"When dreams spill into the waking world, what’s left to hold the seams together?"
Notty jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat, her heart racing as though she’d run for miles. The faint hum of her atelier’s enchanted lights did little to soothe her. The air felt heavy, charged with an electricity that clung to her like an unwelcome second skin.
The warning from the dream still rang in her ears: Your next dream could be your last. The figure’s voice had been clear, but its meaning was anything but. What was the shadow after? And how was she supposed to fight it when her magic—the very thing that defined her—felt like it was unraveling?
A loud thud echoed from the main room of the atelier, pulling her from her thoughts. She scrambled out of bed, grabbing the nearest object—a seam ripper that was laughably ineffective as a weapon—and hurried downstairs. The sight that greeted her was nothing short of chaos.
One of her enchanted gowns—a masterpiece of emerald silk and golden thread—was floating in midair, its sleeves flailing like angry arms. Her assistant, Tarie, stood frozen in the corner, clutching a broom as though it were a sword.
“What is going on? This is ridiculous!” Notty demanded, her voice a mix of fury and disbelief.
“It’s alive!” Tarie squeaked, her eyes wide with terror. “It just… woke up and started flying around!”
Notty groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s enchanted, not alive. And it’s not supposed to do this.” She stepped forward cautiously, her mind racing for a solution.
The gown turned toward her, its neckline twisting in a way that seemed almost accusatory. “Oh, don’t you dare,” she muttered, holding up her hands. “You’re supposed to be stunning, not… dangerous.”
The gown lunged, and Tarie let out a scream, swinging the broom wildly. Notty dodged the fabric’s erratic movements and managed to grab hold of its hem. Her fingers tingled with the faint pulse of magic running through the threads—a magic that felt foreign, almost hostile.
“Enough!” she shouted, pouring her will into the gown. The enchantment resisted for a moment before the fabric went limp, falling to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Tarie peeked out from behind the broom, her face pale. “What was that?”
Notty knelt to examine the gown, her hands shaking. “A malfunction,” she said, though the words felt hollow.
This wasn’t a malfunction. It was something deeper, something tied to the dreamscape and the shadow creeping closer with every passing day. And it wasn’t the first time her designs had misbehaved. By the time Ludikrousz arrived, the atelier was a mess of scattered threads and frayed tempers. He stepped inside, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, this is cozy,” he said, brushing an errant thread from his sleeve. “Do I even want to ask?”
“Probably not,” Notty replied, not looking up from the gown she was trying to repair.
Ludikrousz crossed the room and leaned against the worktable, his smirk fading as he studied her. “This is the third incident this week, isn’t it?”
She sighed, dropping the needle in frustration. “Fourth, actually. And they’re getting worse. Last night, one of the capes tried to strangle a mannequin. Do you know how hard it is to enchant a cape without it turning into a murder weapon?”
“Challenging, I’d imagine,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “You need to figure this out, Notty. People are starting to notice.”
She flinched at his words, the weight of them pressing down on her. “I’m trying, Ludikrousz. But every time I think I’ve got a handle on it, something else goes wrong.”
He watched her for a moment before reaching out to still her trembling hands. “You’re not going to fix this by running yourself into the ground.”
Notty looked up at him, her chest tight. “And what am I supposed to do? Stop working? Let my reputation fall apart?”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring the obvious,” he said gently. “This isn’t just about your magic or your designs. It’s about that thing in your dreams.”
Her breath hitched, and she pulled her hands away. “I don’t know how to fight it.”
“Then figure it out,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Before it takes everything from you.”
The next day, Notty stood backstage at one of Ridicullus’s most prestigious fashion events, her nerves frayed to the point of snapping. Her collection was the centerpiece of the evening, a showcase of her finest work. If tonight failed, the whispers about her would become roars.
Ludikrousz was by her side, his presence a steadying force even as he cast wary glances at the enchanted garments hanging nearby.
“Are you sure these won’t… you know, try to eat someone?” he asked, gesturing to a particularly dramatic gown with a collar that resembled dragon wings.
“They’re fine,” she said, though her voice wavered. “I triple-checked every enchantment. Nothing’s going to go wrong.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the matter. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
The first half of the show went off without a hitch. The audience marveled at her creations, their enchanted details eliciting gasps and applause. Notty allowed herself a moment of relief, her confidence creeping back as each model walked the runway without incident.
But then it happened.
One of the gowns—a stunning piece of ruby-red silk with golden embroidery—began to shimmer unnaturally as the model reached the end of the runway. The crowd murmured, leaning forward in their seats, unsure if the sudden glow was intentional.
Notty’s stomach dropped. “No,” she whispered, stepping forward as though she could stop it with sheer willpower.
The gown pulsed with light, its fabric rippling like water before shooting upward. The model screamed, stumbling backward as the garment twisted and turned, its golden threads unraveling into thin, snake-like tendrils.
The tendrils lashed out, striking a nobleman in the front row who let out a startled cry. The room erupted into chaos, guests scrambling to avoid the rogue gown as it darted through the air.
“Do something!” Ludikrousz hissed, grabbing her arm.
Notty didn’t hesitate. She stepped onto the runway, her hands raised as she called out to the fabric. “Stop!” she shouted, pouring every ounce of her magic into the words.
For a moment, the gown hesitated, its movements slowing as though caught in an invisible web. But then, to Notty’s horror, the air around it began to ripple, a faint shimmer appearing in the space above the runway. It wasn’t just a shimmer—it was a portal.
The edges glowed faintly, the colors swirling like oil on water. Through it, Notty could see glimpses of the dreamscape—the same shifting, ethereal world she had seen in her sleep. The same world that had warned her.
The audience’s panic faded into the background as Notty stared at the portal, her heart hammering in her chest. The shadow was there, just beyond the threshold, its form barely visible but unmistakable. It was watching her, waiting.
“Notty!” Ludikrousz’s voice broke through her trance, and she turned to see him pushing through the crowd toward her.
The portal flickered, the gown twisting violently before collapsing onto the runway. The shimmer in the air faded, leaving only silence and the stunned faces of the audience.