The large tome of Qualia is open once again. Dan flips through the thin pages until his finger lands upon the words which he seeks.

"Are you ready?" Dan asks with a sigh.

"I guess so," I reply, a bit more nervous than before.

The Book speaks, "Of course we know that every spell that Dan casts on us puts us at a disadvantage, but we have no choice. Our best hope of escaping tonight depends on Dan's ability to trust you, which in turn depends on your willingness to succumb to his spells."

Dan ingests his purple potion, and braces himself on the table in pain for a long minute. I then uncork and drink my potion, a yellow one this time, and notice that it tastes slightly sweet. As I drop my empty vial onto the table, Dan begins to recite a spell. His voice fills my ears before growing into a deafening whirlwind of chaos. My vision flashes and pulsates ever more wildly, until the whirlwind of wild shapes consumes me. I feel as if a great deal of time has been erased, and now has yet to pass.

-

I look around the classroom, trying to find a grain of something familiar. Everyone else seems so happy when they're talking with each other; why not me? Why do I have to be alone?

I search across the people sitting at each desk, but all of their faces are of strangers. Where is Airlass? She said she would be here.

I look again at the blackboard at the front of the classroom, where the teacher has begun writing with chalk. The excited classroom chatter continues. Who was the teacher's name again? Thornberry? Wildthorn? Blackthorn? I forgot what it was. It was some sort of Nearlands name with the word "thorn" in it. I heard from Mom that the teacher writes their name on the blackboard when they come to the front of the class. I don't think I see their name yet.

I pick up my pencil and balance it upon the tips of my fingers. One by one, I lower a finger, until only my index finger touches it. I breathe a deep sigh as I focus upon the pencil, imagining it fixed in place. I lower the last finger, and the pencil follows it, dropping onto the ground, to my disappointment.

A finger taps on my shoulder. As I turn around, I lock with the brown eyes of a strange-yet-charming man. He wears a leather jacket, a fur cap, and a five-o-clock shadow. Between his fingers, he grasps a bronze, five credit bullion. The man flicks the coin into the air and holds his palm out. The coin halts its fall just above his palm, spinning rapidly as it bobs slightly up and down. Then the coin suddenly stops spinning, and then slowly spins the other way, before finally dropping into his hand.

My jaw drops. "That's a neat trick," I note with admiration.

The man winks. "Perhaps I will show you some time."

Then I notice that there are oak trees behind him.

"Hey, I never knew that there were trees in this classroom..."

The dream collapses underneath me as the paradox unravels.

-

"What did you see?" Dan asks, looking intently at me, realizing before I do that my brows are furrowed in confusion.

I think upon the dream carefully, trying to hold onto the memory, so as not to forget it. Somehow the dream makes me feel nostalgic; it resonates with the blissful feeling of childhood innocence. Not unlike the cottage dream I had last night.

"I was in a classroom when a man tapped on my shoulder and showed me a coin suspended in mid-air."

"What sort of man?" Dan inquires, confused.

"He looked like a hunter, I think. He was wearing a leather jacket and a fur cap, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. He was also quite charming."

"Charming? That's a bit of an odd word to describe another man."

"I'm just saying that's what he looked like!" I snap.

"I apologize for judging you. It's just that... I didn't realize that you were..." Dan's voice trails off as he searches for the right word.

"What? No! That's not how it is at all!"

Dan blinks rapidly. "Okay, okay. Let's just forget about it then. Still, I'm quite intrigued as to who this man might be. Correct me if I'm wrong: you said that the man was levitating a coin?"

I shrug. "Yes, that's what happened."

"Interesting..." Dan clasps his fingers together. "You don't suppose that this was the same magician in the other vision?"

I shake my head. "No, this man seemed much different. He was friendly. The other man looked like he wanted to kill me."

"Hmm, interesting..." Dan repeats, in roughly the same even, emotionless voice, as if in deep thought. He pushes himself up from the table. "Alright, let me get you another potion."

Dan walks over to a shelf on the side of the wall, where all the corked potions are stored. He picks up an opaque yellow potion and a translucent orange potion.

I hear a thump as Dan's hand places the corked glass vial in front of me. I grasp the vial and uncork it, then wait for Dan to sit down.

"Are you ready?" Dan's eyes are glued upon the tome as he fingers through the sliver-thin pages.

"Yes, ready when you are." I nod.

Dan returns a nod, uncorks his orange potion, and leans the vial back into his mouth. I lean my yellow potion into my lips and swallow. It is cold and slightly numbing, almost minty, then my lips pinch impulsively in response to its terribly bitter aftertaste. I hope to Notch that I will never have to drink this awful potion again.

I listen nervously to Dan's incomprehensible spell, counting the seconds before the world twists into oblivion, taking my consciousness with it.

-

"Notch smite it! Fristad, where are you?" I hear my father's worried voice calling from a distance.

It is dark. I struggle to keep my fingers from slipping from the steel sword, as the cold, hard hilt is too thick for my grasp, and my arms strain to hold the sword up under its weight. Dad's leather armor feels baggy and is difficult to run in without tripping. I look behind me, breathing heavily as I see a skeleton running after me, cocking another arrow into its bow. I laugh hysterically. It can't hit me. I'm too fast.

I turn my head forward again. There is a creeper wandering out in front of me, but I'm not afraid.

I hear the snap of a whizzing arrow and dash to my right, before the wavering stick plunges into the dirt. I strain my arms harder as I lift my sword, then veer back towards the skeleton, flanking it.

"Fristad, get away! You are in grave danger!" Dad's voice is perhaps only a few feet behind me.

There is a deadly urgency to his voice, such that I abandon my attack on the skeleton and sprint away as fast as I can. Within a second, I feel the ground pull my legs out from underneath me as a screeching bang crushes my ears. As my chest crashes upon the earth, I hear a ringing in my ears and see stars all around me.

I push myself up as fast as I can and look behind me. Dad and the skeleton are both laying on the ground; both are still, but Dad is breathing heavily. He is missing a leg. The skeleton is missing a head.

Tears well up in my eyes. "Daddy!" I cry.

A moment passes in silence before Dad's hand reaches towards me.

"Fristad, calm down." Dad croaks weakly. "I'm going to be fine. Get me back to the house."

Dad's form shakes and twists into the darkness. I feel a thick rope tighten around my chest. I am hanging from it. As I look down into the blue sky, I feel as if gravity has been reversed, but then when I look up, I realize I am hanging beneath the crags of bedrock, with tongues of silver crashing against the rocks like an ocean, and floating all around me. I feel the heat of a sickly fever, which progresses into biting pain, which becomes burning, which then proceeds to tear my flesh apart. I scream in agony, pulling at the hanging rope, but I can already feel the strength in my arms growing weaker.

"You monster!" I cry out. "Pull me out of here, if at all you value my humanity! Have mercy!"

"Just a little while longer..." A man's voice calling from a hole in the crag of bedrock replies calmly.

I let my muscles go limp, as I realize that I am about to die. The pain suppresses all my other thoughts; I feel a numbness as my vision fades.

The pain begins to subside. I think it's finally over... but then I feel a faint tug on my chest... and then nothing.

After a while, I feel a hardness forming underneath me. The world fades back in, stone walls lit by flickering torchlight. I feel a throbbing pain; curious of the source I glance down at my arms, and gasp in shock at the wide gashes, lined with wisps of flowing silver. The fever has not subsided.

I wince in pain as a hard hand grasps my shoulder.

"We'll try again tomorrow."