Hidden in the unused laundry room—behind the warped door no one bothered to check—was their wall.

A stretch of faded plaster where they etched their dreams in charcoal and crushed berries.

A crooked house with six chimneys. A cat with too many legs. A sky with two moons. A boat with their names on its sails.

Akari drew a garden once. Rows of stitched-up trees with hands for branches, protecting smaller flowers curled under them.

Rael didn’t say anything when she saw it. But she added a little flame above each flower, like a lantern to watch over them.

Corin drew a goat-headed matron being chased by lightning.

They all agreed that one was the best.