“Now is your moment, Proto! The time is come, ready or not,” boomed Somnus. “Certain choices, certain possibilities, lie open before you. We all can think of a few. Perhaps you’ve thought of more. Perhaps you’ve opened more possibilities for yourself! Or perhaps not. In any event, you choose among them now.”

  They stood in the lounge of Somnus’ Palace, surrounded by all of Proto’s friends in the dream realm: Jet, Jag and Mayger; Wentsworth and Uberta; Astrid, Lilac, and Dahlia, all looking at him earnestly; even Paunch, holding a half-eaten pastry in his hand.

  But Proto felt he was alone with Somnus; for everyone else was absolutely still, unblinking and unspeaking. Some mouths were open midsentence, others closed midbite. Cards lay half-dealt on the tables. Silverware jabbed into food but never lifted it. A coat was halfway hung. Apart from him and Somnus, nothing moved but the mists swirling about their feet.

  Yet within Proto, the mists of memory were whirling faster than ever before. Memories of his time at Somnus’ Palace passed warmly through his recollection. At the same time, memories of that forgotten, final week in the breathing world came rushing back too—that week he’d spent with Red and Black, Yemos and Ausrine and Mannus, Helen and Himari, Chubs and Jakeson, Shirley and Aston, Reks and Stang, even Glen the whisky presenter.

  The two sets of memories met like a warm front meeting a cold front, swirling into a dewy and misty welter, which obscured everything even as it sprinkled life.

  Out of those swirling memories, in his mind’s eye, something started forming. Someone started forming. But it wasn’t any of those remembered friends from the breathing world, nor his friends standing around him in the lounge, dear as all those friends might be.

  No, the one taking shape in his thoughts was one he’d not met in the breathing world, nor in Somnus’ Palace, but in the Mists. One whom he’d met many times. And each time, it’d been new and different and good.

  He smiled just thinking of her. She was an all-in-all, yet also more unique than anyone else he’d met. How could he imagine being with anyone else? It seemed hard to believe he ever had.

  “So, Proto!” The Lord of Dreams faced him as a tidal wave faces the shore. “What will it be? Will you be waking up today? Or have you found your true love here?”

  Seeing the gleaming zeal of Somnus’ gaze upon him, Proto met it squarely. “Mercune,” he said. “My true love is Mercune.”

  The Lord of Dreams stared at Proto for a while. He opened his mouth as though to answer, then paused. A mixture of thoughtfulness, amusement and uncertainty passed across his face.

  Finally, he winced a smile out. “I’m afraid I need some clarification, Proto.”

  “Clarification?” Proto frowned. “Like, which Mercune do I mean? You need three guesses or something?”

  “Not necessary! I’ll just pick the one who laughs at you most and count on your Stockholm Syndrome to take care of the rest,” said Somnus.

  Proto frowned. “Great, thanks.”

  “No sweat! As she would say,” Somnus cheerfully replied. “Anyhow, my question is this: Are you telling me you’d like to go back down to the breathing world? No offense, if so. Follow your heart! Of course, once you’re there, it’s up to you what happens next. You and Mercune. Out of my hands, you understand.”

  Back to the breathing world?

  No, that hadn’t been what Proto meant. He’d met Mercune while dreaming, so he’d vaguely imagined being with her that way. But how would that work? He’d gotten so wrapped up in making his choice that he’d never thought about the logistics of it.

  “I’m afraid I need some clarification,” Somnus had said. The way he said that . . .

  “It sounds like you’re saying there’s an alternative,” responded Proto. “Some way of being with Mercune, other than returning to the breathing world.”

  Somnus sighed. “Well . . . this is tricky. I’ll put it this way. If there’s an alternative, you’ll have to tell me what it is.”

  Proto stared and pondered awhile, before a half-formed thought stirred excitedly inside him. “Can she come here?”

  “Can she?” Somnus eyed him. “Catch a ride on the Dubai-to-Dream-Realm Express? Or . . . ?”

  Proto shook his head. “When she’s dreaming, I mean. Remember, you told me how I’d made my way here through the Mists? Well, Mercune is much better at getting through the Mists than I am. She can just blow a path through. She could come straight here. Just walk up that pathway along the cliff outside, walk in the front door, walk up the staircase, and stroll in. Right?”

  “Well.” Somnus hesitated. “That sounds feasible. I wouldn’t turn her away at the door, certainly. My mother would kill me! And I’m not even sure I’m killable.”

  “So . . . sounds like a plan?” said Proto.

  Somnus paused, lips pressing, then mustered a smile. “So it sounds! Very Persephone. She’d spend half her time in the breathing world, awake, and half her time here, asleep. By day, she’d be a seer, putting the world’s far future into words. By night, you’d dwell together in my Palace in the Mists. Lovely thought.”

  “‘She’d live.’ ‘She’d be.’ ‘You’d dwell,’” repeated Proto. “Somnus, why are you using the subjunctive?”

  The Lord of Dreams winced. “Eh. You’ve been spending too much time with my mother.”

  “Mercune will be coming here when she’s dreaming, right?” pressed Proto.

  “Eh.” Somnus looked away, his brow furrowed.

  “ . . . Yes? No?” said Proto.

  Somnus shook his head. “I’m afraid yes or no won’t do that question justice!”

  Proto eyed him for a moment. “There’s something important I don’t know.”

  “Two or three things,” sighed Somnus. “The answer to your yes-or-no question is, yes, that’s correct, and no, this wouldn’t play out like you’re contemplating. I’d love to tell you more, but I’m not sure I can. Mother’s rules, you see.”

  “No, no!” called a woman imperiously from the doorway beneath the tree tapestry. “If this is where things are going, I quite agree, Somnus. He should know.”

  It was the Queen of Heaven, radiant in her raiment of star-shaped leaves, beaming like the world couldn’t be righter.

  Somnus raised his brow. “Speak of the Daemon.”

  “And she appears, yes,” affirmed Flua-Sahng. “Remember that next time you gossip about me. Remember that next time you decline to host me at your place in the decades since your Y2K party!” Her eyes went wide at her son.

  “You and that apple brandy had enough fun to last a few decades, don’t you think!” retorted Somnus.

  Flua-Sahng smiled. “Anyhow. My rules may be strict, but I never let them stand in the way of true love. As I’ve made abundantly clear, Proto will have his opportunity to choose his true love, whether it be in the dream world or the breathing world. . . . Will have? Or is having? Mm. The bottom line is, he’s entitled to know which of the two worlds he’s picking! That’s only fair. And my rules may be strict, but they’re never unfair.

  Proto tilted his head at her and stared, as Somnus’ lips quirked up.

  “Hm. You’re likely wondering what I’m talking about, Proto.” Flua-Sahng winced. “Sorry to go all Cryptic-Queen-of-Heaven on you.”

  But Proto was reflecting on what she’d said. “No, I think I understand where this is going.”

  Her brow rose. “Oh? Surprise me.”

  “This is about Mercune choosing to be a seer instead of a doer, isn’t it?” Proto recalled how she’d described being a seer:

  “Imagine. . . . Each time you had a vision, it became a little harder to resist the next one. Eventually, it’d become too hard to resist.”

  “So, you had a choice: Accept the visions forever or give them up forever. If you gave them up, then you could live the life you wanted to live, doing what you wanted to do. If you kept having the visions—well, who knows what would happen?”

  “What would you do?” Her green gaze widened upon him, blazing with the sheen of starlight.

  “It’s about her visions, isn’t it?” Proto spoke on, half-lost in intimation. “She goes into those trances, like the ones I saw in her dreams. Something’s going to happen to her, isn’t it?”

  Flua-Sahng’s lips curved up. “Hm! She’s not the only one quick as a fox on a motorcycle.”

  Somnus tsked. “The idioms you use, Mother! You don’t even have parents to blame for it.”

  “Yes, well, I blame the Daughter of Life,” retorted the Mother of All. “I’ll have you know, some people find it charming!”

  “Evidently,” shrugged Somnus, eying Proto.

  But Proto hardly noticed, being too swept up in his realization. “Mercune’s visions are going to keep getting longer and more frequent, aren’t they? And then . . . ”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “And then?” Flua-Sahng smiled sympathetically at him. “You’re so close.”

  “And then, one of them isn’t going to end. Right?” he said.

  The Queen of Heaven waited expectantly.

  In Proto’s mind, there formed a vast, vague prospect. “And then—”

  Flua-Sahng smiled and squeezed his hand. “Yes! Precisely as you thought. Oh—will think? Would have thought? Sorry, didn’t mean to get ahead of you. In any event, now you know.”

  “It’ll be a while,” she went on. “Mercune won’t be coming here before then. She has things she needs to do up in the breathing world. And if she visits here before then, even once, they won’t happen. Alas, I’ve checked. So, no Persephone-Mercune.”

  “But eventually, you two will be reunited. It just will take a few years,” she explained. “Bearing that in mind, is Mercune still your choice? Last chance, free takebacks!”

  “Wait. Wait wait wait. That’s my line! I ask who his choice is!” frowned Somnus. “Look how my mother is taking over my job! It never ends, Proto.”

  “Very Old Country Grandma,” observed Proto.

  “Well said. I approve,” nodded the Lord of Dreams.

  “Proto! I’m waiting!” called Flua-Sahng sweetly. “Never keep an Old Country Grandma waiting. It’s bad for your future. Believe me, I know!”

  “Yes,” answered Proto. “Meaning, yes, my choice is still Mercune. Change my choice? That doesn’t sound much like true love.”

  “Now he’s stealing my lines,” grumbled Somnus.

  “Aw, that’s what I like to hear, Proto,” smiled Flua-Sahng. “By the way, that’s what she’d like to hear too! Some free advice from an Old Country Grandma.”

  “Thanks, Grandmother of All,” replied Proto.

  “Oh-kay, I’m going to draw the line there!” she admonished. “So, moving right along. You two will need a proper place to stay, won’t you?”

  “I guess. I mean, my bed’s a full, I think . . . ?” Proto eyed Somnus questioningly.

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, a blue-walled room with silvery glowstrips and a cot is no place for a happy ending! Not this one! Not on my watch!” declaimed Flua-Sahng. “Leave it to me. I made a home for humanity, I can make a home for two.”

  She snapped her fingers, and the screech of steel on stone split the air.

  Mists swirled up from the lounge’s floor. They lapped their way up the legs of chairs and tables, and of Proto’s friends, and of Proto himself. And they whirled about the Queen of Heaven like this whole dreamy realm were her whirligig.

  “What’s this? Just going to take over the whole job?” protested the Lord of Dreams. “Take my favorite part from me? ‘Yes, of course I’m going to appropriate a room in my son’s house, decorate it as I see fit, and gift it to the boy whom Somnus has spent several months rearing up in his profession!’”

  “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you design their bar,” his mother replied amiably. “You do better bars than me, unless we’re talking tea bars. And I don’t think Proto wants a tea bar.”

  “I admit that’s somewhat placating,” replied Somnus. “But still, the principle of it! You’ve hijacked this Possibility! I’ve been the victim of a Possibility-jacking!”

  “Oh, but Somnus, this one’s special!” beamed Flua-Sahng. “Proto didn’t have to pick this Possibility—plenty of options—but he did. And this is the one Possibility that’s inseparable from me. In a sense, I daresay, he picked me! At least, as close to me as you’ll find among Children of the Mists.”

  Somnus eyed her. “This is getting slightly creepy, Mother.”

  “‘The only value in this valueless world is what you share with someone when you’re creepy,’” said the Mother of All.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” declared Proto.

  “You see, Somnus?” cried Flua-Sahng triumphantly. “He even has my taste in humor.”

  “But he has my taste in drinks!” countered Somnus. “‘Armagnac, please. An eighty year old. By the way, nice to meet you, Lord of Dreams.’ That’s when I knew he was fated for great things. Well, cheers, Proto. I’ll make sure you have plenty.”

  “Cheerio,” replied the Seer-turned-Visitor.

  “What, are you Wentsworth now?” asked Somnus. “Tracksuit one day, three-piece the next? Ah, but they grow up quickly.”

  By now, the mists were swirling over Proto’s head. In seconds, all was lost in whitish grey obscurity. He didn’t feel that he had moved.

  Yet, as he reached out where a chair had been a moment prior, his hand passed through nothing but fog. He was standing, but it wasn’t clear he was standing on anything. He felt that he was in a place not made yet, a place where Chaos hadn’t yet been Ordered.

  Then, lights began pricking through the swirling mirk, one by one, till a thousand stars were constellating the void. And at its heart beamed Flua-Sahng, flush with a rose-gold glow.

  “One forgets, sometimes,” she mused in queenly tones, surveying the aethereal welter, “what glory Chaos holds. It is a blank canvas; a raw block of marble; a sheet of uncut fabric; the blank page with a pen atop it. Chaos is what imagination works upon. True, one finds plenty of Chaos in the breathing world. But here—why, one might make anything of anything! This is what I love. This is what I’m for. This is whom I’m for!” Her green gaze yearned toward the unordered void.

  Then, she shook her head slightly. “Pardon.” Her lip quirked up, and she brushed a stray red strand from her forehead. “The moon can’t help waxing full, once a month, and I can’t help waxing poetic. We can’t help it.”

  Proto blinked. “Um. Poets, you mean.”

  “Yes. Precisely. Wisely spoken,” smiled Flua-Sahng. “Now, this is the part where you ask me where we are, yes?”

  “I admit the question had occurred to me.” Proto squinted at the mirky points of light. They spun and tilted in parallax, as though he were gyring in a maelstrom. Yet all felt tranquil and unmoved.

  “Right. I’m so not going through all that! It was boring the first time I heard it from Somnus, let alone the thousandth!” declared Flua-Sahng. “‘Blah blah, we’re in Chaos, let’s have a bit of Order, et cetera, et cetera.’ I am Order, and I’m married to Chaos, and I’m not about to waste everyone’s time talking about us.”

  She snapped her fingers. “There. I’ve restored your memories of Somnus giving his whole spiel about How Things Work.”

  “‘So, first things first,’” she announced in an exaggeratedly booming Somnus-voice. “‘They all heard your choice back here. None of them can hear you anymore. Now, there’s something I have to tell you! I hope you’re listening, because this is blah blah blah.’ Plenty of Possibilities where you hear all that. I don’t need to bore you, myself, or the multiverse by saying it again.”

  Indeed, Proto suddenly did remember Somnus giving that spiel. Many different variations of it, in fact. It was a bit bizarre.

  “Where was I? Right. I need to build a boudoir! Lucky you, I have lots of experience creating things.” Flua-Sahng waved a radiant hand, and branching veins of blood-red suddenly flamed through the void. “Much more than Somnus, mind you. I taught him all he knows; which isn’t much. I made a world to fit mankind! So, I daresay, I can make an awfully fine world for two. Especially two for whom I care so much.”

  Interspersed with pulsing red arteries, the mists began to rearrange themselves. They remained amorphous. And yet their formlessness started hinting toward forms, like cells in the womb.

  “So.” Proto eyed the creation in progress. “I guess I should’ve mentioned this earlier, Queen of Heaven. But it’s nice to see you again. It’s been, what, fifteen minutes? Or a month or two, depending how you’re counting?”

  “It is nice!” she cried. “I’m glad you share my views on this. My son thinks inviting me over every quarter-century is acceptable. To think, if you hadn’t picked Mercune, it might’ve been much longer! But all’s well that ends well.”

  “Anyhow, how have you been managing without me?” She waved her finger back and forth lightly like a musical baton, as mists started solidifying toward forms. “Somnus said something about you, and armagnac, and being fated for great things, something something. I don’t know what it means, but it has me a bit worried, Proto.”

  He shrugged. “Your son has good taste in drinks.”

  “That’s not the way to answer when I ask you how you’re managing without me!” she exclaimed anxiously.

  Proto’s lips curved up. “I’m thinking about giving Mercune another gift. Special day, right? What do you think would be better, the sixty year old or the eighty?”

  “Don’t you dare!” admonished the Queen of Heaven. “You’ll be giving Mercune no gifts older than her today.”

  “ . . . except one, right?” Proto double-gunned himself.

  Flua-Sahng rolled her eyes. “Ugh. You disgust me.”

  “Anyway,” smiled Proto, “how have you been managing without me, Mother of All?”

  “Good question!” Her green gaze widened upon him. “How ever do I get through the day without my daily dose of witless and inappropriate innuendo from a shabbily dressed bronze medalist?” She waved her hand, and suddenly he was wearing his bronze medal.

  “Hey now,” protested Proto with a helpless smile. “I’m working on the ‘shabbily dressed’ part. I’ve been taking advice from Jet. And a bit from Wentsworth too. Classic, that guy.”

  “Hmph. At least it’s not my son,” she said. “Bad enough he already got you on his drinks. But if you started wearing his robes too, I think I’d break off this engagement, for the Daughter of Life’s sake! Mother of All’s privilege.”

  “I’ll do my best to stay on your good side.” Proto gave her his most winning grin.

  Flua-Sahng smothered a smile, looking away with lips pressed. “What makes you think you’re there already, Young Man?” Her voice was strangely wobbly. “Is it the way I made your life into a Choose Your Own Adventure novel with only happy endings? Or the way I hug you and cry when I bid farewell for just ‘a month or two’? Or the way I steered events so you’d spend day after day with my favorite girl in the whole world?”

  She wiped her shimmering eyes. “I’m sorry, a Mother of All’s not supposed to pick favorites, is she? Well, we all do. I can say that with authority, because I’m the only one.”

  He gently squeezed her hand, for once, and her dewy eyes flicked to him. “I’ll probably see you more now with Mercune around. Two birds with one stone, right?” he said lightly.

  “‘Two birds with one stone!’” The Queen of Heaven wiped her eyes again. “You can be two stones and a bird, if you please, so long as you treat Mercune like the ruby and emerald and lovebird she is. Otherwise, you’ll be seeing quite a lot more of me than you’d like!”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Proto reassured. “I make a point of referring to rubies and emeralds as often as possible with her. And Christmas. And Ireland. And tartan. And apple trees. And—”

  “Yes, you, I get the picture. I’ve only suffered through these gibes for aeons!” she chided, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Do continue though. It warms our hearts.”

  “Warm? One would think you’re already flaming hot, a veritable burning bush, with that fiery mass—” began Proto.

  “Oh-kay, that’s quite enough!” she declared. “Rubies and emeralds, Proto, rubies and emeralds!”

  Laughing, he cast his gaze across this strange and wondrous world in which he found himself.

  Then, he blinked. While they were talking, the wisps of whitish grey had formed themselves into shapes, which even now were clarifying and acquiring color.

  Red tapestries adorned the lofty walls of white, as well as two huge stained-glass windows to the starry sky. One window showed the outline of a man holding the injured body of a woman, bleeding a stream of stars. The other showed a giant crimson teardrop, with a host of figures arrayed in a ritualistic formation within it.

  Two rows of full-size elms and ashes ran along the chamber’s two sides—well, elms and ashes, but with star-shaped leaves.

  “What do you think?” asked Flua-Sahng with suppressed excitement.

  “It’s beautiful. Majestic,” praised Proto carefully. “And, um, it looks familiar.”

  “Doesn’t it? She has good taste. Apple doesn’t fall far and all that,” declared Flua-Sahng happily. “Oh, all right. Here, follow me.” She led him out of the grand chamber, down a hallway, and through a door.

  Inside was a large room with long-tasseled tapestries hanging from the walls. Oaken furniture was fraught with inlays, depicting knights and damsels curtseying and clasping palms, and dragons and black knights, and heroes on quests. Near one wall was a chaise lounge, shaped like a sleeping cat. Near another wall was a giant crimson-and-jade-quilted bed.

  “You see? It’s not all stars and stained glass and marbled white grandeur,” Flua-Sahng said. “She has a homey side too. As one should. She’s an all-in-all, you know!”

  “Are we talking about Mercune or you?” he asked.

  “If you’re not sure, it’s safest to assume both.” She patted his hand.

  “Well. Quite a place. Can’t wait to explore.” Proto surveyed it for a moment, then glanced at his watch.

  “Hmph! You may as well just say ‘hint hint’ out loud!” groused Flua-Sahng. “Well, I can’t fault you for impatience, this time. Yes, there’s more to explore. But I’ll leave it to you two to explore whatever you’d like to explore together.”

  “Much obliged,” nodded Proto.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it!” she cried. “You should be praying I don’t barge in here an hour after she arrives, announcing I’ve brought you two a tray of goodies, only to gape in shock at what I see before me!”

  “Mother of All, indeed,” said Proto.

  “Aren’t I!” She beamed. “Well, come along. It’s time to go.”

  Proto stared at her.

  The Queen of Heaven tilted her red head and smiled. “Oh—you thought I was going to snap my fingers, disappear, and, in my parting, conjure forth Mercune, conveniently within the confines of your bedchamber? Ha! Like I said, you have a while to wait, I’m afraid. Years! Far too long to fit in this scene. Sorry, Proto, your Princess is in another world! The breathing world. No happy ending today!”