“…So did you sleep well last night?” the Queen asked, spreading marmalade on a biscuit.

“Not really,” Pitch replied.

She sat very quietly at the brunch table, with her hands folded together over her golden skirt. Although she found the smells of the various cakes and cured meats fairly enticing, she couldn’t bring herself to eat…but she decided it was enough for her just to be there.

“You know, I just knew that dress would become you,” the Queen continued. “But then, every color looks striking over such dark, even skin…you could stand out wearing beige, or gray; I’ve always envied— I mean, I’ve always admired you for that.”

Pitch made a face. “That’s nice…” she murmured.

“I apologize if it doesn’t fit quite right…it’s from my own collection, you see. Oh, but I’ve ordered two dozen new gowns especially for you, from couturiers all over the land. They’ll start arriving in the next few weeks; I’m sure you’ll love them.”

“I’m sure I will.”

The Queen stirred her tea. “…I suppose it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to ask you how you’ve been…since you left here…”

“No, it would not.”

“Well then…” The Queen took a tiny sip. “May I at least know where you found that creature?”

“What cre— oh, you mean Azor…”

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“You named it…?”

“I didn’t— that’s his own name. He said as much, anyway.”

“Did he now…? I don’t think I’ve heard him say a word since you arrived here.”

“Well…only those he wants to hear him can hear him.”

“Ah…” The Queen smiled. “So he’s a magical creature.”

Pitch squinted. “…Yes,” she replied.

The Queen stood up and stepped lightly over to the window, looking out at the garden below.

“…I think I should like to meet this ‘Azor’,” she said. “Would you be kind enough to introduce me to him?”

“I…I suppose I wouldn’t mind, but he doesn’t…I don’t know if he…would agree to that,” Pitch said. “He’s a bit…antisocial…”

“But he’ll listen to you, won’t he? After all, he accompanied you all the way here…I’m sure you could convince him to join us for tea. Just once? He is technically my houseguest; it’s only proper.”

Pitch felt a little strange about her stepmother’s insistence on the matter…but ultimately decided not to dwell on it. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll ask him,” she said. “But…I can’t promise anything.”

Meanwhile, at the lighthouse, the little girl was preparing to sleep.

She removed the pins from the quilt top she had been sewing, and pulled it up around her. Although she had gotten out of bed just a few hours earlier, there was a deep, unfathomable exhaustion in her heart, one that gradually pulled her eyelids closed.

“I’ll just talk to him once,” she thought to herself. “I’ll just talk to him…”

The girl soon fell asleep, and from there she began to dream.

She dreamt she walked through the place called the Deathbed, that endless field of pure white feathers where she had stood so long ago, pleading for the lives of every being in the universe.

The place where she had very nearly been destroyed by the woman who created the world, and was now no more.

The girl felt an itch, and looked down at her hand. The red string tied around her pinky finger twitched excitedly.

“…I’m not here to write,” she said to it.

“Then what are you here for…?” said a voice from behind her.

She turned around, and saw the familiar silhouette of a young man.

“…Of course, I already know,” he went on. “But since you came all this way, I’ll let you explain it.”