Page 100 of Barbie: Dreamscape

And my fury melts.

When I look at her, even in this form, I see my home. I see the magical school that would make tea in the mornings, warm the floorboards when my feet were cold, keep every hearth fully lit, and soothe me through times I was sick, with music that spilled through the windows, carried by an enchanted wind. Swancrest was always warm, like a hug wrapped around me, making me feel whole.

Now I know it was all her. The school was a reflection of her feelings. Wordless gestures of love she didn’t always know how to express herself.

Robin is Swancrest.

And right now… both are breaking.

There’s a series of distant crashes as something up above caves in. Dust spills from the ceiling, tiny rocks falling. I think of my friends still there, holding off the birds. How long until the entire fortress falls around us?

“I told you to stay in your room,” Robin finally says, her voice distorted.

She sounds like a stranger. I don’t recognize this side of her, but I keep focused on the sliver of the woman who raised me that must still be in there somewhere, beneath the sadness and pain.

Instead of running away, I take another step forward. “And I told you to stop trying to control my every move.” I lift my shield and sword.

Her gaze zeroes in on my accessories. “Put those down. You’ll hurt yourself. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

The knot in my chest, of never feeling good enough, of feeling unworthy, of being told what I can and can’t do or be, tightens. But I breathe past it. Truth is proved in actions, not words. In experience—not projection.

“I do,” I say steadily. “I’ve seen other worlds. I’ve survived countless dangers. I saw everything you tried to hide from me, in fear that it would harm me, but it didn’t. I’m not as weak as you think I am. I am strong. I know that now.”

Her face flashes with hurt, as if for a moment she can see the pain that her actions have caused me. A second later, it smooths back into that blank mask of nothingness.

“You don’t know what danger is. You think you know this world just by traveling through it for a few weeks? You—you have no idea.” She shakes her head. Her voice is matter-of-fact. “So I have to keep you here. I have to keep you safe.”

There’s no warning before the walls start bleeding silver. I watch in shock as the metal of the disused armory swords begins to melt down, the iron folding as easily as paper under Robin’s magic, then pooling onto the ground. I inhale sharply as the clump of liquid metal begins to take shape and divide until it becomes a multitude of hardened metallic shackles.

All headed toward me.

I drop my shield, reaching into my armor and closing my fingers around the compact, willing its pulse to return. But, though whatever magic my mother imbued into my weaponry is faintly holding on, the compact still stays silent.

The metal restraints are upon me now.

I lift my pink sword in a desperate attempt to stop them. Glitter spills out of it as it strikes metal, turning the shackles back into pools of silver.

But there are too many. They all lunge at once.

With a rough pull, the sword is tugged from my grip. It joins my shield on the floor.

Then the shackles wrap around my wrists and force me to my knees. I fight their hold, using every bit of strength I’ve gained, teeth gritted. But it’s no use. I’m unable to move a single inch.

“You see…” Robin says, floating toward me. “Magic is dangerous. It isn’t to be trusted.”

No, your magic is dangerous, I think, struggling in vain against the force keeping me on the ground.

I’m no match for metal. Or this sort of matured, mastered magic.

Even my mother’s hint of enchantment in my armor and weapons sputters—

Then goes dark.

What light remains is coming from the shackles around me, glimmering with Robin’s fell enchantment.

The rest is only shadows.

Slowly, Robin lifts her hand. The hand that once wiped away my tears. The hand that once gave me everything I ever needed.