“Wake up sleepy head!”

A weight drops on my chest. In a panic, I hurl it off, stretching out my hand to summon my mana, but there is no response. When my vision clears, I’m met with baby blue eyes that I haven’t seen in nearly a decade.

“Aster, w-why are you making that scary face?” Sarey whimpers. My golden-haired little sister who I buried as an unrecognizable corpse, stands before me alive and well. If I reach for her, will she disappear? If I sit here all night, will she stay with me? I fear testing the theory.

My hand shakes until it runs through her hair, then rests against her cheek. She doesn’t shatter before my eyes, like the nightmares that plagued me for years after her death.

When I take her in my arms, she whines, “Aster, you’re holding me too tight.”

“What are you two doing?” my little brother, Fionn, asks, emerging behind Sarey. His brown hair is curled around his ears, eyes as deep green as the forest. I watched the color drain from those eyes until his sight diminished, and heard him scream every night as the sickness took him. Now he’s standing in my room, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked.

“Come here,” I order, holding out my hand for him. He raises a brow until I repeat, almost desperately, “Come here, Fionn.”

Visibly confused, he steps towards me. I crush them both in my arms. They smell like the must of the barn, fields of wheat, and wildflowers. I had forgotten those scents, forgotten the sound of their voices, and the comfort of their presence.

“You’re acting funny this morning!” Sarey declares while settling her chin on my shoulder.

“Sorry, I just—I missed you guys,” I mutter.

Fionn huffs. “Missed us? You saw us last night.”

Last night… is it really true? Am I in the past?

I scan them both over. Neither look older than the day I lost them. Hell, even I look different. My arms are no longer scarred, my body is weaker, and my mana is startlingly low. No wonder I couldn’t summon my mana when I woke up. The power I built over the years has vanished. Is this really happening? Or could I have woken from a horribly long nightmare?

“I don’t... understand,” I say.

“Did you hit your head in your sleep?” Fionn asks with a snort.

“Maybe.”

Then a familiar scent hits my nostrils; breakfast, more specifically, breakfast from my mother. Visible through my open doorway, our mother dances in the kitchen with her blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail. I shuffle out of bed to walk towards her. My knees nearly give out when Mom notices me, smiling until her eyes crinkle.

“You slept in this morning!” she says. “Your dad is too lenient. You should be out doing your chores already.”

Her voice breaks me. I cling to her, burying my face in the nape of her neck.

“Aster,” Mom laughs, then pats my shoulder. “Sweetie, is something wrong? Hey, look at me.” 

She takes hold of my face, urging me to meet her blue-eyed gaze, the one that matches Sarey’s and my own.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asks, as baffled by the sight of tears as I am to feel them. I’ve never been the type to cry, but that’s all I can do now as the emotions wash over me.

“Fine,” I answer, reaching for her hands, relishing in their warmth. “I had a terrible nightmare.”

“What kind of nightmare could bring you to tears?”

I don’t know how to respond to that. If I tell them of what transpired, how will they react? Will they believe me? Because I’m not sure if I believe myself. Perhaps it really was a nightmare. I’ll speak of it. Mom will tell me everything’s ok, then I’ll forget about it in a few days.

“It felt so real. I dreamt that—” the truth lodges in my throat. “I-I had a n-nightmare about—” but no matter how I try to reveal the truth, a force keeps me from doing so.

“What? What is it?” Mom asks.

Why can’t I tell her? What’s going on?

But my confusion is set aside when the last of my family comes in through the front door. Dad smiles, revealing his single silver tooth within his goofy grin. He’s as shocked as Mom was when I grab him next. The moment I’m in his arms, he spins me around, laughing with his rich baritone voice, “Someone is unusually affectionate today! What’s the occasion?”

“Who knows, she’s been acting strange since she woke up,” Fionn claims, taking a seat at the table. Sarey is with him, playing with a stuffed animal bunny.

“Do you need to lie back down?” Dad asks, withdrawing to check my temperature with his hand. “You are a bit warm. Do you have a fever?”

I don’t answer, too busy admiring the house I grew up in, that I saw burn to ground as umbra tore our friends and neighbors to shreds. Then I relax with my family to eat a warm meal that is both strange and familiar. They chat as the sun filters in through the open windows along with a fresh morning breeze.

Is this truly the past? Was the apocalypse only a horrible nightmare? Or am I dead and this is the afterlife, reliving what I’ve so missed?

“The marketplace is in an absolute ruckus,” Dad declares with his mouth full of biscuits. Mom glares at him. “Everyone is preparing for the Demon King’s return from the capital, hoping that when the convoy passes through fairies will pay their shop a visit.”

“When will he be returning? It’s soon, right?” Fionn’s eyes brighten. Seeing the Demon King outside of Fateir only happens once every 25 years, when he chooses a human partner.

“Should be. He has already chosen his partner,” Dad responds, then taps Mom’s arm. “What was his name again?”

“Her name,” Mom corrects. “You’re thinking of the last suitor.”

My hands shake beneath the table, praying to whoever may listen; please, tell me it was a nightmare. Please, don’t let the name be—

“And I think it was Valerie Ezirin.”

The pieces click.

Valerie Ezirin. The mortal girl who killed the Demon King and cast the world into darkness.

The apocalypse was not a nightmare. My meeting with the Demon King was true. This really is the past, and, somehow, I have to save the future.