I sat up with a jolt, panting. An afterimage of the marionette still danced in front of my stinging eyes, its hand outstretched towards me. I found that my own hands were raised, though whether to swat the puppet's hand away or to take it, I didn't know. I had a feeling it would've been the second option, and I shivered. Cold sweat had gathered at my forehead and was slowly making its way down my face. It gathered in the corners of my eyes, giving the impression that I was or had been crying. Wiping my brow and face with the back of my hand, I sank back into my bed. What was happening to me? That had been the fourth occurrence of that specific dream. It was the first time, however, that the dream-me had gotten so close to the grinning puppet. In the previous three iterations of the dream, I'd take my first step towards the puppet and either the wolf-pup or the book and cards would intervene, doing something to distract me from the fake promise. Then I would wake up slightly shaken and aching for something I couldn't name.

Rolling over, I glanced at the alarm clock beside my bed: 1:48 flashed across the screen in bright red numbers. Thankfully it was Sunday, which meant no school to wake up for at the crack of dawn. Unfortunately, I soon found myself unable to fall back asleep. I tossed and turned for a solid quarter of an hour before giving up and retreating to my desk. It was my favorite place to relax, wind down, and immerse myself in sketching. My pink notebook lay crooked on the pale wood; its pages were open to a random drawing of what looked to be a stuffed animal with a puff for a tail and two cartoon wings. Doodles of it and a peculiar symbol of stars, sun, and moon covered the pages of the notebook. These images, along with the reoccurring dream, had invaded my mind for the past couple of weeks. Recently, sketches of awkwardly positioned puppets had been brought to the pages as well. Try as I might, I wouldn't be able to get the marionette's sickening smile out of my head until it was resting firmly between the pages of my notebook. I did make sure that any such drawings ended up in the very back of the notebook, away from the others. For whatever reason, some gut feeling told me that these two collections of images shouldn't meet.

After flicking on a light and quickly imprinting yet another wooden smile into my sketchbook, I flipped back to a clean page towards the beginning and picked up my favorite felt-tipped pen. Without giving the design much thought, I began sketching a rectangle. Soon the rectangle turned into a book. I knew this book. A few quick details – a lion-beast's bust, two wings, a little crowning jewel – and the book was identical to the one from my dream. I knew that drawing the back cover of this book would consist of the same star, moon, and circle pattern I had been doodling for weeks. But my motivation to draw was gone, so I closed my journal with a sigh and turned my eyes to the night sky.

I idly trailed my pen over a piece of scrap paper left on my desk from some long-abandoned school handout. Maybe counting stars would be enough of a monotony to let me sleep. It was worth a shot. If I opened the curtains just a little bit more, I could see the stars from the comfort of my bed.

My mind resolved, I made one final stroke to the aimless wanderings of my pen and immediately dropped the thing when it sent a quick jolt up through my hand. I glanced down at what I had scribbled. The letters "C-L-O-W" had been perfectly formed during what I had thought to be mindless doodling. What was "clow?" A person? An acronym? A pure coincidence?

Something's missing. Before I could understand what was happening, my hand had snatched back up my pen and thrown another three words to the left of the "clow."

"The book of clow?" I mumbled. Was it the name of the book I had sketched earlier? How did I know that?

Another jolt and the pen was back out of my hand. I watched in a kind of terrified awe as the once-black ink was overcome by a faintly glowing gold. A warm sensation resting just above my chest caused me to look down at the bird-headed key necklace that was a constant fixation around my neck. It, too, was glowing with a faint golden hue.

A sudden flash of light from the scrap page caused me to jump back in my seat. I barely managed to muffle a sharp "Hoe!" and hoped that it was enough to keep my father from investigating; thankfully my brother and his superhuman hearing were still miles away at college. When the flash died down, the words I had written were gone. Instead, a rough map of my part of Tomoeda covered the back of the sheet. The precise locations of the various shops, houses, buildings, and parks in the town were noted. The streets were named. The houses were numbered. Even the post box on the corner of my street was marked. Over my own house sat a shadowed outline of my key necklace. A pale gold keyhole was located by the giant penguin slide in Penguin Park, one of my favorite childhood hang-outs. Slowly, the key figure over my house began to slide towards the golden keyhole in Penguin Park. And then words started appearing in a golden, looping script at the top of the map.

Find the keyhole. The Book of Clow waits, Cardmistress Sakura Kinomoto.

I stared at the script for a few moments. That was my name. A piece of scrap paper knew my name, knew my town, knew the outline of my necklace. I was still dreaming. That was the only possible explanation I would accept: I was still dreaming. Yet I had been dreaming earlier; of that I was certain. Could dreams exist within dreams? My head was starting to throb. Would the paper feel real, if I touched it now? It had earlier, as had the pen, and my bed, and the feeling of my necklace hanging a little above my heart. I reached down one finger and brushed the first stylized "F" on the page.

Instantly warmth flowed into my body. My key necklace lifted a few inches into the airto stop right between my eyes. I was staring into the red jewels that lay in either side of the bird-key's head, too startled to do anything but freeze in place. Then the warmth left my body and the key dropped back to its customary position. The scrap paper was now blank. There was no sign of the map, or my scribbled words, or even the assignment on the other side.

I sat back slowly, trying my very best not to panic.

"It's not a ghost." I whispered to myself. "It's not a ghost, it's not a ghost, Touya made up all those stories, it's not a ghost." Deep breaths. My hand instinctively went to clutch at my necklace, and I was surprised to find that it was still warm. With a start, I realized I'd never actually felt temperature in any of my dreams before. In some I had known that certain things or places should be such and such temperature, but I had never felt hot or cold.

This wasn't a dream.

But it wasn't a ghost – couldn't be a ghost – so that left the only explanation as some sort of augmented reality or incredibly well-orchestrated prank. I wouldn't put it past Tomoyo's skill set, but somehow I couldn't see her messing with my mother's necklace. She knew what it meant to me.

One word wouldn't get out of my head: "Cardmistress." It resonated with me. I felt it was a job, somehow; one that I was supposed to be filling.

I glanced again at the blank paper. It had highlighted Penguin Park, given me instructions to find something there, maybe The Book of Clow. Yet sneaking out in the wee hours of the morning on a treasure hunt mandated by a magically disappearing map would get me in so much trouble with my father, and then doubly that when my brother inevitably got wind. I had to see for myself, though. Now that I was certain this wasn't a dream, I knew my curiosity wouldn't stop nagging at me until I had seen this through to the end. For the first time in my life, I would be sneaking out of the house.

I debated for a few moments over whether I should call Tomoyo. It was a toss-up over whether she was actually asleep – she tended to keep weird hours – and though I knew she would be completely forgiving should I wake her, I still hesitated. She liked to play the favor game, and I knew if I called her up with such a ridiculous request as accompanying me on a mystery mission to the park at 2 in the morning she would undoubtedly wrangle some kind of photo shoot out of me in return. Although her outfits were incredible, I preferred them on the rack as opposed to on myself. Tomoyo's photo shoots could be grueling, something I had learned very well throughout primary and into middle school.

Making the executive decision that the last thing I needed on my plate right now was a photoshoot, I grabbed my phone, some socks, and a thick sweater quietly headed downstairs. Dad's bedroom was over the back door so, as weird as I felt about it, I left by the front. Sitting outside in the same spot I had left them yesterday were my cherry-red rollerblades and helmet. I wanted to make this trip as quickly as possible so as to minimize the time I might be caught out of bed. I strapped in.

I was starting to get excited now, curiosity winning over the initial hesitation and fear. Even if the map turned out to be a hallucination brought about by some weird combo of stress and the slightly questionable leftovers I had eaten last night, it would make a great story on Monday. I bet I could even rival Takashi or Naoko with this one. And if the map was true…

I pushed out of my house's gate, gaining speed as I poured my entire focus into getting to Penguin Park as quickly as possible. I was fueled by anticipation and adrenaline and reached the park within minutes. Some sixth sense led me to a giant cherry blossom tree a little way off from my beloved penguin slide. The tree was in full bloom despite the oncoming frost. That was enough of a sign for me, and I quickly abandoned my rollerblades in favor of poking around the trunk. When that yielded nothing of interest, I turned my attention to the branches. A flash of gold caught my eye, and I began to climb.

Arm over arm, I hauled myself up the tree, thanking my years of gymnastics and cheer practice for the upper body strength they had granted. When I was within arm's length of the object, I wedged myself firmly in the crook of a branch and reached out. It was the same book I had drawn earlier. The winged lion-beast decorated the cover, and sure enough the celestial pattern graced the back. It took a great deal of willpower not to drop the thing upon that little revelation. I had made it this far without completely losing my composure though, and I was determined to see this through to the end.

"Alright, mystery book. What do you want to tell me?" I muttered, resting it on my lap and thumbing the cover up. Except, the cover didn't move. Frowning, I tried again to lift the cover up. Again, the cover stayed stubbornly shut.

I did not go through all of that just to be bested by a stupid book. I tugged at the cover again, so wrapped up in my little war that I almost didn't notice the soft golden glow falling onto the book. Though the moon was bright, it definitively wasn't casting that kind of light. My suspicions were confirmed when I looked down and saw my necklace glowing yet again. The book seemed to be responding to it. Letters in the same flowing script as that used on the map began glowing the same golden hue: "The Book of Clow." A little keyhole to the right of the lion-beast's wing was also glowing. It didn't take long to put two and two together. With the slightest bit of trepidation, I removed my key necklace and fit it into the keyhole. I turned the key and waited for something to happen. I didn't have to wait long.

As soon as the key clicked and the cover opened, a giant gold insignia appeared right below where I was perched. Its design mirrored the celestial one I had been drawing for weeks, but my analysis was interrupted by a sudden gale whipping through the branches. The short strands of my hair that could escaped from under my helmet were half-blinding me. Still, I could see the tarot-like stack of cards that the book held in lieu of pages. On the top of the deck was a card featuring a winged woman titled "The Windy." When the corner of her card began to lift in the growing gusts, I quickly snapped the book shut before any of cards could fly away.

As if there hadn't been enough glowing already, as soon as the cover slammed shut the entire book was overtaken by a soft light. It began to pool in the center of the book before slowly rising up into a figure startlingly similar to a small teddy bear. Again I found myself frozen in place as the golden light gave was to what was for all intents and purposes a yellow teddy bear sporting a long, cotton-tipped tail and a pair of little white wings. I recognized it instantly from the multitude of drawings I had made.

And then it moved, opening its eyes quickly and flitting up into the air with a loud "Ha!" I jerked backwards and very quickly realized that, unlike my chair at home, there was no backing to my new perch. I started to fall and the world seemed to slow. The book was clutched in my left hand. With an odd sense of detachment, I watched the little bear-thing quickly take stock of its situation, its little black eyes finding mine and instantly widening. It began to dive down towards me, but its movements were jerky and I was already well out of its range. For a few bizarre seconds, I felt as if I was drowning. I couldn't seem to scream.

Instinctively, my right hand clutched at the bird-headed key. The star pattern once again spread out beneath me and my key began to change. The little bird's head was shifting into something circular with two little spikes on either side. Fascinated, I watched as an encircled star and two little white wings took shape. Then the key was stretching, turning into a rod with the same pattern at its head. And I knew what to do.

Grasping the staff, I rasped out the first word that came to my mind: "Windy!"

My yell bounced off each flower and leaf on tree and returned to my own ears loud and desperate. A single card slipped from between the covers of the book. When it turned its face towards me I found myself wildly jabbing at it with my newly formed staff. The card flashed pink and then the winged woman was before me, sinewy and pale yellow and very, very beautiful. She gestured, and instead of crashing into the earth, I was brought to a gentle stop by a cushion of wind. With a smile, she gently deposited me on the ground and disappeared back into her card. It drifted down to rest on top of the hand still clutching the book.

Numbly, I opened the cover and placed the pink card on top of all the other reddish-brown ones. A couple moments later I realized that the pink rod I had been clutching had returned to its necklace state and was currently imprinting a star pattern into my hand. I eased the necklace back over my head. A few moments after that and the little yellow bear-thing was in front of me.

"Are you alright? Man, that was a close one! Good thing you're a natural with those cards, huh?" It jabbed at me with a little elbow. I simply stared at it. It continued talking. "I don't know how you got Windy to turn pink. That doesn't usually happen. Maybe it's you? Hello? Hey? Are you alright?"

The bear-thing was talking. The bear-thing was talking fast. I blinked.

"Oh, I guess you are pretty new at this. And that was a pretty scary fall. Um, alright. I guess I'm just gonna… yeah." The bear-thing drifted over to my head, already in much better control of its little wings. It started awkwardly rubbing circles a little below the rim of my helmet. "So, my name's Keroberos, guardian of the cards, but Kero's good enough. And you're the new Cardmistress, obviously, and your name is…?"

That was a question I could answer. "Sakura Kinomoto."

"Sakura, great! Cute name. Very appropriate, given the sakura tree behind us. Actually, that probably isn't a coincidence. Clow did always have a strange sense of humor; probably knew you were gonna be the one for the book and made sure it'd get up there into a sakura tree…"

"Keroberos?"

"I told ya, just 'Kero' is fine. 'Keroberos' sounds too stuffy for this tiny little body. Oh! But this isn't my real form! Y'see that lion on the front cover of the book?" He drifted down to stand proudly on the cover. "That's me! Or, it will be me, soon as I figure out how to switch back."

"Kero?"

"Yeah?"

"What's happening?" There must have been something in my voice. Kero stopped squinting at the lion-beast on the cover and was instantly up at my head again, rubbing more circles under my helmet.

"Hm. This might be easier to explain someplace not here. Is your house close?" I nodded. "Do you think you can get back there?" I nodded again, already moving towards my rollerblades. Kero flitted out of my way, watching silently as I struggled to put on my skates with one hand. I wasn't letting the book go. When I was finished, he posed one final question. "Would ya' mind if I hopped a ride back with you? I'm still trying to work the kinks out of these wings, and it's gonna take a bit before I can do any sustained flying." I nodded a third time. He came down to rest on my shoulders, and the gentle weight and heat there were comforting.

I skated home in silence. My father was still sound asleep when I arrived, a small mercy. Once up in my room, Kero started to open his mouth, took one look at me, and thought better of it. "How about you sleep for now? I can explain everything in the morning. 'Sides, it might be a bit easier to handle with a little distance between it and you. Go on, get into bed. I'll watch over you."

The little yellow sentinel perched himself at the foot of my bed, resting on the book I had situated there. His presence, though still incredibly strange, was nonetheless comforting, and I found myself falling asleep despite the stack of questions my mind was making.

There were no nightmares this time.