Casey and Janelle? As far as I’m concerned, they’re another problem for another time.
The deeper I move into Breath and Blade’s lands, the thicker the mist. When I glance down, my feet seem to have vanished; I can no longer tell the difference between the roiling white fog and the swish and swirl of my gown.
“This is pointless.” With zero visibility, my vision is little more than a hindrance. Closing my eyes, I reach out for the energy of the elements instead—the earth beneath my feet, the soft and cool breeze in my hair, the tiny droplets of water in the mist, the very fires of creation that made this place.
Everything inside me stills, and I recite the first words that come to mind.
Magick of earth, of air, and of fire
Of water and spirit, please hear my desire
I call on your guidance through this shadowed place
For wisdom and courage, for strength and for grace
A golden light washes over me, immediately followed by a warm, loving energy that pulses before me and makes my heart soar. I know at once that I’m safe. That the magick of this place has brought me exactly what I most need.
My brothers.
I open my eyes, and the mist before me parts, revealing a gateway made of two stone slabs, a figure standing between them, back turned.
“Kirin?” I whisper. “Baz?”
But when the last of the mist fades away and reveals my company, it’s not one of my brothers that await. It’s a woman, short and slender, with lustrous black hair streaked with white. A dark blue cape flutters in the breeze, lifting to reveal the rest of her ensemble—a tattered gold tunic paired with a long navy skirt. The stars dotting the fabric shine as bright as any I’ve ever seen in the night sky.
“Hello?” I call out, but she doesn’t startle. Just turns slightly and nods, as if she’s been expecting me all along.
When she’s finally facing me full-on, gazing at me with penetrating chocolate-brown eyes, I have to stifle a gasp.
I’ve seen those eyes before—in a much younger-looking face.
Eulala Dominga Juarez, the woman with the tiny house in the desert. The little oasis where Doc brought me after he broke me out of jail, where he fed me tacos and promises and a side of hope.
“Lala?” I ask softly, still a bit uncertain. The smooth, golden-brown skin I remember from my jailbreak visit is now wrinkled with age.
I shouldn’t be surprised; Doc told me she’d just turned eighty-four.
“In the dream realm, I am in my truest form,” she says suddenly, as though she can read my thoughts. “And my most intuitive.”
I nod, some primal part of me already understanding her cryptic words, even if I don’t know why she sought me out here. According to Doc, Lala only speaks when she’s got something super important to say.
“Should I be terrified?” I ask.
She’s literally never said a word to me before. Why else would she come all this way—track me down in an entirely different realm—if not to deliver bad news?
But Lala only smiles, then reaches inside the folds of her tunic and pulls out a worn leather grimoire. The cover is engraved with a simple pentacle, the cover secured with a frayed leather cord.
A stone altar rises from the earth before her, much like the one inside the Fool’s Grave, minus the carvings. She sets the book on the slab, opens to a page in the middle, and raises her arms, muttering an ancient incantation in a language I don’t understand.
Glancing down at the book, I try to make sense of the symbols, but I don’t recognize any of those, either. It reminds me of the dream book Professor Maddox gave me—the one my mother supposedly pulled from this very realm.
As Lala wraps up her incantation, the mist swirling above us parts, revealing a blanket of glittering stars and a bright crescent moon. Beyond the stone gateway, an ocean comes into view, softly lapping the shore like a cat at the milk bowl.
“What is this place?” I whisper, momentarily entranced by its otherworldly beauty.
“The dream realm, of course,” she says. “Within you and without, ever shifting, as you yourself are always in motion.”
“How are you here?”
