Facing Lucy’s sentinel stance with his usual inscrutable lack of an expression, the King swept his robed arm through the air in a grand sweeping motion in front of him. A second later, a cascade of bubbles flitted in from the far reaches of the sky, hovering in the air between himself and Lucy.

  The previous times the King had summoned forth the Feat bubbles, Lucy had seen that grandiose flourish of his hand as an embodiment of an almost childlike wonder, as if he were Merlin showcasing to a young King Arthur all the myriad victories and spoils he would acquire on his unstoppable adventure. But now, Lucy couldn’t help but see that same motion as a rote, almost commanding one, forcing her being to march down the aisle of progression that the collective unconscious had already laid out for her. Sure, she had freedom over which of these Feats to choose, but who decided how many options she had, and what those options were? She was still subject to the limitations imposed on her, and Lucy just had to grit her teeth and begrudgingly accept that fact as she stepped up closer to the swarm of bubbles that demanded her attention.

  “Show me only the three Feats I was considering last time.”

  Only when the sentence left her mouth did Lucy realize how she had phrased her request not as a question, but as a command, without any hint of politeness. This made her body jerk as she instinctively readied herself to apologize—but why should she? At this point, she was already deep into the process of working as a Dream Knight, so now like an employee who already knew all the ins-and-outs of the cashier and shelves they tended, there was no need for formalities, only terse efficient communication.

  But there was more to it than that, and Lucy told herself it was right to feel this way. She told herself it was right to feel like she could demand what she wanted unapologetically when the other party before her was clearly not on her side, not the total and complete ally she had been led to believe from the start.

  “Very well,” said the King, slowly raising his hand again, his robe’s sleeve hanging down heavy from his arm with a momentous weight.

  Meanwhile, Lucy clutched her hand to her chest. Without warning, her mind was flooded with memories of Keilani and Ricardo. That warm, inviting smile on Keilani’s face when they had been running from the royal guards and Keilani had readily welcomed Lucy into the team. That look of reassurance and calm determination on Ricardo’s face when nodding to Lucy when they had found themselves trapped in that strange microcosm of Kenneth’s memory of his aunt’s living room. Looking back on all of that and similar memories, Lucy was struck by how she had taken for granted their camaraderie, their sincere investment in her individual well-being on top of their shared mission. Now that she was standing here, without them, and with only the King and his dubious geniality around her, those memories punched a hole in her soul where swathes of emptiness leaked out and threatened to drown her. What did not help was the endlessly unfurling sky around her, larger than ever, emphasizing all the empty space around Lucy entirely devoid of people who cared about her.

  “B-Before we proceed,” Lucy said, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in her throat while bringing her hand back down to her Ideal’s handle to reassume a more dignified pose, “I have a question.”

  The King turned his head away from the direction of the Feat bubbles and toward Lucy’s face, his raised and open palm frozen mid-motion. “Very well. What do you desire to know?”

  Lucy clutched her Ideal’s handle firmly but tenderly, as if it were the hand of someone she did not want to let go. “If a Dream Knight I teamed up with…passes away during the Dream, will I get to meet them again?”

  She stared up at the King, biting back curses at how her eyes pricked with tears. She swallowed hard, renewing the unyielding fortitude in her legs, and in her hands continuing to grip her Ideal.

  The King gazed at her silently, his shoulders relaxed but the downward angle of his head expressing either a bow of understanding or a deep, concerned gaze. Then, in a careful, gentle motion that swam through the blue sky like clouds, he swung his arms inward and brought his hands together.

  “You are, indeed, most likely to cross paths with your past comrades again. For no death in the realm of Dreams can undo the intertwining of your destinies.”

  “I see.” At this point, Lucy could no longer maintain her face’s composure as her lips quivered and tears ran down her cheeks like rivulets. She brought her gloved hand up to her face, wiping quickly to be rid of the tears and to hide this moment of weakness from the King.

  “You need not rush,” said the King with measured calm. “Please feel free to take as much time as you require before we proceed.”

  “I…am fine.” Lucy sniffled and wiped away the last of her tears, looking back up with steely dignity. She did not want to let herself feel as though she were comfortable showing vulnerability to someone who would listen to her—for the truth was that this King did not fill that role. When had he actually shown her true empathy and understanding? All those words of reassurance and encouragement he had offered in past conversations had the ulterior purpose of pushing her toward becoming a Dream Knight, and later toward continuing down the path of a Dream Knight. Whenever Lucy was in distrees over foibles that didn’t have to do with her progression, he would do exactly as he was doing now, leaving her to process it all on her own while he stood by silently, with the expectation that she would ultimately return to the next step in the process. And, foolish as she was, she had always followed that exact expectation without hesitation.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  But here and now, Lucy would not let that illusion of compassion settle. The only help and trust she would receive would be her own as she continued down her own path she was forging. And that was why she gazed at the King intently and said, “Allow me to choose my next Feat.”

  “Very well.” The King uttered this without skipping a beat, bringing his hand back up to redo the earlier gesture as if it had never been interrupted.

  Once his hand closed into a fist, the vast majority of Feat bubbles flew off in every direction, scattering through the infinite borders of the world. Afterwards, only three bubbles remained.

  Lucy stepped up and peered into each bubble in turn. Sure enough, they were the Feats she had been considering last time for conquering the Dream of darkness:

  Dark Vision

  Conjure Light (Small)

  Concentrated Illumination

  Seeing the miniature sword light up and carve a path through total darkness for Concentrated Illumination still made Lucy’s heart flutter. And yet, when she once again peered into the bubble for Dark Vision and saw the monsters come into view—saw the enemies that needed to be vanquished outlined so clearly before her eyes—there was that familiar tingling from the depths of her soul.

  No, she told herself. This isn’t what you want. A sword of light that cuts through the darkness—that is the image of Lucy Lockhart.

  Speaking this loudly in her mind as if it were an incantation or holy decree, Lucy tore herself away from the Feat bubble for Dark Vision and took a heavy, decisive stance in front of the bubble for Concentrated Illumination. She raised her Ideal up above her head so that its blade caught the glaring sunlight overhead, then she brought the shimmering metal down into the bubble with a resounding pop.

  Like the first time she had done this, the sound of the Feat bubble popping was airy and upbeat, echoing the childhood joy of acquiring a new toy or seeing one’s characters in a role-playing game levelling up. Her Ideal’s faint blue aura became an opaque white light which shot out in every direction far past the horizons, past this world of endless azure and onward into the countless directions of the Lattice of Dreams.

  With the sound of the bubble popping still ringing in her ears, Lucy brought her sword back to her side, panting. Only then did she realize how much force and energy she had put into that downward thrust, how hungry her body had been to make that intended action a reality before anything—before even her own mind—could negate the act.

  Bringing her Ideal back to her side slowly, Lucy gazed down at the dazzling and faintly blue blade. Then, as if a new wind had come in without warning and coursed through Lucy’s being, she gripped her Ideal’s handle with both hands and raised the sword up above her head.

  “Can I use Feats in my own Dream?”

  Lucy said this with expectant calm, still holding the sword skyward, but inside she was cursing herself for never having asked such an obvious question. And this was after she had already gone through the landing-back-in-her-Dream process three times, including two painful and embarrassing crash landings. Using Feats might be the key to avoiding all that trouble, especially while her alignments were still on the low side.

  But her last landing had been perfect and painless. If she were to pull that off again, denounce gravity and rebel against it…

  Lucy bit her lip until it bled. She did not need to go down that path of temptation again.

  “Indeed,” said the King, “you may use your Feats here as you wish. In fact, because this Dream is your own, there is no chance for the laws of the Dream to diminish or otherwise subtly restrict qualities of your Feats, so using them here will allow them to manifest in their purest, most unabridged form. That said, they are still subject to the timing threshold between usages and other usage conditions.”

  “I see. Understood.” So that ruled out the possibility of spamming one good Feat every time Lucy returned to her Final Dream. This was disappointing, but that was a problem for later, as this did not impede what she was hoping to do now.

  Reaffirming her grip on her Ideal and raising it even higher above her head, as high as it would go, Lucy recounted what the plaque had said for Concentrated Illumination:

  The beam lasts for as long as the wielder focuses on it.

  Focuses on it…Lucy wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she closed her eyes and visualized the smooth, silver sheen of her Ideal’s blade and the way it faintly glowed blue. She imagined that translucent blue aura changing to an opaque white, similar to when she acquired a Feat by popping its bubble. Then she pictured that strong white light growing outward, not against the sky, but against pitch black darkness—no, a darkness deeper and more impenetrable than that, like the one that had enveloped her in that Dream.

  She felt it first, like the warmest, most gentle raindrops falling on her eyelids and seeping through so that streaks of light leaked in. Then, when she opened her eyes, it was as though she were holding the sun in her own hands—a sun with the pristine blade of her Ideal at the centre, radiating more and more of that powerful but gentle white light in rippling waves of luminosity.

  Lucy’s cheeks ran hot with tears again. This was not the first time she had raised her Ideal above her head and became overwhelmed with emotion and the weight of the action she had just made. The first time she had done so was to affirm her decision to become a Dream Knight. This act of using her newly-acquired Feat was nowhere near as transformative and lasting in consequence, but to Lucy in this moment, it was just as momentous an occasion. For in that pure white light she saw her optimism, her idealism, her untainted desire to become the Knight of Understanding she had always yearned for, all of which had become clouded with darkness ever since she had returned to her Dream and lost her sense of connection to everything she knew. But now, she had decided.

  No matter what, she would not let that light die out within her soul.