Page 86 of Barbie: Dreamscape

“See what speaks to you, Barbie,” Lune says, motioning at the selection.

I begin to wander among the objects, taking my time, studying them not only with my vision, but with this new awareness that I feel burning in my chest.

It’s like a rope, reaching out. Hoping to be met halfway.

At first, it feels wary. Unsure. As I walk by each object, a few sparkle, glimmering in the sun let in by the strips of stained glass skylights decorating the ceiling.

The magic in me moves on. Observing, but not connecting. Not yet.

There is a multitude of options: letter openers, envelopes, gloves, shoes, jackets, staffs, chalices, and books, all glowing with long-held magic ready to be given new life. All sit stock-still on the walls, stuck there by some invisible wiring.

Just when I think maybe there isn’t anything here for me, I reach a section where the wall isn’t so crowded. There are only a few objects left.

A magnifying glass.

Heart-shaped glasses.

A set of dreamy heels made of glimmering crystal.

“What’s this?” I ask Lune, reaching for a heart-shaped compact, sitting just below them, at eye level. It looks like a normal mirror… but from what I’ve seen from my fellow Dreamlake students, none of these accessories are as simple as they appear.

“It shows you where your heart lives,” she says. “It was enchanted by a very powerful wielder many moons ago.”

I frown. “It shows you your heart… inside your body?”

She laughs, the sound like wind chimes, echoing through the high-vaulted marble hall.

“Of course not! It shows you what’s in your heart, I suppose. Metaphorically, of course.”

I consider the compact. Open it toward Lune. “What—what do you see?”

She squints, then beams. “I see this world. The fountain. The town square. The magic, glittering everything.”

I close it and pocket the compact. Lune looks at me for a moment, her eyes questioning. “That’s the one?”

I don’t say anything. We keep moving through the hall, but nothing appeals to me the way the compact does. There wasn’t a spark, exactly, the way the word suggests a sharp, jolting clarity I’d feel all the way to my soul. But the power of the compact, its ability to see into your heart, which is where my magic is centered… it spoke to me in a way the necklaces never have—because at their core, they were never mine. Even the one from my mom.

“It’s the one,” I finally tell Lune, feeling confident in my choice, and she nods approvingly.

But it’s only later that night, in the room that’s been appointed for me, that I finally have the courage to open the compact.

And I know what I’ll see before I see it. I knew it the moment I found the compact, which is why I wanted to open it alone, away even from Lune.

I see Swancrest. Heartland. Even knowing what it is, that it’s been built on lies… my heart still longs for it.

For my friends, even for Robin—

I snap the compact shut. It doesn’t matter what I want. This—Dreamland, Dreamlake—is what I need. To be in a world where I can be understood, and not controlled, not lied to. To master my magic.

I keep the compact closed and take it to my magic practice, carrying it around like other students do with their accessories. During training, when my magic glows from my heart, little by little, I feed it into the compact, storing it inside.

Though the new power in me still feels impermanent and scattered, like sand falling between my fingers, the compact is like an anchor, holding me steady. When it’s in my hand, I’m able to hold on to my energy for longer. I can make things float. Change outfits on command—like the heart-shaped top I’m wearing, with pink capri pants and kitten heels covered in sparkling gems.

It’s the perfect ensemble for my new morning routine: waking up early to watch the sunrise at the side of the lake, then breathing and funneling my magic, the memory of Ken’s words about the importance of sitting in a moment guiding my stillness. I’m calm. Relaxed.

Until a voice calls out, “Look!”

I blink my eyes open, startling.