“I’m…dreaming…??” Pitch repeated. “You mean…everything that happened today was just…?”

“Everything that happened today, and probably a lot of days before today,” said Dreadlilocks. “Whoever told you it’s been seven years was probably part of the dream, too.”

“But that…that was so long ago! Is it possible to dream for weeks on end…?!”

“I think you can dream for any amount of time. As long as your mind makes you believe it.”

Dreadli blinked. “…I’m surprised you’re still here. Usually when people find out they’re dreaming, they wake up right away.”

“Is that…one of the things you’re worried about…?”

“It is now…”

Dreadlilocks stuck her hands in her dress pockets. “…I just came here to visit, like Mr. Jack suggested,” she explained. “I didn’t think anything would be wrong…I’ve already been in lots of other people’s dreams. But when I came here, I felt like…another visitor was here already.”

“Another visitor…? Like who??”

“I don’t know.”

Pitch folded her hands together, squeezing her fingers. She was beginning to feel some things she hadn’t felt since the dream began: things like anxiety, and fear.

“I…I think I should leave. I need to get out of here,” she said. “A-are you sure this is a dream?? Why can’t I wake up?!”

“Don’t be scared, Miss Pitch,” Dreadli said. “I’m going to try to help…to start, I think we should keep walking.”

“Walking where??”

“Away.”

Dreadli pointed to the castle in the distance. “That’s where you’ve been spending most of your time, right? If that place is what the dream is about, then we should try to get as far away from it as we can.”

Pitch looked where she was pointing, and thought about the idyllic dream-life she had led until a moment ago. She thought of Azor, and the roses she had promised to bring to him…and despaired at the falsity of it all.

“…Okay,” she said, sighing. “Let’s go.”

They walked for miles. Gradually, the landscape around them became flat and vague. The mountains disappeared, and the foliage was replaced by endless fields of pale grass. The sun stopped moving through the sky, and eventually dissolved into a bright, fuzzy patch of light overhead.

“…I think this dream is getting thinner already,” she went on. “This isn’t a place you recognize, is it?”

“No,” Pitch replied.

Dreadlilocks materialized her author’s tools: in one hand, she held her infinite basket, and in the other hand, she held her golden scissors.

Pitch glanced at her, then back at the way ahead. “…So, if we just keep walking, eventually I’ll wake up?” she asked.

“Hopefully,” Dreadli replied.

“What if it doesn’t work? What then…?”

“Well…you might stop dreaming, but without waking up. Then at least you’ll be out of here…but I won’t be able to know what happened unless I come find you in real life.”

She looked up at Pitch. “Do you remember where you fell asleep?” she asked. “Are you safe…?”

Pitch felt her heart tighten…but nothing came to mind. “I…I don’t know,” she answered. “There are still a lot of things I can’t remember…”

“It’s okay. That happens in dreams…if you went into them knowing all the stuff you knew when you were awake, you could never take them seriously.” She put a finger to her chin. “I only asked because…maybe you’re trapped here because something happened to you. Maybe you hit your head, or you were poisoned, or you’re under a spell…”

“WHY DON’T YOU ASK US…?”

Suddenly, the pale grass turned pitch black, and puddles of ink welled up from the spongy earth. And out of one such puddle rose the master Odsplut, with its usual unwavering grin on its face.

“DON’T BE AFRAID, LITTLE AUTHOR,” it continued. “AFTER ALL, THIS IS WHAT WE’RE HERE FOR~.”

Dreadlilocks looked visibly shaken. “…I don’t need your help,” she said quietly, clutching her basket.

“OF COURSE YOU DO! WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM NOW…ALL FOR ONE, AND ONE FOR ALL, AS THEY SAY. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, WE HARBOR NO RESENTMENT TOWARDS YOU FOR DESTROYING OUR LADY.”

“…You remember that…?”

“WE ARE MEMORY ITSELF.”

The Odsplut loomed over her, dripping ink onto her forehead. “…IT SEEMS THE YOUNG MASTER MISLED YOU A LITTLE BIT,” it said. “YOU MAY EXPEND DIFFERENT AMOUNTS OF EFFORT IN USING YOUR POWERS OF AUTHORSHIP, BUT THERE IS NO ESCAPING US. WHETHER YOU CREATE TRUE WORLDS OR SIMPLY TRAVEL THROUGH DREAM WORLDS, WE ARE WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. ALWAYS.”

“HOWEVER, IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO ENGAGE WITH US AND ACCESS THE FULL EXTENT OF YOUR POWER, YOU MAY LEAVE, AND ALLOW US TO FINISH THIS STORY OURSELVES,” it added, grinning wider. “WE HAVE SEVERAL IDEAS. MANY OF WHICH YOU WOULDN’T LIKE…BUT THAT JUST MAKES THEM MORE ENTICING~.”

Pitch brandished her cutlass— which had suddenly appeared in her hand— against the living ink blot, and put a hand protectively on Dreadli’s shoulder.

“…I remember you,” she said with narrowed eyes. “You’re the creature who was behind the ‘unwriting’ from before.”

“OH, BUT THAT’S ANCIENT HISTORY…BESIDES, WE WERE BEHIND NOTHING. WE HAVE NO TRUE WILL OF OUR OWN; WE EXIST SOLELY TO SERVE OUR MASTERS—”

“If that’s true, then stop harassing Dreadlilocks and do something useful! Either that, or leave! We’ve both grown tired of your prattle…!”

“WHETHER OR NOT WE DO ANYTHING ‘USEFUL’…IS ENTIRELY UP TO HER.”

Dreadlilocks bit her lip…then, with a trembling hand, reached out to touch the Odsplut.

“…You’re not my enemy,” she said, resting her fingers on its shiny surface.

“WE ARE NOT,” it replied.

“I’m not…scared of you.”

“…THAT REMAINS TO BE SEEN.”

“Anyway, you’re going to do what I say! Just what I say, and nothing else…!”

“YOUR WISH IS OUR COMMAND~.”

“Okay, then…okay.”

The puddles of ink receded; first slowly, then all at once. The Odsplut and its smiling face disappeared into the ground, and the world around them became pale and dreamlike once more.

Dreadli turned to Pitch, and gently took the cutlass from her hands. “…Thank you for trying to help me, but you shouldn’t summon things like that,” she said. “It’ll only make the dream stronger again.”

“But…wait, what did you do??” asked Pitch.

“The Odsplut is going to tell me what you need to know: how you got here, and what’s waiting for you in the rest of the story. And then…just so it doesn’t get any ideas, after that I’m going to leave.”

Dreadlilocks tugged at the red string tied to her little finger, and without untying it, gently pulled it off. As soon as it was freed, it flapped its tiny loops like an insect’s wings, and sped off into the sky.

Dreadli looked up at it, smiling briefly. Then she looked back at Pitch.

“…We have to follow it,” she said, pointing at the flying bundle of thread. “Let’s go.”