Page 72 of Barbie: Dreamscape

I think back to Lord Evernight, and how he ripped them from my throat. How he wanted to use them to hurt the people I love.

This woman could be as wicked as him.

I stay silent.

But it seems she doesn’t require an answer. She floats down again, ducking her head to get a closer look at me, and says something I would never expect, not in a million years.

“Barbie?”

Unlikely Allies

I gasp, stumbling backward slightly so my heel catches on the edge of the square. I must have misheard her.

But she floats closer and says it again. “Barbie? Is that you?”

“How—how do you know my name?”

Instead of answering, a cry spills from her lips. “It is you!” she says, releasing her umbrella, which closes and shoots back up toward the sky as she lunges forward—and then her arms are around me.

I stiffen, unsure if I should try to run (not that there’s anywhere to run to). Or if I should ask her what she’s doing. Or if I should (again) ask her how she knows my name.

But as she pulls away, I see the tears against her cheeks. Her eyes are full of real emotion and her voice is thick with sorrow as she says, “I never thought I would see you again.”

None of this makes sense. She’s so happy I almost feel bad saying the next few words. “I’m sorry… but you’re mistaken. We’ve never met.”

Then a thought occurs to me.

Does she think I’m my mom?

I suppose there’s a chance my mother visited this world, if she was able to make it to Everland.

But this woman just called me Barbie.

My mom’s name started with a “B,” but it wasn’t that.

The woman sniffs, taking a step back, wiping at her face. “Of course you don’t remember… you were… you were just a baby.”

She still isn’t making any sense. “What do you mean?”

Her blue eyes roam across my face, and she doesn’t answer my question, not directly. “There’s a lot you should know. But first… you should see. Follow me.”

She turns and strides forward. And before her foot can plunge through the open gorge, a bridge forms below her, rippling from her step, a road made of glimmering pink stone.

It continues through the mist, then onto a land made of every shade of pink imaginable that is rapidly forming before me in a ripple like a rolling tapestry.

She’s halfway across the bridge before she realizes I’m not behind her. The woman pauses, then turns. She smiles reassuringly. “You’re safe here,” she says. “This… this is your home.”

Home.

It’s not. Heartland is my home.

But I don’t say anything, because I have too many questions, and even though this woman isn’t making any sense, she’s right. I should see.

I take a careful step forward. Then another, until I’m right next to her.

Together, we step into Dreamland.

A strange familiarity spills through my chest the moment we’re on the other side of the bridge and the world comes fully into focus.