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"Close your eyes." Doyle took Viessa’s hand and motioned her through the garden. She heard the tranquil sound of the fountain and the grass swishing under their feet. When she opened her eyes, they were at the edge of the bridge. A wooden boat floated on the surface of the moat. It reminded her of the old toy she had as a kid.
"I built it for you," Doyle said. Viessa’s face glowed.
Sitting in the boat with her dress spread out, she dangled her feet in the cold water. "Boats are better than trains," she said thoughtlessly.
"Hmm." The water splashed as Doyle paddled the oars. "I have never been on a train."
"I have," she said.
"Oh, right. The Garbage Train?"
Viessa buried her head, but Doyle reached out and lifted her chin. "The castle looks much brighter from outside," he said. "Almost as bright as your smile."
Viessa watched her home from a distance. The two suns basked the castle with a soft light that mirrored on the rocky towers. "This is my wonderland."
Growing up in the Land of No Return, Viessa experienced both love and fear. Like a haunted house, the castle was thrilling and terrifying. Yet, Viessa learned to coexist with the ghosts and not to ask many questions. When she was a child, she used to speak whatever came to her mind. "We have our wonderland here, so why are you trying to have the human world too?" she once asked. "They don’t have sweet Anshars." That was when Zaros threw a threatening glare that taught her to never ask questions again.
***
The amulet transformed Viessa’s life. Instead of a wonderland, the castle became a fighting ring, trapping her in a never-ending rivalry with Zaros. Who could open more portals and explore new dimensions? Who had a better tactic for capturing human cattle? All they did was compete, and with Doyle by her side, Viessa was winning. He had the intelligence, and she had the power to manipulate and inflict pain. Yet, the two had to work out their differences. Viessa saw every quest as a game. She wanted to have fun, whereas Doyle hoped to minimize the damage and keep the Katarus safe. The two learned to compromise.
One day, Viessa came to Doyle’s room with news. "Today, I get to go to the dungeon."
"The dungeon?" Doyle sat up and put down the book he was reading. "Only Zaros is allowed there."
"Not anymore," Viessa cheered.
The dungeon was a secret Jivar and Zaros shared. Viessa had been curious about it for as long as she could remember, and finally, she was granted access. Upon Jivar’s order, Zaros escorted her to the kitchen, whence they took the stairs down until a wall blocked their way.
"I can’t believe you’re allowed here," Zaros said. He had no problem showing his contempt.. "I worked hard for this. I built this."
"Then I can make it better." Viessa played with a lock of her hair.
Zaros’s pride didn’t allow him to respond. "Monstra mihi portale," he chanted, and the wall opened to show a boundless dungeon crowded with cages of human stock—hundreds of people grasping the bars and pulling with their full strength. They were screaming, Viessa could tell, but she heard naught. They had been muted.
She turned to Zaros for an explanation.
"This is an infinite sub-dimension where we keep the humans Jivar fed on," he said.
"But how do you keep them alive?"
"Time doesn’t exist here," he explained. "They don’t age, so they can’t die."
"Oh," Viessa uttered, studying the prisoners from a distance. "But what do we do with them?"
Zaros squared his shoulders. "We prepare them for war."
That day, Viessa learned she and Zaros were a part of a bigger plan Jivar created, a plan she had to keep from Doyle.
***
In the beginning, it wasn’t hard for Viessa to keep a secret. What happened in the dungeon stayed in the dungeon. Doyle didn’t need to know. She was in no way prepared for what would happen next, for the day Jivar would call her to his throne room to show her a book: Ezeru Etlu.
"Read," Jivar ordered.
Viessa held the book in her hands. "The child whom the powers cannot hurt will break the curse of the beast," she carelessly recited. "When the day turns into night he shall be born, and when the day turns into night his—"She paused, her face going haggard as she processed the words. "H-his death shall be..."
"Doyle?" She raised her head to face Jivar.
"He is the key to my rising," Jivar said. "To return to the human world, I shall take his body as my vessel."
Viessa contained herself and listened to what her lord had to say, grinning through the shock. This was the master plan Jivar had awaited, the holy grail he and Zaros had been chasing for years. What could she do?
After the unpleasant meeting, Viessa stormed into her room and dumped the book on the floor. A young servant followed her, carrying a silver tray with small saucers.
"No lemon balms?" Viessa asked as she checked the tray.
"T-There are no lemon balms in the kitchen," the young girl said.
"No lemon balms?" Viessa flipped. "I want lemon balms. Lemon balms for my potion." Viessa grabbed the tray and smashed it into the mirror. The young girl burst into tears and bolted out of the room.
Viessa paced. Jumbled thoughts ran through her mind, so she pressed her hands on her head. "Voices, stop. I don’t like this game. Bad, bad game."
In front of the broken mirror, she stopped and stared at her reflection. "Lord Jivar saved me from Satan," she said, all expressions disappearing from her face.
"But Doyle is sweet, like anshars." Her innocent smile reappeared. She rocked herself as she reminisced about her times with Doyle, but then another sweet person came to mind, someone who brought a lot of sorrow. "Doro was sweet, but I betrayed her."
"No, Zaros betrayed Doro. Viessa never did."
"Everyone wants to kill. Everyone will be dead soon."
Viessa chortled. Her laugh grew from joyful to manic. She stopped when she realized something—something she had always known by heart. Life is but a dream.
"Viessa can make her dream true." She fiddled with the amulet around her neck. "All Viessa needs is right here."
***
The time Doyle spent on Earth changed him. Doubt crept into his heart, and he began to suspect Viessa's intentions.
"Come with me," she said, one time, as she dragged him into her room.
"I told you. I’m busy, Viessa." He kept a stern face. "What do you want?
"You know you shouldn’t ask questions," she said with a mischievous smile. "Sit down."
In the corner of the room was a wooden seating bench with a red cushion—an uncomfortable medieval sofa, as Doyle called it. He sat down, his legs shaking impatiently, failing to come up with five reasons he could be wrong. Five excuses. Five explanations for what he and Viessa had been doing helping Jivar. The trip to Earth had put him through the wringer, giving him all those torturing thoughts.
"I have something to give you," Viessa said. From her closet, she pulled out his sword, which he had lost back in Witchfield.
"My saber." He eagerly took the sword in his hands and examined it. Though it had a few scratches, it was nothing a good polish couldn’t fix.
"This is not all," she said, extending her hand with a bottle of red potion. "I made this for you."
Doyle took a few glances at the bright drink and his friend’s cheery smile. She had always made healing potions and herbal tonics for him, but he never questioned what they were. "What is this?"
"Why ask?" She shrugged. "Don’t you trust Viessa?"
Doyle refused to answer.
"Don’t you love Viessa?" she sounded hurt, but despite that, Doyle said nothing.
Viessa gave a blank stare before she straddled Doyle on his seat, forced his mouth open, and shoved the drink down his throat. He could’ve easily pushed her away, but he knew how frail she was.
"Are you insane?" Doyle coughed out his words while swallowing.
"I am insane." She stepped away. Moving to the window, she gazed at the stars. "Are you still Viessa’s friend?"
Doyle watched her from behind. The night was always beautiful in the Land of No Return. The stars glistened in the sky with no pollution to veil them. It was calm yet mysterious, safe yet alarming—words that also described his old friend.
"If Viessa is still mine," Doyle said, coming to his feet and wiping off the red liquid on his lips.
On his way out, Doyle glimpsed a book on the table. Ezeru Etlu, the title read. He remembered those words from the oasis, so he hid the book under his shirt and took it back to his room, confirming every doubt he had about Viessa and Jivar.
***
Viessa’s wonderland was full of secrets—bitter, ugly secrets that she continued to unravel. As she worked with Zaros in the dungeon, she noticed he used unheard of spells, strange spells, and when she asked, he denied them. So, once Zaros left the castle for a quest, she sneaked into his room, determined to investigate.
Zaros’s room was an anomaly, much like himself. There were books on the floor, gris bags on the bed, and a strange lock of hair hung down the ceiling. Upon entering, Viessa cracked something under her feet: a tiny skull that may have belonged to a rabbit or a cat. The room smelled of ash since Zaros used it to practice his fiery spell. He had scorched the curtains but never cared enough to fix them.
If Zaros wanted to hide something, where would he keep it? Viessa’s first instinct was to search the room using magic. Then she thought about her brother. He had blind arrogance and ego the size of a mountain. Would he even bother hiding his secrets? He saw no one as a threat.
Viessa knew she’d find what she came for in the most obvious location.
In the nightstand drawer, she saw a few hex bags, a jar filled with graveyard dirt, and a notebook where Zaros scribbled down some of his thoughts. She pulled it out. Terror spun through her as she read.
"What are you doing here?" Zaros’s voice came from behind.
"Betrayal." Viessa smacked her hands to her cheeks, dropping the notebook. Zaros’s voice had always scared her, but as she absorbed the vengeful look on his face, she became even more petrified. "You betrayed our lord."
"I have to think of myself, Viessa," he said. "And so should you."
"But—"
"But what?" He tossed his arms out. "Jivar is immortal. We’re not. If we die, he’ll replace us."
Viessa’s lips twitched.
Zaros took in a deep breath, seemingly to calm himself. "Trust me, Viessa. I want to live, and I want you to live too. Consider this an offer. Become my partner. Together, we can escape the damned fate Jivar has planned for us. We’ll never have to serve anyone again. We’ll be free."
Viessa said nothing.
"Take your time to think," Zaros added in an assertive tone. "You have until I come back from the spirits world."
"The spirit world?" Viessa asked. Jivar never mentioned anything about the spirits world.
"I have business there," he said. "I’ll be gone for a while."
From around his neck, Zaros took off a brass talisman that he gave to Viessa. "This will protect you from Jivar’s magic, so he can’t read your mind."
Viessa viewed the talisman up-close. It had a triangle entangled with two infinity symbols crossing each other. Viessa didn’t recognize that sigil, but she put the talisman on anyway.
Before leaving the room, Viessa asked Zaros one last question. "Don’t you fear me, Brother? I can tell on you."
"You can." Zaros gave a confident grin. "But you won’t."
He knew her too well.
***
Everyone in the castle carried a secret, and Viessa had to pick sides. Would it be her beloved, Doyle, her brother, Zaros, or Jivar, her savior? The day she stood in front of her mirror, Viessa had learned the ultimate truth: life was nothing but a dream, and she had everything she needed to create her dream life. Given all the alternatives, Viessa chose her wonderland.
If Jivar can build a sub-dimension of his own, why wouldn’t Viessa do the same? she thought. It cost a lot to build a sub-dimension, but she agreed to pay the price. Half the power of the amulet in return for her own world, one that didn’t abide by the rules of time or space and where no one—not anyone—kept secrets.
Stepping into her wonderland, Viessa found herself at the old farm. Young girls gathered the herbs in the early morning while the boys pushed the heavy wagons through the mud. Brigham and Dorothea were there too; both bowed before Viessa’s glory.
A nasty smile showed on her face. She wrapped one arm over the other and ambled away, walking until she arrived at the edge of the moat. On the other side of the water, her castle stood. To get to it, Viessa had to take the boat.
"I built it for you," a familiar voice said.
Viessa cringed at his sight. She thought she had left him behind in Jivar’s world, but there he was, sitting in the boat with his back upright and his shoulders stiffened.
"Doyle?"
"I built it for you," he repeated. Though he looked the same, his face and voice showed no emotions.
Hesitantly, Viessa lifted the hem of her dress and climbed into the boat. As Doyle sailed, she immersed one hand in the murky water. She watched the castle. It didn’t look as splendid as she remembered. The suns sulked behind the dark clouds, taking away the liveliness of the view.
"Boats are better than trains," she said and waited for Doyle to reply, but he said nothing.
"Why don’t you say something?" Her eyes shifted uneasily. "You’re not the real Doyle, are you?"
"Row, row, row your boat—" Doyle began to sing.
"Stop it." Viessa covered her ears.
"Gently down the stream."
"Real Doyle should be here."
"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily."
"I said stop it. Why don’t you listen to me?" She was screaming into the abyss.
As soon as the boat reached land, Viessa jumped out of it, relieved to be away from fake Doyle. The giant gate of the castle opened for her, and the servants brought their foreheads to the ground.
Viessa’s castle was like Jivar’s, except for the throne room. When Viessa entered hers, she found herself back in the old, stinking basement. Zaros sat under the light of the one working lamp.
"Viessa?" he cried out in horror. "How did we get here?" He looked all around him.
Viessa’s fingers flew to her parted lips. "You’re the real Zaros?"
"Of course, I’m Zaros. Who else would I be?" he yelled. "A moment ago, I was in the spirit world. What happened?"
"This is my wonderland," she said.
"This?" Zaros wrinkled his nose. "The rotten basement? Why?"
"You’ll see." She sat next to him and spread her dress out on the filthy floor.
The door creaked open. Zaros’s face turned blue when his mother walked in, carrying a knife and an empty soup container.
"You?" Zaros wanted to kill her, but Viessa tugged at his sleeve and asked him to wait.
"Dinner is ready, Princess." The mother approached. She held the knife at her palm and cut, pouring her blood into the container. Her face contorted with pain and fear—the two feelings Viessa knew best.
"Do you want to try it?" Viessa asked her brother, offering him the bloody drink. "It tastes like Anshars."
Zaros puckered his face in disgust. "You created this, Viessa?" he asked in both disbelief and astonishment. "You created a world?"
Viessa nodded as she sipped on the blood.
"Is this where you chose to go when the war begins?" Zaros asked. "You won’t stand in my way?"
Viessa put the container down and gave his words a thought. "Only if you let Doyle come with me," she said.
Viessa chose her wonderland, but also her beloved, for, without him, her world wasn’t complete. Little did she know that on the battlefield, Doyle would be the one taking her life. Little did she know his name would be her last word, and her blood would stain his sword.
No one understood Viessa, not really. Neither was she good nor bad. Neither did she love nor hate. She was innocence and insanity combined. She cared, but she never really cared because to her, life was but a dream.
