“Richard?!”

  Dread brought me right to the orange-tinged mollusk. I poked at him, and his unresponsive body flopped limply to the side.

  His skin was dry, rubbery. I leaned close to check for breathing.

  “He’s breathing.” I looked at Briyain, noticing for the first time that the Tully Monster was floating belly up.

  Finally, having mind to trigger [First Aid] I confirmed what I already suspected.

  Someone drugged them.

  Relieved I sat down on the big, fluffy velvet chair in the room’s corner. I no longer cared if I dirtied it with my presence.

  We were locked in. I leaned back, closing my eyes as my mind raced.

  There had been a click when Karla left.

  She’d been suspicious of us.

  We really had no reason to leave the room. But in most hotels, one locked the door from the inside.

  “I’m going to take a bath.” Meredeath cut through my panic.

  My patience picked that moment to snap.

  “How can you bathe? We’re trapped! Tandy is out there.” I waved past the door. “They drugged Richard and Briyain!”

  “Cole, do you need a hug?” I looked at Meredeath incredulous. Had she gone mad? Check that. Had she gone completely mad?

  What I needed was my friends back. I looked at Meredeath with her odd fishnets, her skull amulet, and the alien magic flitting in her eyes. It was as though my infatuation had drained away, and I saw the truth of her.

  She was a stranger.

  And Ash? He’d put on pants, and was rubbing his hair dry with the towel. Scars crisscrossed his body, white clean edges. I knew him even less well.

  My panic unraveled everything I’d spent the last few months building. My foundation, the very blueprint of my survival, was gone. And I’d let myself realize it.

  I sank into the chair as Meredeath came closer.

  “Do you need…” She paused. I looked up, thinking she was going to offer a hug. To my horror, I found her seductively dangling a finger from her mouth. “Something else?” she said in a low whisper, oblivious to Ash’s presence.

  It was at that moment that I knew that I’d fallen asleep.

  In no sane universe would Meredeath try to seduce me. Certainly not in front of Ash.

  The dream felt so real, as though reality had just slipped through the cracks into this alternative. I felt alive in a way I’d never thought possible. The month long fatigue melting into excitement.

  Meredeath’s hand was hot on my chest. I tried not to breathe, for fear she’d change her mind.

  Long-forgotten vitality filled my veins as fear and doubt dropped away. I grinned at Meredeath as I leaned back. It was finally happening.

  Excitement bubbled. Anticipation. I’d been waiting for this for a long time. The hotel room fell away as though I’d popped a dreamy soap bubble.

  Instead, it was Minvi who sat across from me. We were on a green blanket in my father’s fields. It was the cusp of summer, and sunlight filtered through her dark hair. She smelled clean, of lavender baked in the first blush of summer.

  She was nestled up to me, a hand on my chest, the curve of her body against mine. My body yearned for me to push and take it further, but I was in control. I held her in my arms, reveling in her quiet acceptance of our closeness.

  She was looking in the distance, with the curve of her nose in profile. Her dark, thin eyebrows were in sharp contrast to her untanned skin.

  We hadn’t worked out. Minvi was a miserable partner. Our relationship had been based on proximity and low standards. I knew this.

  Yet…

  I leaned forward, almost touching her ear.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered. She twisted looking at me as goosebumps ran down her neck.

  I grinned at her indignation. Her face, bathed in sunlight, showed the faint creep of a blush. The tall grasses of the field swayed in the breeze, providing a rustling backdrop to our romance.

  “Why, Cole Thornfield, I think you’re just trying to butter me up.” The melodic voice I’d fallen for teased me. It held nothing of later, of broken promises and hurt feelings. It held the promise of spring buds, the velvet hope of us.

  Under the right conditions, a little seed met with a little sunlight.

  I reached forward and brushed my hand against her cheek. She leaned into the caress, eyes closing.

  And a little heat.

  Tipping forward, I brushed my lips against her gooseberry lipstick. Leaning into the kiss, I released, reveling as her breath caught. I traced a line down her neck, enjoying each shiver.

  Now we just needed a little moisture.

  Eyes closed, our bodies fell back against the cool ground. Minvi made a gasp that spurred me onward.

  Adjusting, I put my hand down to brace myself.

  It came down onto something cold and slimy.

  My eyes snapped open to confirm what I already knew.

  “RICHARD?! What are you doing here?” My teenage voice squeaked as I jumped up. Minvi stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Maybe I had.

  I don’t think you wanted to feed it this memory. His eye tentacles looked at Minvi’s dress, already askew, and the rough wool blanket. A stray moo came from the pasture next to us. Or maybe you do. Is this what passes for romance in Woodsten?

  Face aflame, I jumped back from the memory. The promise of life, of more to come, of limitless possibilities. Of naivety and youth.

  The vision vanished, replaced by darkness and the faint glow of Richard.

  Follow me. We’ve got to find the others.

  His body had grown to the size of a dog. A glistening slime trail snaked behind him in the void.

  Only step where I’ve been, or you’ll fall into another dream.

  I looked down. I was standing on nothing. If it weren’t for Richard’s presence, I’d be in a complete void. Oddly, the slurk of his undulation kept me grounded.

  With a step forward, I placed my foot firmly on his oversized slime trail. It was oddly solid, unlike its normal slipperiness.

  “What is this place?” I asked the void, my voice vanishing without an echo.

  This is the place in between.

  I took another step forward. It felt like there was stone beneath my foot, as though there was substance to this nothingness.

  “The place between what?” I asked, my eyes roaming the darkness, seeking—I saw a faint spark. Richard seemed to be honed in on it already, his foot quivering as it propelled him towards the tiny illuminated dot.

  We’ll have time to explain later. I’ve found Ash.

  Suddenly, the dot wasn’t a dot, but a blazing star burning through my retinas. The void vanished, revealing a moss-covered forest.

  A metallic cart sat on stone blocks wrapped in rusted metal armor. Yellow paint covered large portions of the armor, but time had picked at the varnish. Rust and clumps of moss sat on the hood of the maganical contraption. It had definitely seen better days.

  The forest dripped whether from a recent shower, or just the damp ambiance I wasn’t sure. It reminded me of the forests near the Port of Dragons.

  Ah, the air tastes like home. Stay close to me and let me pull him out. Whatever you do, say nothing. Do nothing. You don’t want to become part of this memory.

  Richard had shrunk down to a three-inch, relatively normal-looking banana slug.

  Extra-small Richard slithered towards the rusty box the size of a carriage cab. A small house sat behind them. Velvety emerald moss covered stacked stones, and a slate roof. A clank brought my attention to two legs sticking out from under the frame.

  If the weird yellow box didn’t give it away, the odd shoes would have. We were in Ash’s world. He wore soft shoes with white leather and a swooping checkmark in black. The shoes looked scuffed and entirely alien.

  I opened my mouth to comment, but was hushed by a fiery tentacle turned my way.

  Right. No talking.

  “Dad?” Ash called in a high-pitched teenage voice. He scooted out from under the cart. Ash’s hair was long, pulled back into a warrior’s tail.

  Everything about him was youthful. His face was thin, with controlled eyebrows, and his cheeks held the peach fuzz of youth.

  Grease and oil splattered his blue pants and gray shirt. Although he looked completely different, one thing was the same. Ash had maganical gunk all over him.

  “Dad, I need some help to get this drum unstuck!” Ash ducked back under, and clanked something with a hammer.

  Then he muttered to himself, “Like we’re ever going to get these brakes road ready.” He’d begun rattling something with a tool as though trying to knock a bolt loose.

  Richard slowly slithered his way towards Ash. His neck elongated as though peering at our prone friend, trying to find the best method of attack.

  The door creaked on rusty hinges.

  Hanging moss had camouflaged a small glass window. Conch mushrooms growing out weak joints in the siding. This was an odd house.

  A portly, middle-aged man stepped down what I now recognized were weathered concrete stairs. Gray hair had started to win against his peppery physique. He looked a lot like the Ash in my world. Tan skin, a ready smile as he looked at his son, and wild bushy eyebrows that looked like they were going to crawl off his face.

  “Coming!” he said under a bushy beard. Ash’s dad walked with a gait that spoke of an old knee injury.

  Ash couldn’t see it, but the man smiled when he caught sight of his son’s legs tucked under the metal cart. “Which drum are you working on?”

  Ash’s dad slowed, his voice faltering. Wincing, he stumbled, an errant hand reaching out for a dark curly railing that blended in with the forest. He leaned against it heavily.

  “Ash, something’s wrong.” Ash’s dad gasped harshly as he clung to the railing. Suddenly out of breath, clutching his chest, he sank to the stoop of the house. His face splotchy, eyes panicked, his body curled inward as though he could ward away whatever unseen force was attacking him.

  Richard was poised to bite Ash’s ankle. Two glistening teeth exposed. When Ash popped out from under the metal frame, knocking Richard aside. The yellow slug, small and normal, tumbled into a puddle of water.

  “Dad?” Ash was instantly by his dad’s side. “Dad, are you okay?”

  My heart broke for Ash as his dad’s curled form teetered into his arms. Anguish and worry were etched into the lines of my friend’s face. Every fiber of my being wanted to step forward and help him.

  Richard’s words rooted my feet in place. I didn’t want to become part of this memory.

  Like a silent reaper of the dead, I watched Ash’s dad die.

  Richard struggled to right himself in the pool of water. His three-inch body whipped in silent sympathy with the old man. It was as though the mundane world trapped him as much as Ash.

  I can’t get through to him; the memory is too great. The rules of the world are too tight. Richard struggled to right his body as Ash clutched his father. I need you to try.

  Without hesitation, I stepped forward, and the world became more than an illusion. The muted colors popped with vibrant greens and browns. The moist, earthy scent of decaying wood and fungal spores assaulted my nose. A distant hum interrupted the drips from the trees.

  “Ash!” I rushed forward, suddenly hyper-focused on the situation. I took hold of the other side of his dad. “What can I do to help?”

  The youthful version of my friend looked up at me, his eyes clouded in confusion.

  “Who are you?” His visage flickered in an instant to the young man I knew in my world with a faint stache and short hair. “Cole? Cole, we need to get my dad to a hospital.”

  The emotion momentarily overwhelmed me in that plea. The unspoken, not again, in his ask.

  Your job is to pull him out, not get stuck with him!

  “This is not real,” I said, trying to convince myself.

  Ash’s face thinned; his stache disappeared. Two wide, water-filled eyes turned towards me.

  “Is this a joke?” His voice was small, hopeful. As though he’d give anything for this to be an elaborate prank pulled by his dad. “Dad, it’s not funny.”

  The light of life was leaving his dad’s face. My [First Aid] skill was silent, but I knew what this was. Hearts did this sometimes.

  “Quick, tell him how you feel,” I blurted, grabbing Ash’s arm.

  Ash looked at me, then his dad.

  “I love you,” he told the sightless eyes. Was he too late?

  A hand squeezed his son’s arm before it fell limp.

  We sat in shock. A widowmaker had found another victim.

  We both joined the drip of trees.

  I couldn’t witness this memory without thinking of my dad. Of the unsolicited goodbyes I would face in life.

  With a sharp intake of breath, I tried to break the grip of the memory.

  “L-look, there’s Richard.” I focused on my slug’s tentacles waving in the air. He’d gotten out of the puddle and ascended the rock. His two little perfect fangs bare.

  “This isn’t real,” I insisted, demanded.

  “Dad, I—“

  “It’s not real,” I repeated, standing, pulling at his arm with a firm grip. Ash looked at me, his face flickering to the young man I knew. Tugging his arm, I pulled him out of the dream.

  As the world faded, Ash looked at his dad one last time.

  “—Dad, I love you.” Ash choked out the words, as if repeating them would ensure the message.

  “It’s not real,” I whispered, the bottom of my heart sinking. It wasn’t real, but it had been. And for Ash, it was.

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