One moment, Mercune was peering at them both in confusion.

  The next, she was melting into mist. In the space of two blinks, she’d become wisps of whitish-grey, dissipating into the air.

  This left Proto alone with the Queen of Heaven.

  “So. How did we do?” she asked him politely.

  “Um. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he said.

  “Mm. Mercune is something else, isn’t she?” admired the Mother of All, ignoring his question. “I’m glad you got to see that so soon. It takes a lot to coax out her ominously terrifying side. But you managed it quite handily.”

  Proto wasn’t sure if she was complimenting or making fun of him. Probably both, the way Somnus usually was. Like mother, like son.

  “A lot of firepower for such a slender thing, don’t you think?” she continued. “I wonder whom she got it from?” The Mother of All fanned her freckle-dusted face, glancing askew and smiling.

  “Does that mean the dream worked out well?” he asked hopefully.

  “Hm? What, with respect to the world and its fate?” She winced sympathetically. “No, not even slightly.”

  She peered off toward something Proto couldn’t see. “In this future—Version B, I think you’re calling it, yes?—Mercune and Fyrir do manage to create the Boundaries that fragment the Earth and drain the fire-raining Elements of their power, ending their destruction. But they do so too late. The world is irrevocably ruined. Life dies off within a few decades.”

  Proto grimaced. “Ah.”

  “What, did you really think that performance would get you a good ending?” chided Flua-Sahng, waving in the direction that Proto had come from.

  “ . . . no. I guess I didn’t.” He hadn’t felt this humiliated since some of his early dream-visits with Astrid.

  “But don’t get too down about it,” she encouraged him. “You got unlucky. You ran into a problem. That’s okay. Maybe solving that problem is something we have to do to get our good future—and you were lucky enough to discover the problem early! Sometimes, the luckiest thing is not getting lucky!”

  Proto blinked and struggled follow her reasoning.

  “I know, hard for you to wrap your mind around, isn’t it?” Her lips quirked up. “Incidentally, that’s why I’ve always had some slight reservations about Somnus and Lady Luck and . . . well, that’s neither here nor there.”

  Now Proto was well and truly lost.

  “What I can tell you is this,” said Flua-Sahng. “I’ve already seen, remember, many variants of this dream. The worst ones usually involve your conversation cutting off short like this. But the better you get along with Mercune, the better the outcome seems to be. The best version so far is what you’re calling Version A—the one where you two make friends and she gives you that red rock at the end.”

  This made more sense. “So . . . in short, I have ten minutes to steer Mercune toward saving the future by getting her to like me?”

  “Doesn’t it just suit you?” Flua-Sahng cried happily. “I daresay you’ve been practicing for this! For months!” Zeal gleamed upon her gaze, and, for a moment, she looked awfully like Somnus.

  Proto stared at her, his lips falling apart as he pondered the implications.

  Surely, she wasn’t suggesting that his months at Somnus’ Palace—all those dream visits, and all the times he’d had with Astrid, Lilac, Dahlia, and so forth—were merely . . . practice? So I could get a better outcome in Mercune’s dream?

  “What, did you think it was all for fun?” Flua-Sahng retorted, apparently reading his thoughts again. “That your whole go-to-Somnus’-Palace-and-find-true-love plotline was just some arbitrary scheme I cooked up? Like, ‘That’s how the Queen of Heaven gets her kicks! She writes wish-fulfilment romcoms for young men and watches them play out!’”

  “I mean, yes, I do do that. I’m all for true love!” she went on. “But for 99.99999% of humanity, I’m content to help them find it up there in the breathing world. Perhaps you wondered why I picked you to find it in the dream realm?”

  Proto felt tired of staring dumbly as people ran circles round him. “I thought you picked me because of how I sleepwalk,” he grumbled.

  She blinked and tilted her head. “Ah. You were listening. Yes, that’s the best answer. But that’s for another day.”

  “Anyhow, I’d like to clarify something. ” The Mother of All smiled mollifyingly. “I really do want you to find true love. And you’ll have your chance to find it, when your time comes. Your Saturn Return. Really, it means more to me than you know.”

  Taking a deep breath, swelling with both air and light, she suddenly was regarding him with infinite warmth and care. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You just have to save the future first!”

  Her words and touch should have inspired Proto. But instead, he just found himself recalling all those Possibilities again—all those memories of futures spent with Astrid, Lilac, Dahlia and others, believing that he had found his one and only true love. And, with this knowledge, everything felt false.

  “Ahh . . . That’s what this is about.” Flua-Sahng studied him sadly.

  Proto’s lips pressed tight. “In the dream-vision of Somnus’ Palace that you gave me, I’d thought I’d made a choice at the end.” He stared at her, his mind reeling through memories. “But when I got here, suddenly, I recalled all the possible choices. Why? How is that possible?”

  Pity showed on Flua-Sahng’s face. “Well, it’s possible because I deliberately shared those futures with you. That is, everyone you might have chosen during your Saturn Return at Somnus’ Palace. As for why . . . that’s a harder question.”

  “The short answer is, I foresaw many possible versions of your visit to Mercune’s dream. But her dream ended up following just a few different paths. She’d die in one of just a few different ways, either during the fiery pandaemonium caused by my brethren or soon afterward. And, sooner or later, inevitably, the void would come.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “The one thing that exploded that, opening up dozens of new paths, was something I found out by accident,” she recollected. “One day, I accidentally explored a future where somehow, impossibly, you had memories of not just one choice—not just one Possibility—but all of them.”

  “And, lo and behold, suddenly, Mercune’s dream started going in all sorts of weird directions! Dozens of different endings! Dozens of different ways that Mercune died afterward!”

  A moment after excitedly recalling this, Flua-Sahng winced. “Sorry. It’s hard to speak sensitively and discuss alternative futures at the same time,” she said. “But yes. That’s why I shared those memories with you—to open up new outcomes for Mercune’s dream. You’ll remember them whenever you cross into the Mists. Whenever you jump through that Mist wall.”

  “But not when I’m awake?” asked Proto.

  “No, I’m afraid not. Not that it’s against the rules, per se, as long as you’re a seer,” she noted. “But I see no need to burden you with that.”

  “Yeah. Agreed,” he said.

  Flua-Sahng winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t like to make anyone else carry that burden, besides myself.” She paused, lips pressed. “You know what? Here.” She waved a radiant hand.

  Abruptly, the memories of those many Possibilities wisped away, like water beadlets on a flame-heated pan. Or, perhaps, like dreams upon awakening.

  “Yes, let me take all that off your shoulders. Everything after my son said, ‘So, Proto! What will it be?’” She imitated his booming bass, then smiled. “I’m afraid it’s not permanent. The memories will return when you cross into the Mists again. But it’s the best I can do.”

  As the memories faded, Proto stared mutely at the drifting mists. He felt sadness and emptiness at first. But these were just dwindling echoes of emotions. Soon, he forgot what was sad and what had been emptied out. Soon, he just felt light. Not exactly happy, but at least like someone who could be happy.

  “There. That’s better, yes?” The Queen of Heaven faced him warmly. “Light as life again?”

  Meeting her emerald eyes, Proto suddenly felt playful. “Hm. Where am I? Do I know you?” He tilted his head at her. “I hope?”

  “Ah. Welcome back, Proto!” A flush of eminence swirled around her as she beamed. “You recover quickly.”

  “So I’ve been told!” he mused.

  She laughed and shook her head at Heaven. “Well. That didn’t take much. I feel better. Anyhow, I’ll have to let you go soon. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about while I’m here?”

  “Actually, yes. I wanted to ask you about a possible future,” said Proto.

  Her green gaze widened. “Oh?”

  “Could you answer that sort of question? Or would that be against the rules?” he asked.

  “Well. Perhaps I could,” she answered carefully, “if I wanted to.” She tilted her head at him.

  Proto nodded. “It’s about Yemos.”

  “Ah.” The uncertainty on her face melted into a wistful smile. “Yes, do go on.”

  “So,” Proto began, “back at the Shadowcaster, Dahlia spoke about how Yemos survived some falling fires inside the World Rood. That means he survived the fiery pandaemonium caused by the Elements inside that hollow tree he’ll be visiting, right?”

  “But what I’m wondering about,” he went on, “is that weird stuff Dahlia said afterward. About how he has to walk through flames or something. ‘And in his dying will he turn undying,’ she said.”

  “I don’t know what that means. But it sure sounds like Yemos is important to the future. And getting a good future outcome,” concluded Proto. “Am I right?”

  The Queen of Heaven regarded him bemusedly. “My, you are quick, Proto.”

  “And you’re just realizing that?” he lightly rejoined.

  “No. In fact, I’m repeating something I’ve told you before.” She smiled kindly. “As you would realize, if you didn’t have the memory of a nightly blackout drunk.”

  “Zing,” frowned Proto. “I fully acknowledge the memory but blame the drinking on your son. That said, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Well, given how quick you are, I’m sure you’ll figure it out!” she waved, looking afar and smiling. “Sooner or later—or earlier, as the case may be.”

  Proto peered at her and tried to parse her words.

  “Hm, not quite that quick, are we?” Flua-Sahng batted her lashes sweetly. “Anyhow, regarding Yemos, yes. He survives the flames falling from Heaven within the World Rood, together with Mannus and Ausrine. That, I’ve seen clearly. And, indeed, he plays quite a big role afterward. Maybe even bigger than you, Mister Sleepwalker!”

  “Oh?” said Proto.

  “Yes, how does that make you feel, Mister I-Get-Picked-to-Make-Big-Choices? I’ll tell you what, they’re not as big as his choice!” she bantered.

  “I feel like I’m being mocked inappropriately by someone much smarter than me,” observed Proto.

  “Oh, Proto,” laughed the Queen of Heaven. “Modesty is winning in a man. Dahlia was right about that. Or will be right? Would be right?” She looked askance, lips quirked with thought. “Anyhow, I’m never inappropriate, by definition. I make the rules!” Rose-gold radiance swelled around her.

  Proto blinked at her sudden eminence. “Um. All that to say”—he paused, and her lips curved up—“I wonder if what I need to do in Mercune’s dream is somehow tied to Yemos.”

  “Quite possible,” she agreed. “It’s a big world out there. But when you winnow it down to the people whose decisions decide what road Fate will take, it’s a lot smaller. And Yemos is most certainly one of them.”

  He nodded. “Good. Maybe I’ll test that next time I’m here.”

  “Why not?” she concurred. “Couldn’t go worse than what you did today, right?”

  She tittered as he sighed. “Alright. As always, it’s been a pleasure—”

  “Wait.” He raised a finger. “One more question.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You really like to do that ‘one more question’ thing, don’t you? Save the big one for goodbyes? Well, let’s hear it!”

  “So,” said Proto, “the Fossil—the one that Fyrir’s team of scientists will use to awaken the Elements—is your Fossil. What’s the story behind that?”

  The Mother of All blinked and looked at him, like parents do when their children ask about the long-buried past. “Hm. Well, suffice to say that long ago—right around when human history was starting—I lost someone very dear to me. Or maybe he lost me. After that, I didn’t have the heart to live up in the breathing world anymore.” She sadly smiled away a sigh.

  “Beyond that, Proto, I choose not to answer today!” she concluded.

  “Ah.” He wasn’t sure what more he could say to the Queen of Heaven, but he felt for her. Hopefully his face would convey that.

  “Yes,” she confirmed, smiling and squeezing his hand again. “You have a kind heart, Proto. Entirely too indecisive, perhaps! But a kind heart makes most faults forgivable, that one included.”

  Proto wished he had some reply. But, again, what could he say?

  “Well, on that note—and don’t you dare spoil it by jumping in again!—go with my blessings, Proto,” the Queen of Heaven enjoined. She archly flicked her hand out toward him.

  The mists behind her rushed forth, swirled round Proto a few times, and bore him away.

  Into the ambiguous mirk he flew, tumbling away from all discernible sights, till his prospect was merely a grey obscurity dotted with stars, whirling in unison.

  Abruptly he lurched into a world of shapes and color—his worn couch, his semi-worn clothes pile, his Ikea cassette rack, and his old CRT T.V., from which the dreamy strains of Longing for the Past were drifting.

  He started to sit up. Then, realizing it was still dark outside, he collapsed back onto the couch. Which was fine, since he wasn’t quite ready to get up yet.

  It’s not that he was sleepy. Indeed, he felt well-rested—even after spending much of the night in Mercune’s dream. It almost felt like he were cheating time by being productive in his sleep.

  Well, somewhat productive. It could’ve gone better. But he’d learnt a couple lessons, at least:

  First, don’t ask Mercune how she got to know Flua-Sahng. The conversation had spiraled downward after that point.

  Second, try to get along with Mercune well enough that she’d give him the red rock as a gift, as she had in his first visit—that is, in Version A.

  Proto wasn’t sure which of these two issues had caused today’s bad outcome. He’d just have to address both.

  Proto tried to start planning how he’d go about doing that. But instead, he found himself listening to the music and recalling times past in Somnus’ Palace—sitting with Mayger, Jet, Jag and Dahlia, playing Euchre and bantering the day away.

  Would those bright times return, like Spring after a long Winter? Or, like glorious vistas in the rear-view mirror, would they just keep dwindling behind him?

  Of course, his visit to Somnus’ Palace hadn’t happened yet. Perhaps those fond times would never even come to be—mere dreams that Proto dreamt but never made real.

  So, he lay alone and harked back to what had passed him by, and what would pass and what might pass, as time passed on toward things remembered and unremembered.