“Oh, we’re going to go there, are we Mister! You’ll be seeing a lot more red soon!” She held a glowing palm toward him.

  Suddenly the mists were swirling around him on all sides, forming a tornadic cylinder. Eyes wide, he stood straight and stiff as a board, holding his breath.

  Just as abruptly, the mist dervish disappeared, leaving him with the spritely girl.

  She was beaming. “Oh, that face!” She opened her eyes bulging-wide and stood shiveringly stiff on her tiptoes, then fell into laughter. “So perfect!”

  “Now that you’ve tornadoed me,” he replied, “maybe you can tell me your name. I’m Proto.”

  “First-name basis, huh?” she giggled. “Fair enough! I’m Mercune.”

  “So, Mercune. This is your dream we’re in, right?” He gestured at their surroundings. “Or are you a visitor?”

  “Well, yes and no. I’m dreaming, and you came into my dream,” she said. “But when you’re this far into the Mists, it sort of stops being your own dream and becomes everyone’s dream! Kind of.” She shrugged thoughtfully. “As for whether I’m a ‘visitor,’ I don’t know what that means. But I take it that’s what you guys call yourselves.”

  “Um, yes,” he said.

  “Yeah, I’ve had a few other ‘visitors’ like you. They sneak into my dreams and try to fit in, and I play along like I don’t know what they’re doing. It’s kind of fun freaking them out! Like this.” She wafted a palm upward.

  Mists began swirling from the dirt toward Proto’s waist. His eyes widened.

  She tittered and waved, and the mists dissipated. “But yeah, anyway, you’re the first to stop by while I’m in the Mists. This is serious business! No play out here. As you can see.”

  “ . . . this is utterly bizarre,” observed Proto.

  “Oh?” She planted her hands on her hips. “What’s bizarre is that some cabal of creepsters goes around dreamstalking young girls like me!”

  “Somnus does call himself the Darkling Stalker,” he acknowledged with a shrug.

  “Yep, Creepola!” she declared. “ . . . wait, Somnus? I know that name. He’s one of Flua-Sahng’s sons, right? She says he’s funny. And he wears fancy clothes and drinks too much.”

  “That about sums it up,” affirmed Proto.

  Mercune heeheed. “That’s cool though. You’re the first other person I’ve met who talks to the Elements. Or, I guess, ‘Daemons’ is what they’re called in dreams like this. You call them ‘Elements’ when they’re up on the breathing world. And they’re ‘Mists’ when they’re in the Mists. They’re ‘Daemons’ when they’re in between.”

  Proto struggled to sift some sense from this word stream. “The first other person who talks to them, you said?”

  “Yep!” As she spoke, she waved a glowing hand, and the mists before them parted. He followed her into the new tunnel. “Even Gramps has never talked to them,” she went on. “The brilliant scientist Fyrir! The man who unearthed the Fossil! The man whose genius will power a new world!” She rolled her eyes in smiling teenage fashion.

  “Fyrir?” repeated Proto, staring at her. He had heard of a scientist with that name. Who hadn’t? The man had been all over the news recently. He’d uncovered some weird red rock that served as an energy source—nearly limitless and pollution-free.

  The Fossil, Fyrir had called that rock. Proto didn’t know why. He assumed it was something about how this Fossil was going to make fossil fuel obsolete. There had been a bunch of news stories with cheesy titles like This Rock Rocks and Forget Fusion, We’ve Got a Fossil.

  “‘Gramps,’ you said. Are you Fyrir’s granddaughter?” he asked.

  “Well, technically no. He adopted me. But he’s old, so I call him Gramps,” she explained. “These days, I’m sort of his assistant.”

  Proto arched an eyebrow. “You’re a scientist?”

  “Hey! I’ll have you know, he says I have a talent for physics!” She wheezed the last part out in an elder’s warbling voice. “But no. My interests lie elsewhere.” She waved with queenly dismissiveness.

  “How do you ‘assist’ him then?” asked Proto.

  “I do lots of stuff! Like this.” She pointed gun-like at the mists and, with a murmured “pow!,” flicked her hand upward with recoil. Something invisible shot through the mists, clearing a path. “Also, I taught Gramps what the Fossil was.”

  “ . . . and how did you figure that out?” he asked.

  “Figure it out? How would I do that? I’m just a girl with some gifts! And a talent for physics.” Mercune flipped her red hair archly. “No, I know what the Fossil is because Flua-Sahng told me. And she should know! It’s her own Fossil.”

  Proto shook his head, struggling to follow all this. “Wait, this Flua-Sahng. You mentioned her earlier. You said she’s like Somnus, right? She’s one of the—Elements? Or Daemons, you called them?”

  “Yep! The Mother of All! We’re tight, Flua-Sahng and I. Not to brag!” said the perky redhead. “She’s so sweet though. Big softie. Always going all starry-eyed and talking about Fate and true love. And she knows about everything! But I guess that’s not surprising, since she sort of created everything.”

  “Sort of created everything?” repeated Proto. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, I could try to explain. But, better yet, why don’t you ask her!” She swung a red-glowing hand dramatically, clearing the thick mists before them.

  There, eminent amid the mists, stood a lady. She wore radiant raiment of starlike leaves. Behind her sunset-colored tresses was a queenly gaze of green.

  This must be Flua-Sahng. Everything about her was strikingly beyond the human, from her poise to her beauty. Yet equally striking was how much she looked like the redhead girl at Proto’s side.

  “Good morning!” sang Mercune, waving childlike at the being before them.

  “Hail, Mercune,” greeted the shining being. “It’s always a pleasure. But I see you’ve brought a friend today.”

  The gaze she leveled on Proto was daunting. But the smile on her face was friendly and strangely wistful. “Is this how one dresses to visit the Queen of Heaven? As a jester?”

  Proto’s eyes went wide as he abruptly remembered the outfit that Mercune had summoned up for him.

  And yet there was an odd wryness to Flua-Sahng’s smile, like she were sharing a private joke that he should understand but didn’t.

  “Oh, that’s my fault!” explained Mercune. “Here’s what he was really wearing.” She gestured toward him, and in a blink, he was wearing his tracksuit with the Saturn logo again.

  “Ah, athletic garb,” observed the Queen of Heaven. “With the emblem of my long-lost husband, no less. Much better.”

  Her lips quirked upward as she spoke, but Proto’s mouth still went dry. “This, uh, wasn’t a planned visit. Milady.”

  “Milady, now? Not Queen of Heaven?” She sighed and smiled. Again, that look on her face made him feel like he was missing something.

  “This guy’s a visitor. He visits dreams,” explained Mercune. “He says he’s friends with your son, Somnus.”

  “Indeed. I wonder when Somnus planned to tell me!” The Queen of Heaven crooked a finger.

  Mists suddenly swirled around Proto and bore him toward her. He lurched to a stop a couple yards from her.

  “Oh, Somnus. Using a Spirit bound to the breathing world as a visitor! Against the rules!” The Mother of All shook her head. “Maybe he thinks you’ll fit one of the exceptions. The big softie. Luckily for him, and for you, so am I.”

  “But that’s no excuse for him not telling me!” she went on. “I’ll have to berate him next time he visits. Which is awfully rare, given how often he ‘visits’ everyone else! It’s offensive, really,” she pouted. “After all I’ve done for your lot!”

  Again, that wry hint of a smile on her face! . . . That, or he was just getting giddy and imagining things. He felt faint beside her celestial majesty. “I’ll tell him next time I see him,” he managed.

  “Yes, pray do so, Proto,” directed Flua-Sahng. “He’ll likely be five drinks in and require a reminder who I am. Then again, he’s hardly the only one.” Her lips curved upward wryly. “In any event, Mercune, we should get down to business, shouldn’t we? I’m afraid our friend here must leave for this part.”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Aw. Can’t he stay a few minutes? The show’s about to start!” lamented Mercune, pointing at the sky. It’d been reddening afar as they spoke. Now, lights were streaking across the ruddy glow.

  “I fear he can’t.” Flua-Sahng eyed the far off radiance. Some sadness glimmered in her green gaze.

  “Aw,” repeated Mercune.

  The Queen of Heaven smiled down at her. “Come, we must keep some things to ourselves, mustn’t we? Somnus’ crew see shadows of the future, and they use that knowledge to guide dreamers. That’s enough. If they saw the future whole, as we do, they could use that knowledge to change Fate. And we can’t have that, can we? Right, Proto?”

  He blinked, unsure what to say, as the redhead girl sighed melodramatically.

  Flua-Sahng gave her a motherly shoulder pat.

  “Well, before he goes, can I give him a gift?” Mercune entreated the Queen of Heaven.

  The Daemon tilted her head in amusement. “Please do. But be quick, child.”

  The girl dashed up and handed him a dull red rock, about as wide as her palm. “This stone is very special. I lost it for years, then found it miles and miles away! Weirdest thing ever,” she explained. “I plan to give it to my daughter. When I have a daughter.”

  “ . . . and you’re giving it to me?” asked Proto.

  “This is a dream, silly!” she retorted. “It’s not like I lose my real one by giving this to you. I’m just being polite. And this is what I happened to have in my pocket.”

  “Ah.” Proto turned out his empty pockets. “I’d be polite too if I could. Now I feel bad.”

  “No worries! The company’s enough for me,” assured Mercune.

  “Wait. Is this rock the Fossil?” Proto vaguely remembered that it’d been a red stone.

  “Of course not! Does this look radiant red and teardrop-shaped?” she replied. “But it’s still a special rock, I’m pretty sure.”

  Meanwhile, the red radiance on the horizon was spreading across the sky, like some vast fire were approaching. The streaking lights overhead were larger and brighter now. Squinting, Proto seemed to see that they were . . . manlike?

  The redhead girl faced the impending pyroclasm and sighed. “Are you sure he can’t stay and watch?”

  “Come now, I must leave something special for my seers like you, yes? We mustn’t make old news of ourselves!” reasoned Flua-Sahng with a playful smile, as Mercune shrugged grudgingly. “In any event”—she turned to him—“it’s time for you to be off. Be well, Proto! We’ll meet again! Try to remember me.” She flicked her fingers at him lightly.

  He squinted at the Queen of Heaven, and his lips parted.

  But, as Mercune handcurled farewell, Proto abruptly was swept away in grey mirk. He hurtled through an oblivion bristling with swirling points of starlight.

  As he did so, he felt something dissipating from his right hand—that red rock he’d been given. But instinctively, he focused on maintaining it instead—that not-quite-smooth hardness, pressed against his palm.

  “Did you know, when you visit a dream, you can take what you find there back with you?” Lilac had asked.

  The dwindling of the rock reversed. Its solidity once more pressed against his clasping hand.

  Then, he stumbled forth into a misty blue corridor of Somnus’ Palace.

  Standing just a few steps in front of him was Astrid. Violet gaze widening, she stepped backward as he lurched toward her.

  His hands, extended for balance, narrowly missed her retreating torso.

  “Watch where you’re groping, Dodo,” she frowned at him, planting a hand on her hip and regarding him disdainfully.

  “Hello to you too,” said Proto. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Doing well! Yourself?”

  “Wait, did you just swing a rock at me?” She eyed the red stone in his hand. “Do you collect stones? I could totally see that.”

  “Hey.” He pointed at her. “This stone is very special.” He pocketed it in his tracksuit.

  “Don’t be a ditz,” she chastised. “Anyway, I see you didn’t take the day off. That’s good. My opinion of you just went up a notch. I thought you’d pick the coffee and cocktails.”

  “A spontaneous kind comment? From Astrid the Horrid?” marveled Proto.

  “You’ve gone from 3 of 10 to 4 of 10,” she shrugged.

  “Booyah. Climbing higher by the day.” He offered her a fistbump.

  She eyed him grimly and came no closer, like he were the dirty guy sleeping on the subway.

  He changed his fistbump to two hopeful thumbs up.

  “Getting excited about minor success is the way of mediocrity,” she observed.

  “And . . . she’s back!” he announced.

  Her lips curved up. “So. Your first solo visit. Purely observational. But still a solo visit.”

  “I know, right? That’s a big deal, right?” he enthused.

  “Sure. We all do it, but it is a turning point in life,” she acknowledged. “Sort of like using a toilet solo for the first time.”

  “Great. Well, thanks for letting me savor that for thirty seconds,” said Proto. “Now, if we’re all done shitting on my small triumphs . . . ?”

  She couldn’t quite suppress her laugh. “Anyway, Mister Solo, what’d you see on your first solo dream?”

  “It was odd,” he replied. “I, uh, met Flua-Sahng.”

  Astrid’s eyes flicked to his face. On seeing that he looked serious, her gaze went wide and her lips fell apart. “You met the Consort of the First? That Flua-Sahng? A dream of her, you mean.”

  Proto had never seen a look like this on Astrid’s face, perpetually cool and collected as she was. “Uh, the real thing, I think. Somnus’ mom, right?”

  “That’s the one,” affirmed Astrid faintly. “But I don’t see how that’s possible. She would’ve been in the Mists, and there’s no way . . . ”

  “Yep! Very misty. Mercune, the girl who was dreaming, led me through the mists to Flua-Sahng. Somehow or other, she could clear the mists,” replied Proto.

  “Clear the Mists?” repeated the silvery-blue haired woman. “Do you even know what that means?”

  “Uh, evidently not. She just sort of waved her hand, all red and glowy, and the mists parted,” he said. “Anyway, we chatted awhile. Then, when Flua-Sahng was going to show the girl something from the future, she shooed me away. I guess only seers are allowed to see the future there, not us visitors. And Mercune was a seer.”

  Astrid was so nonplussed that she didn’t even remind him he was just a provisional visitor. “See the future . . . ? And not in the Shadowcaster . . . ?”

  Proto shrugged modestly. “Don’t ask me, I’m just the messenger. From the Queen of Heaven. On his first solo visit.”

  “This girl—Mercune Mirin, wasn’t it?” said Astrid, ignoring him. “Her last shadowcasting was odd. A lot like how you and Dahlia described the shadowcasting for that friend of yours, Yemos. Ominous. Hinting at some dire future.”

  He nodded. “This was similar. The sky went red, and there were streaking lights. Something was coming. But then Flua-Sahng sent me away before I could see it clearly.”

  As Astrid stared in wordless thought, he found himself recalling the words of Yemos at the end of his dream: “When the fires fall, and the lights streak across Heaven, and the redounding blasts rock the earth, and all is pandaemonium, I’ll be in its midst.”

  “Well,” she finally said, “this is something I’ll have to discuss with Somnus. I, or maybe we.”

  “Do you think it’s something serious?” he asked.

  She paused before responding, pressing her lips. “Something I should discuss with Somnus,” she finally repeated.

  “This seems different from what we normally do here.” Proto felt his mind stretching to fit these recent events. “We help steer individual dreamers in the right direction. But this—whatever this is—seems like something much bigger. Are we supposed to steer big things like this too?”

  Astrid paused again, then shrugged away her brooding expression. “We do what we do, and it doesn’t matter what others ‘suppose’ about it. And the future of humanity and individual humans is the same thing.”

  “So . . . that’s a yes?” confirmed Proto. “Only cooler and more philosophical?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s very Astrid of you.”

  “There can be only one.” She archly flipped her hair back.

  Proto smiled. “So. While you were busy being too cool for school the last few days, what were you doing? Helping Somnus save humanity, one human at a time?”

  “No, that’s what I do on normal days,” she responded casually. “This was more pressing.”

  “Yes, that’s very Astrid of you,” he affirmed. “You’re even doing the ‘Hi, I’m Astrid and you’re not’ pose.”

  She frowned and looked down at herself, so her silvery-blue hair fell over one shoulder. One of her hands was on her hip, which was cocked out with her weight on her other leg. This amplified the curve of her frame, which the stripes on her jumpsuit followed very distinctly.

  “Hi, I’m Astrid and you’re not,” he repeated, gesturing at her.

  Her lips forced themselves up against her will. “There can only be one,” she repeated. “But maybe next time, you can tag along.”

  “Lady Luck favor me, maybe!” he replied.

  She pshed and rolled her eyes.

  “Or, better yet, Flua-Sahng favor me!” he added.

  She scoffed a laugh out and started to walk away, then slowed and glanced back. “Come on. I guess I should hear what my mentee has been doing.”

  “Even the way she initiates small talk is cool as ice!” he admired.

  She shook her head and kept walking. But he could see her cheek dimple upward.

  “Just coolly flip your hair next time, okay?” he suggested.

  She obliged. “Like that?”

  “And all is right in the world!” affirmed Proto.

  They headed back to the lounge and found it still was relatively empty. Even Lilac was absent.

  One of the kitchen cooks, Paunch, was manning the bar instead of her. He did his best with coffees and cocktails—which really wasn’t bad, in Proto’s experience. But he was no Lilac.

  Proto therefore decided to stick to spirits today. He asked Paunch for some armagnac that he’d heard Somnus praise a couple times.

  As he did so, Astrid loosed a disappointed sigh.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll . . . be sure to leave some for you?”

  “No,” she wistfully lamented. “I was looking forward to making fun of your tastes.”

  “Ah.” He beamed. “Yes, Astrid, tell me what you think of the Lord of Dreams’ favorite drink!”

  “Can’t you get that fizzy pink drink again?” she urged.

  “Again? Now we’re just making things up?” he chastised. “False accusations, is it?”

  “Lilac poured it for you. I’m going to count it!” she replied.

  “Well, I’m going to pick your drink today.” He turned to Paunch. “She’ll have one absinthe. That kind.” He pointed. “One ice cube, no sugar.”

  “I’m impressed you got that right,” she acknowledged. “One ice cube, no sugar.”

  “I handle the coolness, you supply the sugar.” He gave her the double guns.

  She flicked his ear.

  The bartender poured the last of the bottle into a glass and started to throw it away.

  “Hey, hold up. Could we borrow that bottle?” asked Proto, then turned to Astrid. “There’s a game we have to finish playing.”

  She put a hand on her hip and gave him a baleful violet gaze. “You brag about going solo all day, Mister Solo, and suddenly you want a second player?” She shook her head and picked a violet nail. “You pay visits to Flua-Sahng! The First’s Consort! I think I’m quite unnecessary here.”

  “Aw. You can throw away that bottle I guess,” he sighed to Paunch, who nodded and released it down a trash chute.

  “Of course, I said unnecessary,” Astrid quietly went on with a smile. “Not unwilling.”

  “Wait! Wait!” Proto entreated Paunch. But the man shrugged empty-handed.

  Astrid tilted back her head and laughed musically, her silvery-blue hair spilling down her shoulders.

  Proto just smiled and admired.

  At some point recently—he wasn’t sure when—Somnus’ Palace had stopped feeling like a dream to him. Indeed, life here could hardly feel more vibrant and real. And what felt like a dream now was that pale half-semblancy of reality that he’d been living in before this.

  But maybe the real change wasn’t in where he was, but who he was. Here, he relished life like a dreamer in a dream, uninhibited by fear of real consequences. Yet by doing so, he made this life more real.

  Maybe the old world up there wasn’t such a bad place. “I was rather fond of the breathing world, once. I used to visit folk up there all the time. They loved me! Poets invoked me! Would you believe it?” the Lord of Dreams had said.

  Maybe keeping it real and living the dream were one and the same, he mused. He felt a little giddy.

  “What’s that big clown smile for, Bozo?” Astrid asked Proto, who suddenly realized he’d been staring at her this whole time. “You off in dreamland? You care to join me back in reality here?”

  “Yes and yes.” He raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”

  “What the F does that mean,” she scowled. But she smiled too and clinked his glass, and they drank away their cares.