The world was bathed in silver light.

  I stood on an ivory dais beneath the looming moon and endless constellations. In front of me stood pearl-hued double doors and an enormous, white-walled building. Cool wind brushed my hair back, and with it came a faint chime.

  I turned. The dais curved down into gleaming steps. They ended in dark, lush grass and dewy moonblossoms. Beyond them was a line of willow trees, cascading green leaves swaying and tinged silver by moonlight. From the closest tree hung a glass wind chime, carved into some indistinguishable shape and tinkling quietly.

  The sky’s the same, so it must be… it’s still a dream, of course, but it’s… like the other ones.

  I examined the structure looming above me. Walls of marble stretched far to either side, set with great gleaming glass windows. It was several stories; I had to crane my neck back to catch a glimpse of the pale rooftop stretching upwards in elegant, gilded spires.

  It’s not real. It’s a dream. Just a dream. I chewed my lower lip. Should I… knock?

  The thought was so odd that I giggled aloud. Immediately the chime fell silent.

  I turned back and started. There, perched on a bough above the glass, was an owl. It stared at me with round, golden eyes. Its sleek feathers were the color of sable. The leaves and branches around it were hued with cold light, but the bird’s shape seemed incongruously dark. Almost like the falling silver couldn’t quite touch him.

  An owl. They have owls here? Not that I even know where here is, and of course I recognized a lot of things in the garden. And there’s willow trees. So why shouldn’t they have owls? Maybe everything’s the same, just with… well, with him here, too…

  A glance up at the unfamiliar, impossibly bright constellations made me gulp.

  It was a very beautiful owl. I was starting to think that everything in this place was very beautiful. Almost like something out of a… well, out of a dream. I snorted.

  “Uncivilized, aren’t you?” The owl said dryly.

  I shrieked and jumped back, nearly tripping on the ivory. Wind rustled and the owl hooted out a chuckle.

  It can talk! But… maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Why shouldn’t owls talk here? It’s a dream, after all! It’s not as though it’s… real.

  I glanced down at my smooth, unscarred hands. Dread coiled through my stomach.

  It can’t be real.

  The large bird was eyeing me critically.

  I mirrored the look. Either this was a dream, in which case nothing was to be believed or feared… or it was something else entirely. And perhaps a talking owl wasn’t the best source of information, but I didn’t see any other options at the moment.

  “You… can talk.” I walked towards his perch. Soft grass and pleasantly cool soil cushioned every step.

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  The owl clicked his short talons against the branch. “I can.”

  I spent a moment debating what to say. If this was just a dream… actually, perhaps that was the best place to begin.

  “Am I dreaming?”

  “Are you? What a curious thing to be uncertain of!”

  I crossed my arms and answered, somewhat indignantly, “Are you always sure when you’re dreaming?”

  “Mm. I don’t sleep.”

  “Oh. Well… you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I did, though ‘twas apparently not to your satisfaction.”

  I’m being chided by a bird. Although I suppose that’s one of the least strange things to happen over the past few days…

  I peered up. If this was a dream, then perhaps a talking owl wasn’t so unusual. If it wasn’t a dream- like how my time in the garden had somehow not entirely been a dream- then… well, birds couldn’t talk. Which begged the question…

  “What are you?”

  “What am… I’m an owl, of course.” His feathers ruffled. “Ah, I do remember this habit. Humans and their endless, inane questions! ‘What do you want,’ ‘why are you doing this…’ Hmph. I eat because I am hungry, of course.”

  “You… eat…” I backed away. Never mind that he was only the size of a large barn cat; I felt it was only wise to be cautious of just about anything in this place.

  He twittered a laugh. “Oh-ho, don’t fret! I can see the moon on you, and I’m no fool!” His shining eyes narrowed. He stepped sideways on the branch, head twisting to one side. “There’s something else, too… not from here, though. Curious.”

  I chewed my lower lip. “Someone else said almost the exact same thing to me. That I, er, ‘looked like starlight.’ Please, what does that mean?”

  “Echoes of power, little one. Someone quite formidable had their hand on you.” He preened his already-glossy feathers. Then, with a sly curve at the corners of his beak, added, “It’s considered, ah, poor taste among our kind to hunt another’s prey.”

  “P-prey?” My blood went cold.

  The curve widened.

  I curled my toes into the cool grass, arms wrapped around my middle. I eyed every shadow fearfully.

  “I… I’d like to wake up, now.” My lips trembled.

  He chuckled. “Mortals always want. Here you are, witness to glory, and all you can do is want something else.” His sleek head tilted upwards, gaze fixed on the moon.

  “It’s… very beautiful,” I said carefully, not wanting to offend him. “But I… that is, I shouldn’t be here.”

  “The young lord seems to disagree. Fae want, too, little morsel.” His beak parted, then snapped shut with a sharp clack.

  “The young lord?” Silver-lit eyes and a too-sharp smile flickered through my mind.

  He clicked his talons against the branch. The chime tinkled. “I haven’t met him, myself,” the owl said ruefully, “But I do quite like what he’s done with this place. Just a few years ago it was dreadful.”

  I swallowed. So that’s it, then. I’m being… brought here. Intentionally. I shivered and turned a slow circle, gaze rising to the enormous building.

  “Is he in there?”

  The owl chuckled.

  “Well… maybe I should go that way, then.” I nodded towards the forest and its graceful, swaying treeline.

  “Oh-hoh, aren’t you bold! Verily, mortal, that way holds your darkest nightmares. Go if you want, though. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard human screams.”

  I felt my face drain of color. “B-but you said that I’m safe! That no one will-”

  “I know the meaning of respect. Not everyone does.” He gave another soft laugh, head twisting. “And not everyone has eyes like mine. Most of the Court’s denizens won’t realize their mistake until it’s far too late.”

  Wind ruffled my hair. Whispered at my skin. I wrung my hands.

  Finally I dared to whisper, “What… what is he going to do to me?”

  Feathers rustled. The owl swept from his perch and landed in front of me.

  Enormous eyes peered up. This close, I could see them more clearly. I gasped. Something loomed within them. Or perhaps not within, but… behind. As if someone else gazed out through the glowing gold.

  “Mm. I think you should go find out.”