixated on that shifting scene, letting it play out dreamily in his prospect, it took Proto a while to realize he’d become a part of it.

  He blinked and scanned his surroundings. He stood atop reddish-brown dirt. Mist clouds were drifting all around him. Between them were gaps, almost like tunnels, forming and unforming as the mirk moved.

  Stars twinkled against the darkness overhead—not the handful of constellations seen today in cities, but the truly countless stars, glittering in galaxies, that had shone upon the ancients.

  He was lucid-dreaming. He’d always liked it when that happened. But now, after months as a dream visitor at Somnus’ Palace? It felt like he’d come home.

  Focusing, he made a pair of ninja sais form mistily in his hands. “Cowabunga,” he murmured, twirling the three-tipped daggers around his fingers.

  Then, he caught one by the tip and hurled it at a dead tree. It struck the trunk and stuck. “Like a boss!”

  Proto smiled. Yes, he was home again.

  He tossed aside his remaining sai, which dissipated before it hit the ground, and began wandering.

  After a minute, the drifting mist wall to his side parted. On an instinct, he headed into the resulting tunnel. It was a couple hundred yards long. He was about halfway through when, abruptly, the mists started closing in on both sides.

  Uh oh.

  Proto took off. The cool air streamed around his face, and he savored it. He’d always been a natural runner. And it was a good thing too, because he emerged from that passage just as, in a swirl of mists, it ceased to exist.

  He brushed off his hands, then brushed off his tracksuit. “Good thing I wore this guy, huh!” he murmured to the misty wastes. He patted the Saturn logo fondly.

  A sense of déjà vu swept through him. This had happened before. Well, not exactly this, but close enough.

  This is that dream, isn’t it?

  The only thing missing was that singing redhead teen. Mercune, he recalled. The scientist Fyrir’s adoptive granddaughter.

  The last time he’d been here, he’d chased the sound of her voice through the mists. This time, it was silent, and there was nothing to guide him.

  Pondering where he was, something occurred to him. He turned around and, standing on his tiptoes, peered above the mists.

  And there, glimmering blue and ethereal atop a far plateau, was Somnus’ Palace.

  Such a warm hearkening rushed through him at the sight, beckoning him back toward those lofty spires, that he almost forgot this was just a dream.

  Just a dream. Of course he could dream of Somnus’ Palace. Just like he could dream he was a millionaire pro football player with his own palace. That didn’t make the palace real.

  And yet that yearning! Could it be more real?

  Like the man who dreamt he was a butterfly, then wondered if he was a butterfly dreaming he was a man, Proto felt half-inclined to flutter up to the palace and start philosophizing. And drinking fine spirits. And chatting with whoever happened to be present. Astrid. Lilac. Dahlia.

  But he shook his head and turned around. Those days are over.

  Through the barren plains he went, passing through the forming and unforming mists, seeking—what? He didn’t know. And yet he felt that it was getting closer.

  Indeed, he felt it keenly when he reached what looked to be an unbroken wall of mists, with a small segment that had thinned to a gauzelike wispiness. It was exactly as he remembered—all but the absence of any singing from the other side.

  Taking a deep breath and holding it, he darted toward the thinnest part of the mists and leapt, scrunching his eyes almost shut.

  A giddy daze swept over him as he passed through the chilling mirk. He suddenly felt like he was tumbling headlong. But he was ready this time, and he managed to stay on his feet as he landed.

  Proto blinked. A woman was facing him, standing where Mercune had been his last time here. But it wasn’t the redhead teen.

  “Hail, Visitor.” She beamed. “What a lovely surprise, I’d like to say. But only the first half is true.”

  Radiant before him, clad in raiment of starry leaves, with sunset hair aswirl about her and a queenly blaze in her green gaze, was Flua-Sahng.

  “The Queen of Heaven?” Proto managed.

  “Oh, you remembered!” she cried happily. “For once.”

  “You called me a visitor,” he said slowly, feeling unsure what was real anymore. “Am I one?”

  “Hm?” She tilted her head in thought. “Well, I suppose you were a visitor. Or will be. Or may be.” She shrugged. “Pardon. Present, past and future tend to mingle for me, so verb tenses give me trouble.”

  “I feel for you.” He couldn’t fully empathize, but he too was confused about what was past and future at this point.

  “And don’t even get me started on possible futures and pasts!” she lamented. “I’m tempted to start using the subjunctive for everything! If it survives much longer in your language. Excuse me, should it survive much longer.”

  Proto might know The Nineteenth Century British Novel and some Shakespeare, but the subjunctive was quite beyond him. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a while.”

  “Has it though?” Her green eyes glimmered.

  “Um.” He tried to figure out what she was getting at.

  “Pardon, now I’m just pettifogging,” she waved lightly. “Yes, lovely to see you too. Walk with me?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Happy to,” he affirmed. What else does one say to the Queen of Heaven?

  “Perfect.” And off she strolled, following exactly the same path that Mercune had followed months ago. Or last night, rather.

  Yeah, this timeline is confusing, isn’t it.

  “So, Proto. Your first day back in the breathing world. You’ve certainly gotten straight to business, haven’t you!” She batted her eyes reproachfully.

  His face flushed. “What, a couple drinks and video games?” he mumbled.

  “A couple somethings!” The Mother of All tsked. “I must say, Proto, you never change.”

  “Look, what would you do if you spent months falling in true love, and then suddenly it were gone?” he grumbled.

  “Exactly what I’m doing right now. But replace ‘months’ with ‘aeons,’” she sadly answered.

  He blinked and regarded the wistful woman. But she already was waving away the melancholy.

  “Also, Proto, I can’t help but notice you keep approaching exuberant redheads,” Flua-Sahng noted. “Mercune. Red. That Athena cosplayer. And so forth. One begins to wonder, Proto!”

  “Red? You mean Black? Black has the red hair. I know, it’s confusing,” he replied. “Also, where is Mercune?”

  “Never mind. Another day, another dream,” she waved. “Regarding Mercune, she’s not here, of course. This is your dream. She’s a seer—and much more—but, alas, not a visitor. She can’t visit your dreams.”

  “Of course, I can.” The Queen of Heaven smiled radiantly. “But you already knew that. Or did you? I lose track of what you know at any given time.”

  Proto stared, parsing her words. A wild surmise swept through him. “So that’s why you acted like you already knew me, back when I was a visitor. Because you did. I’d met you here. Today. And, somehow or other, this is happening before I become a visitor.” He felt proud and clever.

  “Back when you were a visitor? Such a strange way of phrasing it!” she mused. “But yes, I suppose that’s how it feels for you. Anyhow, yes, Proto. You’re right. I acted like I knew you because I knew you.”

  Briefly, the smile on her face was so wistful that Proto blinked and wondered what he was missing. But then it was gone, as wistfulness gave way to ironic warmth.

  “Yes, I’m so glad you figured that out! That saves me some time and trouble,” she declared. “We can get straight to business. All business.” She let a sigh slip out.

  “So. In short, Proto, you failed.” She winced and shrugged apologetically, her long red hair and starry leaf garb shifting over her frame. “Or . . . will fail? Would fail? Would have failed? This is complicated.”

  “The bottom line is, you have memories of a possible future that hasn’t happened yet. Where you failed.”

  “You were a visitor at Somnus’ Palace. At least, a provisional visitor.” Her lips curved up. “You learned a lot there. Among other things, you met Mercune in her dream, and you learned she was a seer who could see the future. Well, guess what? So am I!” Radiance swelled around the Queen of Heaven.

  “I’ve seen many possible futures. So many variations! More than you could count! But they all have one thing in common,” recalled Flua-Sahng. “They all end in a void. Life and humanity, gone. Some sooner than others. Maybe a couple years, or maybe a millennium! But in the end? Void.”

  “Believe it or not, Proto, you’re one of my seers too! Currently.” She beamed dazzlingly. “Your whole time in Somnus’ Palace was just a vision of a possible future. A vision that I shared with you. Merely a vision, alas, but one that you could make real. One that you should make real, in fact. For the most part.”

  “You see, I shared with you my vision of the future that comes the closest to avoiding a bad ending—the void,” explained Flua-Sahng. “In that future, you and your friends and my layabout son, Somnus, saved the world! If somewhat indirectly.”

  “And, alas, only temporarily,” she sighed. “Things go swimmingly for about a millennium. At least, as swimmingly as postapocalyptic worlds go. But then? Void. Life? Humanity? Gone.”

  “I saw your whole time at Somnus’ Palace, of course,” she explained, “and a thousand different variations of it—”

  “Wait.” Proto blinked. “Wait. You saw . . . everything?”

  “Hm? Why, Proto, is that a blush?” The Mother of All tittered at him. “Really now. It’s like parents say: ‘I saw you in diapers.’ Well, I saw every one of your ancestors without diapers! You have nothing to be embarrassed about! Although, I must admit, the whole ‘flap flap’ thing with Anima was—well, anyhow.”

  Proto wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but it sounded weirdly familiar. He rubbed a sudden itch on his shoulderblade.

  “As I was saying,” she continued, “I’ve seen a thousand variations of your time at Somnus’ Palace. You save the world in all of them. But the way the future plays out afterward varies. And, after studying this closely, I’ve realized that there’s only one point, in your time at Somnus’ Palace, where your choices seem to change how the world’s long-term future plays out.”

  “And, no, it’s not what you’re thinking! Your choice at the end is yours to make, based on true love.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “True love or what have you. Oh, Anima.”

  “No. The key moment is the dream where you meet Mercune. And a certain Queen of Heaven.” The red-haired Daemon shrugged and beamed, swathing herself in a modest radiance. “The world’s future turns on what you do in Mercune’s dream.”

  “And they told you that was just an observational visit! Ironic, isn’t it?” she mused.

  “Why does that dream matter so much? Don’t ask me! I may be the Queen of Heaven, but I don’t know everything,” she waved. “All I know is this: In every future I’ve seen, Mercune dies very young. Sometimes in the fiery pandaemonium when my brethren are loosed upon the world. Sometimes soon afterward. And the choices you make, when you visit her dream, seem to determine how she dies.”

  “I know, it sounds grim, doesn’t it?” Flua-Sahng cringed sympathetically. “Believe me, I don’t like this either. I do care about her deeply. Why else would I spend so much time with her? I’m the Queen of Heaven, after all!” Her lips curved up.

  Proto often felt like he was missing some joke when speaking with Flua-Sahng, so he didn’t dwell on that too much. Instead, he was busy recalling how Mercune’s dream had played out, from wandering the barren wastes and jumping through the mists to meeting the blithe redhead teen and talking about—about what?

  He struggled to remember. Something playfully nonchalant. Nothing of obvious importance.

  And that determines how she dies?

  “Yes, that determines how she dies,” affirmed Flua-Sahng.

  Proto blinked and stared at her. Did she just read my mind?

  Flua-Sahng winced. “I’m sorry, I try not to do that. I know you all find it disquieting. Like you think your mind is your own secret little place. Quaint! In my defense, though, I’m not the only one intruding on others’ private thoughts, Mister Visitor of Dreams!”

  “You make a fair point, Queen of Heaven,” acknowledged Proto.

  “Yes, my points usually are fair.” She fanned her face.

  “Fair is as fair does?” he suggested.

  “What can I say, I can’t help it!” She cast her red hair back over her star-leaved raiment, then tittered. “Ah, but there’s the Proto I know.”

  Tilting his head, he squinted. “The Proto you know . . . ?”

  “Oh, forget it. Another day, another dream,” replied Flua-Sahng wistfully. “Anyhow, I showed you that whole ridiculously long vision at Somnus’ Palace because, frankly, I didn’t know what else to do! I’m trying to save the future here, and I’m just not sure how. Maybe you’ll have some insight. You’re the one who will be living the key moment, after all—the moment the future turns on.”

  “Golly. That’s a lot of pressure,” he observed.

  “Oh, are you really going to re-use that line? A hand-me-down for the Queen of Heaven?” She craned her head and put her hands on her hips. “I know where you last used it!”

  “Wha . . . ?” Proto squinted. It did sound familiar, now that he thought about it.

  “Oh, but you don’t remember that right now, do you? None of those Possibilities,” mused Flua-Sahng. “Hm! In that case, it’s sort of flattering, actually.”

  Proto was lost at this point.

  “But that reminds me of another point,” she went on. “Once you get to Somnus’ Palace and you become a provisional visitor, you’ll forget all this. Everything from today through your car accident. Hence your amnesia at Somnus’ Palace.”

  “The reason is simple. And I think I’ve mentioned it to you before: You can’t be one of Somnus’ visitors and one of my seers at the same time. You can’t remember your seer-visions when you’re a visitor. If you did, you could thwart Fate!”

  “That’d break the time-space continuum?” said Proto.

  “Great Scott, yes!” she cried, then giggled. “So, once you go to Somnus’ Palace to become a visitor, I have to erase all your memories of your time as a seer. Sorry.”

  “But there’s one exception. And it’s important,” she noted. “That rule—you can’t be a seer and visitor at the same time—applies up in the breathing world, and it applies here in the dream realm. But it does not apply in the Mists. There aren’t really any rules in the Mists, besides Fate itself.”

  “So, do you recall when you visited Mercune’s dream, leapt through that wall of Mists, and became all giddy and discombobulated?” she asked.

  Proto recalled his dizzy bemusement when he found the red-haired girl standing in front of him. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Indeed. So, when you visit Mercune’s dream, and you leap through that Mist wall—thereby crossing over into the Mists—you should get back your memories of being a seer!” explained Flua-Sahng. “And then you can decide what to do based on everything you’ve learnt.”

  “In short, Proto, your quest is simple.” The Queen of Heaven waxed with eminence, and a toneless power swelled behind her voice. “You have some precious time left in the breathing world. When it expires, you must save the future using what you’ve learnt here—knowledge you don’t yet have.”

  “Learn what must be learnt!” she boomed, her green gaze ablaze with a fey sheen. It suddenly was clear where Somnus had gotten his voice.

  “You’ll have many days and many chances to explore the futures available to us,” she spoke on. “But once your time comes, there will be no second chances. Then, briefly, you alone will steer the world toward its future. And, whatever road you choose, it will lead only one way. Choose well!”

  Proto pondered, then looked awry. “Why am I always being picked to make big choices?”

  “Oh, you liked the first one, and you know it! Maybe you’ll like this one too.” Flua-Sahng shrugged. “In all honesty, it’s because of how you sleepwalk.”

  “ . . . what?” Proto had felt he was starting to follow her explanation. Now, he was lost again.

  “Forget it. Like everything else!” She rolled her eyes wistfully. “Well, on that note—”

  “Wait. Question,” said Proto. “How much time do I have?”

  “Right, that. I’d love to tell you, Proto,” she replied. “But I’ve found that, for whatever reason, every future where I tell you that ends in a void. You don’t even visit Mercune’s dream. So . . . you’ll have to figure that out for yourself. Or not! As they say, live each day like it’s your last.”

  “Grim,” he grumbled.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Really, though, I’m on your side.”

  “Will I be meeting you again before this all goes down?” he asked. “I might have some questions.”

  “Why, yes. I should say so,” replied Flua-Sahng. “Every night, in fact.”

  He blinked. His eyes widened.

  Her lips quirked up. “Yes. Each night, while you’re asleep, you’ll be having a dream-vision, courtesy of me. It will be Mercune’s dream, the one you visited. You get to try to make it play out differently. And when you and Mercune meet me at the dream’s end, based on how the dream goes, I’ll tell you whether I foresee a future—or just a void.”

  “Mind you, you won’t really be visiting Mercune’s dream. Not yet,” she explained. “These are practice runs. Just visions of possible futures, conjured up by me.”

  “So I can test what works?” said Proto. “And maybe I’ll figure out how to save the future by the time I’m at Somnus’ Palace?”

  “Precisely. At least, that’s the idea,” confirmed Flua-Sahng. “My, but you’re full of questions. Any more? I’m here all night!”

  “Just one, I think. Or two, actually,” said Proto. “First, I was hit by a car in the future. That’s why I went into that coma, ended up at Somnus’ Palace, and visited Mercune’s dream. But if I can change the future, what if I do something that prevents all that from happening? Could I?”

  “Hm. Well, you certainly can change small things. Like whether you drink a red eye or a black eye. Or whether you eat an apple or an orange.” She smiled and arched her eyebrows at him.

  “As for big things, can you change those? Yes and no,” she went on. “Fate tends to give us several roads to choose from. There are roads that don’t lead to your accident. I’ve only seen void along those roads—void that comes quite soon, not a millennium from now. But who knows? I don’t claim to have seen every future.”

  “Okay.” Proto’s mind was racing. Until a moment ago, it hadn’t occurred to him that avoiding his car accident and coma might be an option. Should he explore that further? . . . Even if it meant losing his time at Somnus’ Palace?

  “But you had one more question, I think?” she said.

  “Right,” nodded Proto. “That red rock that was in my tracksuit pocket. How did it get there?”

  “Hm?” The Queen of Heaven smiled broadly at him. “There’s no red rock in your pocket, Proto.”

  “ . . . what?” Proto had a sinking feeling.

  “Why in the world would you have Mercune’s red rock? It’s her special rock, you know!” she chided. “It would take a lot to make her part with that!”

  “Her special rock, huh,” grumbled Proto. Her gleaming gaze said I-know-more-but-I’m-not-going-to-say-more.

  Why were people always playing games of hide the ball with him? Or hide the rock, in this case.

  “Hide the rock? Hardly!” Flua-Sahng mused. “But yes, do think of this like a game, and be childlike enough to enjoy games. It’s my secret for never feeling old. I’ve been doing it since time started, and look at me!” Golden eminence swirled about the red-haired Queen of Heaven in her garb of starry leaves.

  “You remind me of your son,” muttered Proto. “Speaking of which, I was supposed to ask you something a long time ago. What happened on December 31, 1999? You were at Somnus’ place, and—”

  “Oh? So that’s how it’s going to be, Somnus?” The Mother of All’s green gaze was wide and shining. “Well, two can play! Ask my son about the time I baked him goodies and walked in on him and a certain someone back in the Jurassic period. Gives a whole new meaning to not getting lucky!”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Just ask!” she beamed. “Ta-ta, Proto.” She flicked her hand at him.

  At once, the drifting mists behind her rushed toward Proto in twin streams, swirled around him twice, and bore him off—first off his feet, then out of his senses, sending him hurtling through a plane of mirky grey, where points of starlight whirled in parallax.