CHAPTER 32: AFRAID TO DREAM

From the moment Lily Angorian waltzed through her front door with a masking grace and a facade of ignorance, the atmosphere around her guests had dramatically shifted. Her steps were brusque and rigid, not the elegant and cursive charm she had shown at their first impression. No longer did she appear as the warm, inviting hostess, but now her intentions were unidentified and highly suspect.

They feared this woman - this witch - who had granted them hospitality all this time.

She smiled as she dropped her bookbag where she always did after work. "Good evening, friends. Are we interested in stew for dinner?"

Kenta did not hesitate. He held the Elven spellbook firmly in one hand and stormed over to the witch who introduced him to its wretched pages in the first place. "I'm more interested in why you've wasted my time for nearly a week deciphering a bogus spell."

Lily tilted her head to the side, a glimmer of Martha peering through ever so slightly before she spoke. Gwenda watched her movements, her ticks and quirks, and wondered why she appeared more and more like the deceased girl they knew so well. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Kenta seethed. "You've known this whole time and stuck me on a merry-go-round. You know this isn't a transportation spell - it's a transformation spell."

Lily gasped and cupped her mouth. "Oh my goodness. How could I have missed that? I… I was sure it was a transportation spell."

Ketna narrowed his eyes with cynicism. "You're lying."

Lily rubbed her temple and paced the floor. "Transportation… transformation… transport… transform… they're just too similar." She paced all the way to her mechanical box in the corner - a radio, as she mentioned before - and turned the dial. "Music helps me think. I do hope that is okay."

"No!" Kenta slammed the book down on the floor by Lily's feet, everyone jittering from the boom of the heavy tome. Wynne huddled behind Aunt Gwenda, snooping slightly around her to see what her father or Miss Angorian might say or do next.

This was all so odd, so peculiar from their normal selves. Wynne couldn't comprehend why her father was so angry or why Miss Angorian was acting so fidgety and frightening. It was obvious even to a young witch like Wynne that this womans's facade was slowly coming undone.

Even her hair had started changing colors. Had she disguised herself entirely? Wynne bit her lip as Miss Angorian's black hair started to grow bright red roots.

Ketna pointed at her, his eyes irate to the core. "You have been playing us fools since the moment we got here. You convinced us to stay here and translate a forgotten spell when you failed to mention that one of the authors was right here with us."

Kenta pointed to the green flame in the fireplace, who merely extended his hellish smile. "Oh, you mean that spell? My, my, it's been centuries since I even thought about it. Wait, which one is it exactly? I've written so many it's hard to keep track of all of them."

Kenta glared at the demon. "Maybe this will refreshed your infinite memory - it's signed a trio of stars by the names of Perseus, Vega, and Calcifer."

"Cal?" Gwenda asked, stunned. She turned around, watching as Perseus gleamed at her with a bizarre sense of victory. Calcifer and Perseus did share a star cluster; why wouldn't they create spells together? Who knew how far down the rabbit hole their long, dark history went. Who could have known the extensive and intimate details they knew of each other over the course of a millennium.

Kenta returned to Lily, stepping closer and closer until their breaths were inches away. "I will ask this once and once only. Who the hell are you?"

Lily turned the volume louder on the radio and squirmed past Kenta, rubbing her ears incessantly. He flipped the switch on the noisy machine, but Lily kept humming the tune to the song as her hair had nearly turned half red, half black.

"Afraid to dream," she sang, her voice rough and not at all on key, "Afraid that you may not be there."

"Enough of this." Kenta walked over to Wynne and held her hand. "We're leaving."

Lily swayed to the corner of the room, grabbing her guitar by the neck, and immediately continued the tune with her strings. "Afraid to dream, without you it would seem so bare."

Kenta pulled Wynne toward the front door, but Gwenda stared at the frantic witch playing offkey a bittersweet song. She wanted to move, wanted to run toward the door and find an escape elsewhere, but something cemented her feet to the floor. Her eyes fluttered like a butterfly, and she caught glimpses of full red curls that did not belong to Lily Angorian before.

Lily crept a light smile, her voice becoming a lovely tune that sung sweetly the melody. "Just as I reach for you, why do you disappear?"

Kenta reached the front door, but it locked as his hand reached for the doorknob. He unlocked the latch, but it merely reverted itself. He tried this several times, and the result was still the same. Lily would not let them leave.

"Stop playing your silly songs and unlock this door." Kenta turned back, keeping his daughter close to him. "Must your seriously play that incessant music?"

Lily sat straighter, taller - her chaotic fumbling had numbed and she appeared more poised and composed. Her fingers strummed the tune perfectly now, her voice a soft lullaby. And her red curls, now poised in two long pigtails, had appeared in full form.

"Afraid to dream, I'll see you there with someone new. Afraid to find another one caressing you."

Gwenda fluttered her eyes, her balance faltering as she could barely stay awake. Kenta felt this too, and noticed that Wynne had already fallen victim to the sweet sensation of slumber. Her hand slipped out from his, her tiny body falling on the ground without warning.

"Although you promised me that this could never be, it's the thought of losing you that makes me so afraid to dream." Her eyes lifted up toward Gwenda, though her fingers moved along the chords comfortably as she continued playing.

Gwenda recognized her evil. She remembered the hate and the vengeance and the utter indifference she had for life. A witch of no morality, one who dabbled in various source magic and toyed with people like they were pawns in a games. How dare she, to take on the visual guise of sweet Martha Hatter to fulfill her own avenging wishes.

Kenta and Gwenda tried to regain focus, but the song played hypnotically throughout the room. She whispered just slightly over the sound. "To answer your question, dear Kenta, instrumental magic has immense power when utilized correctly. It completely overpowers a soul to a world of possibilities."

Her gaze met Kenta's, and her true form exposed itself. He wanted to rip those obnoxious pigtails right out of her head as she sneered, "So yes, I must play."

As Noe hummed and strummed, Kenta and Gwenda fell unconscious to the witch's will.

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It would have been easier to remain in such a deep, peaceful slumber. It would have been less daunting than waking up into this terrible nightmare, into a barren silence that washed over the still room. Yet something inside forced her conscious to awaken and be vigilant.

Something inside Gwenda feared what was near.

Gwenda stood quickly, jumping to her feet with a defensive instinct. This space was unfamiliar; a dark room with only one light shining directly above her. Shadows flooded the room in all directions, hiding its depth within darkness. As she took two steps forward, the light bounced to remain above her.

She glared at the brightness. As a challenge, she took two steps back and three steps to the side, then watched as it follow her every move. No matter where she walked or how far she walked or if she jumped in a diagonal line - wherever she stood apparently became the center of the light's gaze.

Gwenda narrowed her eyes at stared into the abyss. She'd been caught by magical tricks and thrown in magical prisons and caught into magical schemes - but any time Noe Bridges was at the core, a deep sense of rage and vengeance burned inside of her.

Gwenda shouted into the darkness. "You horrible bitch! I will get out of this place and I'm coming to rip those hideous pigtails off your stupid head! You hear me?"

Her voice echoed, mimicking her insults again and again. While she talked a big game, Gwenda hadn't the slightest clue where she was. A dark, empty space this big would be hard to find and even harder to keep hidden.

Gwenda sighed. "The doors."

It had to be one of the doors in the basement. She and Wynne had only tried two of them, and there were still plenty to explore. One had sent them traveling through time, and the other hadn't even opened. The possibilities of places or universes or spellbound curses to wind up in were endless.

And only Noe knew the full extent of her handiwork.

As Gwenda took another step forward, the silence broke. She tilted her head in every which way direction she could. Not only did she hear footsteps, but she heard various footsteps echoing all around her. She wasn't alone, though she almost wished she had been.

With a shaken whisper, she called out, "Wh-who's there? Who are you?" No one, not even a ghost could be seen in the thickness of the shadows, yet the footsteps continued and sounded louder and louder until a quiet figure, blurry in the distance, gained transparency as she slowly walked toward Gwenda's frightened stare.

It was like staring at Lily Angorian again, the fake version of herself and who she pretended to be. This girl's features were unmistaken, though, and her sweet smile was undeniable to Gwenda. "Martha."

Was she still dreaming? Was this place a fantasy, or was Gwenda dead? How else could she be in the real presence of Martha Hatter? Not the imposter, not the lifeless girl who died in her arms, but the real soul of Martha Hatter. It was too good to be true.

Martha's smile dropped almost immediately after being named. "You couldn't save me."

Gwenda sucked in a tight breath. "Wha-what did you say?"

She tilted her head to the side, confusion washing over her. After all these years, those are the first words that Martha wanted to say? Had she not seen or known the nights of terror that kept Gwenda awake at night for months after witnessing her death? There was no response, no words in her mind to contemplate what Martha had just spoken.

Gwenda trembled, vividly remembering that day. Her guilt flushed back inside as she held back tears. She mustered enough energy to reply, "I tried. I tried, I promise."

"If you couldn't save me, how could you possibly save Calcifer?" Martha's tone was curt. It struck a harsh blow against Gwenda's already fragile state. The way she spoke, the slight insult with a bitter sting, reminded her far too much of how Calcifer spoke the day she left.

No remorse, no regret - just someone she loved hitting her where it hurt the most.

"No, no this is all wrong." Gwenda whispered, shutting her eyes and blocking the words out of her mind. "Martha, how could you say that to me?" When she opened her eyes, Martha had vanished. The sound of wandering footsteps rang once more, and another friend had appeared behind her.

"He's dating your best friend." Gwenda shuddered. She remembered those words. She remembered that voice. Although, when she turned around, Beth did not appear as the consoling friend she had been at that time. "He's the Prince. How could he possibly love a servant girl over a renowned and successful young lady like Lettie Hatter?"

Gwenda shivered with anger. "He was using her! He abused her."

"And you let him." Beth smiled. Gwenda held her ears, pressing hard on them to mute her voice, but Beth's words still resonated no matter her efforts. "You sacrificed her while keeping your dirty, little crush a secret. How could anyone trust you after that?"

Gwenda shut her eyes, the turmoil growing deeper inside of her soul. "I never meant for her to die."

"And yet I still did."

Gwenda relieved her ears and opened her eyes sharply. "Lettie."

The figure of Beth had disappeared and in her place stood the pretty blonde Hatter girl. Still wearing her signature pink dress with her curls firmly in place around her head, Lettie didn't look a day over twenty. Young, sweet Lettie with her bubbly personality and gentle posture. She was as golden as the day before her death.

Yet same as with each ghost from Gwenda's past, her remarks cut painful remembrances of Gwenda's most regretful moments.

"You let me die just as much as you let Martha die." Lettie spat, her nonchalance stinging like a knife in the heart. "Are you going to do the same to Sophie now?"

"I would never…" Gwenda whispered, "Lettie, I never wanted you to die but you were afraid they would go for Sophie next if something happened to you. Remember, you trusted me to help Sophie."

Lettie rolled her eyes. "That was clearly a mistake."

"Lettie…" This was not like her. This was not the friend she knew, her best friend. None of the figures who had approached her were. Had they truly been ghosts from the grave or simply stating what Gwenda already blamed herself for? While she bore the guilt of what happened to each and every one of them, it never occurred to her that they also might have felt the same.

In an instant, the pristine blonde girl slowly faded into a blur. "Lettie, wait!"

"It's okay, love." A soft hand reached from behind Gwenda and gently rubbed his knuckled across her cheek. Even as a ghost, she knew the horridness in his tone. "She was simply a pawn. I didn't really love Lettie. Well, I didn't really love you, either, but you knew that all along, didn't you?"

"Justin." Gwenda pushed the figure away, only creating a puff of white smoke in the center while the rest of him stood unphased. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

His fanciful guise was implanted permanently on his face as he faded into the distance like all the others. "And now you'll never get another opportunity."

Gwenda crouched to the floor. She clenched the roots of her hair, ripping until small strands plucked from the core of her scalp. Whenever she had a nightmare or a dream she couldn't wake from, even her dream self knew that pain was a remarkable way of forcing herself awake. She plucked, she slapped, she screamed - and yet the ghosts of familiar faces surrounded her, consumed whatever was left of her soul and dignity, until the one she didn't dare believe would ever meet her again made an appearance.

Gwenda stood slowly, carefully, as she recognized the next ghost from many, many years ago. "Mom."

As if in the flesh herself and not a day older than when she'd left, Serena Maguire stood directly in front of her daughter underneath the blinding light above. "You're not still mad at me for leaving, are you?"

Gwenda clenched fists at her side. "Of course I'm still mad."

"Won't you forgive your poor, old mother?" Serena begged, resting a pale hand over her own chest. "After all, how could I ever stay with an ungrateful daughter like you?"

"What?"

"You never appreciated me in your life. You never wanted me. How could I want someone who doesn't want me back?"

"You were my mother!" Gwenda shouted, pushing against the figment as smoke emitted from her image. "Mothers take care of their daughters; mothers raise their daughters. Mothers are there when we're crying and heartbroken and need someone to look up to. How can I look up to a ghost who won't even visit me?"

"It's a shame." Serena sighed and turned away, her ghost disappearing with her final words. "At least your sister still loves me."

Gwenda tried grabbing her shoulder, but it faded into the darkness with the rest of her. Part of her had always expected her mother to say something so horrible, something that would give her a reason to continue hating her. But after hearing the painful words from her closest friends, could she really believe that was how her own mother looked at her?

Gwenda shook her head and pressed her fists over her eyes. It was too much to bear, too much to take in all at once. Was this Noe's evil plot? Send ghosts of her past to break her spirit even further than it already was? Noe was wicked to the core, but this was truly heartless. And Perseus was no better.

Gwenda growled through the bitterness inside. "I will end them."

"That's my girl." A warm hand rested on her shoulder, and Gwenda was frozen. She brought a shaky hand to feel his touch, and it was as real as could be. All the others were transparent; all the others disintegrated when she touched them.

But not his.

"Cal…"

Gwenda turned around, and his hair burned with a fiery glory. "Hello, love."