Chapter 46

“D-d-d-dreadli…? Wh-what’s going on?!” Lucy cried from atop a table.

The twirling ballroom dancers had suddenly changed form, melting out of their exquisite clothes and into a familiar looking shadowy horde. The floor of the hall began to dissolve into empty white space.

Dreadlilocks, Pitch, and Azor looked down on the scene from above.

“Phantasms, here??” Pitch exclaimed. “But…how? Why??”

Dreadlilocks couldn’t answer. She simply stared, frozen in horror.

She watched as the phantasms converged on Lucy and Uriel, and she watched as Azor and Pitch rushed in to help.

She felt the quilt in her hands grow lighter as the ballroom disappeared.

She knew what she was supposed to do: if she could just stay still, clear away her thoughts, and refocus, then she would regain control of the situation and rewrite it. If she just tried hard enough, the chaos would come to a halt, and the phantasms would disappear.

Unfortunately, no matter how long she stood there on the verge of tears, this did not happen.

The blank void continued to grow, and her four friends were swallowed up by the darkness, their voices drowned in ink.

The quilt fell to pieces.

~~

Eventually the phantasms finished their work, retreating into glistening puddles on the invisible floor.

Dreadlilocks was left alone again.

Or so she thought, until she felt someone tap her shoulder from behind.

“NOW, NOW…DRY YOUR TEARS, LITTLE ONE,” said the voice of the Odsplut. “THAT’S NO WAY FOR AN AUTHOR TO BEHAVE. YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FAILURES WITH DIGNITY.”

“IF YOU CANNOT, THEN ACCEPT THE FACT THAT YOU ARE NOT FIT TO WIELD OUR LADY’S POWER,” it continued, winding around to face her. “LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE, AFTER ALL YOUR ‘PRACTICE’…PATHETIC. BUT WE ARE NOT SURPRISED.”

“…You,” Dreadli whispered. “You did this. Because you and Mère L’Oye want to make me upset. You want me to fail.”

“YOU WILL FAIL. BUT OUR LADY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS. AND WE…” It drew itself up and grinned. “…AS USUAL, WE ONLY FOLLOW THE WILL OF OUR MASTERS.”

With one flick of its long, liquid arm, it struck Dreadli down, covering her in ink and sending her skidding across the floor.

Once she finally tumbled to a stop, she sat up and gasped, coughing and frantically wiping the ink from her face. She was too filled with terror to even know if she was hurt.

The Odsplut slapped the floor gleefully, laughing at her. “STAND UP, LITTLE AUTHOR!” it crowed. “FIGHT BACK! IF WE ARE TRULY UNDER YOUR POWER, YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO STOP US. DO IT, OR WE WILL UNWRITE YOU. WE WILL DROWN YOU, AS WE DROWNED YOUR FRIENDS! WE’LL KILL YOU!!”

Dreadli curled into a ball, defeated. “…Mr. Jack!!” she cried out, sobbing into her skirt. “Please, you have to let me out of here! I know I messed up but I can’t fix this; I don’t know what’s happening anymore! Please help me Mr. Jack, please!!”

~~

Suddenly, Dreadlilocks felt very cold.

She opened her eyes, and found herself staring up at a blank white sky.

Slowly and weakly she raised herself up, as if she had just been brought back from the dead. A lone tear fell from her eye and onto the checkered floor.

She heard a creak, and looked up.

Jack was standing next to his rocking chair, with his hands in his pockets and an unusual expression on his face: a very stern, lucid expression.

“…You shouldn’t have done what you did at the end there,” he said. “Any of it.”