“Always listen to the poets,” Esh-Baal said. “They are the secret keepers of dreams. And remember, there is no dream without risk, no fear without courage.”
Annalise thought she felt the book in her pocket stir as a light breeze drifted through the cracks in Fate’s mirror. Suddenly, the smell of green grass and sunlight and her mom’s perfume and dad’s cologne wafted through the air. Annalise swore she heard the singing of sunny day birds, laughter and celebration, people calling her name.
The Fate Spinner said the Dreamland gates would never rise again.
But how did she know that to be true?
What if this, what was happening now, was the final test?
What if they hadn’t yet won the labyrinth?
“This is the end,” the Fate Spinner said softer, honey in her voice. “Come through my mirror, Annalise, and I’ll let the fox and his husband go.”
The thread connecting her and Esh-Baal burned with the color of sunrise. When Annalise tightened her grip on her dagger, golden light through the cracked glass flared, and the blade hummed in her fist. And in the far corner of the broken mirror, a top hat, fat white tail, two large purple eyes—one encircled in a monocle—peered out from behind the Fate Spinner.
Muse! The cat put a claw to his lips and shook his head. Shhhh. He bowed, winked, and hurried off into the background, big paw holding his hat in place. In the distant sky, a blush of lilac and gold spread.
Annalise’s great hand zinged.
If Annalise wasn’t sure before, she was 144 percent certain now. She couldn’t trust fate. But she could trust herself.
She knew what to do.
Annalise stepped up to the Fate Spinner’s mirror, aglow with butterfly wings, and immediately, the reflection . . . changed. No more did Annalise see the Fate Spinner scowling down at her. She saw herself holding a dagger crafted from a dragon’s heart, just as she was in the labyrinth. She saw four black ribbons atop her braid. Shredded, rip-tattered clothes. Bruises and battle wounds. Splatterings of dried golden blood, a blackberry bramble of hair. For the first time, Annalise truly saw herself. A girl. A friend. A dreamer. A warrior.
Annalise observed the girl she’d always wanted to be—a girl with the honest, sparkling smile of a friend. She tucked the moment deep in her heart as the image of the Fate Spinner swirled back into view.
“I said, step through my mirror with your monster, girl.” The enchantress of all fates glared down with her black eyes, snowdrop skin and hair, colder than arctic winds. “You have no place to go, poor dear.” She softened, almost kindly. “I am all you have now. Come home with me to the palace of Fate where you belong.”
Annalise tapped her leg four times with the side of her dagger and looked the Fate Spinner in the eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, we want to see the state of Dreamland for ourselves, thanks.” Esh-Baal reared behind her. Actually, she might have been laughing. Mister Edwards glowed with pride. “We’re not leaving until we do.”
For a split second, Annalise saw another in the mirror. A woman in white and gold robes wearing a crown of crows and horns, standing where Esh-Baal’s reflection should have been. Annalise inhaled a sharp breath.
The Spinner of Dreams.
And behind the Spinner of Dreams rose the most elaborate golden-winged gates, lilac sky, and canary-yellow sun, burning Fate’s dark world away. Annalise was certain that behind the Fate Spinner’s mirror stood the real gates of Dreamland.
“You’re not going anywhere!” The Fate Spinner slammed her staff on the dais. Black crows screamed—caw-caw-caw-caw! Her expression resembled the one Annalise wore when panic barged in uninvited and nestled in for a long winter’s stay. “You will never get your dreams—I won’t let you!” In a whoosh of speed and black wings, the Fate Spinner raised her staff at Annalise, her eyes crimped in rage. “Prepare to d—”
Annalise slammed her dagger into the fractured glass and issued a warrior’s cry, louder and stronger than she ever had before. “I WISH TO RULE MY OWN DESTINY AND RID MYSELF OF THIS CURSE!”
A shock of black lightning blasted from the Fate Spinner’s staff and met the tip of Annalise’s dagger. Fireworks of black and gold exploded between them.
The power of fate and dreams surging through her, the thread linking Annalise and her unicorn blazed with electric light. The mirror shattered in a spray of broken black hearts. The poets of hope dived through the frame in a swirl of gold. “It’s not over,” the Fate Spinner’s voice echoed as she vanished in a twist of black smoke.
The arena walls trembled. The cracks in the walls and floor grew. Golden light brightened through the breaks. The shimmering dust from the poets of hope, which glittered across the dirt floor, slipped through the cracks in streams. The shadowshine trees, born from Annalise’s and her unicorn’s blood, swelled and rose to the sky, while the roots spread and twined down through the cracks. The branches exploded with gold and black berries and bloomed with the biggest, most beautiful gilded flowers and fiercest black thorns Annalise had ever seen. And still, the sunny light grew.
Mister Edwards watched the arena, bursting with delight. Esh-Baal glanced at Annalise and nodded, deep pride shining in her eyes.
The darkness, the red moon, and the stagnant stench of curses and death packed up and left as the arena crumbled at Annalise Meriwether’s feet.
A brilliant burst of light lit the labyrinth and Mazelands in gold. And when the dreamers were almost too weary to go on standing, the entrance to Dreamland appeared.
Chapter 34
Gates of Wings and Gold
Only seconds earlier, the Fate Spinner had stared Annalise down and tried to destroy her. Now the dark enchantress had vanished, along with her broken mirror. Esh-Baal, Mister Edwards, and Annalise stood in a grand atrium infused with a brilliant gold shine. Three walls, constructed with bricks of white and gold, rose to a dome overhead, reflecting an enchanted pale lemon sky. The only dark wall was behind them, made of gray labyrinth stone. The end of the maze.
The gray wall held an iron door that read: No Winners Allowed.
Four golden trees with velvety white leaves lined the wall directly ahead. And, like the grand trees at the labyrinth’s entrance, these appeared to be watching them. The three glanced at one another in awe, but nobody said a word.
The dagger Annalise had won from a dead king, forged from a cockatrice’s heart, was gone. In its place was a silver and gold half gauntlet, like a metal glove, covering her small right hand, wrist, and lower arm. When Annalise flipped her palm skyward, the gauntlet morphed into the dagger, snug in her grip. When she let the hilt go, the dagger changed back into the gauntlet.
Mercy.
Annalise sparkled with delight. Even more so when the trees opened their eyes and spoke.
“Congratulations,” the largest, most gnarled tree boomed, extending one leafy arm to the dreamers. “You have arrived at the gates to Dreamland. Gates that have not been opened for over eleven years.” It gazed softly at Annalise. “However, as I think you have discovered”—it focused his knotty eyes onto Mister Edwards and Esh-Baal—“there is magic for those who seek it. Isn’t that right, poets?” The poets of hope left the gates and perched on the trees. “And we, the trees, believe if anyone can undo the dark magic that’s been done, it is you, Annalise Meriwether.”
Undo the dark magic that’s been done? That didn’t sound good. Annalise took a step back and stroked her hair.
One-two-three-four.
Esh-Baal’s hooves clip-clopped over the floor in tune with the beat of Annalise’s heart. Mister Edwards regarded Annalise with concern.
A squat tree to the left leaned in and whispered, “Oh, young dreamers. It’s okay to be nervous. You’d be surprised how many dreamers so close to their dreams suddenly find themselves not quite ready to embrace them.”
Annalise was nervous. She knew her panic and anxiety might always roam the outskirts of her mind, but winning the labyrinth had given her something new as well. An a
rmor, a power, a truth: if she could survive the Fate Spinner’s demons despite her anxiety, worry, panic, and fear, maybe she could do anything.
She took a deep breath, then a step forward, and smiled at the regal trees. “Thank you. I’ve come a long way to rule my own destiny.”
The trees bowed to them all. “In that case, come forward. Dreamland is waiting.”
The trees uprooted themselves and stepped aside. When they did, the grand gates of Dreamland pushed out of the stone blocks ahead.
The solid arched doors of shining gold stood twenty feet tall. Elaborately carved wings topped the gates, outstretched as if poised to fly. The scents Annalise had smelled earlier—sunlight on warm summer grass, fresh flowers in bloom, the perfume of a land too long in darkness bursting to life—wafted through the doors. A gilded sign lined the gates just beneath the wings in fancy lettering, banishing any doubts they had:
Welcome, Dauntless Dreamer, to Dreamland.
A sudden cry escaped Annalise. A wave of emotion crashed through her, weakening her knees. She covered her face with her hands and cried, “We made it.” Blackberry hair framed her scraped and dirty hands. “We made it to the gates of Dreamland.” Her shoulders shook with every horror and pain she’d experienced on the road to where she was now—the threshold of her dreams.
“You did this, Miss Meriwether,” Mister Edwards said softly, voice echoing inside this silent place. He wiped his eyes with the back of his foreleg. “You showed us the way.”
Annalise stroked his damp cheek. “Oh, Mister Edwards. I couldn’t have done it without you and Esh-Baal.”
Esh-Baal’s hooves tapped the floor to Annalise’s side. Their connection shone brightly between them. Annalise ran her great hand down her black-hearted scales and recalled the reflection of Reverie she’d seen in the mirror of Fate. Had she really seen the Spinner of Dreams, or had she only imagined it?
“I saw someone else in the Fate Spinner’s mirror before it broke,” Annalise whispered shyly to Esh-Baal. Her unicorn’s great golden eyes shifted toward her. “Someone almost hiding inside your reflection. Did you see her, too?”
The dark fire unicorn Annalise had once despised enough to call monster lowered her horn, nuzzled into Annalise’s touch, and replied, “I was little more than a memory of a dream when I landed in your great hand. A broken heart that wished to be more.”
The Poets of Hope soared toward them in a gust. “I am what I am today because of your strength of will to rise above what others thought of you—what others judged you to be,” Esh-Baal continued, “You, Annalise Meriwether, along with your very brave friend, Mister Edwards, broke out of a dark world in search of a dream.” Annalise and Mister Edwards blushed. “Thank you, courageous girl, for having the daring to do so, for nurturing my broken heart within yours, and keeping my spirit alive. Without you, I would not exist.”
“Oh, Esh-Baal.” Annalise sniffed.
Mister Edwards dabbed his eyes alongside them.
Esh-Baal dropped to her knees before Annalise and laid her spiraled black horn at her feet. “Thank you, Annalise. I am forever in your debt.”
Mister Edwards knelt at Esh-Baal’s wing. “And I am as well, Miss Meriwether,” he said, bowing his sleek black head. “For always.”
Annalise covered her mouth to hold in her bursting heart. After everything, she was the luckiest girl in the world to have found wonderfully rare friends.
Annalise hugged Mister Edwards and Esh-Baal. “Thank you both for your help in the labyrinth. For being patient and helping me when I needed it most. For being true kindred friends.” She kissed Esh-Baal’s cheek. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”
At Annalise’s words, a golden padlock, shaped just like the silver locket at her neck, blossomed from the closed gates to Dreamland.
Annalise grasped the locket and thought about what the Spinner Queen had said: “Deliver it to the gates of Dreamland, and they shall open for you.”
Annalise stepped forward and peered closely at the padlock, her friends behind her. The keyhole was the tiniest she had ever seen. Suddenly above the keyhole, words appeared:
You Hold the Key to Your Dreams.
Even as she grasped the locket, a soft click escaped her fist.
The Spinner Queen’s heart-shaped locket, fused shut for many long years, had opened.
Within the locket was a miniature key, engraved in teensy lettering: May the magic of dreams be yours.
The trees tittered, and poets flittered. Annalise removed the key and grinned brightly at Mister Edwards and Esh-Baal before pushing it into the lock. The poets of hope ringed the Dreamland gates. And when Annalise turned the key, every moment she’d lived until now clicked into place.
After Annalise returned the teensy key to the locket and clasped it shut, the gates creaked open an inch, all by themselves, and a brilliant golden light shone through the crack between the doors. Birdsong, along with the faint caws of crows, the echo of a waterfall, and the cheering and conversation of a small crowd, followed.
Mister Edwards extended his arm to Annalise. Goodness, had he ever looked so happy? “Shall we, Miss Meriwether?”
Annalise glanced at Esh-Baal. The beautiful fire unicorn nodded.
A trill of excitement rang within her as she took his arm. “Definitely, Mister Edwards.”
Then, at last, Annalise threw open the Dreamland doors.
Chapter 35
Dreamland
While crossing the threshold, a bitter breeze rushed over Annalise. Her hair blew back in a gale. Dark clouds roamed the skies, thunder rolled. Lightning crashed. The poets of hope and the sweet sunny warmth she’d glimpsed all vanished. Past the Dreamland gates a massive crack in the earth divided the land in two. The crevasse was black as night. The scents of char from a great fire long since extinguished pressed coldly against her skin. Dreamland lay in ruin.
Before Annalise stepped onto the deadened black grass on the other side, she knew the Fate Spinner had told her the truth:
When she cursed her twin sister, Dreamland was destroyed.
Yet, because of the magic Annalise held within her, she could still smell the perfume of a meadow in bloom beneath the ruins of Dreamland. She could still hear the distinct roar of waterfalls, the soft songs of birds, and the calls of a happy celebration floating on a warm breeze. She could still feel the brilliant sunlight cutting through the dark and see a blade of kelly-green grass poking up from the coals of this dead world.
Annalise’s black mark prickled with a current of truth.
“I believe in my dreams,” she said, hovering in the threshold. “And I believe in Dreamland.” The poets of hope rose from the doorframe and rushed through the doors. And Annalise crossed boldly to the other side.
Suddenly, lush grass spread around her, like green paint spilling out from her battered black boots—all the way up a gentle hill, to the horizon’s edge. Color and life filled the world. Tepid breezes, sweet and clean, rife with forest and meadow perfumes, tossed Annalise’s hair gently past her beaming face. Trees burst into bloom (Annalise swore she heard them sigh, Thanks). Waterfalls draped down distant cliffs. Flowers sprang up and blossomed exponentially. A golden sun rose in a lilac sky, and the dead world fell away.
In the distance, white crows by the hundreds circled the golden-spired palace of clear crystal quartz belonging to the Spinner of Dreams. The only thing that didn’t mend when the dreamers entered Dreamland was the giant crack in the earth. However, a white marble bridge had grown over it so they could pass. Beyond the bridge, a rainbow path of stones dotted the gentle hill, rising to arches of gold, leading to the courtyard holding Reverie’s throne.
The same pathway and arches Annalise had seen in the Spinner King’s vision.
“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” she asked Mister Edwards.
The black fox quickly shook his head. “No, Miss Meriwether. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”
A crowd of friendly face
s approached from over the hill to their left. They were dressed in formal attire—fancy clothes, top hats, and gowns—enjoying a celebration. They gathered around a long table, decorated with fresh flowers and spread with every kind of drink and food and treat and cake Annalise loved best. The moment the crowd spotted her, they burst into applause and cheered.
“She’s here!” the spirit of an old man in a new suit said. Annalise gasped in surprise. He was one of the Fate Spinner’s specters Annalise had helped free.
“I knew she’d make it,” said another freed dreamer—the teenage girl with short black hair in a white-feather dress.
The boy with copper hair carrying a sword, cried, “Welcome, Annalise. We’ve been waiting for you!”
The young woman with long golden hair, deep dimples, and the most beautifully kind blue eyes smiled demurely and waved. “Welcome. I’m so proud of you.”
The crowd of freed dreamers—some living, some dead, others glittering in the dust of quartz stone—waved her over, calling her name. Annalise walked through the lush grass toward them. Each seat at the table held a name tag on a plate.
The one at the head of the table was set for her.
Welcome, Annalise Lorien Meriwether,
Guest of Honor at The Dreamers’ Feast.
This was real.
Tears rolled down Annalise’s cheeks. Happy tears. She laughed through her fingers when she recognized where she was. This was the place her mom told her about years ago. “Sometimes the world feels like a dark hallway lined with locked doors. The key is imagining with your entire being that on the other side of one of those doors, there’s a table set in a sunny meadow with a seat bearing your name. That there is a crowd gathered in celebration and they’ve only been waiting for you. And that, when you finally walk through that door, they will cheer and raise their cups and welcome you like an old friend. Keep this belief in your heart, and eventually, likely when you least expect it, you will find the right door, and it will open for you. . . .”
The Spinner of Dreams Page 23
