Akiko panicked when she learned that my temperature went above normal. She hovered over me with questions and tests. They took my blood and temperature using devices that beeped and hurt. Until I had enough and cried that I was thirsty and I needed water.

They all dutifully gave me bottles. When two didn't quench the thirst, I internally panicked. What if something was wrong with me? What if my body was trying to catch up on the two-hundred years it did not grow old?

Suddenly, I didn't want to sleep. But eventually, I had to. They turned off the lights and locked the door before midnight.

Then, I dreamed again.

I was back in the ballroom. Witches burning around me. I searched for a door, found a white one, and burned my hand on the handle. Crying out in pain, I pushed it open.

Everywhere, there was fire. Only one corridor remained passable.

Someone else grabbed my hand and pulled me there. It happened so fast I barely managed a blink before I realized he took me somewhere else.

I was no longer in my family's manor. The heat was gone, but the pain was still there, burning into my body. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. My throat was burnt. No—my face was. I shivered in pain, internally calling for death to claim me. The pain was too much to bear.

Then he was above me. A familiar silhouette. A familiar scent. I knew it was real. That it was a memory.

"Wake up, witch." His voice echoed, muffled by the blood that surged to my ears.

The council said they found me in my room, but where I was didn't feel like my room. It felt like someone else's place. His—whoever he was.

"Do you think she deserves it?"

The sound came not from me or the man. It was from outside my head. Not in this place of my dream.

Akiko?

"I don't know. I haven't seen her use her magic. All we know is what the books tell us."

Spinett.

I knew what it felt like to be in someone's dream. It would have been easy to stand and see the face of the man hovering above me, or even travel further than the room. Or jump into another dream, another place. Another consciousness.

But I wasn't in someone's dream. I was in mine and I couldn't even will myself to wake up. Was this what my poor victims felt when I brought them nightmares?

"Even Petunia Byrne didn't go into details about her powers. We just know she can walk into dreams. Everything written about her, despite her infamous sleeping existence, is vague. It's as if those who knew were afraid to even write about it." Akiko's voice said.

"Mertha Krall and the others may find this very unfair," Spinett said. "They were born with their gifts, but they still went through the painstaking process to become Astrals."

"But what if she's as equally powerful as Mertha Krall? Or even more?"

"Darling, no one can beat Mertha Krall. All Aster has is a spell that kept her asleep and famous for two centuries. That's the only reason they're giving her a simple pass into the Astral function. Do you want to know what I really think?"

"What?"

There was a slight pause. "I think what she's showing us is all just a facade. I can feel it, you know. She's... weird. Like she's planning every move, every word. She's playing us."

"But she's been nothing but nice."

"Well, whatever she's planning—if she has any at all—she's not going to succeed. No one has ever placed a dent on the Saint Society. I think she's just like every Elemental there is. Nothing special." He sighed.

Oh, how I wanted to prove just how different I was. That I was not just like any witch. I was Aster Byrne, the malevolent witch England feared. The queen of dreams and nightmares. And whoever this Mertha Krall was, I could not wait to meet her.

"Do you get it now? Why they say never meet your idol?"

"I never idolized her. I was just fascinated by her."

"Weren't we all? And what about all the cotton bullshit?"

I opened my eyes and Akiko and Spinett immediately shut up. Maintaining my ignorant act, I asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," said Spinett. "You had a fever. Going out must have worn you out, but we're hoping you'll eventually get used to it."

I swallowed. The burning sensation was gone. I felt utterly fine. I looked around, quite lost in what to do next. My eyes landed on the corner of the room and I froze, remembering what they called me and my drawers. Artifact.

"Aster? Are you alright?" Spinett asked.

The door.

"The door," I murmured. Then the scrambled thoughts snapped into place. "Of course." God, how could I have been so stupid? My head snapped toward Akiko. "I need my closet. If you have my drawers, you surely have my closet."

Akiko blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"My closet. Everything I owned." My eyes were round with hope and desperation. "I need my closet. Please. You must have it."

***

I only had to wait two days.

Akiko brought me another white dress and helped me with my hair. Brenna arrived just in time to escort me out of my room. For the second time, I walked down the bright corridors of the research facility.

We passed down a hall that connected to another part of the castle. The walls and floor were made of glass, but unlike my room, the view was not as busy. No vehicles passing by in midair, just tiny dots of humans walking across a large courtyard below. This was the closest I had ever been to walking on air. Brenna had an expectant and proud look on her face as she talked about the architecture. Almost as if she wanted me to realize just how perfect this new world was.

But I saw nothing of the sort. Their perfection was nothing but a perfectly executed sham because no society was perfect. I had been inside people's dreams too many times to know for certain that everyone had an innate desire for something dark. They greed for power and control. Even the holiest of creatures could not be spared. A tiny dot of darkness and despair and things would spiral out of control in a snap because evil is a disease. It flows in our veins. It's fluid, like a river. Sometimes raging, other times silent.

I looked out the glass walls and into the horizon of glowing neon lights. There was nothing aesthetic about this place. There was just sleeping chaos. I didn't have to enter anyone's dream to feel that.

We reached the end of the bridge and walked through a door. A man wearing the same uniform as Akiko and Spinett stopped in his tracks when he realized who I was. He tried to approach, but stopped when he saw Brenna.

"I asked the museum to be closed down for this visit," Brenna said. "Or else you'll be mobbed."

"A museum?"

"We didn't have much choice," said Brenna. "After the fire and you went to sleep, your sister tried her best to keep the manor, but she eventually had to give it up."

"And the manor—"

"It's located in Old London." She stole me a look and smiled. "I'm sure you know about the Devil District." I nodded. "For your sister, it was stay in the Old District, or join the Saint Society. She chose the best option, thankfully."

When we last saw each other, Brie had left, and I was angry about it. But now, I think it was for the best. Otherwise, she would have also perished in the fire. What I could not imagine was her staying with me after defying all odds to be with Raphael.

"You have always been her priority until her last breath. Everything she did was all to keep you alive."

"What did the vampires do?" I asked, breaking the long silence that followed her statement.

"We rarely speak about it anymore because the Saint Society refuses to delve into the past. But they did many terrible things," she replied. "After the fire that left you on the brink of death, more followed. They hunted down witches and for a while, our ancestors went into hiding."

"Until the Saints."

Brenna's smile softened. "Until the Saints invented the first halo and gathered everyone together."

"I saw Harald Evensen in the crowd the other day," I could not help but say.

Brenna stopped walking and stared at me with wonder. "I still find it hard to believe that you were born over two centuries ago. You've lived with the Archaics."

I stayed silent. For a moment, her eyes studied me. "Not all Evensens sided with the society. Most of them are still in Old London. Harald is just one of the wise ones who saw the potential of what the Saints were building."

"You're acquainted?"

She blinked at me in confusion. "Oh." She cleared her throat. "Not really. I only know of him. Everyone does. He owns a few businesses in one of the districts here. Were you friends?"

"No, but I went to school with him."

"You went to school?" she asked, surprised.

"Of course."

"I thought women in your time didn't—"

"We could," I sternly said. "But not all chose to go."

"Interesting."

We walked down a spiral staircase and through a short corridor. Our footsteps echoed against white granite floors, white walls, and bloody white ceiling. I could plunge a knife through Brenna's heart and her blood wouldn't suffice to paint the horrible sight.

"What about his brother?" I asked.

"Who?"

"Raphael Evensen."

Brenna frowned. "I have not heard of him." A small pause. "After the Byrnes and other allies signed a deal with the Saints to build the Saint Society, they immediately built the borders. Anyone who stayed in Old London were indefinitely separated from family and friends who chose the rightful path."

"I've heard so much about these borders."

"They are one of our greatest champions—them and the halos."

"How do they work?"

"However the Bishops see fit," she said. "I personally call them the guardians of the borders. They make sure the borders are impenetrable."

"They must be powerful."

"Very. You don't mess around with them."

"I could not wait to meet one."

"Perhaps you will." She walked faster, and I followed. "Windsor became state property after the death of the queen."

"She had an heir."

"He died in Old London. The Saint Society found no reason to continue a monarchy." Her tone was filled with a certain pride that I could not quite understand. "Everything your sister saved from your family's manor is all here in the university museum." Brenna smiled at me as we stopped outside a door. "This way."

For the first time since I woke up to this hell, I felt elated. My closet was safe, and it was here. Everything I needed to survive was not gone. Oh, the wonders I could do. The great things I could accomplish.

Brenna pulled the doors open. The room was filled with other things, but at the very center was my closet. There was no doubt it was mine. My mother gave it to me when I got my first stone.

"Here it is," Brenna said, walking to the tall, wooden furniture. "It had been stolen, sold to collectors and fanatics a few times, but your sister eventually found it and took it home to Genesis City, then here in Windsor, where it stayed." As I walked closer, Brenna stepped in front of me, her face serious. Almost begging. "I did everything I could for this, Aster."

"I know. And I thank you," I said, stepping aside so I could get my hands on the closet.

But Brenna followed, blocking my path. "I trusted you when you said that you can open the secret compartments and get your hands on more of your journals."

"I can. I'm the only one who can."

"Experts had studied this closet for years and found nothing."

"Then they should believe in magic more, don't you think?" I asked, escaping her and finally laying my bare hands on the closet doors. A lump rose in my throat as emotions coursed through me. I rested my forehead on the wooden surface and closed my eyes as I fought the tears.

"I understand what it meant for a witch to get her own closet in your time. It is where you keep all your essential objects."

"It's more than that," I said, voice breaking. "It has to be given to us. We have to earn it." I leaned away and looked up at the engraving on the top of the closet doors. "This belonged to my great-grandmother. It's the only thing I have that my mother gave me." My fingers traced the floral carvings on the handle. "They died in the fire, didn't they? All of them?"

"Yes. Save for you and your sister. I'm sorry."

I shook my head, lips trembling as I smiled. "I can imagine my mother's fury before her death." I stole Brenna a look. "She hated losing. My father had to constantly remind himself why he married her."

Brenna solemnly smiled. "They were found together."

"Of course. They were inseparable."

I sniffled and stepped back. "Can I have a moment, please?"

She hesitated, looking around the room.

"It's too heavy for me to carry, you know," I said.

"I don't think you'll steal it, but..." She sighed and nodded, staring at the closet. "We don't have closets anymore. We have hidden compartments in our apartments for our objects. It's sad we've lost this part of our culture." She stepped back as I faced my closet again. "I'll be back in a minute."

I nodded. "Thank you."

The moment the door closed behind Brenna, I smiled at my closet. "Hello, old friend." I pulled it open, and of course, it was empty. It had always been. I turned to face the waist-length mirror attached to the back of the right door.

The first secret a witch would pass down to another witch they gave a closet to was the repertory. Others called it the keeper, and it could only recognize one owner. I faced the mirror and tilted my head to the side, a small smile at the corner of my lips. Slowly, my reflection disappeared, replaced by a shelf filled with every witchcraft thing I owned. Books, journals, herbs, dolls, pins—everything. All organized according to where they landed when I threw them inside.

I sighed and cursed my old, impatient self.

Reaching for something inside a repertory was like reaching inside a window. You could only see what the opening would allow, but there was more inside. For a well-organized witch, it would be easy to find something. But for someone like me, a bit of effort and struggle were necessary to find even a single poppet.

Eyes darting to the door, I reached inside, blindly searching for one tiny box at the bottom. My mother had always guessed my repertory was a mess, and she was not wrong. It was a mess, but one I can find my way around after a while. The problem at the moment was that I didn't have a while.

I cursed under my breath, heart pounding in my chest with one arm inside the repertory. Outside, I heard Brenna's footsteps. "Bullocks," I swore, feeling one object at a time.

Then I found it. A tiny metal box the size of my hand. Pulling my arm out, my eyes darted back to the door. I quickly took out one of my journals, the one with a candlestick stuck on it. I threw it inside a small drawer of the closet and quickly opened the metal box. I drew in a deep breath of relief and smiled, tears welling in my eyes. "Hello, my darling."

I picked up the black, shiny stone. My crux. The gold chain dangled through my fingers. I owned others after this one, but they were nothing special. Just stones I picked up because they could help harness my powers.

But this one was different. I kept it because it was my first. To this day, I could still remember how it felt. Like a glove to my hand, it fit perfectly. Its energy flowed within me, waking every fiber within, stirring the sleeping magic. Like setting a woodland on fire. Like spinning a globe on its axis.

That remarkable feeling was especially stronger now. I could feel it. The power sitting calmly in one corner, just waiting for me to wake it up, ecstatic for new dreamworld adventures.

I fisted my hand around the black stone just as Brenna stepped into the room with an expectant smile.

"I hope you found your journals?"

"I found just one," I replied, opening the drawer to show her the journal with the candlestick. She looked inside with a smile.

Pocketing my stone, I smiled at the top of her head, no longer afraid. No longer helpless.

With my crux, I could do wonders.

I could create nightmares.