Chapter 24 What the Heart Needs #2
I close my eyes, willing the images of Swancrest away. Willing for me to be able to banish all bad thoughts to a nightmare realm and just give up on Swancrest, on Heartland, on everyone I love there.
I try to close my heart against it all.
But—
I can’t.
The fact that I wanted the compact, out of everything in the Treasure Trove, is proof enough that I haven’t forgotten where I came from. I can’t stop looking into it. I can’t just leave the people I love behind forever.
Especially now, when they need me. Because I’m not sure what’s going to happen with Robin’s magic next, but I know the whole of Heartland depends on it, for everything.
And if Robin’s magic turns fell… does Heartland go with it?
I clench my teeth. Never in a thousand years would I think I could save anyone or anything. I never believed myself to be particularly brave or strong.
But this journey proved everything I am.
And though much about me feels changed… this compact has shown me that my heart remains the same as it always has been, since the very beginning.
In a flurry, I begin to pack up the new clothes I’ve been working on as a way to practice my magic—a few soft sweaters embroidered with the shape of Dreamland, a pair of patchwork pants—and store them in my enchanted compact.
I look at the necklaces on my night table, holding all the charms I collected. I haven’t used them since the day by the water when I saw my mother. I haven’t needed to. But they’re my ticket back home.
I’ve only been here a few weeks. I’m nowhere near a master of magic. I have almost no chance against Robin.
I just know I have to try.
Heartland depends on it.
Compact in hand, I make my way down the steps of Dreamlake, to the edge of the water. Gaze sharpened, magic focused, I imagine a bridge, and, all at once, stones scatter across the water, building a gleaming path step by step as I bound across.
My eyes prickle, thinking of my very first day here, when Lune took me over the threshold into Dreamland.
Lune. Warm, kind, openhearted Lune.
I can’t leave without saying goodbye to her.
In moments, I’m running through Dreamland, beneath the rainbow that becomes an arch of glimmering stars at night, streams of constellations. Before, this simple act would have winded me, but now, my legs push me forward. My lungs are steady.
I stop outside of Lune’s small, cozy home, which opens up at my approach, and find her baking cakes for tomorrow’s regularly scheduled celebration.
Unlike Robin, Lune doesn’t live at the school she oversees.
She says she doesn’t want her constant presence to interrupt the freedom necessary for magical learning.
“Barbie!” she says, happily surprised to see me. “What a pleasant surprise.”
A timer goes off, and she pulls on gloves, opens her heart-shaped oven, and then sighs as a caramel-sweet scent spills out of it.
She loves to bake. When I asked her why she doesn’t just let magic create all the cakes, she asked, “Then how am I supposed to test out recipes?”
Now, I watch her carefully place the heart-shaped pan on her stove, remove her gloves, and begin preparing a buttercream icing.
This is maybe the biggest choice allowed in Dreamland: to use magic… or not. It isn’t required. It isn’t particularly encouraged, frowned upon, or questioned.
Everyone is free to make their own decisions, all the time.
Including me.
“Lune.” I get the words out before I can lose my nerve. “I’m leaving,” I say, and she goes still, piping bag in hand.
She turns to me. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I’m going back to Heartland,” I say, holding my compact against my chest. “I’m going back home.”
She frowns. “Barbie. You know you’re free to do whatever you think is best… but you’re home now. This was your mother’s home. It’s where she grew up, and trained, and—”
“I’m not my mother,” I say gently. “I’m… me.”
And for some reason, a weight is released.
“My home is Heartland,” I continue, because it’s true. No matter if my childhood was full of lies, that’s where I grew up. That’s where my friends are.
And I’m not turning my back on them now.
“Barbie, please, think this through,” Lune says. “If you leave now… you might never be able to come back again.”
Lune’s right. I was only able to travel here with all the charms. The moment I confront Robin, she could take them from me. Possibly destroy them. She could take everything—my charms, my fledgling magic, my compact, all of it.
I might not ever get a chance to train at a magic school again.
“I know,” I say. “But I’m going anyway.”
I can tell Lune still doesn’t agree. But she nods and opens her arms to me, accepting my decision.
I step into her embrace, burying my face in her sugar-scented shoulder for a moment. “Thank you for everything. Goodbye, Lune.”
I step outside of Lune’s home and, in the calm, star-studded dark of Dreamland at night, gather all the charms together: Summerland, Anyland, Everland.
Heartland.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, the way Lune taught me. I feel that seed of magic stirring within my heart.
I’m not sure if this will work. Robin suggested it would when she was trying to get me to go back right before I reached Dreamland, but I can’t trust anything she says anymore.
Still, I put all of myself into trying. I picture my friends. I remember every moment growing up in Swancrest. I even think of Robin. Until all the charms merge, then bleed into one blinding light. A bridge back home.
In a flash, I vanish.