The garden no longer smelled like fruit and blooms. Instead, it reeked of burnt evil stepsister, which, to be honest, was not much different from unburnt evil stepsister—molten metal and sulfur with cinnamon overtones.

The grass beneath the hatched egg had blackened, shards of golden shell gleaming in the wreckage. Derek ignored the humans and sat with the dragon in his lap, murmuring the most nonsensical baby talk, while its spikey tail curled around the prince's well-built torso.

Not that Ashley noticed his torso!

Gerald's was the only torso that mattered.

Right?

She scrubbed her hands together, wracking her brain for ways in which she might become reunited with said torso. Preferably the reuniting would happen somewhere private, right after a four-hour bath, some industrial-grade teeth brushing, and in close proximity to a bed. Actually, the bed wasn't one-hundred percent necessary.

But no sense letting those thoughts invade her mind. There would be no torsos, lips, necks, nor any other Gerald body parts explored until they'd completed their quest.

The odds that they could find the children and escape unscathed were so minuscule that Ashley laughed at such folly. Not a pleasant laugh, more the maniacal kind you'd hear in an insane asylum.

But dammit, she had friends. Powerful, smart, determined, talented friends.

Like Kai, who could grow a tail and was destined to rule the oceans!

Sadira, who had a heart full of love and empathy despite being put to sleep for a century.

Tressa, raised in an isolated tower by an evil witch, found her voice and wasn't afraid to use it.

Layyin, who, through force of will, had overcome a lifetime of vulnerability to become a fear-enthusiast.

And Derek, with his plethora of knowledge, biting wit, and impeccable fashion sense, possessed a deep well of loyalty, although he'd never admit it.

Ashley smiled at each of them. If any makeshift band of heroes could bring down a dark magical operation, they were the ones.

Kai stood—long limbs, unfolding like a waterlily at dawn, rubbing her legs and gazing at the fountain with longing. Poor thing hadn't been in the water in so long. "That stepsister of yours had a perfectly good water source right here, and instead of diving in, the fool runs away?"

"Good point," Ashley said. "She never was the brightest. Here, Sadira, let me help you." She offered a hand to Sadira, who rose with princessy elegance, then stretched.

Derek remained seated as the baby licked and sucked the prince's fingers, leaving red streaks from the hot dragon saliva. "Boojeee, boojeee, boojeee," Derek crooned and offered his peacock hat as a sucking substitute for the human flesh.

"Derek, you said you loved that hat; you're dragon-besotted," Tressa needled.

"I am not besotted. It's simply good parenting." He cleared his throat. "The first few minutes of bonding are critical to the dragon's long-term sense of security and self-esteem. If it doesn't get immediate nurture, it will become a fire-breathing killing machine."

"As opposed to ..." Tressa cocked her head, "oh, I know ... becoming a fire-breathing killing machine?"

"My tenderness is purely based on the scientific research," Derek said, pursing his lips and exhaling through his nose. "What? Did you guys think I was acting maternal because this adorable, sweet baby, google giggle gaga boody, looked at me with its big golden eyes, and I fell in love?"

"Yes," Tressa and Kai chimed in.

"Well, okay, that too."

"Derek is in love," Tressa sang.

"Oh, hush. How is it you already need another haircut, woman?"

"Uh," Tressa grabbed a hank of hair and pulled through her tresses, all the way to her waist. "Overzealous hair growth is my curse. Remember?"

Okay, her friends were terrific but not perfect. But the important thing was that she had friends. Sadly, they tended to lose focus the moment no one was firing arrows or balls of fire in their direction, threatening to boil them in a cauldron, eat them, or toss them off a mountaintop.

"Dearest friends," Ashley began, "can we please forgo the haircut until after the rescuing part is wrapped up?" Ashley suggested. "We've got quite a long to-do list, including getting into the room where they're holding the kidnapped children, escaping the room with said kidnapped children, returning to the garden, invoking the pasta word which will take us to the mountaintop, finding our friends, and convincing the dragons to fly us to safety. It's a full schedule. No time for grooming."

"There is always time for grooming," Derek scoffed, tossing back his head, strands of green hair scrambling to their proper places, like actors right before curtain. His coif didn't know the meaning of hat hair. "We're not savages."

"Perhaps we don't have to worry about Druscilla coming back, Ash," Tressa said. "Maybe she'll char to a crisp before she finds help." Tressa clasped her hands together beneath her chin and looked up at the sun-washed sky.

"Imagine what being on fire must feel like," Layyin said, casting a covetous gaze at the smoke Dru had left behind.

"Horrendous, blistering pain?" Derek said.

"You'd feel so alive," Layyin breathed.

"Until you're not," Tressa said.

"In the off chance we make it out of here alive, we're going to get Layyin some major psychological counseling," Derek said, shaking his head. The baby dragon coughed, showering Derek's arm with golden sparks. "Ouch."

"I'll hold him," Layyin offered.

"No way. You'll teach him something terrible, like how to drown in a fountain or rip a hole in the protoplasm and transport himself to a dangerous, inhospitable realm."

Layyin pursed her lips. "Don't be ridiculous. The hole in the protoplasm is gone."

Ashley snapped her fingers. "That's it. The answer."

"What was the question?" Derek said.

"We need to create a new tear in the protoplasm. To get to the children."

"Good idea," Derek snarked. "Has your magical ability finally taken root? Can you now fly a broomstick and bend spoons with your mind?"

"No, of course not. But, why would I want to bend a spoon with my mind?"

Derek shook his head. "That's hardly the point. The point is, how do you propose we re-rip the universe sans magic?"

"Um," Ashley said, looking around for sharp objects. Her eyes paused on Derek's purple velvet coat. "Are your scissors in your ... uh ... new outfit?"

Holding the baby dragon in the crook of one muscular arm, Derek checked his pocket and extracted his trusty scissors. "They're here, but last I checked, they could cut hair, paper, flower stems, flesh maybe, but not the fabric of the universe."

"Have you ever tried?"

"No. Because I am not insane."

"That's still up for debate," Tressa mocked.

Derek hissed.

Ashley held out her hand. "Scissors."

"Knock yourself out. And when you're done, knock Layyin out. For her own safety."

"Hey," Layyin complained.

Ignoring their spat, Ashley traversed the garden, trying to draw from her memory the exact spot Dru had come through from the lab. Where had the shadows fallen across the fountain, the sunlight dappled the leaves? What was the angle of the topiary through her peripheral vision? She paced and circled, but nothing felt right until she passed through a spot that sent chills rippling along her neck and spine—like walking through the spectral remains of a castle ghost.

Her bones knew.

This had to be the place.

She lifted the scissors, and feeling a lot like an idiot, snipped the air.

Nothing supernatural happened.

The air behaved as air normally would when attacked by scissors, meaning it didn't do a thing and continued not doing a thing as no matter how vigorously she snipped.

Ashley dropped her arm and took a deep breath. How could she be so stupid to think this would work? One needed magic for supernatural results, and despite the claims of the cloistered witches, her magic lay dormant, if it existed at all. Still, she owed it to the children to try. She dipped into her core, searching, searching, searching, but only felt that tiny spark in her abdomen. Not enough to even ignite a twig, when what she needed was a full-on magical blaze.

"You must believe," warbled a disembodied voice at the edge of her consciousness.*

Ashley scanned the garden to see who might've spoken, but all she saw was a crow gazing down at her with black eyes. "Believe what?" Ashley whispered.

"Who are you talking to?" Derek said, raising a green eyebrow.

"There was a voice."

"I think this garden is making all of you ladies loony," Derek said.

"Only the ladies?" Tressa grumbled.

"Pot, kettle, Derek?" Layyin said.

Ashley pressed her fingers into her temples to soothe a rising headache. "Never mind. I tried to access my magic, but it's barely a flicker, not an inferno."

"Excuse me?" Kai said.

"Yes?" Ashley said.

"We do have a source of fire magic."

"Where?"

Kai nodded at the baby dragon.

Ashley clapped her hands. "Oh, my gosh, Kai. You're brilliant."

Derek hugged his "baby" against his chest. "You're not using Derek Junior for experimental magic."

"Derek Junior?"

"Yes. That way, he has both my name and the name Ruth and Deathgiver gave him. In their honor, may they rest in peace."

Ashley pressed her fists into her hips. "Derek, they're not dead. You do know you're going to have to return their child, right?" Ashley said.

"No, I'm pretty sure they're dead. Poor little orphaned dragon. But I will take care of him."

Rolling her eyes, Ashley held on to the hope that the dragons, the guards, and Gerald were all alive in a very close-by, easily-accessible universe. "How do you know he's a him?"

"Trust me. It's obvious, right, Derek Junior," Derek said, with a proud dad smirk."

"As if you're responsible somehow for his "endowment," Tressa said.

Derek scowled.

"We won't hurt a scale on Derek Junior's head. Just have him breathe some fire on the scissors till they're red hot," Ashley said.

"My lovely scissors?" A tear leaked from one of Derek's green eyes.

"Derek," Ashley stomped her foot.

"Whatever. Okay. Only because otherwise, I know you'll never give up." Ashley set the scissors on the grass next to the dragon. "Derek Junior, be a good dragon and flame Daddy's blades."

Ashley was about to translate for Derek, but Junior seemed to understand. He spewed a stream of golden fire until the blades glowed red.

"Aren't they going to burn you?" Kai said.

"The handles look fine," Ashley said, reaching out in a tentative touch. When her skin didn't singe, she gripped them with trembling hands, heart pounding a staccato beat, her nerves frayed with fear and exhaustion because Dru could return any moment. The fate of the children weighed on her narrow shoulders, as heavily as a ship's anchor. The heat from the blades rippled the air and warmed her face.

Once again, she snipped the air." Nothing's happening," Ashley moaned.

"Believe," said the voice.

"What am I to believe? Easy for you to say. You're disembodied and therefore have no body to lose."

"Just do it," the voice said, sounding a little frustrated with Ashley's uncooperative response.

"Who doesn't have a body to lose?" Derek said.

"Shhhh!" Ashley said aloud. Then, to avoid Derek's commentary about how hearing disembodied voices was not a sign of mental stability, she repeated I believe only in her mind. I believe. At first, they were merely words. But as she said them over and over in her brain, they became real and substantial. I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe.

What did she believe?

That she was in the right spot?

That the dragon magic would work?

That a prince's scissors could cut the fabric of the world?

All of that and none of that.

What she had to believe in was herself. That she was the final ingredient to invoke the magic.

Because what was magic but belief?

She imbued her soul into the mix. The magic within her remained as cool as long-forgotten embers, but the essence of her soul raced along her skin, down her arm, and into the scissors. Now when she snipped, the blades cut into something substantial and elusive—like trying to cut a straight seam on a sheet of velvet flapping on a clothesline.

A jagged black line materialized in the air. Ashley gasped. Had she done it? She poked a finger and a thumb through the hole and spread it wider. Cold, musty, acrid, pungent air rushed out. Nudging the opening a little more, she could make out more of the room—the darkness, the stench, the children on the floor. She replaced her fingers with the scissors and hacked away, holding her breath as if any extra movement might break the spell. Something moved inside, flying toward her face.

"Aaaagh!" she cried, ducking out of the way of a swarm of bats. Remembering how quickly the seam had healed when Dru arrived in the garden, Ashley gripped and stretched the opening to hold it open. The bats flew through, into the garden, joined by crows streaking into the sky. Dual black harbingers of doom swooped and soared in a chilling rhapsody.

"Of course there are bats," Derek grumbled. He set Derek Junior on the grass and stood, brushing grass from his purple velvet tights.

The little dragon hopped, flapping its wings, trying to launch himself into the air. Perhaps he wanted to play with the crows and bats. Or, he wanted a snack. Ashley knew nothing about dragons, so she couldn't say for sure. Derek hovered over him, like a worried mother hen.

Pulling apart the seam's edges as broadly as her arms would allow, Ashley prompted her friends. "Come on, everyone. Let's go get those kids."

Tressa wrinkled her nose. "How do we know there's not something worse than bats in there?"

"We don't," Layyin said. "That's the fun part. I'll go first."

Layyin went through. "Smells like the inside of a rotted onion, but no monsters."

The others followed, leaving only Ashley and Derek. He scooped up Derek Junior (who was very focused on the crow/bat ruckus in the sky). "You can play with your winged friends later, son. Like when you're forty." Before Derek crossed the threshold, he glared at the blackened scissors smoldering on the grass. "You owe me a new pair."

"I love you too," Ashley said.

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*In paranormal fiction, there seems to be an overabundance of disembodied voices, which usually exist in the story framework to dole out unhelpful, typically arcane, advice. In real life, you hardly ever hear one. Many fictional tropes are uncommon in real life. If aliens got to know us by watching interstellar TV transmissions, they'd assume most humans suffered from amnesia, worked in hospitals, murdered each other for sport, and, of course, heard voices.

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