Just like the day Deon and Skrili arrived at Gloat Center, the sky was clear and bright: perfect conditions for a dragon flight.

Gibblezgorv carried the duo speedily past the poofy clouds, twisting around in the crisp air just for the fun of it. Deon was grateful for the elderly dragon’s speed. They’d departed Gloat Center not long after the award ceremony: with any wasted time, they risked passing up the opportunity of a lifetime.

A Legend Trainer’s month-long coaching awaited them at the end of their rapid travels: Deon’s ticket to potentially fighting in future Conscious Competitions with Skrili.

That is, if they could get there before the other invitees, Pang and Phillip.

“Young Skrili, I must say, I am utterly relieved to see you in good health again,” Gibblezgorv called back after swooping past another slower-flying dragon. “You gave us all quite the scare yesterday.”

“Thank you…I feel better now,” Skrili replied.

“In all my days—which are many, I’m sure you’ve noticed—I’ve never seen anything like that in a consciousness fight,” Gibblezgorv encouraged. “You are truly special. You may not have won the championship, but you’re a champion in my book.”

Skrili simply shrugged, but Deon couldn’t agree more. He couldn’t stop thinking of Skrili’s sacrifice, using every fiber of her strength and powers to calm down Kotono’s accidental storm. She could have died—and she should have, had it not been for Kotono awakening her new healing abilities.

Everyone he’d encountered in the tournament: Pang, Kotono, Hiroko, Alex, and Ving…they were all inspiringly powerful, fighting for something that mattered. But Skrili inspired him the most. What she’d done stirred something within him.

He wanted to get stronger, and use that strength the same way she did. He wanted to be like her.

And now, he was finally her teammate.

“Skrili, just face it: you’re the best,” he laughed. “I lucked out teaming up with you. This Multiverse isn’t ready for us!”

“That is, if you can keep up with her,” Gibblezgorv pointed out.

Facing away, Skrili let a chuckle escape her.

“Hey—you’ve never even seen me fight, old-timer!!” Deon protested.

“I only jest, my boy!”

But Deon knew there was some truth there. After watching the Conscious Competition, if there was anything he realized now, it’s that there was a lot of work to do.

Maybe this Legend Trainer guy will be the key, he thought.

He noticed Skrili had been practically wordless for the whole ride so far. While that in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary, he’d hoped she’d open up more now that their plans together had recommenced. But then again, why she picked him over guaranteed fame and fortune with Pang in the first place was still just as unclear.

Deon sighed. This girl was still such a mystery, but one that he hoped to solve.

Skrili briefly fiddled on her TeamTrack before putting it away.

I wonder if she’s second guessing herself, Deon thought. I mean, after almost winning one of the biggest Conscious Competitions, I don’t blame—

He felt his TeamTrack vibrate in his pants pocket, and took it out.

“New Teammate Request: Skrili Kay,” the notification read.

Deon laughed. “I thought we already established this,” he said to her.

“Just accept it,” Skrili said unemotionally. “It’s how we make it official.”

“Like saying vows?” he teased, wondering if they did that out here in the Multiverse.

“No. More like a contract.”

“Oh. That’s more boring, but I’ll accept it,” said Deon.

With the touch of a screen, at last, Deon and Skrili were an official team.

~

The remaining couple hours of their flight were uneventful, consisting mostly of Gibblezgorv recounting his favorite travel stories across Fantasy Country. Deon didn’t mind the lull, given the nonstop action and activity at Gloat Center.

Skrili seemed content as well as she took in the ever-shifting view below. However, a couple messages on her TeamTrack interrupted her peace for a moment.

She shook her head. “Just Pang messing with me,” she explained. “Oh, and Kotono’s checking in on us.”

Deon realized he’d received a message from Pang, as well. He opened it to find a moving image of some imaginer using his powers to mine stone.

“See? This guy can imagine explosions. What’s your excuse? ;P” the text read beneath.

“So she’s even like this to her friends, huh?” he realized.

But he found himself relieved she was comfortable picking on him like this, despite everything that happened back in the training rooms. He sent back a simple ‘Haha, I’ll work at it,’ and wondered where she and Phillip were now.

“You think we’ll get there before them?” he asked Skrili. “I mean, they have to go get Phillip’s treatment first, right? Not to be insensitive, but that could give us a lead.”

“They might have paid to have it sent to him—they can afford that with Hiroko and Kotono’s gift,” Skrili shared. “We probably won’t know if we beat them there until we’re there.”

A massive wall appeared over the clear horizon, similarly colossal to the Fantasy Country border at the edge of No Man’s Land. But as Gibblezgorv speedily neared, Deon realized it wasn’t a wall, but a giant, wooden picket fence. It spread for as wide as he could see in both directions, and was tall enough for clouds to brush the very top. He couldn’t fathom how many trees they needed to construct such a structure.

“We’ve almost arrived, friends!” announced Gibblezgorv.

More details became decipherable as they closed in. There was a great, round opening in the center of the giant fence, filled with infinite colors. Deon immediately recognized it from last time: this was a Worldline.

Two smaller fences ran from this in a straight line, creating a long path in two rows within the simple wooded terrain all around. Consciousnesses passed through on both sides steadily, mostly in pairs.

Gibblezgorv began descending after he spotted a clearing in the woods.

“You sure you can’t just fly us over the fence and straight to the Trainer?” Deon asked.

“I’m afraid not. I am a dragon; Fantasy Country is my only world,” Gibblezgorv explained. “Passing between different realities is an ability unique to consciousnesses like yourself.”

“Fair enough.”

Gibblezgorv lowered above a small field, and then thumped lazily onto the ground after folding his wings. As usual, Skrili wasted no time continuing their adventure, immediately strapping on her travel bag and hopping out of the saddle.

Deon secured his backpack and followed her. “Alright: Fiction Country time!” he declared. “Oh—this is the Country you and Pang are from, huh?”

Skrili nodded.

After Gibblezgorv offered Skrili further congratulations and granted warm wishes on their quest, the mint-green dragon took to the sky. Deon watched him fly off, realizing it may be a while before he’d see a dragon again.

When he looked back, Skrili was already on her way to the long line. He rushed to catch up.

Much like the walkway towards the Fantasy Country Worldline, this one moved quickly. Deon wondered how different Fiction Country would prove to be as they neared the infinite lights. He’d read up plenty about Fantasy Country in the book Skrili gave him, but their new plans had formed so fast that he didn’t have the time to prepare for this new world.

Soon enough, the Worldline was upon them. Deon hyped himself up, and then together, they passed through.

Immediately, the air felt warmer and damper. As Deon’s eyes adjusted, he noticed the weather had shifted drastically, now with a gray late afternoon sky. Then looking forward, he saw what he’d come to expect at this point: another, slower moving line filled with consciousnesses from across the Multiverse, moving towards and away from a couple of border patrol guards at the very end. The same fence at the end of Fantasy Country stood tall behind the guards, with a large and rather plain gate leading into this new land.

At first, Deon kept squinting his eyes to readjust them. Everything seemed dimmer, and colors were less defined—almost like an aged painting. Even the people all around seemed less spectacular, their eyes somewhat smaller and less highlighted, and their hairstyles and color a bit tamer. All the vibrancy and ever-present glow from Fantasy Country was totally missing.

But then he remembered what Skrili taught him: each Country had its own unique color palate. This must have been Fiction Country’s.

With nothing more to do than look around as they waited in line, Deon observed the fence walls. All the way down, they were totally plain.

“Fiction Country isn’t nearly as flashy, huh?” he realized, his eyes falling to Skrili. “Whoa…”

“What?” wondered Skrili, returning his gaze.

But when their eyes met, they both looked away quickly.

What the…? wondered Deon. There was a certain, strange intensity to Skrili now. In accordance to the color palate here, her appearance had returned closer to how she looked in No Man’s Land, though her blue hair and purple eyes were now even darker than then. But there was something else Deon couldn’t quite understand. When he’d looked at her, he sensed some sort of powerful, unfamiliar essence.

It was alluring.

“Um…anyway…” Deon tried to restart, but his sentence fell apart.

The two walked on in silence, until eventually reaching the two border guards. Instead of adorning metallic armor head-to-toe, they simply dressed in bluish gowns and carried black metallic staffs.

After eyeing them briefly (Deon assumed with the same specialized Sense-Enhancer powers as the Fantasy Country guards) they let them pass through.

Even the money exchanging process was almost identical, though less decorative, to Fantasy Country’s: Skrili approached a simple window opening in the fence wall, and an imaginer turned the scale cards from her wallet into “parchment points.”

Then, it was time to enter Fiction Country.

The new team passed through the large gateway, and Deon realized the structural similarity continued even still: a vast city lay before them.

While Fantasy Country’s was round and continued downward into an endless pit, this city seemed much less organized. Buildings of all colors, sizes, and materials stood randomly for as far as he could see, with smooth stone roads weaving in and out of them. The city was packed with busy consciousnesses everywhere, though it wasn’t quite as bustling or energetic.

A lamp nearby flickered endlessly as Deon and Skrili entered the city. They had to hop backwards for a moment when a metallic four-wheeled vehicle zoomed right past them. A horse carriage followed not far behind, abruptly turning when it almost collided with a pair of teens speeding along on wheeled boards of wood.

“Conscious City’s a bit nicer than this place,” Deon noticed.

“This is Conscious City,” said Skrili.

“Huh?”

“Every Country has its own Conscious City as a central place for consciousness travel,” she explained. “Fiction Country’s is on the Fantasy Country border because that’s where most of its traffic comes from. It’s just not as touristy as Fantasy Country’s.”

She checked her TeamTrack. “The location’s not far past the city. We might be able to get there today if we get a taxi—”

“Skrili Kay?!” a voice exclaimed from across the street. They turned to find a group of girls hurrying towards them, their rain jackets swishing and their eyes starry.

“Um…Hello,” said Skrili when they arrived.

“Oh my gosh…C—can we get a picture with you?!” one pleaded.

“Oh—sure.”

The girls glanced at Deon for a moment, until he realized he was supposed to step out of the way. He watched on as the young group bunched around Skrili, one holding up a device similar to a TeamTrack. Skrili uncomfortably attempted to smile as they all posed for a picture.

“Thank you!”

“You’re my favorite!”

The girls ran off, leaving Skrili standing in awkward silence.

Deon laughed. “Out of your element, huh?”

“Anyways…” continued Skrili. “If we can get a ride through—”

“SKRILI KAY!”

“LOOK OVER HERE!”

Even more abruptly than the group of girls, out of nowhere, a crowd of adults practically surrounded them, taking pictures and shouting obnoxious questions.

“The press followed us all the way here?!” Deon exclaimed.

“They’re everywhere,” sighed Skrili.

They tried to back away, but in every direction, a reporter held a recording device in their faces.

“Skrili, I see you’re alone with this young man again!”

“Shouldn’t you be training?”

“Where’s Pang?”

“I don’t know,” Skrili answered flatly. “Now if you don’t mind, please—”

“How about you introduce us to this boyfriend of yours. What’s his name?!”

“Uh—guys,” started Deon, fighting to keep his cool. “I think you have the wrong—”

“How about a kiss for the headlines?!”

Deon almost fell over when Skrili seized his arm and yanked him back, forcing her way through the rowdy crowd.

“We don’t have time for this,” she grumbled as they broke through. Then, she stopped and faced the press once more. “This is my new teammate,” she told them sternly.

Probably predicting what would come next, Skrili resumed stomping off, tugging Deon down the street. After a moment of sheer shock, the press erupted into an explosion of baffled questions behind them, now jogging their way.

“That definitely made it worse,” realized Deon.

“I know. We’ll need to find another way past the city,” Skrili admitted. Her eyes fell on something down the sidewalk. “And I think I just found one.”

Deon traced her gaze. They were hurrying by several raggedy wooden buildings. A few down, some white flowers with long, flowing pedals stood proudly in the middle of the sidewalk in front of a thin alleyway. There were no other plants as far as Deon could see—just these, somehow poking through the stone in this oddly particular spot.

Skrili led him right up to the flowers, and then peered down the alleyway. It was dark and a bit muddy, curving away out of sight farther down. Even more of the white flowers were in the alley, on the ground and along the shabby walls for as far as they could see.

“Good,” Skrili uttered. She entered the alley with haste.

Deon followed uncertainly. “We’re following the flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll probably lead us to where we want to be.”

“How?”

Skrili stopped answering questions, leading the way between the buildings. After the corner, the alley continued even further, and so did the path of white flowers. The path intersected with another alley, then another, and they continued their pace for minutes as the vehicles and bustle from the city grew more distant.

Finally, the alley spat them out into a simple grassy field. They were now on the outskirts of the city, with the press nowhere to be seen.

However, they weren’t alone: directly in the center of the field rested a rusty dark blue vehicle, much like the one that had zoomed by them when they first entered the city. A stout man in a gray cap sat patiently, smoke puffing out the open window from his cigar. The vehicle, which had the word “Taxi” painted across, hummed as it sat in place.

Deon’s eyes widened in further confusion when he realized the white flowers continued in a line, stopping right before the taxi.

“I knew it,” Skrili said. She proceeded towards the vehicle.

Knew what?? Deon wondered, accompanying her.

The driver gave a wave, taking his cigar in his hand. “I knew it,” he said. “Something about this field reminds me a’ home—reminds me not to give up. Couldn’t get any customers in the city today, so I came here. And now: I’m guessing you’re looking for a ride?”

“That’s right,” Skrili said, opening the door. She entered the taxi and made room for Deon.

Deon hesitated as Skrili stared at him, waiting for him to follow.

“Um…alright then,” he uttered.

The taxi smelled strongly of smoke and other odors foreign to Deon as he sat inside and closed the door. He tried not to notice the multiple stains on the seat.

“Where to?” the driver inquired.

“I only have coordinates,” Skrili shared, awakening her TeamTrack. “But putting them in on the map, it’s in the middle of an area called Nightwood Valley.”

“Ah—that’s quite the trek from here! You two have the money?”

“We’ll have enough,” Skrili assured.

“Then buckle up!”

The taxi zipped forward, skidding in the grass for a moment. Deon braced himself as it seemed they were heading straight for a line of trees at the end of the field, but abruptly, the driver veered to the side where several dirt roads branched off. Two large rocks sat just before one of them, one white and the other pitch black. This road continued straight over green plains and small hills for as far as Deon could see through the worn windows.

The taxi hurried onto this dirt road, its mysterious machinery puttering and grumbling as it carried them along.

Deon looked around as the sky began clearing up. An orange and pinkish hue from the late sun tinted the sky. Now accustomed to Fantasy Country, he was surprised to find much fewer Worlds floating in the distance—and they were much farther away, practically dots.

Other than that, this area seemed more akin to Tailpiece and No Man’s Land. But while it looked ordinary, it certainly felt quite strange.

“Mind explaining what happened back there?” Deon asked Skrili. “What’s with the flowers and everything?”

Skrili kept her gaze out her window. “Those were omniflowers,” she said. “They also grow where I come from. They’re everywhere in Fiction Country, but in my culture, they represent journeying—and finding your future.”

“Oh…so it just gave you a hunch?” Deon guessed.

“It’s more than that. In Fiction Country, symbols like that have real meaning,” Skrili said. “Your perceptions of everything you see, hear, or sense here, and what it means to you, can affect reality in an actual, physical way.”

Deon squinted, struggling to keep up. “So…kind of like Fiction Country’s own version of magic?”

“Not exactly,” said Skrili. “It’s not something we have control over. It just happens.”

“Okay, so that’s why the flowers led us to the driver: they represent exactly what you were trying to accomplish?” tried Deon.

Skrili nodded. “And this field is nostalgic and motivational to the driver, so from his perspective, it led him to his next clients.”

“Newbie, eh?” the driver called back. “You’ll get the hang of it. Welcome to the quirkiest Country in the Multiverse!”

Deon glanced at Skrili once more.

So everything I experience takes on some sort of deeper meaning…he pondered. Then this weird feeling I get whenever I look at Skrili now…what does that mean?

~

The taxi rocked and rumbled as it trudged along the now slimmer, muddier dirt road. Thanks in part to the trees overlooking their path, the sun’s late beams were now much dimmer. On top of that, they had entered a low, flat land in between two rising wooded slopes.

After the past hour of bumpy travel and occasional cigar smoke, Deon already missed Gibblezgorv’s dragon rides.

Skrili awoke her TeamTrack and observed the map, so Deon leaned closer to see. This time it had zoomed in much closer, and the point that indicated their location was gradually nearing the Trainer’s.

“Well, my memory hasn’t failed me yet!” the driver said with a laugh.

Deon’s heart began to race: this was really happening. They were really about to start their training and possibly fight in Conscious Competitions.

Or…were they too late? What if Pang and Phillip had already flown a dragon over and beat them there? Were they training right now?

He was so wrapped up in this mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that he hadn’t noticed they were slowing down until the taxi came to an uneven halt. Deon looked around to find utterly bizarre trees all around. They were all sorts of weird shapes; a single trunk varied from extreme thickness to thinner than a finger in no particular pattern, and its many branches also followed this form.

Even stranger, these trees didn’t stand straight up. They all ultimately pointed to the sky, but first their trunks turned sideways, downward, around each other, and in all kinds of loops.

“Here we are: Nightwood Valley!” the driver announced.

“The Trainer is just ahead,” noticed Skrili, checking the map again. “Thank you.”

She retrieved her newly exchanged parchment points, and handed the driver the amount he requested.

“Keep following those flowers when you need a ride! I could use the work,” he insisted.

Deon and Skrili exited the vehicle, and it skidded before hurrying off back towards Conscious City.

“Well…here we go,” said Deon.

He followed Skrili as her digital map guided them into this peculiar woods. Now with a closer look, Deon noticed the bark on these trees seemed incredibly smooth. Large boulders in sizes competing with the trees also filled the landscape, and all of them were either jet black or pure white like the stones at the very beginning of their trip. Deon could hear a roaring waterfall in the distance.

After a few minutes, they saw a log cabin—or just the front half of one, at least. It was built into two conjoined boulders, one black and the other white. All the disproportioned trees near it leaned away, allowing for a clear, open front yard. The map clearly indicated this was the place.

They cautiously approached the front door. The distant waterfall was the only sound.

“This is it,” Deon said to Skrili with a deep, nervous sigh.

Skrili knocked on the door.

They waited for a moment. And then another moment. And another.

Were the coordinates wrong?

Or was the Trainer busy training another team?

Then the doorknob turned. The door opened.

Before them stood a man in his late twenties, thirty at most. He gave off no legendary aura, or even a hint of incredible strength. He was just an average-looking guy, only around the same height as Skrili, maybe shorter. He had somewhat long brown hair, with bangs parted to the side coolly.

The man dressed in simple professional clothing—a far cry from the fashion in Fantasy Country. He wore a button-up dress shirt, black suit jacket, and bowtie, with gray dress pants and leather shoes. He stood, slouching and casual, staring at them for several seconds.

We definitely have the wrong house, Deon decided.

“Man, you guys have perfect timing,” the man finally said. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?”