Rest. It was what they needed after an encounter with the mirror. Or, what they should need.

Camellia felt light and easy. She had no hallucinations post dream. The dream itself hadn’t been as deep, and of course, Hagen showed up to help. He and his circle were the panacea to the awful mirror.

Though, maybe, the change in the dream had more to do with Camellia’s state of mind. Regardless, she knew Hagen saved her from the hallucinations as he’d pulled her from the dream, sans win condition. Slipping beneath Ah’nee’thit was never her win condition. It was a shortcut to a hole in her dream.

Camellia paced their quarters, not really seeing any of it.

She puzzled over more than her own experience with the mirror. She couldn’t believe that the Volanter subjected children to it. Even with a shallower form of dreams, Camellia felt sure some people could still get trapped. But…

Camellia paused and noticed the grey rug for the first time in days.

The mirror did not create such complex dreams for the Volanter. Not when they inhabited the time bubble. The mirror created an experience that was just right. For someone living their life, the mirror provided too much. It drew troubles and hints of problems from each person’s mind. To get the most out of the mirror, one had to be carefree.

Carefree never described Camellia, but the stark change in her dreams showed her how much progress she’d made towards balance. She escaped every dark dream, and she would have escaped the lighter version with ease.

How long would it have taken Meladee to break free? How long for Pan? How long for Aria?

Most of all, Camellia knew dark things lurked behind Aria’s composure. And Aria didn’t get the benefit of Hagen waking her. Aria couldn’t be okay. Camellia, on the other hand, felt like herself.

Florian joined her. He strolled at her side. “What are you thinking about?”

“The mirror and how it works.” Camellia stopped again. “I’m sorry. I know you think it’s like a drug, but I think…I still think it’s a bit fascinating.”

“It is fascinating.” Florian sat on the edge of a dresser and crossed his arms. “I worry I wouldn’t make it out. That might be the reason why it bothers me so much.”

Tight control. It described Florian to the letter. He disliked being under the influence of anyone or anything. He had far fewer secrets to blurt out than Camellia, yet she was more willing to let go.

Camellia opened her mouth to analyze him to his face. She paused, mid-breath, and decided to change the subject. “Did you get much work done while I dreamt?”

“I did some research. Mostly compiled from what we stole aboard their ships. It was slow work. I also spent a good deal of time worried about you.” Florian met her gaze and stared.

Camellia stared back and said nothing for a long moment. She touched her cheek, feeling a bit of blush beneath the skin. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off that mirror.”

Florian smiled. “It’s alright. It wasn’t your choice this time.”

Camellia nodded. She had tried not to see, but she also felt that seeing the mirror helped her somehow. She learned something, or rather, she almost learned something. Hagen interrupted the lesson.

Camellia cleared her throat. “Did you find any information about other children of the Volanter? Maybe some that got out.”

Florian pushed off the dresser’s edge and walked back to the sofa and table where he kept their study materials. He sat. “I did find something. One group got out, simply by resisting.”

Camellia perked up.

“Until they were dead.”

Camellia felt her whole body droop. She walked to the couch and sat beside him.

“They’re going to be adamant about it.” Florian sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to explain it. The Volanter…they see us as other and yet as they view us as inextricably linked. They’re so afraid to be alone.”

Camellia stiffened and slowly sat straighter. “Afraid to be alone. Is that your official interpretation of their culture?”

Florian gave a short nod. “Part of it anyway.”

Camellia frowned. “Do you think they might try to follow us, even after we get through and move the wormhole?” She watched his profile.

Florian narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. Their profound fear of aloneness in the universe…it’s telling. I suspect that’s why they even have this concept of a genetic contract. They want to bind someone to them, and they believe sharing parts of themselves will instill in us the same need.” Florian stroked his chin.

“Oh no.” Camellia buried her face in her hands. “I just got out of one of those.”

Florian touched her shoulder. “I realize that. That’s why I didn’t want you to write to him.”

Camellia let her hands fall from her face and raised her gaze to Florian’s. “I dreamt about trading my father for Cernunnos. So, we could have an extended family in Groaza. I wanted it. Maybe…maybe, they’ve succeeded in putting some of that in us.”

Florian’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No. That’s normal. Everyone wants someone to socialize with. I’m telling you we can get it from the other members of the AAH.”

Camellia nodded, without enthusiasm.

Florian paused and looked away. “Camellia, if Iruedim does have to go along with the Volanter – and I’m not saying I want to – we need to make sure that the Volanter see our union as sacred.”

Camellia frowned and sought his eyes, with no success. “How?”

Florian said, “As a rule, they don’t split up families. Now, they don’t consider a married couple to be a family.”

Camellia felt her face warm.

Florian put his hand over hers. “We would need to have at least one child together for them to see us as a family.”

Camellia looked at his hand. It was bigger than hers, but both their hands had been shaped by the work of an archaeologist. They had defined fingers and joints, a couple of small scars, and some rough places. Camellia’s hands actually looked a bit rougher, due to her recent work. She restored artifacts in the museum. Florian reviewed papers, contracts, and payments.

Camellia took a deep breath. “We were going to do that anyway. You’re saying you want to do it now?”

“Well, how long were we going to wait?” Florian asked. “What’s reasonable to you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t put much thought into the exact timing. I thought we would wait a couple of months at most.” Camellia stared into their quarters and missed their house.

“I didn’t plan on waiting at all.” Florian tapped her hand.

She looked at him. “So, you want to do this as soon as possible?”

Florian nodded once. “Yes.”

Camellia’s mouth fell open. “That might be a terrible idea. If the Volanter come for us, we’ll make a small person live through it?”

“Groups that got reclaimed were never obliterated. They all lived, but they could be split up and stuck into arranged marriages, to zipper the Volanter and their child species more closely together. I don’t want a Volanter wife.”

Camellia felt herself pale – if that were even possible. “Contrary to popular belief, I would not want a Volanter husband.” Camellia nodded with more force. “Alright. It’s a bit early, and the Volanter might come for us. But, we’ll do it.”

Meladee laid on the couch, knees up, legs crossed. She bobbed her foot in time with some quiet music. “I said I never wanted to do that mirror thing, but you now, it wasn’t so bad. I mean, I got the puzzle wrong. But, damn, he could have done more to stop me.” Meladee bit her lower lip. “He should have just said in the first place to get the feather and fur. Oh wait…he hadn’t really gotten to look at it though. Maybe, I shouldn’t have been such a bitch.”

Benham snorted back a laugh. He placed a dish in the washer, the last one. Then, he wandered back to the central living space. “I have no idea what you were dreaming.”

Meladee sat up and spread her hands. “So…Camellia was an owl. Just this great big, sad owl. Eva was a fox, and she was way fluffier than she had any right to be.” Meladee stared past Benham’s face and strained to remember. “I was in the snow, and I went to a village. All the houses had faces. So did the boats. We needed a boat because we wanted to leave by sea. There was only one, locked up in a shed. But, the lock on the boat shed had pictures of their faces.” Meladee gestured to her own face. “Their women faces, not their animal faces. That’s why I got confused.”

Benham sat at her feet and nodded, with an expression of feigned seriousness and understanding.

Meladee bopped his arm. “Take it seriously.”

Benham dodged away too slow. “Don’t you start getting into this mirror thing.”

Meladee cocked her head. “It’s pretty cool. I get why Camellia was on it for fucking years. I’m really glad I got to play this time because last time…” Meladee shook her head. “Ul’thetos and Camellia hogged all the fun.”

Benham sat back and put his hands behind his head. “I thought Camellia said this version was easier than normal.”

“Well, I could get better at it.”

“You couldn’t get your puzzle right on easy,” Benham said.

“When are we getting home by the way? I’m done with this Volanter thing.” Meladee leaned against the couch and planted herself near Benham’s elbow.

“Five days. Then, we reach the wormhole. But…the Volanter might have sent a small patrol after us.”

“Shit.”

Aria laid in the bed. She still saw the whispers of the scene she’d dreamt. Or, she could say the scene Pan had dreamt. Pan invented the garden and the festival. Pan narrated it to Aria and, in so doing, sent Aria home. Aria was the only one to wake up naturally, and it seemed to lay a stronger legacy at her feet.

Aria spoke to Camellia briefly, over ship-to-ship com. She’d told Camellia some of what she saw, and Camellia gave Aria some idea of what she had seen over the years. Camellia had been a mirror addict. Aria couldn’t see the appeal. She never wanted to look into the mirror spell again.

Before they ended their call, Camellia seemed to imply a need for Aria to talk to someone about anything she might have seen. Someone more than Camellia.

Aria had no intention of doing so.

She heard Gavain outside her door. She closed her eyes and laid still.

The door slid open, and Gavain’s steps moved slow and quiet. He approached the bed and stopped at what Aria would guess was the foot.

A subtle weight plopped on to Aria’s ankles. It traveled up her legs in little hops. Aria opened her eyes in time to see a fat marine animal on her chest.

“Isn’t that Pan’s?” Aria asked.

“It’s yours to borrow. Pan said that you can keep it, forever if you want.”

Aria grabbed the thing around its girth. She smiled. “I think I might.”

Gavain left the plush atop her and rounded the bed. He collapsed on his side. “My turn to sleep. I think I’ll be a shoe-in for the Iruedian ambassador, though they won’t set that up for probably a year. For now, there’s no work for an ambassador. The Volanter want us with them – or dead, and nothing I say will change their minds.” Gavain folded his hands on his chest. “Are you going back to sleep?”

She pushed the plush to a place above her head and rolled to her side. “Probably.”

“Did you want…?”

“No,” Aria answered. “I still don’t feel right.”

Petals fluttered around their bed. Lights winked from beyond their bedroom doorway.

“I still see it.”

Gavain’s eyes drifted closed. “I thought it wasn’t unpleasant. You see flowers and lights.”

“Right, but I don’t expect to see those things. And, they move. It’s spooky.” Aria grabbed his arm and tucked her faced into his shoulder. She closed her eyes tight. Even with her eyes closed, her view moved across the garden and fields, skating along.

Gavain stirred. “You alright?”

“I will be.”

“Take you time.”

Aria didn’t know how much time she would need to take.

“How could I dream?” Eva moved back and forth from their work table to the desk in her room.

She and Sten had a two-bedroom suite. It was ridiculously big for two people who slept one-fifth the time that others did.

Sten followed Eva between the desk and their work table. He carried the parts they’d planned to tinker with on their voyage, ready to be packed, untouched.

Sten said, “I think it’s fascinating that you could be pulled into that mirror dream. Absolutely fascinating. What did it feel like?”

“Not like programmed dreams. I had no awareness that I was asleep.” Eva stuffed a roll of fine tools into the bag. “So much for building Spring Peeper’s little friend. We had no time.”

Sten dropped a set of recycled metal sheets by the bag. He left the packing to Eva. “We’ll be busy when we arrive home,” he agreed. “Especially if it comes to war.”

“Lurren can’t take another war.” Eva shook her head. “Iruedim can’t take another war. We should never have tried to shift the wormhole, and I don’t care if Inez and Eder hear me say that. And, I will voice my displeasure the next time I meet with the other government leads. They should bow their heads in shame over this.”

“If it comes to war, they will. As strange as it may sound, I would rather face the Finial. The Volanter are a more powerful opponent by far.” Sten brought the last armful of parts to the bag. He put them on the desk and waited.

Eva stopped. She held a cluster of circuitry.

Sten took it from her, with a gentle tug. He shouldered her aside and resumed packing. “What did you dream?”

“I dreamt I was Halfmoon. I dreamt the Fauchard never came.”

Sten hummed thoughtfully. “That’s a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

Eva recalled a flash of a brain box, one shaped like an android’s head. She blinked fast, and the memory receded. “Yes, it was a nightmare.”

The mystery of how the mirror spell affected her would have to wait. It occurred to Eva that magic could give her a definite answer on the question of robotic souls, but she almost felt she’d been right all along. Who wanted a soul when it could be manipulated by monsters like the Volanter?

Eva glanced at the real brain box. It waited, by their things, ready to be packed, thankfully empty.

Pan felt fine, but Sotir suggested she sleep anyway. She had and quite deeply.

When she awoke, she sat up from the pillow. Her hair felt like it had taken on an abstract shape. Pan tried to finger-brush it into place, and it insisted she just didn’t understand its vision. The knots would not go.

“I’m a free man today.” Sotir stepped from the bathroom and brushed his towel through his hair. He paused when he saw Pan. “Not a vision of the future in sight. Not an inkling of the past.”

Pan sat and made a grumpy face. “You seem very happy for a man that sees a war in our future.”

“I am because for today, I am living in the present.” Sotir dropped his towel and sat in front of Pan.

He grinned, and Pan felt the difference in their moods keenly.

Pan couldn’t help but frown. “Did you know that Hagen thought I couldn’t do it?”

Sotir’s grin waned. “He did say that. He said your dream was unfocused, that it dealt with too many issues for you to solve effectively.”

Pan pointed to her chest. “Me, lacking focus? Can you believe that?”

“It’s not that you lack focus. It’s that you have a lot of focuses.” Sotir leaned into her space.

Pan drew a sharp breath. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“He said that your dream moved between concerns with identity, good and evil, and existential fears.” Sotir rested his hands on her knees. “It’s a lot to deal with.”

“You both make it sound so simple. Because I remember ghosts and stuffed animals, the reapers, Little Pan, Brynn – well, she’s also a reaper. I remember…Aria.”

Sotir smiled a little. “You left your dream to go into hers, and you helped her out of it.”

Pan straightened. She had helped Aria. It had been the best part of the dream, watching Aria walk free.

“And, you did it without any prompting. You did it while under the influence of a Volanter dream. I think you should be proud of that,” Sotir said.

Pan could be proud of it. Mostly, she just found it reassuring. She loved Aria. She often wondered if it made Sotir feel second best. “I tried to get myself out of the dream by thinking about you. It didn’t work.” Pan regretted those words.

“Of course, it didn’t.” Sotir played with a loose thread on his shirt. “I don’t know how I can sort your questions about identity, good and evil, or life and death. I’ll leave that to you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Pan put a tentative hand on his arm.

She didn’t fear touch between herself and Sotir, but she did notice that her touch gave him certain ideas. Ideas she didn’t have the energy for, at the moment. He’d just showered, so she thought she might be safe. She pressed her hand firm to his arm.

Sotir paused a moment. Then, he laughed. “I’m not insulted. To be honest, I don’t think that thoughts of you could get me out of one of those dreams either.”

Pan tucked her legs beneath her and leaned close to him. “What do you think you’d dream about?”

“Time trees, alternate realities, losing my power, and having no freedom from my power.” Sotir looked ceilingward. “I think I would lose just as bad as you.”

“That’s what Hagen is for – apparently.” Pan glanced down at the wet towel on the carpet. “Are you going to pick that up?”

Sotir bent slow and took it by a corner. “Yes, I was. I just wanted to give you my full attention first.”

Pan stroked his face. “How sweet.”