Chapter 24 What the Heart Needs
What the Heart Needs
The next day, Lune accompanies me to the Treasure Trove.
One will spark to me. My magic will merge with the object’s, and it will become my first of many accessories that will help me channel the power I’ve finally unearthed.
I walk with confidence even as a dusting of nerves settles deep in my stomach. I can’t help but think about the similarities between this and Boxing Day…
A ceremony that I’ve worked to reach. An important stage of my journey.
But Boxing Day wasn’t ever real. And even when I thought it was, it was an offering that demanded acceptance—a presentation of something given, whether or not it was wanted or chosen.
The Treasure Trove is a claiming—from both sides.
I choose the object I am drawn to.
And the object… chooses whether it wants me back.
The building is deep within the expansive grounds of Dreamlake. The doors are nearly as tall as the structure itself.
“When you’re ready,” Lune says, stepping back.
I get the sense that if I turned around and decided I couldn’t do this, she would understand. We would leave and go back to training, no questions asked.
This isn’t a requirement… it’s a choice.
“I’m ready,” I say, my voice steady.
The moment I press my palm against the imposing mahogany, my magic is like a key.
The doors peel open.
I step inside.
And gasp.
This hall is full of every object imaginable, all waiting to be claimed. There are thousands of them here, covering one entire wall like an infinite gallery, like an accessory library.
“See what speaks to you, Barbie,” Lune says, motioning at the selection.
I begin to wander among the objects, taking my time, studying them not only with my vision, but with this new awareness that I feel burning in my chest.
It’s like a rope, reaching out. Hoping to be met halfway.
At first, it feels wary. Unsure. As I walk by each object, a few sparkle, glimmering in the sun let in by the strips of stained glass skylights decorating the ceiling.
The magic in me moves on. Observing, but not connecting. Not yet.
There is a multitude of options: letter openers, envelopes, gloves, shoes, jackets, staffs, chalices, and books, all glowing with long-held magic ready to be given new life. All sit stock-still on the walls, stuck there by some invisible wiring.
Just when I think maybe there isn’t anything here for me, I reach a section where the wall isn’t so crowded. There are only a few objects left.
A magnifying glass.
Heart-shaped glasses.
A set of dreamy heels made of glimmering crystal.
“What’s this?” I ask Lune, reaching for a heart-shaped compact, sitting just below them, at eye level. It looks like a normal mirror… but from what I’ve seen from my fellow Dreamlake students, none of these accessories are as simple as they appear.
“It shows you where your heart lives,” she says. “It was enchanted by a very powerful wielder many moons ago.”
I frown. “It shows you your heart… inside your body?”
She laughs, the sound like wind chimes, echoing through the high-vaulted marble hall.
“Of course not! It shows you what’s in your heart, I suppose. Metaphorically, of course.”
I consider the compact. Open it toward Lune. “What—what do you see?”
She squints, then beams. “I see this world. The fountain. The town square. The magic, glittering everything.”
I close it and pocket the compact. Lune looks at me for a moment, her eyes questioning. “That’s the one?”
I don’t say anything. We keep moving through the hall, but nothing appeals to me the way the compact does.
There wasn’t a spark, exactly, the way the word suggests a sharp, jolting clarity I’d feel all the way to my soul.
But the power of the compact, its ability to see into your heart, which is where my magic is centered…
it spoke to me in a way the necklaces never have—because at their core, they were never mine. Even the one from my mom.
“It’s the one,” I finally tell Lune, feeling confident in my choice, and she nods approvingly.
But it’s only later that night, in the room that’s been appointed for me, that I finally have the courage to open the compact.
And I know what I’ll see before I see it. I knew it the moment I found the compact, which is why I wanted to open it alone, away even from Lune.
I see Swancrest. Heartland. Even knowing what it is, that it’s been built on lies… my heart still longs for it.
For my friends, even for Robin—
I snap the compact shut. It doesn’t matter what I want. This—Dreamland, Dreamlake—is what I need. To be in a world where I can be understood, and not controlled, not lied to. To master my magic.
I keep the compact closed and take it to my magic practice, carrying it around like other students do with their accessories. During training, when my magic glows from my heart, little by little, I feed it into the compact, storing it inside.
Though the new power in me still feels impermanent and scattered, like sand falling between my fingers, the compact is like an anchor, holding me steady.
When it’s in my hand, I’m able to hold on to my energy for longer.
I can make things float. Change outfits on command—like the heart-shaped top I’m wearing, with pink capri pants and kitten heels covered in sparkling gems.
It’s the perfect ensemble for my new morning routine: waking up early to watch the sunrise at the side of the lake, then breathing and funneling my magic, the memory of Ken’s words about the importance of sitting in a moment guiding my stillness. I’m calm. Relaxed.
Until a voice calls out, “Look!”
I blink my eyes open, startling.
Clover is standing just behind me, her eyes filled with delight as she gazes out toward the water.
I turn back around, and that’s when I see something ripped from my own mind: a glittering fish flipping out of the lake, painted with various strokes of pink.
It looks just like a piece of art I made when I was a kid, before I had ever seen a fish in real life.
I… made it real. With my magic.
“Make another one!” Clover says. And that’s how we spend the rest of the morning. Sitting side by side, me with my compact and her with her comb, using our magic to create various glittering creatures.
When she leaves for lunch, I stay by the shore for a few more moments.
This is a bad idea, I try to tell myself.
You’re going to regret it.
Maybe so. But the need is so thick it feels as if it’s choking me. So I give in to it for the first time in several days.
I click the compact open.
My chest aches with longing all over again, seeing Heartland. Seeing Swancrest. I—
I shut it closed before I can see anything else. That used to be my home. But I don’t belong there anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.
Besides… when I left, everyone seemed happy.
They don’t know the Fates aren’t real… and would they even care?
I’m not going to ruin the illusion that makes their lives perfect, just because I never fit within it.
It’s better for everyone if I stay away, even though I miss them.
Which means I need to stop looking inside the compact.
And who knows?
Maybe one day, I’ll look inside the mirror to see my heart has changed.
It hasn’t.
It’s three days later, in the middle of the night, and I lie completely awake, hand practically twitching. I can’t help it. I need to see how everyone is doing. I need to check in on the place that still has my heart.
A moment later, I’m seeing Heartland, and—
I drop the compact onto my pink foam bedding with a gasp. No. My—my mind is playing tricks on me. There’s no way what I just saw is real. Slowly, I reach back toward it again, desperate to see the familiar walls of the place I grew up in.
But Swancrest has transformed into a shadow of itself.
The brick has darkened. The windows have sharpened, growing bars like teeth. The gates are closed with a hundred locks. The rest of Heartland is changed, too. The canals have run dry. The majestic boats are all in a pile, like firewood ready to be burned.
Callie.
I see her, locked in her old room at Swancrest, banging against a closed door. Trying windows that are now just swaths of brick. I see Paige with her, arms crossed, and my heart gives a stutter—she might not have been a friend to me, but I don’t want her in danger.
Then I see Sunny. He’s trying to create contraptions to get himself out… but nothing is working. Not even his Fate-gifted tools. Not against the strongest magic. Robin’s. She controls all their accessories.
Why are my friends trapped in the school?
My mind flashes back to the little girl in black, living in the haunted house beneath the storm clouds.
As soon as I think of her, I see her reflected in the compact, for she still holds a shard of my heart.
And she isn’t in her office, the way I would imagine.
No.
She’s deep in the bowels of the school, in what was once an armory, cloaked in pure darkness, her pink clothes now soaked in shadows.
She’s floating, magic surrounding her like a wall. Like she has imprisoned herself.
Robin has made Swancrest into a fortress around her, and trapped everyone else inside, with no way out.
But why? What’s happened to her that she’s somehow transformed since the last time I saw her?
The last time I saw her. I picture it now…
Wrenching my hand away, freeing myself from her grasp.
A sickening stab of guilt runs through me.
Is this my fault? Am I the catalyst that’s brought this horror down on my home?
I close the compact forcefully. Set it down. Scramble back under my pink cooling sheets, which are iced with delicate designs like a cake.
I need to forget what I just saw. I’m not in Heartland; I’m in Dreamland, where my troubles have turned to whipped cream, I’ve found my magic, and any stress and heartache have all but vanished.
I think of training with Clover, and lessons with Lune, and the pages of Laurie’s story I have yet to read.
I got out. I fought for a better destiny… and found it.