Page 94 of Barbie: Dreamscape

And to save Robin from herself.

I close my eyes, trying again to summon my magic. I clutch the compact in my palm tighter.

But it’s no use. Robin’s magic is smothering everything. Her great power is like a vise.

We’re doing this without magic, then.

I look around. There must be something in here I can use to get out. I chew my lip—pillows and a comforter and a vanity full of bottles won’t do much good. Neither will a wardrobe full of clothes.

Unless—

I walk over to Wardrobe. It’s sitting in the corner, trembling slightly, as if even it is afraid. I place my hand over its brass hardware door handles, trying to comfort it.

“Would you please open up?” I ask, my tone gentle.

Robin’s magic controls Swancrest. But now I know that my mother’s magic made this.

Wardrobe stills, and my heart leaps in my throat.

Then, slowly, Wardrobe opens its doors just a few inches. My shoulders slump in relief.

My mother made me an outfit for every occasion.

Let’s see if she made one for this.

“I need the perfect outfit to break out of this room, free my friends, and save our land,” I say to Wardrobe. “Oh—with accessories.”

There’s a moment of quiet. Of stillness.

Then Wardrobe unfolds in a flash.

And I’m staring at my mother’s pink armor, a pink sword with a heart-shaped hilt, a bulging gossamer bag, and a shield with a strap so I can hold it across my body.

It’s just like the suit my mother wears in her statue. The one I’ve looked at a thousand times before.

“Thanks, Mom,” I say in quiet awe.

I feel a twinkling in my heart… almost like an answer.

Wardrobe tosses up the pieces of the armor—and they rush to my body, molding around me until I’m standing in front of a mirror, seeing myself.

I look just like her.

My eyes burn—and something in the mirror shifts.

Just like in the reflection at Dreamlake, my mother is standing right beside me. I don’t dare turn. I don’t breathe. I just stand and watch as she places her hand on my shoulder in a touch I feel not on my body, but in my heart.

She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to.

“Mom. I’m… afraid,” I say, putting words to this twisting knot in my chest. I’ve seen so much more magic now, and Robin is still the most powerful wielder I’ve ever known.

“I’m afraid,” I repeat, my voice steadier this time. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

Robin isn’t some faceless danger… She’s still the woman who raised me.

I’m the only one who can stop this.

In the reflection, my mother nods. I nod back.