“Now that’s real magic,” Fable said.
Slowly, the Ariadne Fleece became a part of the mirror, sticking to its surface from one side while Loki pulled the other and wrapped it around his wrist. Once he did that, the length of the thread between the spot in the mirror and Loki’s hand became invisible.
“Now, I have a physical connection between the waking world and the Dreamworld through this thread,” Loki explained, reading from his phone. “And although this magical thread stretches for infinity, it will stay invisible to everyone, and untouchable, too.”
“And how is it supposed to help you send us a signal if you’re in danger?” Fable tilted her curious head.
“It’s really simple; I just have to tap the thread around my wrist three consecutive times,” Loki explained. “You should then see it unwrapping itself from my fingers toward the mirror, if someone is pulling it, which means you’ll have to wake me up instantly.”
“How are we supposed to wake you up when we’re not supposed to get into the circle?” Axel said.
“You’ll have to break the mirror with something, a baseball bat, an axe, or a rock, anything to break the connection between the two mirrors. Think of the two mirrors as if they are connected by an invisible electrical force. Breaking one of them is like pulling the plug from the connection between the waking world and the Dreamworld.”
“Who are you, Loki? Like really, who are you?” Fable shook her head.
Loki dismissed her question. It was silly when someone asked him this while he didn’t know the answer himself. Instead, he lay on his back next to Snow White in her coffin, perpendicular to the mirrors, preparing for sleep.
“It’s time for you to use the Magic Dust on me so I can enter the dream,” Loki said.
Fable walked closer, still tangent to the Epidaurus Circle, with a handful of Magic Dust, her face shimmering in the candle light.
“Before you do, I will have to recite a prayer mentioned in the book,” Loki said. “Just don’t get mad at me. I’m following the rules,” Loki closed his eyes and said:
Now I lay me down to sleep.
Pray the lord my soul to keep.
And if I die before I wake.
Forbid Snow White
My soul to take.
15
Birthday Bloody Birthday
Loki opened his eyes.
It felt strange waking up in a dream knowing it was actually a dream—let alone someone else’s dream. He hadn’t seen what happened in the real world after Fable poured Magic Dust in his eyes, but he imagined the Dream Temple shimmering with light while he was lying unconscious next to the vampire princess.
Here in the Dreamworld, Loki took a second to adjust to his surroundings. He had a headache so intense he imagined there were birdies humming above his head. He wondered if this was supposed to happen, because he hadn’t read about side effects of traveling the Dreamworld in the Dreamhunter’s notebook.
The headache faded slowly, and he started looking for clues to his whereabouts. He found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was engraved and painted with all kinds of ancient motifs, drawings of stories of battles that he didn’t know of. It looked like he was somewhere in the 18th or 19th century like Axel had suggested.
Loki stood up and looked around. He was alone in a majestic room, a girl’s room, probably in the Schloss. He could hear voices celebrating outside the room.
Suddenly, the door sprang open, and Loki took a step back.
A big woman, dressed in a maid’s outfit, came through the door. She looked angrily at Loki.
Wow, this woman is a giant. Where am I?
“What are you doing here?” she shook Loki by the shoulders. “And what are these clothes you’re wearing?” she asked. “Take these,” she handed him a warrior outfit that looked childish, though. “Get dressed and follow the other children outside,” she demanded.
Did she say children? Of course, to a giant woman like her, he was seemed like a child, but he didn’t like anyone calling him child or kid, not even in a dream. Loki examined the outfit with an open mouth. It was too small. How did she expect him to wear it? The giant had totally misjudged his size. What was going on?
“What are you waiting for?” she grunted. “I don’t have time to wait for you. Get dressed. It’s the princess’s birthday. The little princess will meet the young prince in a moment.”
Little princess and little prince? What crazy dream was Snow White having?
“But these are too small,” Loki complained. They were his first words in the dream, and they felt awfully real.
The woman sighed and pushed Loki toward a mirror. Staring at his reflection, he almost laughed and cried at the same time. The woman wasn’t a giant. Loki was just small. He’d entered the dream as a seven-year-old.
What? Is this supposed to happen?
“Hurry!” the woman urged him.
Loki got dressed, unable to take his eyes away from the mirror, thinking he looked a bit too skinny.