Thessaly wandered the dream for what felt like days. She and Liss danced under stars. Laughed. Grew old. Grew free.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
"Why give me this?" Thessaly asked the sky.
The queen appeared.
"Because I love her too. And you keep getting in the way."
Thessaly laughed.
"You don't love her. You want to own her."
She drew her dream-sword.
"I don't live in perfection. I live in truth."
She cut the sky. And woke up in a bed of glass shards.
"Nice try, your majesty," she whispered.
"Now I'm angry."