As usual, Proto gradually became aware that he was walking through starry wastes fraught with wandering mists, making his way toward Mercune.

  The “usual” ended, though, when he reached the thin wall of mist through which he could see Mercune’s red hair, and he could hear her singing from the other side: “In every petal, You are there.” Rather than leaping through the wall, he found himself simply standing there and listening.

  He wasn’t sure why this was happening. He’d never had conscious control over his actions before crossing this mist wall, and today was no exception.

  Maybe it was the music. He’d been especially focused on it today, even before he fell asleep. Maybe his subconscious mind was so enraptured by Mercune’s song that it had paused here to listen.

  Or perhaps he just wasn’t sure what to do here anymore. Things had seemed to go so well here last time, but it hadn’t done anything to improve the world’s fate. Mercune still chose to be a doer rather than a seer.

  Maybe that’s why some deep part of Proto, today, had decided not to do but to see. And so he watched and listened.

  “In every vein of every leaf, in seeming chaos, You are there,” the red-haired girl sang, roving aimlessly beyond the mists. He could see her clutching her bundle of blood-red flowers to her breast, staring up at the light-speckled dark.

  Then, she turned directly toward him. “Will you be joining me, Chaos Progeny?” She raised a radiant red palm, and the mists between them parted, and the lingering mists in Proto’s mind cleared.

  Before him stood Mercune—at least, she had Mercune’s red hair, faintly freckled face, and lithe frame. But there was nothing teenage in that green gaze. Her usual blitheness was replaced by a serene regality.

  Proto had no idea what was going on, but he realized now was not the time for his usual story about his car having broken down.

  Instead, he responded carefully, “The more I listen to your song, the more I like it.”

  Mercune nodded imperiously, as breezes brushed through the red wisps framing her face. “Well said. When you search for Order in Chaos, you’ll always find a little more. That’s what the song’s about.” She was radiant—maybe literally. Was that a glow?

  “ . . . to whom am I speaking?” asked Proto after a moment.

  Mercune didn’t answer. Instead, she just smiled at him mysteriously.

  Then, she turned away and raised her arms on high. She threw her head back toward the Heavens, so starlight shone along her red hair to below her waist.

  A crimson aura welled to a bulb around her. It pulsed heartlike and wisped away above her. A deep hum swelled until the pebbles quivered, then quavered, then were lost amid the growing sound and light. Then, the red glow flowed from her toward Heaven, drowning the stars in blood-hued brilliance, eddying and surging all about them like a river.

  Proto gawked, then scrunched his gaze against the unbearable shining. He would’ve covered his eyes, but his hands were covering his ears against the deafening hum. The wastes were quaking underfoot.

  Abruptly, a thousand bells rang so violently they shattered—or so it sounded, even with his hands covering his ears.

  When the echoes and afterimages faded from his senses, and he faced Mercune again, she was staring innocently at her blood-red flowers.

  She looked up and met his stare. “You . . . ” she said, her gaze of green ablaze with starlight’s sheen.

  Then, she smiled blithely. “Hello there! What brings you to these parts?”

  The faraway rapture in her gaze was gone. Now, she looked like the normal spritely teen that he remembered. Though he was becoming less and less sure who the “normal” Mercune was.

  “I might ask you the same,” Proto managed, rubbing the lingering sunspots from his eyes.

  “That’d be a silly question!” observed Mercune. “I’m in this dream because it’s my dream. It wouldn’t be here without me. I should be asking you why you’re here! . . . Except, for some reason, I feel like I already have.” She touched her chin thoughtfully, and her gaze suddenly was faraway again.

  “Well, you did just ask me ‘what brings me to these parts,’” noted Proto.

  “True,” Mercune cheerfully agreed, but then murmured: “That’s not what I meant though.” She squinted at something unseen in the distance.

  “I’m a friend,” he shrugged. He wasn’t really answering her question, but it was honest.

  “A friend? Are you?” Her sharp eyes peeled at him like an onion. “Yes. In that case, I should probably learn your name, huh? I’m Mercune.” She thrust out a hand and waited.

  “Proto.” He returned the handshake.

  “Proto!” Mercune gruffly repeated, shaking his hand with exaggerated playful brusqueness. “Is that a last name? Like, ‘Proto. James Proto.’” She made a manly cool face.

  “I’m not a secret agent for a king. Just the Lord of Dreams,” he answered.

  “Ahh. That’s Somnus, right? Flua-Sahng’s son? With the crew of dream visitors?” she replied. “Yeah, I see you guys creeping around my dreams sometimes. I like to freak them out by doing this to them.” She waved a hand, and mists quickly swirled up to chest level.

  Proto forced a chuckle. This had been genuinely funny the first time he’d heard it. Now, though, it just made him sad and wistful. It reminded him that, whatever memories he made here, Mercune wouldn’t share them in the long run. Just like his friends at Somnus’ Palace.

  Proto had lived his life’s best moments in private worlds inhabited by only him. No one would ever share those moments with him.

  Except the Queen of Heaven, he mused with a rueful smile.

  “Something wrong?” Mercune was peering at him. “You look way sadder than you should from my ‘creeping around’ comment!”

  “Oh, I’m just missing simpler times, I guess,” sighed Proto. “Or when I thought things were simple.”

  Mercune nodded stoutly. “Well! Whether or not things are simple up there”—she thumbed up toward the breathing world—“let’s make things simple here and now! We’re just dreaming. Why not?”

  Because I have a future to save, and limited time to do it, and the key to success is what I do right here, right now, Proto mused sadly.

  “Sounds like a plan,” he declared.

  “Good!” Mercune’s brow furrowed and her lips quirked with thought.

  Then, she beamed. “We’re going to play a game. It’s called Truth or Dare. Have you heard of it?”

  Proto had to hold back a chuckle. I played it before your generation even had a name, he mused inwardly.

  “I may have heard the name once or twice,” he answered.

  “Good! Let’s start and you can ask me the rules if you need to,” she said. “Alright! Moment of truth! Or dare.” She tittered. “Truth or dare, Proto?!”

  “Um, dare,” he answered.

  In real life, Proto usually had picked truth. It’s easy to pick truth when you don’t have any deep, dark secrets to reveal.

  That, though, had changed recently. And the last thing Proto wanted to do was to divulge some truth he’d learnt from the future, thereby altering this dream’s outcome and messing up his A/B test.

  “Alright! Dare it is! I dare you toooo . . . ” Mercune tapped her chin and pondered as she too’d. “I dare you to eat this!” she abruptly squealed, waving a hand.

  A giant platter of seared squid appeared in front of him. Not just the tentacles, but the whole kit and caboodle, complete with a huge mantle-head and bulging eyes. Beside it was a tea-and-cakes-sized fork and knife.

  He eyed his cephalopodan meal. Then, he eyed Mercune.

  She fell over laughing. “I’m sorry, Proto! This was mean of me.”

  Proto’s lips curved up. “Joke’s on you! I love calamari. I even dress as a squid for Halloween. And for cosplaying. And for no reason in particular. Did you know giant squids are among the smartest sea creatures?” Approaching the platter, he grabbed the fork and knife in full fists pointing downward, like some caveman assassin. “Sorry, Admiral Ackbar! It was a trap! Meat’s back on the menu, boys!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds very nerdy.” Mercune was wrinkling her nose and smiling.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Proto’s reply was indiscernible as he scarfed down seared tentacle. Nicely cooked. Nicely seasoned!

  “Did you just say ‘delicious’? Or ‘truth or dare’?” asked Mercune.

  “Both,” Proto managed through a mouthful.

  “Hm. Truth!” directed Mercune.

  Proto was pleased that Mercune had proposed playing Truth or Dare. It gave him a good excuse to ask bizarre questions aimed at saving the future. But now that the moment of truth had come—literally—there was a problem.

  He didn’t know what to ask her.

  “Hm. Let me think a minute,” he replied.

  “That’s fine. Not like either of us has places to be!” She spread her arms toward the barren wastes and continued strolling.

  Proto had to get Mercune to choose to be a seer rather than a doer, whatever that meant. He tried to think of questions aimed at that goal.

  But instead, he found himself feeling tired of all this thinking. He felt weighed down beneath his thoughts, like grains of sand in an hourglass, piling on top of him.

  He found himself longing for the old days at Somnus’ Palace, when he’d ad libbed his way through a happy life, moment by moment.

  “I think you’re better off without advance knowledge. Usually,” Astrid once had told him. “It prejudices your decision-making. It makes you think you know more than you do.”

  “You’re awfully quiet, Mister Visitor!” Mercune eventually observed. “Why the long face?”

  Proto tried to rustle up some good humor. “As a matter of fact, I happen to like long faces! Give me a nice, lavishly vertical fa?ade, I say. What have you against the long of face?”

  Mercune took the cue happily. “Nothing at all! Here, Mister I-Like-Long-Faces-and-Calamari, you should love this!” She waved a radiant red hand.

  Proto scanned himself for something that had changed—and found his clothes were misting away. He flung his arms across himself like a Renaissance statue.

  “Try to stay decent!” she chastised, then giggled. “Try to control yourself, Sir!”

  But even now, a black robe with silvery details was forming around him. It looked like something Somnus’ evil twin might have worn.

  “What do you think?” asked Mercune.

  Proto felt a sleeve. “Hm. Nice cut. Nice fabric. But I’m struggling to figure out how this involves me liking long faces,” he observed, as she tittered. “Are you conveying my long face by putting me in a funereal black robe?”

  “No, I’m conveying your long face by giving you a looonngg face!” Mercune conjured up a gaudy Rococo mirror and held it to his face.

  Staring, Proto sighed—at least, he tried to. But instead, his tentacles just wobbled beneath his face.

  He was one of those squid-faced monsters he’d seen in his dream visited by Wentsworth and Uberta.

  Mercune threw back her head and cackled. “Wow! You’re looking ink-credible, Proto!”

  Proto nodded grimly. “Clever. But I think I’m a squid, not an octopus.”

  “Don’t mind me, I’m just kraken myself up over here!” declared his punny friend. “Keep your chins up. You’d make a real splash at a sea-suite party. You’d be the catch of the day!”

  “Are we done yet?” questioned Proto.

  “No way! I’m krill-ing it right now!” she cried. “That’s seven of eight, by the way.”

  Proto wobbled his tentacles at her menacingly.

  “Ahh! Squid-Face is going to squid-nap me!” Mercune ran away, then giggled at him. “That’s eight, we’re done.”

  “By the way,” Proto went on, eying himself in that mirror again and recalling his recent meeting with Aitvaras. “This thing you turned me into. Have you seen one before?”

  “Yep! They pop up down a few Fate Roads,” she explained. “Weird buggers! Never really studied them though.”

  “Really?” he asked. “You saw them and were just like, ‘Ah. This future involves a race of squidmen. That’s nice. Moving on!’”

  She giggled. “It’s not like they’re the only creepy critters I see! You’d be surprised what’s waiting for us.”

  “Like orks?” Proto tried to keep his tone light and joking.

  But her smile faded. “Yes. Like orks. Lots and lots of orks. The Children of the Dust.” She walked a moment in silence. “Anyway, where were we before you went all long-and-wobbly-faced?”

  “Truth or Dare?” he answered.

  “Right! I’m still waiting for my truth!” she said.

  “Aren’t we all.” Proto pressed his lips and pondered. He considered directly asking her, “What would it take to get you to be a seer instead of a doer?” Even if this sent the dream swerving awry, careening toward some disastrous ending, he might get some useful information in the process.

  But he held back. Something told him she wouldn’t respond well to him turning her playful game into something serious. No, he had to ask something you’d actually ask in a friendly game of Truth or Dare.

  At that moment, Proto concluded that Lady Luck must be with him, because he suddenly knew exactly what he’d ask.

  Of course, Lady Luck was responsible for both good luck and bad luck.

  “Where do you see yourself two years from now?” Proto asked Mercune.

  The question sounded innocuous. But in response, she squinted at him, like the cashier when Proto had bought Seasons 1 to 7 of Family Guy and seven packs of Sudafed.

  “That’s . . . a hard question,” she finally answered.

  “What are you talking about?” he retorted playfully. “College? Job? Traveling? Undecided? I thought I was taking it easy on you with that question!”

  “Oh? Did you really?” she murmured. Her green gaze met his sharply, like blades of grass piercing the dirt at Springtide. “The short answer is, I never could see clearly where I’d be two years from now. Just possibilities. But since this is Truth or Dare, and you really want to know, I’ll try again and do my best.”

  At this point, Proto felt he’d misstepped and wanted to retract the question. But he knew it was too late—whatever harm he’d done was done.

  Mercune’s stare drifted to the starry welkin. “What must happen?” she murmured, almost inaudibly. “Guthlaus must disobey Fyrir and use the Fossil. The Pandaemonium must follow. Yemos must survive within the World Rood.”

  “But what about me?” she went on. “So many possibilities. But are they all really possibilities? Could I rule some out? Sometimes the Fates forbid things plainly, sometimes subtly. Could I rule those out?”

  Mercune looked rapt now, with a finger on her chin. Its point was glowing red. “Those possibilities aren’t real; just false reflections. They must dwindle like reflections of reflections. I could follow them forward. They must dwindle in time, yes? How far must I go, I wonder . . . ?” Her eyes went narrow with focus.

  Suddenly, she stiffened, and her gaze snapped to some far off sight. Following her eyes, he didn’t see anything at first.

  Then, the world started changing. The sky reddened and glowed. But it did not fill up with fiery, streaking Elements with manlike bodies and horns, as Proto recalled from earlier dreams.

  Mercune was staring at a far off silhouette of what looked to be a young couple. They were walking toward a half-translucent red wall, shimmering in front of them.

  Odd as this was, Proto’s gaze soon was drawn elsewhere—and who could blame him?

  On all sides, the horizon was melting into a kaleidoscopic collage of people, places and things, like a psychedelic 1970s movie. But it wasn’t rainbow-colored flowers, mushrooms and polyester that Proto saw upon the skyline.

  Rather, it was various forms of death.

  There were mobs with knives, careening cars, soldiers lobbing bombs, spreading explosions, raging fires, a whirling sand-dervish, flaming Elements streaking earthward, and more, much more. And they were all approaching Proto.

  No, he realized a moment later. They were all approaching Mercune.

  This became clear after Proto saw what looked like a Molotov cocktail flying through the air toward Mercune, who still was staring afar obliviously. He tried to run up and drag her away from the falling projectile. But instead, he bounced off an invisible wall, which shimmered red before him.

  Recalling this was just a dream, Proto tried to will the danger away, the way he used to as a visitor. He tried to quench the bottle’s fire and send it soaring awry, far from Mercune. But the dream was as unmoved and unchanging as a mountain pounded by a man’s fists.

  He watched in horror as the explosive struck Mercune and exploded cacophonously.

  But when the flames faded, she still was standing there, and nothing had happened to her—well, almost nothing. Her image was just a bit paler.

  The change was so slight he almost doubted it was there. It could’ve been his eyes playing tricks on him, with the explosion’s afterimage still blotting out his sight.

  But when Mercune was battered by a hail of bullets a moment later, then struck by an out-of-control car, and then crushed beneath a falling building, her image continued to become more pallid and ghostly. Her image climbed a staircase, emerged into the daylight, went wide-eyed—and then was set upon by three cackling men. They reached her in seconds. And she became paler.

  With each death, she faded further. Stabbing knives, fallen power lines, marauding looters, a pack of feral Dobermans—and a dwindling image of Mercune.

  The deaths disappeared as they descended upon her, and gradually so did she, till only a spectral outline of her spritely figure remained. The starlight barely caught upon her diaphanous form. The red of her hair and the green of her tunic were no more than a tinted lens between him and the blue beyond.

  Yet he could see she still was watching them—that silhouetted couple faraway, now drawing close to that half-translucent wall of red. The girl in that couple was raising something in her hand. And, with a flash, the red wall parted for them. They walked through it.

  “Oh. There is a way,” murmured Mercune, wide-eyed with an entranced zeal. She reached toward them, her whole frame waxing with ethereal red. “All you have to do is . . . ”

  Her head snapped back, like she’d just been hit from behind in a car crash. Her legs went limp, and she seemed barely to be balancing.

  Proto dashed toward her again. This time, no half-translucent red boundary stopped him, and he caught her just as her knees gave out. He held her up a moment, peering past her sagging eyelids for signs of life.

  Then, she shook her head and looked up at him. She blinked, then giggled. “There’s a face to wake up to.”

  Proto wanted to feel flattered, but he supposed she was just giddy. People waking from unconsciousness always spoke loopy nonsense, right?

  “Wow!” declared Mercune, now standing on her own as he released her. “Don’t know what got into me there. In fact, I don’t really remember what just happened. Sort of like a dream. A dream within a dream. Did I do anything . . . untoward?”

  Proto blinked, as she teeheed at him. He scanned the horizon for signs of the mass destruction that had been unfolding moments earlier, but there was only waste and starlight.

  “Just kidding!” she went on. “Also, this is a dream, so bad things here don’t count, right? Or do they? Can you be a good person if you enjoy doing bad things in a dream?”

  “Good question, Madame Philosopher,” he managed. He was just glad she, and he, were okay, and they hadn’t been erased from the annals of time or something.

  She giggled. “Or bad question, as the case may be!”

  And on they walked and talked, until they’d reached the thin mist wall concealing Flua-Sahng.

  “It’s interesting,” declared Mercune, turning to him. “I feel like I should be saying, ‘It sure was nice to meet you! I hope you have a fine life!’ But something tells me I don’t need to. Like I’d be misunderstanding something if I said that. What do you think?”

  Proto stared at her. There was no apparent way she could know what was truly going on here—that their whole meeting was just one of many visions of a potential future dream. Indeed, she was just a dream-vision, so how could she know anything?

  Yet still, that gleam in her green gaze . . . !

  “Goodbyes already?” he managed. “Aren’t we going to keep going that way?” He pointed toward the mist wall.

  Mercune’s freckle-dusted cheeks curved into a smile, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Mm-hmm. Alright then, Man of Mystery! On we go.” She waved a radiant red hand toward the plane of brumy whiteness, and it dispersed to waning wisps.

  Beyond the dwindling mists stood Flua-Sahng, her long red hair falling loosely about her radiant raiment of star-shaped leaves. Through her poised serenity showed a trace of mild amusement.

  “Welcome. I see we have a visitor, Mercune?” the Queen of Heaven observed.

  “Yes. That’s plain to see,” the girl replied with an even smile. “What puzzles me is why you’re acting like you didn’t know he’d be coming!”

  Flua-Sahng blinked, as Mercune spoke on. “I know your expressions like the back of my hand. Or my own face. Probably cause it’s so much like my face!”

  “Well, aren’t you precocious,” chided Flua-Sahng. “Questioning the Queen of Heaven. And comparing yourself to her!”

  “Mm-hmm,” affirmed the sanguine teen. “Aaand what are you going to do about it?”

  “Perhaps . . . something like this!” Flua-Sahng snapped her fingers, and Mercune evanesced into dispersing mists.