Into the Gray

by Geanna Culbertson

  “Possession enchantments do not normally last very long,” SJ answered. “Souls are too strong. Eventually a person’s free will and instinctual sense of fight overcome them. However, I did read in a potions book last year that a possession enchantment can last longer if the person trying to enact it already has a place in the heart of the victim. The stronger the connection, the greater the control over the person.”

  “Tara certainly checked that box,” Marie said. “She seems to have taken over the role of Mauvrey’s big sister, filling in that big void after June passed.”

  “Is it weird that I haven’t even heard of June Weatherall?” Divya commented.

  “I haven’t either,” I said. “And I used to know Mauvrey when we were little. I thought she was an only child.”

  “I didn’t even know,” Blue admitted. “And I thought I knew everything about fairytale history.”

  “Her parents must have decided to bury her memory after she died,” Daniel said. “Maybe they thought it would be less painful that way.”

  “That doesn’t seem like the healthiest choice,” Chance commented.

  “Have you ever lost someone close to you?” Daniel asked coldly.

  Chance shook his head. “I haven’t.”

  “Well, trust me. Talking about it can be like reopening the wound. And you only risk doing that for the people you’re closest to. It’s understandable that the Weatheralls wouldn’t want to do it for the realm at large.”

  “Do you think if the antagonists were planning on using Mauvrey from the start they could have had something to do with June’s death?” Jason asked.

  “It’s messed up, but I wouldn’t put it past them,” Daniel said.

  “But even if that sisterly connection allowed Tara to have more control over Mauvrey,” Girtha said, “eventually Mauvrey’s soul should have ejected her, right? At some point she would’ve been able to shake the possession. How did it never come to that? Tara has been in Mauvrey’s body for years.”

  “It’s because of the sleeping curse Tara used,” Merlin said solemnly. “You said it looked like black sand. If it’s what I think it is, it is a rare dark curse invented by a potionist known as Sandman. I trained with him when I was younger; his work is actually what inspired the creation of my potion sands.” Merlin paused. “You mentioned that Arian told Tara people were waiting in Dreamland?”

  “Yes,” SJ replied. “I was wondering about that.”

  “Dreamland is a separate dimension in the way that Earth and the Wonderlands are separate dimensions,” Merlin explained. “While the Wonderlands have fourteen realms, Dreamland has four: Nightmare, Enigma, Sweet Dreams, and the Wanderers’ Void. Every person’s mind—no matter the dimension he or she lives in—goes to Dreamland when asleep. Your mind then drifts in and out of the different realms of Dreamland while you’re unconscious. But people rarely enter that dimension in their physical bodies. Finding a way in and out is very tricky.”

  “But based on the memories we saw, Arian sent people to Dreamland to wait for Mauvrey?” Javier said.

  “It would seem so,” Merlin replied. “To wait for Mauvrey’s mind anyway, which would arrive there when she slept. While ordinarily people are in no real danger when their minds pass through Dreamland, the black sand changes things. Shadows originate in the Nightmare realm of Dreamland. They can typically only absorb into people who invite them in, so the creatures can’t hurt people in the traditional sense on their own. In Nightmare, they can only project darkness that inspires fear into the minds passing through.

  “However, Sandman invented a black sand enchantment that takes the mind and soul into such a deep, tormented dream state that they both become vulnerable to involuntary Shadow possession within Dreamland. If that’s what Tara used, Mauvrey’s mind was likely pushed so far into Nightmare, no doubt aided along by the antagonists waiting for her there, that she was consumed by a Shadow. That is what has kept her unconscious all these years and allowed Tara to remain at the helm until you forced her out.”

  “So Mauvrey’s mind is still trapped in Dreamland,” I said. “We broke the possession by accident, but the sleeping curse is a separate thing. How do we break that?”

  “I don’t know,” Merlin said, frowning. “And I can think of only one person who might.”

  “Sandman?” Jason guessed.

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ve read about Sandman,” Gordon said. We pivoted toward his mirror. “There’s a book in the Lord Channing’s library about sleeping curses that I used for research in our Rescuing Damsels Master Class.” He shot my female friends and me a look. “Sorry, no offense.”

  “None taken,” Girtha said. “Proceed.”

  “Well, Sandman is an inventor and a bit of a ladies’ man. He likes visiting different worlds to use his magic to help people and also further his . . . lineage.”

  “Lovely,” Blue commented.

  “The kid is right,” Merlin said. “Last I heard, Sandman was living on Earth. He has quite a few famous children there. But he’s likely moved on by now. The White Rabbits have an ongoing business arrangement with him—he can travel between all the worlds he wants, but he has to supply the White Rabbits with different enchanted sands that aid them with their work. They’ll know where he is now.”

  “After the Aurora, when Shadows were infesting the Portalscape doors,” I thought aloud, “I remember seeing the White Rabbits injecting a kind of glowing sand into them.”

  “One of Sandman’s many creations,” Merlin said. “Most of his potion-based enchantments were designed to bring light, not darkness. But I suppose that anyone can make a bad product now and then.”

  “Crisa.” Blue turned to me. “Didn’t you promise Harry a rain check a while ago?”

  “I did,” I responded. “And I think it’s time I cash it in.”

  “He left Earth a few years ago,” Harry told us. “Now he lives in my home realm, Wonderland.”

  Last night after checking my SRTracker and seeing that a Portalscape Portal would luckily be opening the next morning a couple kingdoms over, we’d contacted our White Rabbit friend Harry via Mark Two and he had agreed to meet.

  A group of us—Chance, Daniel, Kai, Jason, and I—had flown my dragon to the forest where the portal was meant to appear. There was no place for Lucky to land within the forest because the tree canopy was incredibly thick, so we had to park him a distance away. Chance agreed to watch over my pet until we returned; the rest of us had journeyed on. After a trek, a smile eventually lit my face when we spotted our fluffy friend in his classic black vest and t-shirt—standing beside a silver wormhole at the base of a tree.

  We’d explained our situation to Harry in full and were pleasantly surprised that he had the information we required.

  “I can take you there if you want,” Harry continued. “My day is over after this portal closes. I’ve been working the graveyard shift lately.”

  “That’d be amazing,” Kai said. “I’ll call Chance and tell him to head back to the castle. We may be gone a while. And wherever we re-enter the realm, it most likely won’t be here.”

  I was psyched. If we could find Sandman, we could learn how to break Mauvrey’s and Mark’s sleeping curse. Two cures for the price of one!

  “Thanks for doing this,” I said to Harry as Kai stepped aside to talk on her Mark Two.

  “For you, Crisa, I’m glad to,” Harry said. “But maybe sometime you’ll want to visit me to hang out, not just because it’s part of one of your life-or-death quests.”

  “It’s not personal,” Jason said. “I’ve known Crisa for years, and lately hanging out and life-or-death quests kind of go hand-in-hand.”

  “I hate how true that is,” I responded.

  “Okay, we’re all set,” Kai said, trotting back over. “Chance said to call him when we’re back and he’ll pick us up wherever the wormhole lets out.”

  “Lead the way,” Daniel said to Harry.

  One by one, we bounded throug
h the wormhole and descended the rough, tumbling journey to the Portalscape. When we’d all landed, Harry reached under the bed and pulled out a small, latched wooden box. We’d found it there when we first arrived in this realm months ago, but I hadn’t paid thought to it since.

  Harry flipped open the case. Inside, the lid was lined with six secured vials labeled “Drink Me.” The bottom featured six sealed plastic containers labeled “Eat Me.”

  “You’ll all need to shrink in order to fit through the Wonderland door,” Harry said, pointing to the two-foot-tall, lavender door with orange orchids growing out of its cracks.

  Daniel took the uncorked vial Harry offered him and looked it over. “Kind of a missed opportunity in retrospect. I’m surprised that neither the antagonists nor our own team has ever swiped the items in that box. I’m sure shrinking and growing magically could’ve come in handy at some point in our past battles.”

  Harry handed Kai an open vial. “This stuff is enchanted. Only a living, licensed member of the White Rabbit patrol can remove these items from the Portalscape, and open the containers. Try.” He passed me a vial and I tried to remove the stopper. It was more firmly stuck in there than Excalibur in stone.

  I handed the vial back to Harry. He easily uncorked it and gave it back to me, then opened another for Jason. “I’ll file the paperwork to replace these when I’m back in the office,” Harry said. “Now drink up. And don’t worry; your clothes will morph accordingly.”

  I didn’t see how that made sense, but then I was about to drink a magic potion provided by a talking rabbit, so maybe I should get off my “laws of physics” high horse.

  Daniel, Jason, Kai, and I swallowed the concoctions in unison. In a rush of sparkles, the vials vanished. Shimmery energy swirled around our bodies and we started to shrink. Our clothes did too, but they also mutated in pattern, cut, and color. The magic was a little wonky, but it got the job done.

  When the enchantment settled, we were the same height as Harry. It was a bit odd. Standing next to a rabbit the same size as you was nothing if not surprising, but at least he wasn’t a scarier-looking animal like a possum.

  Harry hopped over to the small door that connected to his home realm and held it open. “Welcome to Wonderland.”

  On the other side of the door, my friends and I observed an abnormally bright blue sky that reminded me of tropical fruit punch. Thick, peachy clouds glittered overhead. A path stretched out before us lined on both sides by fields of massive sunflowers of varying heights with black petals and golden stamen. Some towered above us while others were so low they basically sat on the ground.

  “Are we small in general now like when we were in the Giants’ Keep, or did we adjust to size like in Toyland?” Jason asked.

  “You adjusted to size,” Harry said. “Rabbits are just big in Wonderland, and our plant life can be super odd and inconsistently sized too. But you’re the same size proportionately to everything else you’re used to—buildings, people, etc. Come on, you’ll see in town. The village where Sandman lives is only a few miles from the Reverse Sunflower Field. Your timing, and the portals we used, worked out really well for you today.”

  “We were bound to catch a lucky break eventually,” I said. “Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Our rabbit friend guided us down the path. He told us a bit about his home world as we walked, and we explained some of what had come to pass since the last time we’d seen him. I let my friends do the talking—I was too mesmerized by the setting. There was so much strange beauty and so many quirky creatures. My favorite encounter was with a clan of purple birds shaped like throw pillows that we passed near a river. The birds were fat. They were red-eyed. And they made the cutest sounds like flutes.

  After hiking for an hour, we arrived in a bustling village. Wooden houses dotted the hillside. The narrow streets were made of pink cobblestones. Each building possessed a distinct color of awning, from plain yellow to green-and-navy stripes.

  At the bottom of the hill, a majestic lake was filled with rowboats, despite one unique feature that should have deterred them. Big bubbles of water spontaneously rose out of the lake’s surface, lifted into the air about a dozen feet, then popped and splashed down. Every time it happened the people in the rowboats cheered and laughed. They loved the waterworks; it was definitely a warm summer day that suited the activity.

  Throughout the hillside village and beyond into the deeper countryside, carved rune stones jutted from the ground. They varied in size from knee-height to building-height. I didn’t recognize the inscribed language but knew it must’ve been ancient. The stones had crumbling edges and missing chunks, the effects of centuries of being exposed to the elements.

  “That one,” Harry said. He alluded to a three-story wooden house painted white with a few rocking chairs on the front porch. We trotted up the hill to the house. Sheep freckled the front lawn, eating and roving merrily. Harry knocked on the shockingly tall teal door.

  No one answered. Harry checked the time on his watch. “Might be napping,” he said. Harry knocked again with greater force and called out “Mr. Sandman! It’s White Rabbit business. Wake up please!”

  “I feel like we’re being rude,” Kai said. “If he’s napping, shouldn’t we let him sleep?”

  “The guy is kind of narcoleptic. If we let him sleep, there’s no telling how long we’ll have to wait. He usually doesn’t mind wake-up calls.”

  Suddenly the door swung open and we were met by a cheery-looking man over seven feet tall and three feet wide. The dude had clearly been no stranger to cake in his life, but despite his plumpness, and recently being asleep, he was thriving with the energy of a ten-year-old. I was taken aback by his jovial disposition and his outfit. He wore—and I kid you not—a white suit and tie ensemble constructed entirely of silk pajama material.

  “Hej!” Sandman said. Then he looked down to our level and noticed Harry. “Oh, little kanin, do your people need refills on product already? We just did a purchase order.”

  “Actually, I brought some friends that need your help.” Harry gestured to us. “They’re friends of Merlin and want to ask you about the black sand sleeping curse.”

  Sandman’s upbeat vibe dampened and he frowned. “I don’t sell or make black sand anymore, children. It is a wicked concoction that I brewed up when I was younger and only wanted to explore the possibilities, not think about the consequences.”

  “We’re not here to buy black sand,” I said. “We know people who have been cursed by it and want to know how we can revive them.”

  This notion appealed to the grand man and he waved us inside. “Come in then. You’ll need supplies. But take off your shoes first.”

  We migrated into the house and Sandman directed us to a line of slippers in the foyer. Each of us, except for Harry, removed our footwear and put on a pair of fluffy house-shoes.

  Ooh. My toes like that.

  Sandman’s home was so plush you could probably take a nap every four feet and land somewhere comfortable. The place was furnished with couches, daybeds, recliners, and even a massive indoor hammock. All the rooms smelled like warm chocolate chip cookies. Every ceiling was painted to resemble the sky. A curly-haired, bear-sized dog lay sleeping in a bed next to the kitchen.

  We stopped in a room that appeared to be a combination workshop and inventory cellar. Gadgets and tools covered the tables. The left wall had racks of containers and fancy devices. Several rows of shelves held mason jars filled with different colored sands. Others held mechanical contraptions like arm braces and tricked-out sports cleats.

  Meanwhile, the right wall was entirely decorated with frames featuring pictures, clippings from magazines and newspapers, and even a few copyrights and patents.

  “I trained Merlin a long time ago,” Sandman explained. “He was a great student and took my style of crystalizing potions into sand to a new level. I enjoy training people who show promise, just as I enjoy keeping track of my descendants.” He tilted a chin t
oward the wall of frames.

  The closest frame to me held a picture of two men (possibly a father and son based on age and resemblance), labeled Alf and Dag Landvik – Fagerdala World Foams. Near that frame I spotted a drawing of a cartoon sheep with blue eyes and the number 2 written on its side. A logo for something called Serta resided at the bottom right of the drawing. And above that frame hung a picture of an adult brunette man with a bushy mustache and a blue shirt. He hugged a pillow quite contentedly; that pic was labeled Michael Lindell – My Pillow.

  “I have a unique magic genealogy that causes me to age incredibly slowly,” Sandman said, appreciating my interest in the frame wall. “I’m a few hundred years old now and contributing good, magical sleeping commodities to the world through my own hands-on efforts and by fostering offspring who hold talent for creating beneficial sleeping products gives me a sense of purpose.”

  His face shifted to a more serious expression. “Now then, as for the black sand matter, it was created accidentally, a byproduct of my attempts to eliminate bad dreams entirely. I only sold it to government officials to be used as punishment for convicted criminals, but eventually I couldn’t abide by that morally and I destroyed what stock I had left. If you know someone who is a victim of that sleeping curse, I’m afraid the only way to bring them out of Dreamland is to do it manually.”

  “What do you mean, manually?” Daniel asked.

  “You’ll have to go to the Dreamland dimension. Victims of my black sand curse get trapped in the realm of Nightmare. The Shadows in that realm consume their minds before they can escape. Only by finding the victim’s mind essence and freeing it from the Shadow will his or her physical body wake. You need to be there in person to do that, not just present as a sleeping consciousness.”

  Crud. That didn’t sound easy.

  “I can provide you with the right kind of sand to deal with a Shadow, but traveling to and from Dreamland is tricky. Time there moves erratically. And the wormholes that lead to the dimension don’t open very often.”