Chapter 20 Unlikely Allies
Unlikely Allies
I gasp, stumbling backward slightly so my heel catches on the edge of the square. I must have misheard her.
But she floats closer and says it again. “Barbie? Is that you?”
“How—how do you know my name?”
Instead of answering, a cry spills from her lips. “It is you!” she says, releasing her umbrella, which closes and shoots back up toward the sky as she lunges forward—and then her arms are around me.
I stiffen, unsure if I should try to run (not that there’s anywhere to run to). Or if I should ask her what she’s doing. Or if I should (again) ask her how she knows my name.
But as she pulls away, I see the tears against her cheeks. Her eyes are full of real emotion and her voice is thick with sorrow as she says, “I never thought I would see you again.”
None of this makes sense. She’s so happy I almost feel bad saying the next few words. “I’m sorry… but you’re mistaken. We’ve never met.”
Then a thought occurs to me.
Does she think I’m my mom?
I suppose there’s a chance my mother visited this world, if she was able to make it to Everland.
But this woman just called me Barbie.
My mom’s name started with a “B,” but it wasn’t that.
The woman sniffs, taking a step back, wiping at her face. “Of course you don’t remember… you were… you were just a baby.”
She still isn’t making any sense. “What do you mean?”
Her blue eyes roam across my face, and she doesn’t answer my question, not directly. “There’s a lot you should know. But first… you should see. Follow me.”
She turns and strides forward. And before her foot can plunge through the open gorge, a bridge forms below her, rippling from her step, a road made of glimmering pink stone.
It continues through the mist, then onto a land made of every shade of pink imaginable that is rapidly forming before me in a ripple like a rolling tapestry.
She’s halfway across the bridge before she realizes I’m not behind her. The woman pauses, then turns. She smiles reassuringly. “You’re safe here,” she says. “This… this is your home.”
Home.
It’s not. Heartland is my home.
But I don’t say anything, because I have too many questions, and even though this woman isn’t making any sense, she’s right. I should see.
I take a careful step forward. Then another, until I’m right next to her.
Together, we step into Dreamland.
A strange familiarity spills through my chest the moment we’re on the other side of the bridge and the world comes fully into focus.
It isn’t just the whisper of the woman’s words in the back of my head, of her claiming I’ve been here before… no.
This land looks like Heartland.
For one, there’s the color: pink. And then there’s the glittering sheen of magic, touching everything.
The more I look around, though, the more I register the differences between the two places.
Unlike in Heartland, the mist clears the moment we step foot off the bridge.
The sky is wide and unobstructed. There’s a rainbow arching above, seeming to stretch across the entire land, bookending it, made up only of different shades of pink, from the palest peony to rich cerise.
Streets of buildings in coordinated hues are grouped together beginning from one end of the arcing rainbow, as if birthed from the rainbow itself.
Each section seems to have its own purpose.
The lightest shades house what look like offices, the strawberry hues resemble all types of shops, rose shades seem to be homes, and the darkest pink color of all forms a towering building across a large lake.
The pink path weaves through all these various structures to the very center of the town: a glorious fountain with a statue in the middle made up of the six stars from the necklaces. People mill around happily, wearing bright smiles and pastel pinks.
I grip the charms while I look at the town center in wonder.
“You said this was my home,” I say to the woman haltingly as my eyes drink everything in. “What… what did you mean by that? I’ve never been here before.”
She glances at me. Hesitates. “How much do you know?” she finally asks.
My fingers tighten around the charms. Unease settles across my skin.
“Nothing, I guess?”
Because Robin never told me.
She kept me safe behind the walls of Swancrest, and the mist around Heartland. She always said it was for my protection, but now, for the first time…
I wonder if there’s another reason.
Why was Robin so desperate for me not to reach Dreamland? What does she not want me to know?
Whatever this woman is about to tell me…
I don’t know if I’m prepared to hear it.
Still, I roll my shoulders back, bracing myself.
I press firmly against the necklaces and let a new outfit spill over me, created from various pieces in my wardrobe—a patchwork blazer of pinks, pants with glittering stitching, and solid heels.
I’m ready.
I turn to face the woman fully.
“Please—” My face scrunches as I realize I never got her name.
“Lune,” she supplies.
It doesn’t sound familiar at all. Robin never mentioned her.
“Lune. Tell me everything.” I remember what she said just a few minutes before. “Show me.”
For a moment, she pauses. Seems to waver.
But then she raises her hand—and pink glitter begins to swirl from her fingers.
I’m looking at a little girl wearing all black, dark hair pulled into a severe-looking low bun at the nape of her neck.
She’s exiting a house that has cobwebs for windows and a door that doesn’t fit its frame. The bricks making up the exterior look unsteady, halfway to becoming rubble. When she slams the door shut, the entire facade rattles.
The home hardly looks livable. Also: It looks haunted.
And it doesn’t fit in at all with the rest of the perfectly pink houses around it.
Storm clouds circle in a crown atop the triangular, lopsided roof, even though everywhere else the weather is sunny and shining.
When the girl walks past a group of other kids her own age, they scuttle back, as if afraid to be close to her.
Only one doesn’t move away. She wears pink bows in her blonde hair that match her perfect pink outfit. Instead of retreating, she looks curiously at the girl in the dark clothing as she hurries past.
“Why does she look so sad?” I ask Lune.
Lune looks sad, too. “Her parents died when she was young. She was all alone, drenched in sorrow. No one tried to reach out a hand in the darkness, fearing it would dim their own light. Until one day…”
She motions for me to look, and now I see that same little girl in the pink clothing knocking on the haunted-looking house, before checking her knuckles as if worried some of the house’s dust had transferred onto her.
For a moment, nothing happens. No one answers.
Then the door flings open, and the girl in pink straightens.
“What do you want?” the little girl in black spits out.
The girl in pink blinks quickly. She smiles. “I—I wanted to see if you’re free. We’re all… we’re all playing hide-and-seek.” She points behind her, toward a group of kids waiting in the distance by the fountain, who don’t look pleased at all that they might be getting a new addition.
The black-clothed girl’s eyes narrow. “I hate hide-and-seek,” she says. As if to emphasize her point, a bolt of lightning in the storm atop her house strikes the roof, sending a few black tiles sputtering.
Thunder rattles the frame of the wooden home. More of the roof deteriorates. The storm clouds that hover over the roof grow, melting across the sky, raining water and hail, taking over the square, and the other kids scream, scattering.
The girl in pink is unfazed. She plucks one of the dead flowers from the garden, and, under her touch, it blooms. It grows and grows, blossoming, until it becomes a bright pink umbrella. She smiles again. “I don’t mind the rain. How about hopscotch?” she asks.
The girl in black narrows her eyes at her. Then she slams the door shut.
The girl in pink sighs. She walks down the half-rotted path. But when she’s nearly to the fountain, the window at the top of the triangular house opens.
“Hey… do you like cards?” the girl in the dark dress calls after her.
The girl in pink turns around, beaming. “I love cards!”
The other girl’s gaze turns wary, her eyes dark with suspicion. “I bet you hate spiders, though.”
The girl in pink frowns. “I love spiders. They’re weavers, like me.”
A pinch in my chest forms. I knew—I already knew, deep inside me, what I was looking at. But to have the confirmation…
The little girl in pink is my mother.
But the rose blossomed into an umbrella under her touch. Which means…
My mother had her own magic?
Color blurs past me, time moving, cutting off my train of thought as Lune continues to show me the story.
I watch my mother and the girl in black walking side by side. The girl in black is being followed by a single cloud, raining down on her as if reflecting her mood. My mother is right next to her, holding a pink umbrella.
I watch them play. I watch the girl in black smile for the first time. And the ever-present storm cloud that hovers over the girl… over time, it lightens. It turns dark gray, then lighter, and lighter still. Then white.
Then it disappears altogether.
She laughs at a joke my mother says, and suddenly—
A sun appears over her head. It glimmers through the town square, streaming rays of golden light.
And her house that was falling apart with neglect and dust slowly becomes a home, laughter where there was silence, warmth where there was only cold. The girl still wears all black, but it doesn’t feel mournful anymore.
Time moves again, and the girls are older now, young women. I marvel at seeing so much of myself reflected in this vision of my mother.
And now I know for certain who the girl in black is, too. I had a suspicion… but I’ve never seen her wear that shade before. She’s always in pink.
It’s Robin.
Robin, who was once alone, scared, and embittered… until my mother offered her a hand through the darkness.
Time keeps moving. Robin and my mother are the best of friends, more like sisters. I watch them in rapt attention. My mother’s house is now right next to Robin’s. It’s bright magenta. They visit each other every day, so often that a path between the two houses forms, merging them together.
“The two most powerful among us. Unlikely friends… joined together.” Lune is speaking, but I don’t look at her; I can’t tear my eyes away from Robin and my mother.
Color blurs again, then stops.
There’s the cry of a baby. My mother walks out of her pink house, swaddling me, taking me through the town square, showing me off. She smiles—but I recognize a touch of sadness in her eyes.
“Your father died before you were born,” Lune tells me.
“Vicious creatures began to attack those with magic, coming through from distant worlds. The people of Dreamland fought to keep them at bay. Your father was one of the warriors killed in battle. Everyone feared that more would come… and that you would be in danger.”
Just then, Robin leaves the house. She glares at anyone who gets too close to me and my mother. “But Robin… she vowed to protect you as she always protected your mother.”
Time passes again. A darkness has fallen over Dreamland, the pink leached of its color. My mother and Robin are standing in the town square, with me playing at their feet. Their expressions are serious and sad. They join hands.
Between them, obsidian and pink magic materialize, shining then merging, twirling together—before forming two necklaces: a “B” for my mom, and an “R” for Robin. Three shooting stars surround each letter.
One magic, joined… and then split between them.
“When the darkness closed in on us, they knew they needed to take you somewhere safer. They decided, with their great power… to leave Dreamland and journey far away, to create something new.”
I swallow, but the knot in my throat doesn’t loosen.
“They made a whole land just for you.”
Hundreds of people are gathered to say goodbye. Many leave to return to their homes. Some remain to join Robin and my mother.
In a burst of black and pink light, they all vanish.
At once, the pink glitter falls away, and all the images disappear with it. We’re back in the village square in present time, the fountain spurting behind me. I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drops onto my chest.
My voice is low and rough, my mind spinning. I’m not sure where to start, but there’s one question that stands out from the others.
“My mother had magic?”
Wardrobe. The necklaces. I had assumed Robin had lent her some of her own power, that my mom’s “B” necklace was an accessory gifted to her by the Fates. I thought Robin was the only one born with magic…
Lune nods. “She did.” The confirmation of it bleeds through my chest, the fact that my mother had power I wasn’t aware of… and that Robin never told me. “And so do you.”
My swirling mind jolts to a stop.
No. I couldn’t have heard her correctly.
“I… don’t,” I finally say.
Even as I say the words out loud, though, I think about everything I’ve been able to do during this journey.
It was the necklaces, of course…
But what if some of it was me?
Lune’s voice is soft. “You are magic, Barbie.”
I take a step back.
The world—it’s stumbling. Or is that me?
Robin always said she was the only one with the natural ability to use magic.
She said my mother’s lack of magic was why she died. It was why the monsters beyond the mists were able to kill her during the battle to defend Heartland.
She lied.
Why?
What else was she hiding?
My eyes are burning. My throat feels like it’s closing up. My chest is locked with panic. It’s getting—it’s getting hard to breathe. I turn to Lune, heart racing, tears spilling, world roaring around me. This is too much. Too much, too soon, and I can’t—
I can’t deal with it all. I can’t accept it.
I just need—I just need to get what I came here for. Then everything will be okay. Everything will make sense.
“Take me to the Fates. Please. I need to speak to them, about giving me a future.” Lune seemed confused when I brought them up before, and said they don’t live here—but that was when she was trying to push me out, keep me away. She probably has to keep them secret to protect them.
Lune’s look is almost pitying. “There are no Fates, Barbie,” she says softly.
And that’s when my heart finally breaks.