The rainbow began shimmering and then sharpened into a silhouette of a man. "He is not late; he is the one who arrives when the end begins." He stepped into the bioluminescent waves like he was being assembled out of them. Colors clung to him before dissolving, like even the world didn’t know what shape he was supposed to be.

  His hat was the first thing I noticed. Tall, structured… but wrong. The brim flickered like static, shifting to a completely different hat for a split second before returning. Feathers. Then no feathers. Victorian. Then something almost steampunk with spinning gears. Then- gone. Then-back. This stranger then took off his hat and held it to his chest as he bowed to us. As if showing us immense respect; though I don't remember ever seeing him before now. He looked like he was walking down a staircase that only he could see; the hat kept changing but he didn't seem to notice.

  Houdini standing beside me, chest puffed out, ears tall and locked onto the shifting light. He wasn’t scared… but he wasn’t relaxed either. Instead, he was doing that thing he did back home when a person was approaching that he didn’t dislike but didn’t trust yet. A little warning grunt vibrated from him, barely audible, but enough to send a prickle down my spine. Houdini jumped a step forward; I look up to see what looks like a long narrow obelisk crystal falling down very slowly in front of us then it snaps! With a flash, the flat end turned into a table edge, legs popping out making connection with the grass bed. It starts to become an unusually long table with the pointed end going in the other direction for what looked like eternity.

  “Terribly rude of Wonderland to open its eyes before proper introductions,” he said lightly, his voice lilting, as if singing a tune only he could hear. He swung something lazily from his fingers—a short golden chain. Whatever hung from it swung in time with the waves on the ground, catching the blue-violet glow and fracturing it into sparks of glittering gold.

  A pocket watch, huh? I suppose they’re more common reminders of the gone than I ever realized. Grief is a state I know with great intimacy; I recognize that look anywhere, because I hide my own consuming grief just the same.

  “Oh- well l that’s no fun,” he said suddenly, bright and careless. He flipped the watch once, twice, shrugged, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket with zero ceremony. “Trinkets never stay sentimental long around here. Terrible habit.” It felt like watching someone toss away a memory, without knowing what they had done.

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  Houdini took one hopping step forward, then stopped dead. His nose twitched rapidly, but he wasn’t alarmed. He was… watching him. Carefully. It felt like he knew this man wasn’t dangerous yet, but that danger could show up at any moment. The man’s eyes slid from Houdini to mine. He smiled—small, half crooked, and haunted.

  “Now there’s a familiar echo,” he murmured, voice lowering, looking back down to Houdini. “You feel like someone I promised something to… once.” His gaze drifted upward, lost in thought. “Or perhaps it was him who promised. Hard to keep track when the voices get loud.” The air around him pulsed once, and for a heartbeat, I swear I saw a silhouette leaning over his shoulder- whispering in his ear. He blinked; the presence vanished. His brightness snapped back into place.

  “Well! Standing out here in the dark is terribly un-festive, don’t you think?” He tipped his hat- now back to its mismatched pins, frayed ribbon and threadbare charm- and gave a sweeping bow. “Welcome to Wonderland, Katrina and Houdini. You’re running a little late on time.”

  “Wait—how do you know our names?”

  He grinned and static formed around him like a vibration; he shifted from a standing to sitting in the air with the chair appearing a few seconds later. His smile shifted, wrong at the edges, like something else was wearing it. “Oh,” he said softly, distantly, “I met someone who carried your name long before you did. " My blood ran cold; Houdini thumped his back foot once—a warning.

  "Excuse me?" maybe I just imagined him saying our names, right? He glanced up from his cup of coffee. Smoke—not steam—rose from it, filling the air with the scent of burned autumn leaves, cold and wet.

  "You? Who are you?” He said in a disgusted tone and then waved his one hand brushing me off while his coffee started floating in the air in place. He then started waving his arms about bringing furniture from seemingly nowhere. So he is a magic user. And an instinctive one, especially to do all of that. “Houdini my dear boy, you keep such odd company these days!” His hat shifted to a red and black Victorian bonnet. I look down to see Houdini finally sitting down, tilting his head he looks from the strange man back up to me. He doesn’t seem afraid anymore; just confused. This is such a strange dream.

  “Here you are dear, your favorite if I remember correctly.” On the table, a plate appeared: fresh kale and carrots. Houdini was on the table in a single leap, devouring his feast. Could he always jump that high? I shake my head again. Hatter blinked, expression clearing like fog lifting. He straightened his jacket and hat, now back to normal, with a look on his face that seemed as bewildered as I felt. The man disappears again and is now standing in front of me, holding his hand out. “Well lambchop, are you going to take a seat?” The same creepy grin curled on his face. Suddenly, the silhouette of a person slaps him sharply on the side of his face. Hard. Then the mirage dissolved. “Ah. Ignore that,” he said brightly. “Echoes. They get, chatty, yes... chatty. Would you please take a seat?