Ulrich fell into the dream and kept falling. The wind resistance did nothing to slow his descent, and he reached out in every direction, arms stretched wide and whirling, hoping to find something—anything—to grab onto. Nothing but rushing air. He fell through a dark vacuum into nighttime sky and squinted best he could past the wind. As if his stomach weren't already in his throat, he found himself so high up that a cityscape stood far below him, its buildings rising to meet him way too fast for comfort. The noise of the plummet sloshed whorls in his ears, thrumming his body with flight or fight. But you can't fight when you've got no grab and no ground, and it wasn't like he had wings. His thoughts spiraled out of control, and the only thing left to fall back on was primal. Reflex.

He screamed.

Immediately, she was there falling beside him, a woman with ridiculously long blonde hair, something gross about her neck, and eyes all horror flick silver. She was dressed for good movement in a top that left her arms bare. Snug, flexible fabric covered the rest of her pearly skin, and she wore boots Ulrich's sister would've described as sensible. In a straight scabbard at her hip sat a sword. She fell in a relaxed manner, not a trace of fear on her, which made Ulrich feel like a wuss.

"How familiar," said the woman with a fondness that did not at all match their situation. She spread her arms and inhaled the rushing air. "Falling can be freeing, you know."

"Freeing and then you die!" screamed Ulrich.

"I am Akki," said the woman, either not hearing or choosing to ignore his outburst. "Slayer of Nightmares." Akki twisted into an outdated, formal bow at Ulrich as they continued to drop to their doom. "It seems obvious where your nightmare is. Are you afraid of heights in the waking world?"

"The fuck are you talking about, lady?!"

"Akki."

They dropped past the tallest skyscraper's roof, and Ulrich let out a girly squeal he never would've made if he had a parachute. His mind raced with thoughts of cement, sidewalk, ground! I'm gonna hit bottom and splatter my guts all over the pavement, and the noise will be terrible. What am I thinking, 'the noise will be terrible'? That'll be the end of me!

"Personal question," said Akki. "If I may."

"WHAT."

"In the waking world," she continued thoughtfully. "Have you found yourself in love?"

"The fuck is the waking world?"

Akki blinked. She did another absurdly respectful bow. "Apologies. I was under the impression you were lucid." She reached for him. "Allow me."

Ulrich flinched. He was somehow more afraid of her than of hitting literal rock bottom.

"I won't hurt you," said Akki. "My job is to aid the dreamer."

It wasn't like Ulrich could dodge her. Akki's hand found his shoulder, and abruptly he realized this was all a dream. Even if he did fall to his death here in the dream world, all that would mean would be bursting awake in the real world—Oh. Waking world, real world. Got it.

"Better?" asked Akki.

Ulrich self-inventoried and noticed that no. No, he was not better. His heart remained thunderous, his head wouldn't stop thumping with blood pressure, and it still felt like his stomach was trying to squiggle out his ears. Plus, knowing a dream is a dream isn't the same as controlling that dream. I don't have the skillset for this. But he had to do something. Trying to grab stuff on the way down—sidings of buildings were all that were there—to slow his fall had to be better than just falling. He flailed, reaching far for the skyscrapers, but the walls were mere inches beyond his fingertips. "Augh! So close."

Close doesn't cut it.

Akki hummed thoughtfully.

"Lady—"

"Akki."

"Akki, whatever!"

"Slayer of Nightmares."

"You say you slay nightmares? How're you supposed to slay one that's nothing but falling? Or what? Can you fly?"

"Anyone can fly in a dream if the mood is right."

"Does it look like the mood is right?!" Ulrich's mind was in the gutter, but he didn't care because of the whole falling to his death thing. Dream or not, he felt like his body was just his heart, a bullet with no casing in a downward careen. Then again, if this were the real world, wouldn't they have hit bottom by now? Felt like buildings were growing taller to make the descent longer. The thought struck Ulrich that his fear was of the fall itself, not the impact afterward. Which made zero sense. "You wanna elaborate?"

"Of course." Akki crooked a finger under her chin, and Ulrich figured out exactly what the problem with her neck was. The skin there rotted in a choker-shaped ring that looked like it wrapped all the way around. Which was shudder worthy and made him wonder if he should take her advice on anything, no matter who she said she was or what her supposed credentials were. "To fly, one must not fear the fall."

"Oh great," snapped Ulrich. "Problem solved."

"I could carry you."

"You?" Now that he'd seen the rot, he couldn't take his eyes off her neck. Also, she was female. You didn't go around making girls shoulder your weight. "Carry me? No thanks."

"It's not contagious." Akki put her hand over the rotted part of her neck. "I can keep it covered."

Well, now he felt like a jerk. Great job, asshole. Way to fuck up a conversation.

Her spooky eyes withdrew in... shame? Might've been anger. The wind resistance vanished. They accelerated, street zooming up superfast, and Ulrich—feeling vulnerable about his squishy, palpitating self—threw both arms up over his face, screaming with vigorous alarm.

The impact never came. The concrete went porous, passing through and around them with a texture like soapy grit, and then they were back in the empty vacuum where the dream had begun. Forever they fell, through the abyss past the atmosphere into the sky beyond the ground and back to where it all started until it looped over again. That settled that. This nightmare was never-ending.

Ulrich sucked in breath until he was convinced he'd become nothing but a pocket of spirit—no body, no brain, not even a heart anymore, just a storm of terror—and his mind whirred with the bizarre, conflicting sensation of being both too much at once but also not enough there. The prolonged fear unraveled his nerves and while it did he was torturously present. In this surreal awareness, a thought congeals in electric currents and zips through the dark. Gone now, but why was there wind resistance before? And: How do I get off this ride?

Then both together, overlapping:

You die in nightmares you wake up.

Can't die with nowhere to splatter.

"I have some influence over the dreamscape." Akki fell at the same rate as Ulrich in the continuum, not nearly as unhinged as his brainwave surreality. Her sword shook in its scabbard, and she gripped the hilt as if to keep it from hurtling out. "The wind resistance was partially from me. There are three ways out of a nightmare. One is to return to the waking world, which is a temporary solution. And contrary to what you might've heard, doesn't require death in the dreamscape. Another is to slay the nightmare, which means you must overcome its psychological metaphors."

"Dreams are metaphors?"

"Of course." Akki paused, seeming to reconsider. "In your case, yes."

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"What's the third way?"

"Not worth it."

"I'll bite." Ulrich would've crossed his arms if he had any anymore.

"You'll... bite?"

"Means quit being cryptic."

Akki took one deep breath. "The nightmare slays you."

"As if it hasn't already."

"Although you might not feel this is true," said Akki. "Your spirit remains intact. Which means you have the most power."

"Power over what? We're just falling! And it feels like I'm not all here. What ever happened to that flying thing?"

"We are flying, in a sense."

"Get out."

"You want me to leave?"

"No." Ulrich's frustration buzzed around them. "I want you to teach me how to fly outta here. Back to the waking world or whatever."

"It seems I've been unclear. When I said we are flying, in a sense, I meant once you embrace the fall you control the flight. It isn't the way out of the dreamscape. It's a means of controlling what's here."

Ulrich's first instinct was to argue, but this time as they slammed past the ground the grit clung to him, sliding and stretching. It molded with his consciousness in a wiry phantom structure, a net of dirty marrow approximated with silly string. Each cycle of descent added layer upon layer until he was again within a body—a nice, destructible physical presence that made the landing once again scarier than the fall. Maybe I'd be outta this nightmare if I stopped flip-flopping what's worse.

"Essentially," said Akki.

"How're you hearing my thoughts?" He thought he hadn't said that last part aloud. "You rummaging around in my mind or what?"

"We both are."

"Huh?"

"A dreamscape is a creation of the dreamer's mind. Your consciousness is flexible enough to reside within a larger part of its own self. I'm a visitor. I hear what's here."

The nightmarish cycle brought with it another round of skyscrapers and moon-shone windows. Street would soon rise to meet them. With how much body he'd recollected, Ulrich was sure the next impact would hurt. He didn't know how Akki would fare, and as the concrete graffitied itself with anticipation he fought the urge to curl up. To brace. If they hit street level, they'd hit hard. It reminded him of that tense feeling during a test or maybe the fluttery anxiety of breaking the ice with a cute girl. But on a massive scale. Wait. If this was a metaphor from his own mind...

"No wonder," said Ulrich.

"No wonder?" Akki took a breath. The wind resistance returned. On an updraft they floated.

"I'm always worried about fuckups."

Akki smiled in a soft way that made it appear she was appraising him with sincere satisfaction.

"Always afraid of bottoming out," continued Ulrich, revitalized.

Akki gripped her sword with both hands, her rotting neck on full display as she readied to draw. The street below them warped.

"But sometimes," said Ulrich as the warp took shape. "You gotta hit rock bottom to grow."

That concrete grit stretched apart, and its parts wove into a mouth that widened hungrily, a creature with pointy teeth and that vacuum abyss for its throat. Ulrich found himself chock full of adrenaline, tittering. This time would be different. This time the impact mattered. The abyss beyond it looked different. Vaster. If I get past those sewer teeth this time around, bet I can fly outta here.

"Yes." Akki grinned and unsheathed her sword, which had a black blade and gave off a hunger greater than the giant maw of perceived failure before them. "Now I'll ask. Shall I slay your nightmare?"

"If we get to fly afterward? Fuck yeah!"

The mouth yawned despair, but Akki faced it with what could only be aggressive eagerness, a fighter who loves the fists. Ulrich got the sense she'd slayed her share of nightmares. Her expression hardened into severe, confident concentration, and he wondered how many times she'd done this, how many nightmares she's slain. In the elongated time between descent and impending strike, he wondered if any other dreamscapes were like his. Before, she called my nightmare familiar. Was it one of hers?

Akki plunged faster, the tip of her sword pointed in tight form at the most protruding gritty tooth. Gusts slowed Ulrich's drop while hers hastened. Like maybe she'd flapped invisible wings and tucked them to her sides to dip quicker, causing Ulrich to get caught in the backdraft.

She crushed the first tooth with a thrust and cut through its neighbors with a fluid, connective slash. Her blade tore through the animosity of those closing lips of concrete as if they were nothing but fleeting remarks. No bite, all bark. Her sword might've been smaller than the teeth were, but it had a lot more power. As she continued her precision maneuvers, losing herself to the rhythm and smiling through the entire sequence, the air currents hefting Ulrich changed directions. After that, no way he could deny she had wings. If he squinted, he could see them. Silvery glimmers flashing around her body in wisps of spirit, fleshed like a bat's, long enough to span her four times lengthwise.

Awesome or not, she was still female. It wasn't right to let her do all the work. Ulrich tucked in his limbs for aerodynamics' sake and hollered. "Akki! Let me fall through! Get rid of the wind!"

Akki stabbed into the nightmare's pothole gums and sank into an upside-down crouch between the broken teeth, where she halted her movements. The air currents diminished along with her shimmery wings, both gone from Ulrich's awareness.

He whooped and cascaded to terminal velocity.

The cracked mouth began closing.

No way to get there quicker.

Gummy, gooey streams of grit shot up to surround Akki.

Shit! Ulrich reached for her even though it was useless. Too far a gap.

As she launched from her upside-down perch, Akki smirked and cut the streams before they could trap her in their tangles. The sword devoured each wormy tendril. She flipped around to face Ulrich and whipped into a pose that arched her back, a full spread complete with a deep breath that filled out her chest. The ground kept closing. To accept the freefall was one thing, but he couldn't bear to see Akki digested by his own nightmare. Not after that display of skill, and especially not after she'd helped him. On reflex, his eyes rammed shut.

A barrage of wind gushed against him from behind, strong and way faster than the freefall. It shoved him through the maw. He felt the exact moment he passed between its chipped teeth because he could swear his bones shivered. By the time his eyes reopened, he'd emerged into sky. Endless, gorgeous sky. Cloudless, it shone in all colors of sunrise. Akki was beside him, unhurt, not an ounce of sweat on her.

The relief was unbearable. He released it in a fit of crazed laughter.

Akki sheathed her blade. But they still weren't flying.

"I take it it's not over?" asked Ulrich, wondering why after all that trouble they were back where they started. Somewhere distant, there rumbled a bellow, a grinding crunch of relinquished pain, and it seemed to come from both above them and below.

"Never," said Akki. "Growth is never over."

Huh. If he could fall through a nightmare that bad and come out the other side intact, maybe even better than before, then he could survive any metaphor his brain threw at him.

He embraced the fall. He surrendered.

There was a pivot of air. Ulrich flew.

Akki soared with him, acrobatic and graceful, her wings flickering into view with each flap, until the obvious occurred to Ulrich. This time they'd skipped the abyss.

New perspective. Fuckups as opportunities. He'd try it on for size.

Ulrich slipped from the dreamscape into his waking world, and he was grinning like an idiot, ready to run bullheaded at every endeavor he found intimidating. Because risking failure was worth it. Because the risk is where you learn.